Well, last Sunday I was watching an FA cup match in my local pub, when a young couple brought their twin toddlers in for a little refreshment. The place was pretty quiet, save for a couple of us watching Arsenal and another few folks enjoying quiet beers in the corner, but the arrival of these two little blonde kids changed everything. Both of them could not stop grinning and voicing their happiness at life in general.
One of the waitresses and I have often traded stories about our neices and nephews and how much we were entertained by happy little kids. These little boys just kept smiling at her as she poured drinks and served customers. The kids sort of walked around from table to table, and every customer was simply taken with their cuteness. It kind of warmed the heart.
Arter a quick snack, their parents bundled them back up, they gave a little goodbye yell, and they were off. It helps you remember how nice a pub can be on a quiet, grey Sunday afternoon.
I like these brief moments of heartwarming, and was equally touched a couple of days later just seeing an old picture of a four year old dancing around a Christmas tree, looking shyly and expectantly back up at the camera.
With the fuzzy stuff out of the way, I will take a minute or 20 and give a quick update on the past few days. Late Monday morning, I headed out to the airport with plenty of time to get checked in for my flight to Budapest. I kind of wandered around the airport a bit, then somehow headed through the security checkpoint to the gates 21-30. That would probably have been ok, but I was going to depart from gate 14.
I went through passport control, and it was at this moment I realized that I was just plain in the wrong part of the terminal. Unfortunately, there was no way to get to the part where my gate was without going out of the airport and back in again. So, I basically left Germany for about 5 minutes (considering that you are technically in no country when you are in an airport lounge), reentered the country, then went through security (hi, how come you have so many mobile phones and ac adapters? cos I am a walking office!) again, and finally made it to my departure gate, where I discovered that the flight would be truly full. Neat.
My colleagues were flying into Budapest from the UK, but would arrive a couple of hours after I landed. We landed on time, I had a couple of coffees and did some people watching until their plane arrived. From there, we met our taxi guy, who drove us a few hours south to Pecs, a university town.
Tuesday morning, we arrived at the repair site, and I met my customer for the first time. This was my first opportunity to see the operations, and I was eager to get into things. My colleague is a pretty good guy, and quite funny; I will have some big shoes to fill as I take over the account.
We spent the day going through the basics, bringing me up to speed. At 6, we packed up, and the customer took us off to a local winery for dinner and some bevvie tasting. This was our chance to get to know one another outside of work.
Since I am getting a lot of information in a short amount of time, nevermind meeting loads of people, I find it a bit challenging to be totally relaxed. On one hand, I am eager to make a first impression, and on the other, want to get through my learning curve as quickly as possible. This is no easy feat, particularly as I have recently discovered that I am a bit self conscious on a number of levels.
At any rate, there were about 9 of us sitting around the table. The wines were pretty good, as was the meal. We were doing a fair amount of joking through the starters and the main course.
The quality of the wines improved as the hours passed, as did the consumption. I was in no way drunk, but I was starting to feel like I could go outside in shirt sleeves, even though it must have been minus 3 degrees.
When my colleague started showing signs that he was enjoying his wine, I decided to quietly move a bottle out of harm's way, as his elbow seemed like it could knock the wine over any second. Well, I moved the bottle right into my own glass, managing to knock it over, spilling the freshly poured contents onto the table and almost into my customer's lap.
The restaurant wasn not very full, but when glass breaks, everyone stops for a moment to see which plonker did it. Of course I was sheepishly saying "fuck fuck fuck" in about every language I could think of as the waiter came over and laboriously used 10 napkins to mop up the mess.
Um, this was EXACTLY what I did NOT want to do when meeting my customer for the first time. I had been somewhat quiet for most of the evening as I tend to be around people I meet for the first time, when ka-whap! I turned the spotlight right on myself.
Fortunately, everyone was most gracious and did the reasonable thing by laughing out loud, and we quickly put the moment behind us. Unbelievable...
The next day we were back on site, and I was very careful with my coffee and water. We wrapped up our visit, then took a train north to Budapest, where we arrived right about rush hour.
A taxi took us across the river to our hotel, which looked out over the castle and parliament. Quite a nice hotel, I must say. We discovered that for an extra charge, we could take advantage of the executive lounge, where we attacked the fridge of beer and the snacks on the buffet.
I think we got our money's worth, then headed to a restaurant a few seconds from the hotel to watch a bit of Champions League. The place was dead empty at 20h, but the guy would not give us a table, claiming that everything was reserved for the games being shown on the 20 odd televisions around the bar.
We elected to stay there anyway, ordered food and drink, and watched as the place filled up. I had forgotten that Arsenal were playing a match that evening, also, and with luck, it was also being shown on tv. Most of the matches were rather uneventful, and I could almost say the same for the Arsenal except for the injuries that a couple of players picked up, ultimately making their victory sort of bittersweet.
I spent the whole following day visiting another supplier, and was pretty tired when we got back to the hotel at 7.30. My colleagues were equally spent, so we once again went upstairs to attack the refreshments and relax. A little past 10, we decided to go back to the same restaurant from the previous evening (boring, I know) where we found a completely different scene: the place was totally dead.
The waiter informed us that we could eat, but that the place would close promptly at 11, so we quickly ordered dinner, watched a few minutes of football, ate our food, paid up, and called it a night.
Today was a pretty early start. Caught a taxi at 6.30, got to the airport, and I am home once again.
I am planning to do a little sight seeing here this weekend, which I will agree is somewhat ironic. However, irony seems to be the story of my life right now. So long as I refrain from breaking any more glassware, though, I think it should be ok.
keep the faith
Friday, February 25, 2011
Saturday, February 19, 2011
It Is Only So Mundane As You Want It To Be
In this week's exciting update, I will detail extensively the culinary delights I took advantage of this past week while staying in East Killbride. Um, burgers and chips, I think it was. Three times. For a bit of variety, I ate sandwiches for lunch each day, ones that I had purchased in the local gas station/convenience store that we passed daily on the way to the office.
Now, this in no way is a dig at East Killbride, it is more of a reflection on the fact that Bryan can simply make do when the food choices are somewhat limited. I have taken a big step forward by actually eating lunch during the working week. For years, I was all about a smoke and a smile during the Mahlzeit, and for the better part of a decade in the states, I spent about an hour each day drinking lattes and watching the traffic flow on highway 114.
The decision to consume burgers this week came about somewhat by accident, and truth be told, had I been at home, I probably would have simply filled a few soft tortillas with chicken, cheese, and jalopeños and called it a feast. (Whoever said Bryan wasn't super talented in the kitchen?) Upon my arrival in the hotel on Monday night, I thought a burger was the easiest thing on the menu, and I wasn't all that hungry.
Midweek, I got back to the hotel after work, and got so worked up about the football match between Arsenal and Barcelona, that I phoned up room service and ordered another burger. (more on the match in a second).
The very next day, I went with some colleagues to a pub to watch the Rangers match, and was told that the burgers were great. Turns out that wasn't exactly the case, but that is how the triple burger bit came about, and I was definitely craving a repeat of the schnitzel I ate last Saturday night, which perhaps was one of the best I had eaten since I came to Germany.
The week itself started pretty early for me. My flight to Glasgow by way of Amsterdam left Frankfurt at 5 minutes to 7 on Monday morning, which required me to be up at 4.15. Not surprisingly, around 5pm that afternoon (central european time minus one) I was ready to call it a day. My colleague noticed, and drove me over to the hotel.
The working days were spent trying to soak up as much information as possible, and further develop relationships with my colleagues, identifying who does what (and how well), who to contact in North America for systems or materials support, etc. With each day, I get a better feeling that I am progressing, and will be able to contribute in my position.
Wednesday night was to be a prety big night. I had no intention of trying to find some cool place to watch the Arsenal-Barca match. However, upon entering the hotel after work, I realized that I didn't want to watch in the hotel lobby/bar, either. Fortunately, I discovered that the match would be broadcast on local television, hence the reason for doing the room service thing.
I tend to be a bit pessimistic when watching teams play against Barcelona, particularly my team. Barca are easily one of the most skilled clubs in football, and are tremendous to watch. I have seen Valencia beat them on more than one occasion, but Arsenal have not been so fortunate. (Champs league final back in 2006 was one of the best matches I have ever seen in my life, though the result wasn't so great. And never mind the home and away games last year...)
The build up to the game was quite great; both teams play attacking football, quite attractively. However, most people were putting their money on Barcelona, including myself. That team just seems to be miles ahead of everyone else at the moment.
The game started brightly (sorry Chris, just had to say it), and I quickly realized that I would not be able to finish my burger. I was just too jittery. 26 minutes into the game, Barca scored their first goal, and I feared the worst.
For much of the match, Arsenal were chasing the ball, but continued to fight for their chances to play their game. Their efforts were rewarded with a wonderful equalizer, and while I got kind of excited, I also felt that we would concede another goal or three.
When Arsenal scored their second goal, another very impressive one, I did jump up and do a little dance, ignoring the fact that my drapes were open and I was wearing only my Arsenal boxers. (note to self - remember that what happens on the road is supposed to STAY on the road. Sometimes less detail is better...) Still, with 7 minutes remaining, I thought that Barca would get an equalizer or a gamewinner. So, I sat shredding a coaster on the corner of my bed til full time was called. Arsenal did get the result, and I was beside myself. After closing the drapes, I did another little dance, watched the post match commentary, then went to sleep with happy thoughts.
The guys in the office murmured a few words of congratulations the next day, and a few other folks sent me emails or text messages, which was nice. Truly, the match was fantastic to watch, even if you aren't a fan of either side. I am quite sure your man from the Ticket in Dallas had a few things to say during his program on Thursday and Friday. If not, he should have.
Well, as one can expect when you are a new start, the time zips right by as you try to learn as much as you can in a short amount of time. The days are full, but as I mentioned above, I believe I am making progress and getting up to speed. Like the passing from the previous night's football match, information overload can make you dizzy.
So, when Friday morning came about, I was very ready to fly home for the weekend. The logistics are a bit tricky, as my connecting flight from Amsterdam departs about 50 minutes after landing from Glasgow. If my first flight is delayed by more than 5 minutes, I would likely miss my flight back to Germany. Last week, everything worked out well. Yesterday, we were about 15 minutes late getting out of Glasgow, and I thought that the chances of me catching my flight in Amsterdam would be slim to nil.
Amsterdam airport is relatively well organized, but it is busy, especially on a Friday afternoon. That is what I was thinking as I raced from terminal D to B. The queue at passport control was quite long, but somehow I found myself getting through security (hello, why do you have so many ac adapters, cables, and handys in your backpack? cos i am a walking office!) with the thought that I might just make my connection.
I jogged up to the gate just as the last of the folks in the lounge were boarding, so was feeling pretty good about things. The moment of truth would come in Frankfurt at the baggage claim; did my suitcase make it, too?
An hour later, I saw my bag come out of the little chute, and I was pleased with my luck. Sure, the luck may run out at some point, as I am quite sure with as much travel as I will be doing, I am bound to miss a connection, lose a suitcase or whatever. Right now, however, I am two for two, and will hope the luck continues for the next little while.
It was nice to get home to an empty apartment last evening; it is nice to be back in Frankfurt. Even after only two weeks in the new job, and the overall new experience, I have a better understanding of how my father felt during his many years of business travel. It is a good feeling to have something to come back home to.
With that, I am off to the shops. I need to pick up the dry cleaning, and I believe that I am running low on tortillas.
See you out there.
bryan
Now, this in no way is a dig at East Killbride, it is more of a reflection on the fact that Bryan can simply make do when the food choices are somewhat limited. I have taken a big step forward by actually eating lunch during the working week. For years, I was all about a smoke and a smile during the Mahlzeit, and for the better part of a decade in the states, I spent about an hour each day drinking lattes and watching the traffic flow on highway 114.
The decision to consume burgers this week came about somewhat by accident, and truth be told, had I been at home, I probably would have simply filled a few soft tortillas with chicken, cheese, and jalopeños and called it a feast. (Whoever said Bryan wasn't super talented in the kitchen?) Upon my arrival in the hotel on Monday night, I thought a burger was the easiest thing on the menu, and I wasn't all that hungry.
Midweek, I got back to the hotel after work, and got so worked up about the football match between Arsenal and Barcelona, that I phoned up room service and ordered another burger. (more on the match in a second).
The very next day, I went with some colleagues to a pub to watch the Rangers match, and was told that the burgers were great. Turns out that wasn't exactly the case, but that is how the triple burger bit came about, and I was definitely craving a repeat of the schnitzel I ate last Saturday night, which perhaps was one of the best I had eaten since I came to Germany.
The week itself started pretty early for me. My flight to Glasgow by way of Amsterdam left Frankfurt at 5 minutes to 7 on Monday morning, which required me to be up at 4.15. Not surprisingly, around 5pm that afternoon (central european time minus one) I was ready to call it a day. My colleague noticed, and drove me over to the hotel.
The working days were spent trying to soak up as much information as possible, and further develop relationships with my colleagues, identifying who does what (and how well), who to contact in North America for systems or materials support, etc. With each day, I get a better feeling that I am progressing, and will be able to contribute in my position.
Wednesday night was to be a prety big night. I had no intention of trying to find some cool place to watch the Arsenal-Barca match. However, upon entering the hotel after work, I realized that I didn't want to watch in the hotel lobby/bar, either. Fortunately, I discovered that the match would be broadcast on local television, hence the reason for doing the room service thing.
I tend to be a bit pessimistic when watching teams play against Barcelona, particularly my team. Barca are easily one of the most skilled clubs in football, and are tremendous to watch. I have seen Valencia beat them on more than one occasion, but Arsenal have not been so fortunate. (Champs league final back in 2006 was one of the best matches I have ever seen in my life, though the result wasn't so great. And never mind the home and away games last year...)
The build up to the game was quite great; both teams play attacking football, quite attractively. However, most people were putting their money on Barcelona, including myself. That team just seems to be miles ahead of everyone else at the moment.
The game started brightly (sorry Chris, just had to say it), and I quickly realized that I would not be able to finish my burger. I was just too jittery. 26 minutes into the game, Barca scored their first goal, and I feared the worst.
For much of the match, Arsenal were chasing the ball, but continued to fight for their chances to play their game. Their efforts were rewarded with a wonderful equalizer, and while I got kind of excited, I also felt that we would concede another goal or three.
When Arsenal scored their second goal, another very impressive one, I did jump up and do a little dance, ignoring the fact that my drapes were open and I was wearing only my Arsenal boxers. (note to self - remember that what happens on the road is supposed to STAY on the road. Sometimes less detail is better...) Still, with 7 minutes remaining, I thought that Barca would get an equalizer or a gamewinner. So, I sat shredding a coaster on the corner of my bed til full time was called. Arsenal did get the result, and I was beside myself. After closing the drapes, I did another little dance, watched the post match commentary, then went to sleep with happy thoughts.
The guys in the office murmured a few words of congratulations the next day, and a few other folks sent me emails or text messages, which was nice. Truly, the match was fantastic to watch, even if you aren't a fan of either side. I am quite sure your man from the Ticket in Dallas had a few things to say during his program on Thursday and Friday. If not, he should have.
Well, as one can expect when you are a new start, the time zips right by as you try to learn as much as you can in a short amount of time. The days are full, but as I mentioned above, I believe I am making progress and getting up to speed. Like the passing from the previous night's football match, information overload can make you dizzy.
So, when Friday morning came about, I was very ready to fly home for the weekend. The logistics are a bit tricky, as my connecting flight from Amsterdam departs about 50 minutes after landing from Glasgow. If my first flight is delayed by more than 5 minutes, I would likely miss my flight back to Germany. Last week, everything worked out well. Yesterday, we were about 15 minutes late getting out of Glasgow, and I thought that the chances of me catching my flight in Amsterdam would be slim to nil.
Amsterdam airport is relatively well organized, but it is busy, especially on a Friday afternoon. That is what I was thinking as I raced from terminal D to B. The queue at passport control was quite long, but somehow I found myself getting through security (hello, why do you have so many ac adapters, cables, and handys in your backpack? cos i am a walking office!) with the thought that I might just make my connection.
I jogged up to the gate just as the last of the folks in the lounge were boarding, so was feeling pretty good about things. The moment of truth would come in Frankfurt at the baggage claim; did my suitcase make it, too?
An hour later, I saw my bag come out of the little chute, and I was pleased with my luck. Sure, the luck may run out at some point, as I am quite sure with as much travel as I will be doing, I am bound to miss a connection, lose a suitcase or whatever. Right now, however, I am two for two, and will hope the luck continues for the next little while.
It was nice to get home to an empty apartment last evening; it is nice to be back in Frankfurt. Even after only two weeks in the new job, and the overall new experience, I have a better understanding of how my father felt during his many years of business travel. It is a good feeling to have something to come back home to.
With that, I am off to the shops. I need to pick up the dry cleaning, and I believe that I am running low on tortillas.
See you out there.
bryan
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Nicht Mehr Arbeitslos
When I used to wait for the train in Darmstadt, it was not unusual to have a train or two fahren durch, to pass right through the station without stopping. Sometimes it was simply a freight train carrying a load of new autos, other times it was a passenger train that just did not have a scheduled stop.
Because these trains tend to zip right through the station at a breezy 50 miles an hour or so, you kind of notice, especially if you are already waiting on that particular platform. Obviously, most normal folks waiting stand well back, as the noise and the wind is pretty extreme. Unfortunately, I was always that guy who was standing a little too close to the edge, and once or twice found myself quite startled at the sudden commotion caused by a train hurtling through the station. On one occasion, I was on the telephone, and suddenly we were interrupted for 30 seconds or so. Though brief, the disturbance was quite powerful. "Whatever in the fuck was THAT?" asked the person at the other end of the phone.
"Ah, just a train passing by. You should have been here on the platform with me. My clothes just got ripped off by the force of the wind."
As I tend to do, I imagine what it would be like if that passing train was MY train, and I had to get on while it was moving at almost top speed. (I think the conductor is supposed to slow down when passing through the station, but I personally believe that they gleefully step on the gas, just to see the reaction of the passengers waiting on the platform)
At any rate, I no longer have to imagine, as I found out what the experience of getting on a fast moving train which hasn't slowed down for you to board is like this past week as I started my new job.
In a word, whoooooooooooooosh.
I began the week last Monday in the German office, picking up my laptop and other IT accessories, getting a packet of new employee information from HR, meeting and greetinng (and promptly forgetting everone's name) throughout the particular office, and getting a somewhat brief overview of the departments.
The next morning, a colleague and I drove to Amsterdam, where we caught a flight to Glasgow. Upon arrival, we took a taxi to East Killbride, where I met my new boss, and the majority of the team that I am joining. The office moves at a tremendous pace, and I confirmed that I would be jumping right into the deep end, with very little time to get settled.
So, over the rest of the week, I was bombarded with information, new names and faces (promptly forgotten...thank goodness everyone has to wear an ID badge with their name printed on it), and passwords for the various applications, programs, etc that I will be using. Information overload, with a capital Holy Shit.
And it was more or less exactly what I expected. And that is a very good thing.
Though they are very busy, my new colleagues are very welcoming, accepting, and friendly. I get the impression that they will be fairly understanding, as well, which is rather comforting, as it will take a bit for me to get my head around all of the various processes, organizations, and repair sites.
So, I finished my first week of work at breakneck speed, and I think I did relatively OK. Sure, I was ready to board the plane on Friday afternoon for the return to Frankfurt. A bit of laundry and some shopping today, intermingled with a bit of footy and coffee drinking will pretty much sum up the weekend, and on Monday, I will be back in Glasgow.
Since the majority of my team is in Scotland, I will likely spend a fair amount of time there over the next couple of months so as to learn. Ultimately, I will be based out of a German office when I am not travelling around to repair sites.
We will just have to wait and see how that all develops.
Meanwhile, I am back in the mix. It is not a new life, per se, but it is a new job that will have it's various challenges and adventures in a variety of languages. Fortunately, I feel up to the task, and believe I will soon be finding my stride.
First though, I will catch my breath, and try to find a few articles of clothing that seemed to have been ripped off my body during the past couple of days.
keep the faith
bryan
Because these trains tend to zip right through the station at a breezy 50 miles an hour or so, you kind of notice, especially if you are already waiting on that particular platform. Obviously, most normal folks waiting stand well back, as the noise and the wind is pretty extreme. Unfortunately, I was always that guy who was standing a little too close to the edge, and once or twice found myself quite startled at the sudden commotion caused by a train hurtling through the station. On one occasion, I was on the telephone, and suddenly we were interrupted for 30 seconds or so. Though brief, the disturbance was quite powerful. "Whatever in the fuck was THAT?" asked the person at the other end of the phone.
"Ah, just a train passing by. You should have been here on the platform with me. My clothes just got ripped off by the force of the wind."
As I tend to do, I imagine what it would be like if that passing train was MY train, and I had to get on while it was moving at almost top speed. (I think the conductor is supposed to slow down when passing through the station, but I personally believe that they gleefully step on the gas, just to see the reaction of the passengers waiting on the platform)
At any rate, I no longer have to imagine, as I found out what the experience of getting on a fast moving train which hasn't slowed down for you to board is like this past week as I started my new job.
In a word, whoooooooooooooosh.
I began the week last Monday in the German office, picking up my laptop and other IT accessories, getting a packet of new employee information from HR, meeting and greetinng (and promptly forgetting everone's name) throughout the particular office, and getting a somewhat brief overview of the departments.
The next morning, a colleague and I drove to Amsterdam, where we caught a flight to Glasgow. Upon arrival, we took a taxi to East Killbride, where I met my new boss, and the majority of the team that I am joining. The office moves at a tremendous pace, and I confirmed that I would be jumping right into the deep end, with very little time to get settled.
So, over the rest of the week, I was bombarded with information, new names and faces (promptly forgotten...thank goodness everyone has to wear an ID badge with their name printed on it), and passwords for the various applications, programs, etc that I will be using. Information overload, with a capital Holy Shit.
And it was more or less exactly what I expected. And that is a very good thing.
Though they are very busy, my new colleagues are very welcoming, accepting, and friendly. I get the impression that they will be fairly understanding, as well, which is rather comforting, as it will take a bit for me to get my head around all of the various processes, organizations, and repair sites.
So, I finished my first week of work at breakneck speed, and I think I did relatively OK. Sure, I was ready to board the plane on Friday afternoon for the return to Frankfurt. A bit of laundry and some shopping today, intermingled with a bit of footy and coffee drinking will pretty much sum up the weekend, and on Monday, I will be back in Glasgow.
Since the majority of my team is in Scotland, I will likely spend a fair amount of time there over the next couple of months so as to learn. Ultimately, I will be based out of a German office when I am not travelling around to repair sites.
We will just have to wait and see how that all develops.
Meanwhile, I am back in the mix. It is not a new life, per se, but it is a new job that will have it's various challenges and adventures in a variety of languages. Fortunately, I feel up to the task, and believe I will soon be finding my stride.
First though, I will catch my breath, and try to find a few articles of clothing that seemed to have been ripped off my body during the past couple of days.
keep the faith
bryan
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
The Process of Belief
The other week I mentioned that I was about to get a "do over." Nadja asked me if I was about to visit the hair salon. Quite a priceless moment, but I hadn't meant a trip to Toni and Guy, but rather a fresh start on the arbeits front.
Well, 90 days after I stopped working (and coincidentally sent out one job application), my phone rang. I suddenly found myself informed that I had been selected for a position, and that my formal offer would arrive early the following week, with a start date of early February.
Whoosh.
After doing a little dance in the kitchen, I made myself a carajillo and toasted my accomplishment. 3 months after finishing my last job, and I am set to begin again.
Actually, I have only been officially arbeitslos for about 6 weeks, and truth be told, the time has really flashed by.
I wish I could say that I was totally productive and had contributed more to society during this time. Honestly, though, I needed the break. I wish I could say that I utilized my vacation time a bit better. But, all things considered, besides hanging around the house a lot, I did get to Spain, the US, here and there in Germany, and got to know Frankfurt again.
Quick tallies indicate that during my extended break, I read about 8 books, saw about 37 movies, and for the ringer, managed to watch 7 full seasons of the Andy Griffith Show. And I am proud of that.
I also hit the gym on a more regular basis, which resulted in me finding out that now some of my clothes don't fit anymore. Na ja.
Literally, on my last full day of work at my old company, I managed to submit a CV to a company I thought I wanted to work for; the position requirements were all stuff that I had done before, and all in all it looked to be a good fit.
2 telephone interviews, 2 personal interviews, and 3 months later, it seems the company thinks I am a good fit for them, too.
In short, the protector will beocme the poacher. I am going to switch roles and manage repair suppliers.
I won't detail the interview process itself, but will mention that I basically sold myself by saying that I was the ideal fit on the grounds that I would be able to see through all the tricks that the repair suppliers use on their customers, since I have done all of that before.
With great relief, my unemployment period was rather brief. Even so, I still managed to piss off the unemployment office more than once, mostly by missing appointments. I did use the argument that my primary goal was to secure new employment as opposed to appeasing the civil service. (er, word of advice - try not to say, "I think you all are a bunch of plonkers" when meeting with your local civil service office. I think that's where I slipped up)
Fortunately, during my appointment yesterday, I smoothed everything over. I went in to see the guy, who was all ready to try and help me find a position as an IT manager (nope) or as a programmer (Delphi? Isn't that a porpoise without a nose?).
Program management exists, but it is not always classifiable in a job bank. Not in Europe, and likely not in the states, for that matter.
Nevertheless, when I told the guy that I had just received an offer, he sort of did not know what to do.
"Really?" he asked.
"Yep."
With that, he congratulated me, though he kind of seemed in awe that I had managed to find new work so quickly.
OK. The truth is, the stars alligned, the moons did the hokey pokey, and I found myself in the right place at the right time.
Though I have always been a relatively strong player, my style is not for everyone. Thus, I have never ever been harassed by head hunters looking to place me somewhere. I am a special fit.
It is not as if I am a lunatic or crazy or anything...those are just perks.
In honesty, I expected my search to take about 3 months, but have to laugh at the fact that it took about 15 hours of MY time, and around 89 days and 9 hours for the hiring firm.
But, I found the (apparently) right match for me right from the get go. I will credit the fact that 5 years ago I spent loads of time trying to figure out all of the avenues I could take in my life; the prep work had more or less already been done.
As I'd said in previous posts since August, my goal was to find the right fit for me. I am just fortunate that I already knew my size. Furthermore, an old colleague/customer/friend helped create the opening. For that, I am extremely thankful.
But, regardless of how many friends you have on facebook, the number of connections you have on linkedin, the number of bridges you have torched or constructed...it really comes down to the chance itself.
Sure, I got my chance to talk to the folks and tell my story, but I got the job.
I am proud of that.
Somehow, I managed to get a do over, and the visit to the Friseur is optional. In about 12 days, I will be working again.
I am fired up, freaking out, happy, sad, emotional, and toally psyched all at once. (note to self, do NOT express this on your first day...)
I am going to leave all the depressing, self worth questioning, tough tough moments coments for another day. By no means, despite the relatively quick result, was this an easy experience for me.
That said, it is time for a little jubilation. I am back in the game, and this time with 5 swashbuckling years of European experience.
I will most likely be really earning my pay increase, and undoubtedly will endure lots of stress and some less than pleasant times, but I am prepared.
Lessons learned? Absolutely.
There is oh so much more to life than simply working, and one can never forget that. Thanks, Nadja. Well said.
See you out there. With a vengeance.
bryan
Well, 90 days after I stopped working (and coincidentally sent out one job application), my phone rang. I suddenly found myself informed that I had been selected for a position, and that my formal offer would arrive early the following week, with a start date of early February.
Whoosh.
After doing a little dance in the kitchen, I made myself a carajillo and toasted my accomplishment. 3 months after finishing my last job, and I am set to begin again.
Actually, I have only been officially arbeitslos for about 6 weeks, and truth be told, the time has really flashed by.
I wish I could say that I was totally productive and had contributed more to society during this time. Honestly, though, I needed the break. I wish I could say that I utilized my vacation time a bit better. But, all things considered, besides hanging around the house a lot, I did get to Spain, the US, here and there in Germany, and got to know Frankfurt again.
Quick tallies indicate that during my extended break, I read about 8 books, saw about 37 movies, and for the ringer, managed to watch 7 full seasons of the Andy Griffith Show. And I am proud of that.
I also hit the gym on a more regular basis, which resulted in me finding out that now some of my clothes don't fit anymore. Na ja.
Literally, on my last full day of work at my old company, I managed to submit a CV to a company I thought I wanted to work for; the position requirements were all stuff that I had done before, and all in all it looked to be a good fit.
2 telephone interviews, 2 personal interviews, and 3 months later, it seems the company thinks I am a good fit for them, too.
In short, the protector will beocme the poacher. I am going to switch roles and manage repair suppliers.
I won't detail the interview process itself, but will mention that I basically sold myself by saying that I was the ideal fit on the grounds that I would be able to see through all the tricks that the repair suppliers use on their customers, since I have done all of that before.
With great relief, my unemployment period was rather brief. Even so, I still managed to piss off the unemployment office more than once, mostly by missing appointments. I did use the argument that my primary goal was to secure new employment as opposed to appeasing the civil service. (er, word of advice - try not to say, "I think you all are a bunch of plonkers" when meeting with your local civil service office. I think that's where I slipped up)
Fortunately, during my appointment yesterday, I smoothed everything over. I went in to see the guy, who was all ready to try and help me find a position as an IT manager (nope) or as a programmer (Delphi? Isn't that a porpoise without a nose?).
Program management exists, but it is not always classifiable in a job bank. Not in Europe, and likely not in the states, for that matter.
Nevertheless, when I told the guy that I had just received an offer, he sort of did not know what to do.
"Really?" he asked.
"Yep."
With that, he congratulated me, though he kind of seemed in awe that I had managed to find new work so quickly.
OK. The truth is, the stars alligned, the moons did the hokey pokey, and I found myself in the right place at the right time.
Though I have always been a relatively strong player, my style is not for everyone. Thus, I have never ever been harassed by head hunters looking to place me somewhere. I am a special fit.
It is not as if I am a lunatic or crazy or anything...those are just perks.
In honesty, I expected my search to take about 3 months, but have to laugh at the fact that it took about 15 hours of MY time, and around 89 days and 9 hours for the hiring firm.
But, I found the (apparently) right match for me right from the get go. I will credit the fact that 5 years ago I spent loads of time trying to figure out all of the avenues I could take in my life; the prep work had more or less already been done.
As I'd said in previous posts since August, my goal was to find the right fit for me. I am just fortunate that I already knew my size. Furthermore, an old colleague/customer/friend helped create the opening. For that, I am extremely thankful.
But, regardless of how many friends you have on facebook, the number of connections you have on linkedin, the number of bridges you have torched or constructed...it really comes down to the chance itself.
Sure, I got my chance to talk to the folks and tell my story, but I got the job.
I am proud of that.
Somehow, I managed to get a do over, and the visit to the Friseur is optional. In about 12 days, I will be working again.
I am fired up, freaking out, happy, sad, emotional, and toally psyched all at once. (note to self, do NOT express this on your first day...)
I am going to leave all the depressing, self worth questioning, tough tough moments coments for another day. By no means, despite the relatively quick result, was this an easy experience for me.
That said, it is time for a little jubilation. I am back in the game, and this time with 5 swashbuckling years of European experience.
I will most likely be really earning my pay increase, and undoubtedly will endure lots of stress and some less than pleasant times, but I am prepared.
Lessons learned? Absolutely.
There is oh so much more to life than simply working, and one can never forget that. Thanks, Nadja. Well said.
See you out there. With a vengeance.
bryan
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Only a few words...
I have a poster on my wall from 1988, proclaiming „sin palabras.“ It was to commemorate Las Fallas, and I happened to be present for the festival that year, and somehow I managed to borrow the poster from my sister, both permanently and thankfully.
20 Years ago at this time, I was mucking around in Ireland. No real souvenirs to speak of, save for a pretty strong appreciation for Guinness and Jamesons.
Both experiences go down as truly memorable experiences in my life.
My recent trip to the states can be added to this list; I had quite the wonderful time. In fact, it was so special that I actually find myself unable to find the right words for a write up. Sin palabras, if you will. The feelings are just too great.
That said, I will give some special thanks to Brandon, Pablo, and the Change Maker for a great night at the Monk, Jeff for some excellent hang out time, Moe for a cool night of queso and swirls, and brother Hall for a nice telephone chat.
It has been a pensive start to the new year for me, which I don’t find too surprising. I tend to reflect most of the time anyway, on my past, present, and future.
Today, however, I am doing a lot of thinking along to the tunes of some punk bands that did a bunch of covers of popular songs from the 80s. It is making for a pretty interesting afternoon.
So, here’s to the new year, and taking the time to think. Bring on the dancing horses, if you like. Meanwhile…
Keep the faith
20 Years ago at this time, I was mucking around in Ireland. No real souvenirs to speak of, save for a pretty strong appreciation for Guinness and Jamesons.
Both experiences go down as truly memorable experiences in my life.
My recent trip to the states can be added to this list; I had quite the wonderful time. In fact, it was so special that I actually find myself unable to find the right words for a write up. Sin palabras, if you will. The feelings are just too great.
That said, I will give some special thanks to Brandon, Pablo, and the Change Maker for a great night at the Monk, Jeff for some excellent hang out time, Moe for a cool night of queso and swirls, and brother Hall for a nice telephone chat.
It has been a pensive start to the new year for me, which I don’t find too surprising. I tend to reflect most of the time anyway, on my past, present, and future.
Today, however, I am doing a lot of thinking along to the tunes of some punk bands that did a bunch of covers of popular songs from the 80s. It is making for a pretty interesting afternoon.
So, here’s to the new year, and taking the time to think. Bring on the dancing horses, if you like. Meanwhile…
Keep the faith
Thursday, December 09, 2010
Snow Madness Is Festive!
My grandmother recently described her drive through downtown Dallas quite accurately. „Bryan, you could have shot off a cannon and it wouldn’t have hit anybody.“
True, she was driving through on a Sunday afternoon, after a bit of a challenging drive around Fair Park in her efforts to get to a meeting of the DAR. Things didn’t go too well, since she got caught in the White Rock marathon and thus all the streets were blocked, forcing her into multiple detours.
All in all, it was a pretty funny story, and had me laughing, since I had begun our conversation simply with a, „Hey, what did you do yesterday?“
In this past week that I have been back from my Spanish vacation, I have had some pretty decent answers to that question myself. For example, at least twice I believe I said, „Sod all,“ and think that to be a perfectly acceptable (as well as extremely accurate) response. After all, I am on vacation, and am simply enjoying myself.
Somehow, I have managed to read about six books in the past few weeks, and while some of it was forgettable fiction, quite a bit of it was heavy contradictory philosophy, which made for some interesting reflective moments on my part. Don’t go thinking that I am growing a beard and getting all weird; I am basically catching up on some reading of a particular author I never gave much attention to previously. Sure, it has given me new perspective, but I will jump up and say that watching the complete Black Adder series over the weekend (for the umpteenth time) had equal influence, not to mention comedic value.
All of this helps one get through the cold weather; I certainly enjoy the chilly temperatures and the snow, but try standing outside having a couple of lattes and your face will feel like it’s freezing off. Thus, I have spent a bit more time indoors in the past days, but have taken plenty of breaks in cozy pubs and cafes, as well.
I managed to swing myself a third interview with a company, so a couple of days ago I took a little train ride north, had my chat, then had a semi-relaxing trip home, just enjoying the countryside and the chance to roll through a few nice villages, towns, and cities. Everything is in full Christmas market mode, lots of lights and festive decorations are up, and truth be told, I did kind of get caught up in the spirit, and yes, Glühwein helps.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent a little time in one of those cozy cafes, and when we left a couple of hours later, it was snowing heavily. It pretty much snowed through the night and for the better part of this morning (as I was able to observe with a nice espresso from my kitchen table). It was the kind of snow that gets you really excited and appreciative of not only winter but also the season.
After seeing that Arsenal got through to the next round of Champions League, I ended up watching White Christmas (gotta love Bing), which has helped to get me even more psyched up. I seem to be in more of a festive spirit this year, and it can’t be just because I am listening to 7 Seconds while I write this.
At any rate, today was a personal snow day for me, and those are allowed when you are on vacation. I took a little walk around Frankfurt, and despite the fact that some of the snow was melting and the sidewalks were getting a little slushy, I had a nice day. I was secretly hoping to see a big plop of snow melt off a building and fall onto the head of a pedestrian, but it almost happened to me about an hour ago, so I will rescind that wish.
Enjoy the season, and thanks for the Christmas cards and pics.
Keep the faith
True, she was driving through on a Sunday afternoon, after a bit of a challenging drive around Fair Park in her efforts to get to a meeting of the DAR. Things didn’t go too well, since she got caught in the White Rock marathon and thus all the streets were blocked, forcing her into multiple detours.
All in all, it was a pretty funny story, and had me laughing, since I had begun our conversation simply with a, „Hey, what did you do yesterday?“
In this past week that I have been back from my Spanish vacation, I have had some pretty decent answers to that question myself. For example, at least twice I believe I said, „Sod all,“ and think that to be a perfectly acceptable (as well as extremely accurate) response. After all, I am on vacation, and am simply enjoying myself.
Somehow, I have managed to read about six books in the past few weeks, and while some of it was forgettable fiction, quite a bit of it was heavy contradictory philosophy, which made for some interesting reflective moments on my part. Don’t go thinking that I am growing a beard and getting all weird; I am basically catching up on some reading of a particular author I never gave much attention to previously. Sure, it has given me new perspective, but I will jump up and say that watching the complete Black Adder series over the weekend (for the umpteenth time) had equal influence, not to mention comedic value.
All of this helps one get through the cold weather; I certainly enjoy the chilly temperatures and the snow, but try standing outside having a couple of lattes and your face will feel like it’s freezing off. Thus, I have spent a bit more time indoors in the past days, but have taken plenty of breaks in cozy pubs and cafes, as well.
I managed to swing myself a third interview with a company, so a couple of days ago I took a little train ride north, had my chat, then had a semi-relaxing trip home, just enjoying the countryside and the chance to roll through a few nice villages, towns, and cities. Everything is in full Christmas market mode, lots of lights and festive decorations are up, and truth be told, I did kind of get caught up in the spirit, and yes, Glühwein helps.
Yesterday afternoon, I spent a little time in one of those cozy cafes, and when we left a couple of hours later, it was snowing heavily. It pretty much snowed through the night and for the better part of this morning (as I was able to observe with a nice espresso from my kitchen table). It was the kind of snow that gets you really excited and appreciative of not only winter but also the season.
After seeing that Arsenal got through to the next round of Champions League, I ended up watching White Christmas (gotta love Bing), which has helped to get me even more psyched up. I seem to be in more of a festive spirit this year, and it can’t be just because I am listening to 7 Seconds while I write this.
At any rate, today was a personal snow day for me, and those are allowed when you are on vacation. I took a little walk around Frankfurt, and despite the fact that some of the snow was melting and the sidewalks were getting a little slushy, I had a nice day. I was secretly hoping to see a big plop of snow melt off a building and fall onto the head of a pedestrian, but it almost happened to me about an hour ago, so I will rescind that wish.
Enjoy the season, and thanks for the Christmas cards and pics.
Keep the faith
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Taking a Break from Vacation
„You know what? 48 hours ago, I was standing outside on a rooftop terrace, wearing only a sweater, collecting my thoughts while I listened to a couple of groovy tunes. Now, I am schlepping through the icy streets of Bornheim, trying to stay warm; no easy task when the thermometer shows minus 8 degrees.“
That is pretty much how I responded when someone asked me how my Thanksgiving holiday in Spain went last week.
Of course, the idea of travelling to Spain to celebrate Thanksgiving seems a bit strange, but for me, it is right up there with taking vacation while I am on, er, permanent vacation. However, to set things straight, let me try and clarify. First, I went to Spain because I felt like making another visit before year end, since this Christmas I will be stateside, breaking the 10 year tradition of a Navidad española. Additionally, with my recently acquired spare time, it made sense to actually go somewhere to finish up my last official days of work. These days coincided not only with my sister’s birthday, but also with Thanksgiving.
With the exception of Juan, my sister, and myself, I’m not really sure if anyone else in Spain knew that it was Thanksgiving, anyway. That said, we did take a little time to give thanks, and I even did go shopping on Friday, and bought clothes that were, mmm, black.
OK, so my sister even did turkey and dressing for a dinner party on Saturday night, so maybe there was a bit more of a hint of Thanksgiving after all…
But, like I said, I was really just visiting my sister and her family. I certainly wanted a safe haven (not THAT haven, Chris) to finish out my final days as an employee before officially joining the ranks of the Arbeitslos. And I must say, I went to the right place.
There is nothing quite like having a sister who just simply rocks. I may have said that once or twice in a few previous posts, but I probably never say it enough. She is just fully cool. We had a lot more time to just spend time together over the past week, doing lunches, coffees, or just mucking about the house. Sure, my nephew and brother in law were there, too, but since it wasn’t a holiday in Spain, and because I was more relaxed and care free, we just had time to take it easy and enjoy ourselves. (note – it is not as if the household itself is all quiet and subdued; that is totally impossible with a lively 8 year old running about) Again, I went to the right place.
It was rather humbling to find that, while I was still able to understand most spanish conversations, I always seemed to be a step or two behind. Furthermore, I found it a bit more difficult to get the words to come out of my mouth. Alas, maintaining two languages is a bit trickier than I thought. Thankfully, people were most patient with me, and forgave the odd german word that kept slipping into conversations. I don’t believe it is my fault that „leer“ means one thing in German („empty“) and another in Spanish („to read“). And, for some reason, I started saying my Spanish numbers in a German manner, so of course the shop attendant did not understand that I needed size cuatro y cuarenta. (Note to self – Spanish intercambio in 2011, preferably 1st Jan)
Most people are aware that I am not the biggest fan of birthdays, but am somewhat envious of those who are. We sang „Happy Birthday“ to my sister twice on Saturday: once during lunch (mmmm, nice carrot cake!) and once during dinner (mmmm, nice cheesecake!). Typically, wishing someone a happy birthday before their actual birthday is supposed to bring bad luck, but since we weren’t in Gemany, I didn’t think it would be too out of order. Of course, on Monday, I did jump up and wish my sister an official happy birthday, and we did sing the song again at the cafe as we had a couple of carajillos de baileys with the gang after the kids had been dropped off at school.
I continued celebrating my sister’s birthday during the afternoon, as I caught up on a bit of guinness consumption, then met up with my sister and nephew for a couple more beers and tapas. Things caught up with me eventually, and a bit later, while my nephew did his homework, I had to lie down on the couch.
We had a nice little fondue for birthday dinner, and the evening would have ended on a relatively good note had we not forgotten to toast the birthday girl, once more as a family.
However, a few hugs and a bracelet helped put things right, at least from my side. Like I said, I am envious of those who enjoy their birthdays so much, and was at least glad to be present for my sister’s.
Other little highlights from the quick visit included taking the chance to beat my nephew 4 times on the trot at Uno, just as he was saying that he was Uno King around his house. We finished squares, and I really liked the little Uno King crown he made for me. „We are now BOTH Uno Kings, Uncle B! “
Somehow, during our dinner gathering on Saturday evening, the boys watched an episode of Star Wars in dolby surround sound, which wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but the rear speakers were on the other side of the table, thus encompassing us into the prime location to enjoy the sound of light sabers at full blast, not to mention the fanfare of the music of John Williams. Maybe it is one of those you kind of had to be there moments, but it was comical, and fortunately, relatively short lived.
At any rate, I stood on the terrace late Tuesday night by myself, just listening to the ipod (psychedelic furs, if you must know; I realized that comps 3 and 14 that I made over the past couple of years are my faves) and looking out over the sea. Happy thoughts were all about, as well as a few (only a very few) melancholic ones, though they might have entered my head to due the Richard Butler stuff playing on my earphones.
So I find myself back in Frankfurt, in sub zero temperatures. The let down that I always have after visiting family is slowly fading (or simply froze, due to the fact that it is fucking cold here), and I am gearing up for a couple of weeks of bop around time, enjoying the Christmastime festivities in the area.
You would think I would be a bit more worked up about not having a job, but thankfully, after the little escapade from a couple of weeks ago, that is not the case. Instead, I move forward in „nada que perder“ mode, which is quite fine by me.
Keep the faith
That is pretty much how I responded when someone asked me how my Thanksgiving holiday in Spain went last week.
Of course, the idea of travelling to Spain to celebrate Thanksgiving seems a bit strange, but for me, it is right up there with taking vacation while I am on, er, permanent vacation. However, to set things straight, let me try and clarify. First, I went to Spain because I felt like making another visit before year end, since this Christmas I will be stateside, breaking the 10 year tradition of a Navidad española. Additionally, with my recently acquired spare time, it made sense to actually go somewhere to finish up my last official days of work. These days coincided not only with my sister’s birthday, but also with Thanksgiving.
With the exception of Juan, my sister, and myself, I’m not really sure if anyone else in Spain knew that it was Thanksgiving, anyway. That said, we did take a little time to give thanks, and I even did go shopping on Friday, and bought clothes that were, mmm, black.
OK, so my sister even did turkey and dressing for a dinner party on Saturday night, so maybe there was a bit more of a hint of Thanksgiving after all…
But, like I said, I was really just visiting my sister and her family. I certainly wanted a safe haven (not THAT haven, Chris) to finish out my final days as an employee before officially joining the ranks of the Arbeitslos. And I must say, I went to the right place.
There is nothing quite like having a sister who just simply rocks. I may have said that once or twice in a few previous posts, but I probably never say it enough. She is just fully cool. We had a lot more time to just spend time together over the past week, doing lunches, coffees, or just mucking about the house. Sure, my nephew and brother in law were there, too, but since it wasn’t a holiday in Spain, and because I was more relaxed and care free, we just had time to take it easy and enjoy ourselves. (note – it is not as if the household itself is all quiet and subdued; that is totally impossible with a lively 8 year old running about) Again, I went to the right place.
It was rather humbling to find that, while I was still able to understand most spanish conversations, I always seemed to be a step or two behind. Furthermore, I found it a bit more difficult to get the words to come out of my mouth. Alas, maintaining two languages is a bit trickier than I thought. Thankfully, people were most patient with me, and forgave the odd german word that kept slipping into conversations. I don’t believe it is my fault that „leer“ means one thing in German („empty“) and another in Spanish („to read“). And, for some reason, I started saying my Spanish numbers in a German manner, so of course the shop attendant did not understand that I needed size cuatro y cuarenta. (Note to self – Spanish intercambio in 2011, preferably 1st Jan)
Most people are aware that I am not the biggest fan of birthdays, but am somewhat envious of those who are. We sang „Happy Birthday“ to my sister twice on Saturday: once during lunch (mmmm, nice carrot cake!) and once during dinner (mmmm, nice cheesecake!). Typically, wishing someone a happy birthday before their actual birthday is supposed to bring bad luck, but since we weren’t in Gemany, I didn’t think it would be too out of order. Of course, on Monday, I did jump up and wish my sister an official happy birthday, and we did sing the song again at the cafe as we had a couple of carajillos de baileys with the gang after the kids had been dropped off at school.
I continued celebrating my sister’s birthday during the afternoon, as I caught up on a bit of guinness consumption, then met up with my sister and nephew for a couple more beers and tapas. Things caught up with me eventually, and a bit later, while my nephew did his homework, I had to lie down on the couch.
We had a nice little fondue for birthday dinner, and the evening would have ended on a relatively good note had we not forgotten to toast the birthday girl, once more as a family.
However, a few hugs and a bracelet helped put things right, at least from my side. Like I said, I am envious of those who enjoy their birthdays so much, and was at least glad to be present for my sister’s.
Other little highlights from the quick visit included taking the chance to beat my nephew 4 times on the trot at Uno, just as he was saying that he was Uno King around his house. We finished squares, and I really liked the little Uno King crown he made for me. „We are now BOTH Uno Kings, Uncle B! “
Somehow, during our dinner gathering on Saturday evening, the boys watched an episode of Star Wars in dolby surround sound, which wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but the rear speakers were on the other side of the table, thus encompassing us into the prime location to enjoy the sound of light sabers at full blast, not to mention the fanfare of the music of John Williams. Maybe it is one of those you kind of had to be there moments, but it was comical, and fortunately, relatively short lived.
At any rate, I stood on the terrace late Tuesday night by myself, just listening to the ipod (psychedelic furs, if you must know; I realized that comps 3 and 14 that I made over the past couple of years are my faves) and looking out over the sea. Happy thoughts were all about, as well as a few (only a very few) melancholic ones, though they might have entered my head to due the Richard Butler stuff playing on my earphones.
So I find myself back in Frankfurt, in sub zero temperatures. The let down that I always have after visiting family is slowly fading (or simply froze, due to the fact that it is fucking cold here), and I am gearing up for a couple of weeks of bop around time, enjoying the Christmastime festivities in the area.
You would think I would be a bit more worked up about not having a job, but thankfully, after the little escapade from a couple of weeks ago, that is not the case. Instead, I move forward in „nada que perder“ mode, which is quite fine by me.
Keep the faith
Monday, November 22, 2010
From Radio Gaga to an Emotional Blip and Back Again
Ok, here is something you won’t see me write very often: Last Friday, I was listening to the Ticket…
Sr. Pascal sent a quick email out on Friday morning (my afternoon) indicating that one of guys was going to give his update on his feelings about soccer. After the World Cup, he made the decision to select a team in the English league and follow them through the entire season. As luck would have it, he chose to follow Arsenal. While somewhat indifferent to his selection (the fact that I am a fan of the club, too, is irrelevant), I did recognize that he would likely learn to appreciate the finer points of the game by watching that particular team.
Well, after sitting through 10 minutes of advertisements, I finally got to listen to his broadcast. He pointed out that he was really looking forward to this past weekend, not because of other sports being played, but because of two things: Arsenal vs. Tottenham (local derby), and the MLS final, which was to be between FC Dallas and the Colorado Rapids. He was pretty excited about both events, and relayed his appreciation to his fellow colleagues on air. The style of the EPL was exciting, and totally enjoyable, particular the passing. Additionally, he commented on the fact that finally, after all these years, Dallas would be in the final for the first time.
I was glad to tune in to the broadcast, though I don’t particularly feel the need to tune in again anytime soon, no offense to the station or the guy in particular. However, I did admire his enthusiasm for the whole bit, particularly having to get up at 6.30am on Saturday morning to catch the Arsenal match. I had to do that myself for a really long time, and as fun as it was sometimes, it is kind of nice being able to watch them in local time, at a reasonable hour.
Later that afternoon, I told a fellow Arsenal fan about the radio show from my home town, and also excitedly pointed out that finally the Burn was going to the final, though likely to an attendance of maybe 15000 people. That is a bit sad, particularly since the second professional team here in Frankfurt plays about 500 meters from my apartment, and their average attendance is close to that week in week out, and they play in the second division.
At any rate, I too, was pretty enthused about the weekend of football, but 12 hours later I was outside the pub feeling pissed off that Arsenal had just lost the match to their biggest rivals. It certainly wasn’t the first time I have watched my team lose, and it certainly wasn’t the end of the world, but it still sucks.
I woke up this morning, and was a bit disappointed to check the results of the MLS final (played last night, but too late for me, being as it was played in Toronto), seeing that Dallas had lost in extra time. An own goal, no less. I do hope that the guy from the radio station recognizes that at the end of the day, you just have to say, „Well, that is football, for you. “ Hopefully it did not ruin his weekend.
As for me, my weekend was pretty crap on all fronts, even without the dismal football results. I found myself experiencing a ton of self doubt towards the end of the week, and that continued right through the weekend. It was a bit scary, I must say. Throw in a bit of anxiety, a loss of appetite, and a few shitty thoughts, and come Saturday evening, I was a bit of a disaster.
In efforts to stop the madness, I turned to reading philosophy, and did manage to bang out a few hundred pages, which helped immensely. I certainly needed the reminder, the points to reflect on, to help myself realize (not for the first time and not for the last) that this is all part of it. Every day is not going to be so spectacularly zippy; sometimes it is just going to downright suck.
I took a break from reading on Saturday evening to watch an action comedy movie on television. That somewhat helped my mood, but it was short-lived: the movie that came on immediately after was the Excorcist…
Sure, I did not sleep much over the weekend, and struggled greatly to get to the gym, hoping to keep one of the pillars in check. Sunday afternoon, I took a stroll around the streets, and found myself back in a little Chinese garden in the middle of a park. I have visited this little sanctuary more and more often in the past couple of months. It is a nice place to sit and collect one’s thoughts, and I had a lot of thoughts that needed collecting.
Later, I finished another CD compilation, and that helped me feel less out of sorts, though one will likely recognize that songs sort of illustrated my melancholy. That said, I listened several times through, and the songs were not only fitting, but helped to bring me back round. That is always how it seems to be for me. I have to sink pretty low before I come back up.
Hey ho, that is what life’s roller coaster is all about.
Fortunately, my spirits are reasonably back in form today. In a couple of days, I will shoot over to Spain for a bit of holiday, and in a few short weeks, I will be back stateside. I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to seeing friends and family.
So, like Arsenal, I fully expect to bounce back this week, and no matter what their result happens to be, I will be chalking up another one for the W column. Nada que perder.
Keep the faith.
Sr. Pascal sent a quick email out on Friday morning (my afternoon) indicating that one of guys was going to give his update on his feelings about soccer. After the World Cup, he made the decision to select a team in the English league and follow them through the entire season. As luck would have it, he chose to follow Arsenal. While somewhat indifferent to his selection (the fact that I am a fan of the club, too, is irrelevant), I did recognize that he would likely learn to appreciate the finer points of the game by watching that particular team.
Well, after sitting through 10 minutes of advertisements, I finally got to listen to his broadcast. He pointed out that he was really looking forward to this past weekend, not because of other sports being played, but because of two things: Arsenal vs. Tottenham (local derby), and the MLS final, which was to be between FC Dallas and the Colorado Rapids. He was pretty excited about both events, and relayed his appreciation to his fellow colleagues on air. The style of the EPL was exciting, and totally enjoyable, particular the passing. Additionally, he commented on the fact that finally, after all these years, Dallas would be in the final for the first time.
I was glad to tune in to the broadcast, though I don’t particularly feel the need to tune in again anytime soon, no offense to the station or the guy in particular. However, I did admire his enthusiasm for the whole bit, particularly having to get up at 6.30am on Saturday morning to catch the Arsenal match. I had to do that myself for a really long time, and as fun as it was sometimes, it is kind of nice being able to watch them in local time, at a reasonable hour.
Later that afternoon, I told a fellow Arsenal fan about the radio show from my home town, and also excitedly pointed out that finally the Burn was going to the final, though likely to an attendance of maybe 15000 people. That is a bit sad, particularly since the second professional team here in Frankfurt plays about 500 meters from my apartment, and their average attendance is close to that week in week out, and they play in the second division.
At any rate, I too, was pretty enthused about the weekend of football, but 12 hours later I was outside the pub feeling pissed off that Arsenal had just lost the match to their biggest rivals. It certainly wasn’t the first time I have watched my team lose, and it certainly wasn’t the end of the world, but it still sucks.
I woke up this morning, and was a bit disappointed to check the results of the MLS final (played last night, but too late for me, being as it was played in Toronto), seeing that Dallas had lost in extra time. An own goal, no less. I do hope that the guy from the radio station recognizes that at the end of the day, you just have to say, „Well, that is football, for you. “ Hopefully it did not ruin his weekend.
As for me, my weekend was pretty crap on all fronts, even without the dismal football results. I found myself experiencing a ton of self doubt towards the end of the week, and that continued right through the weekend. It was a bit scary, I must say. Throw in a bit of anxiety, a loss of appetite, and a few shitty thoughts, and come Saturday evening, I was a bit of a disaster.
In efforts to stop the madness, I turned to reading philosophy, and did manage to bang out a few hundred pages, which helped immensely. I certainly needed the reminder, the points to reflect on, to help myself realize (not for the first time and not for the last) that this is all part of it. Every day is not going to be so spectacularly zippy; sometimes it is just going to downright suck.
I took a break from reading on Saturday evening to watch an action comedy movie on television. That somewhat helped my mood, but it was short-lived: the movie that came on immediately after was the Excorcist…
Sure, I did not sleep much over the weekend, and struggled greatly to get to the gym, hoping to keep one of the pillars in check. Sunday afternoon, I took a stroll around the streets, and found myself back in a little Chinese garden in the middle of a park. I have visited this little sanctuary more and more often in the past couple of months. It is a nice place to sit and collect one’s thoughts, and I had a lot of thoughts that needed collecting.
Later, I finished another CD compilation, and that helped me feel less out of sorts, though one will likely recognize that songs sort of illustrated my melancholy. That said, I listened several times through, and the songs were not only fitting, but helped to bring me back round. That is always how it seems to be for me. I have to sink pretty low before I come back up.
Hey ho, that is what life’s roller coaster is all about.
Fortunately, my spirits are reasonably back in form today. In a couple of days, I will shoot over to Spain for a bit of holiday, and in a few short weeks, I will be back stateside. I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to seeing friends and family.
So, like Arsenal, I fully expect to bounce back this week, and no matter what their result happens to be, I will be chalking up another one for the W column. Nada que perder.
Keep the faith.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Milk Foam Mysteries and Much Needed Music
I feel like I’ve been duped, and I’ve no one to blame but myself.
Milk has always had a place in my arsenal of beverages; I tend to consume at least one gallon a week, normally closer to two or three. It’s just the right bevvie to accompany a nice piece of cake, or a couple handfuls of Christmas cookies (note to self: must have tollhouse and haystacks soon!), or simply to quench the middle of the night thirst.
My mom got on a low fat kick during my adolescence, and for quite some time, was consuming skim milk. I didn’t notice at first (ok, almost a couple of years), but I became curious. I spent a fair amount of time at Jeff’s house, and we regularly had glasses of “bookie,” his family’s affectionate name for milk. (Apologies, Jeff, I don’t remember the spelling, but that we pronounced it much the same way one would pronounce “Pookie.”) At any rate, the milk at Jeff’s house was awesome: always cold and flavorful.
I pointed this out to my mother one time at the store, and she said perhaps it was the fact that Jeff’s family purchased another brand of milk. Indeed, they typically bought Borden (Elsie, how’d you do it?), and when I asked if we could purchase Borden milk and if no, why not, the answer came with a bit of a glare and a, “cos’ we use another brand,” as she put a gallon of grocery store house brand milk into the cart. End of discussion.
Ultimately, that meant, when I was buying my own milk, I could choose what I liked. So, once I was purchasing my own groceries, I jumped right on the Borden wagon, and happily purchased and consumed Borden 2% milk, and loved the hell out of it, despite the fact that it was noticeably more expensive than the store’s house brand.
Several years later, after I had been living on my own for some time, I was visiting my parents for a meal, and decided to have a glass of milk. Unfortunately, it was a horrible experience; the milk was almost tasteless. As the diet rage and health awareness continued during the 80s and 90s, my parents had moved away from skim milk to 0% fat milk, citing the need to reduce fats in their diet as much as possible.
This proved to be most irritating, because no fat milk to me tastes just like a glass of water with 2 drops of white food coloring in it, absolutely no taste of milk whatsoever. For years, particularly at holidays, I was less able to enjoy the Christmas cookie experience due to the fact that the milk at my parents’ house tasted crap.
At the end of the 90s, when I lived briefly (i.e. a few months) at home, I purchased my own groceries, including milk. On any given day, there might be 4 or more gallons of milk in the fridge: one gallon crap milk, and two or three gallons of my preferred stuff. (Note – it was not unusual for me to drink half a gallon in a single chug during this time of my life). Fortunately, my parents acquired a second refrigerator, which helped create a bit of space. The other alternative was to purchase a cow, and that just wasn’t going to fly in the suburbs of Dallas. However, I did notice that my father had taken to drinking my milk, as he preferred the milk with the higher fat content, also.
True, I tend to be brand loyal, and was still drinking Borden products, but had finally realized that the reason I had enjoyed milk everywhere but at my parents was down to the fact that everywhere else, I was drinking milk with higher fat content. This epiphany was more or less triggered by a comment my sister made once, “Bryan, you dork. This is skim milk, and that’s why it tastes horrible. You’ve been drinking whole milk everywhere else.” Oh.
Well, over the years, I’ve stuck to drinking milk with a higher fat content. Indeed, I moved away from the Borden brand, though that had more to do with location and availability than anything else. As a happy shopper at Whole Foods, I tended to buy the milk from the local supplier. I forget the brand, but the cow on the jug looked really really happy. Besides, the milk tasted awesome, almost better than the milk at Jeff’s house from all those years ago.
While in Spain, I favored the milk from central lechera Asturiana, though the Pascal lechera was also pretty tasty. However, I liked the look of the bottle of Asturiana better: lots of cows grazing in a valley, with a scenic view of snow covered mountain ranges in the background. With a label like that, how could the milk not taste great?
In Germany, it didn’t take much time before I found alpen Frisch milch. The blue carton and the mountain range just grabbed my attention. Furthermore, the 3.5% fat content was in line with my expectations. So, for the past four years, I’ve been a loyal, satisfied consumer of the brand.
I don’t eat nearly as much cereal as I once did, but I do do a fair amount of late night chugging, so my milk consumption is still relatively high. Furthermore, I prepare quite a few lattes for myself. Call it a café con leche, a latte macchiato, or whatever you want.
People here prefer a lot of milk foam in their coffees (lattes, etc). I think even the home espresso machines are built with this in mind. My milk foamer just tends to go nuts once I turn the knob and start steaming, and this has frequently resulted in some spills in my kitchen: a little milk makes a LOT of foam.
Meanwhile, in my local café, they tend to pride themselves on building a pile of foam that actually rises a few centimeters above the top of the glass, referred to as a “crown.” In fact, just about every café tends to serve lattes this way. Last weekend in Hamburg, the waiter was unable to add an extra shot of espresso into my drink, indicating that if he did, the cup would overflow. He then brought me my drink which was about 2/3 milk foam, most of which was above the rim of the glass.
Being a bit of a barista, I’ve also prided myself on my ability to prepare coffees for not only myself, but also any guests. However, more than once I’ve fallen way short on expectation. My coffees tend to be a bit more espresso and a bit less milk foam. Several times, guests have looked disappointed as I served them a latte with way too little Schaum. I started practicing, hoping to improve my technique in order to create a bit more satisfaction, and still found myself short of the mark. Every so often, though, I have been able to create the mountain of foam that one tends to find regularly in cafes around town. These brief moments of success have continued to encourage me, but I’ve still been curious as to why it’s a bit hit or miss: my technique is pretty constant.
I’ve been closely watching people make coffees over the past several weeks, trying to put my additional spare time (equate that with: increased time spent in cafes) to good use by spotting a secret technique from another barista. The study has been inconclusive: my method for foaming milk isn’t too different from anyone else’s.
Last week (or the week before), right after a trip to my local supermarket, I was making a coffee, and suddenly there was foam all around! I was amazed, and quite pleased with the results. I actually was patting my little milk bottle for a job well done when I noticed that the fat content was marked 1.5%, which is basically the equivalent to low fat milk in Europe. “Wow, that milk tastes pretty good for such a low fat content,” I thought to myself. “I thought I had been buying milk with more fat in it.” I looked in the fridge at the other bottles of milk, and noticed that two of them were marked with 3.5% fat, and the other two were 1.5%.
Now, I’ve always been semi-aware that milk with lower fat content tends to make for more “foamy” foam when using said espresso machines. The next time I was at the supermarket, I examined the milk section a bit more closely. It turns out that my brand of milk here only comes in a blue carton. However, I’ve never bothered to really read the label (after the first time I ever bought the brand of milk) to notice that the milk comes in the two varieties. Instead, I always grabbed the blue carton off the shelf. As it happens, the whole and low-fat milks are set side by side on the shelf.
In a word, Duh. In two words, mystery solved. Not only have I figured out what my problem was in the milk foaming department, I’ve also finally realized why other customers always seemed to spend so much time examining the cartons of milk. They were looking for the right fat content to be sure that they didn’t select the wrong one, whether it be for the sake of preparing super foamy milk, or simply because of their diet preferences. Hmmm, live and learn.
All in all, it’s been a pretty amusing week. I provided a bit of entertainment on Monday night when I suddenly was hit by a charley horse while sitting in a little café. I jumped up and did that little “ouch, holyshitholyshitholyshit!” thing that you have to do as you try to loosen the muscle so that the cramping stops. It’s not the funniest thing in the world to experience, but once it stops, you have to laugh with relief, along with whoever happened to observe you cramping up, as they tend to be laughing hysterically already.
I did take some time to entertain myself, too. I set up my second laptop, got the wireless working, and spent a few minutes skyping with myself, before powering down and heading off to see the Gaslight Anthem play a show Thursday evening.
Last summer at a festival, I saw this band play for the first time, and they left an impression, as I mentioned in a post shortly thereafter. I looked forward to their next release, and was quite pleased when it came out a few months back. The group did a few festivals in Europe during the summer months, but none were too close to Frankfurt, and truth be told, I really wanted a chance to see them at an individual concert, where they would have more time to play.
So, when the fall tour of Europe was announced, I marked the date in my calendar, vowing not to miss the show. Too many times this year I’d had to miss concerts due to conflicts involving work. Well, I’ve certainly managed to free up my time, but when it started raining like hell on Thursday evening, I suddenly had an urge for a quiet night in watching movies, even though I’d already purchased my online ticket. “Boop!” I skyped myself. “Log off and get yourself to the show, you mediocre barista!”
That’s all I needed, just a little push. I grabbed my jacket, was walking down the street to the U-bahn in the pouring rain, when I decided to splurge on a cab, which would get me to the show in about 1/3 of the time.
I had to show the cabbie how to work the GPS system, but within a few minutes, we arrived at the show, and after a quick feel up by the security guy who was a bit too cozy, I was inside the concert hall.
A new punk act from the UK was playing the early set. Their stuff wasn’t bad, and I’ll keep an eye on them. The concession stand was a madhouse, but I organized a couple of beers (one to drink, one for backup), then found a spot to view the stage.
The second act was a guy named Chuck Ragan, performing a solo acoustic set. I’ve been familiar with his old group Hot Water Music for several years, but wasn’t really so overwhelmed. His solo work, however, is incredible. Check him out if you can, particularly live. His stage presence is magnificent.
Shortly before 10, the lights went out, and the unmistakable beginning of the Clash’s “Straight to Hell” came on the PA. I smiled to myself, realizing how good this show was going to be.
Halfway through one of my favorite Clash songs (and apparently a favorite of the band, too), the Gaslight Anthem skull and cross bones banner was unfurled as a backdrop (hmm, a bit St Pauli), and the band made their way on stage.
When I listen to TGA, I can’t help but dance about. This has made for some interesting moments at home, and a likely source of amusement for my neighbors across the street, at least until I started remembering to close the blinds. In concert, though, the crowd of fans danced and stomped about with great pleasure. The band just enjoys the hell out of playing, and it is so obvious that you can’t help but get enthused.
For two hours, the guys just rocked things up. The three albums they’ve produced to date kind of progress in style, similar to the first three albums by the Clash. While I recognize the connection and the influence, the Clash will always be the Clash, and thank goodness, the Gaslight Anthem will always be the Gaslight Anthem. TGA’s style is their own and is to be admired. As I said above, the guys enjoy playing their show, and that says something for the power of influence great music has on people. Sing like no one is listening, and dance like no one is watching…
Towards the end of the show, right about the time for encores, I ran into a few folks I know from my neighborhood. They tend to hang out on the corner of my street at a little punk-rockabilly store. We all enthused about how great the show was, and watched the band finish their set. What a great evening.
So, it’s continued to rain here over the past couple of days, but I’ve been sitting indoors, enjoying quality milk foam and listening to Chuck Ragan and TGA, with a bit of Clash thrown in just to make things complete.
Keep the faith.
Milk has always had a place in my arsenal of beverages; I tend to consume at least one gallon a week, normally closer to two or three. It’s just the right bevvie to accompany a nice piece of cake, or a couple handfuls of Christmas cookies (note to self: must have tollhouse and haystacks soon!), or simply to quench the middle of the night thirst.
My mom got on a low fat kick during my adolescence, and for quite some time, was consuming skim milk. I didn’t notice at first (ok, almost a couple of years), but I became curious. I spent a fair amount of time at Jeff’s house, and we regularly had glasses of “bookie,” his family’s affectionate name for milk. (Apologies, Jeff, I don’t remember the spelling, but that we pronounced it much the same way one would pronounce “Pookie.”) At any rate, the milk at Jeff’s house was awesome: always cold and flavorful.
I pointed this out to my mother one time at the store, and she said perhaps it was the fact that Jeff’s family purchased another brand of milk. Indeed, they typically bought Borden (Elsie, how’d you do it?), and when I asked if we could purchase Borden milk and if no, why not, the answer came with a bit of a glare and a, “cos’ we use another brand,” as she put a gallon of grocery store house brand milk into the cart. End of discussion.
Ultimately, that meant, when I was buying my own milk, I could choose what I liked. So, once I was purchasing my own groceries, I jumped right on the Borden wagon, and happily purchased and consumed Borden 2% milk, and loved the hell out of it, despite the fact that it was noticeably more expensive than the store’s house brand.
Several years later, after I had been living on my own for some time, I was visiting my parents for a meal, and decided to have a glass of milk. Unfortunately, it was a horrible experience; the milk was almost tasteless. As the diet rage and health awareness continued during the 80s and 90s, my parents had moved away from skim milk to 0% fat milk, citing the need to reduce fats in their diet as much as possible.
This proved to be most irritating, because no fat milk to me tastes just like a glass of water with 2 drops of white food coloring in it, absolutely no taste of milk whatsoever. For years, particularly at holidays, I was less able to enjoy the Christmas cookie experience due to the fact that the milk at my parents’ house tasted crap.
At the end of the 90s, when I lived briefly (i.e. a few months) at home, I purchased my own groceries, including milk. On any given day, there might be 4 or more gallons of milk in the fridge: one gallon crap milk, and two or three gallons of my preferred stuff. (Note – it was not unusual for me to drink half a gallon in a single chug during this time of my life). Fortunately, my parents acquired a second refrigerator, which helped create a bit of space. The other alternative was to purchase a cow, and that just wasn’t going to fly in the suburbs of Dallas. However, I did notice that my father had taken to drinking my milk, as he preferred the milk with the higher fat content, also.
True, I tend to be brand loyal, and was still drinking Borden products, but had finally realized that the reason I had enjoyed milk everywhere but at my parents was down to the fact that everywhere else, I was drinking milk with higher fat content. This epiphany was more or less triggered by a comment my sister made once, “Bryan, you dork. This is skim milk, and that’s why it tastes horrible. You’ve been drinking whole milk everywhere else.” Oh.
Well, over the years, I’ve stuck to drinking milk with a higher fat content. Indeed, I moved away from the Borden brand, though that had more to do with location and availability than anything else. As a happy shopper at Whole Foods, I tended to buy the milk from the local supplier. I forget the brand, but the cow on the jug looked really really happy. Besides, the milk tasted awesome, almost better than the milk at Jeff’s house from all those years ago.
While in Spain, I favored the milk from central lechera Asturiana, though the Pascal lechera was also pretty tasty. However, I liked the look of the bottle of Asturiana better: lots of cows grazing in a valley, with a scenic view of snow covered mountain ranges in the background. With a label like that, how could the milk not taste great?
In Germany, it didn’t take much time before I found alpen Frisch milch. The blue carton and the mountain range just grabbed my attention. Furthermore, the 3.5% fat content was in line with my expectations. So, for the past four years, I’ve been a loyal, satisfied consumer of the brand.
I don’t eat nearly as much cereal as I once did, but I do do a fair amount of late night chugging, so my milk consumption is still relatively high. Furthermore, I prepare quite a few lattes for myself. Call it a café con leche, a latte macchiato, or whatever you want.
People here prefer a lot of milk foam in their coffees (lattes, etc). I think even the home espresso machines are built with this in mind. My milk foamer just tends to go nuts once I turn the knob and start steaming, and this has frequently resulted in some spills in my kitchen: a little milk makes a LOT of foam.
Meanwhile, in my local café, they tend to pride themselves on building a pile of foam that actually rises a few centimeters above the top of the glass, referred to as a “crown.” In fact, just about every café tends to serve lattes this way. Last weekend in Hamburg, the waiter was unable to add an extra shot of espresso into my drink, indicating that if he did, the cup would overflow. He then brought me my drink which was about 2/3 milk foam, most of which was above the rim of the glass.
Being a bit of a barista, I’ve also prided myself on my ability to prepare coffees for not only myself, but also any guests. However, more than once I’ve fallen way short on expectation. My coffees tend to be a bit more espresso and a bit less milk foam. Several times, guests have looked disappointed as I served them a latte with way too little Schaum. I started practicing, hoping to improve my technique in order to create a bit more satisfaction, and still found myself short of the mark. Every so often, though, I have been able to create the mountain of foam that one tends to find regularly in cafes around town. These brief moments of success have continued to encourage me, but I’ve still been curious as to why it’s a bit hit or miss: my technique is pretty constant.
I’ve been closely watching people make coffees over the past several weeks, trying to put my additional spare time (equate that with: increased time spent in cafes) to good use by spotting a secret technique from another barista. The study has been inconclusive: my method for foaming milk isn’t too different from anyone else’s.
Last week (or the week before), right after a trip to my local supermarket, I was making a coffee, and suddenly there was foam all around! I was amazed, and quite pleased with the results. I actually was patting my little milk bottle for a job well done when I noticed that the fat content was marked 1.5%, which is basically the equivalent to low fat milk in Europe. “Wow, that milk tastes pretty good for such a low fat content,” I thought to myself. “I thought I had been buying milk with more fat in it.” I looked in the fridge at the other bottles of milk, and noticed that two of them were marked with 3.5% fat, and the other two were 1.5%.
Now, I’ve always been semi-aware that milk with lower fat content tends to make for more “foamy” foam when using said espresso machines. The next time I was at the supermarket, I examined the milk section a bit more closely. It turns out that my brand of milk here only comes in a blue carton. However, I’ve never bothered to really read the label (after the first time I ever bought the brand of milk) to notice that the milk comes in the two varieties. Instead, I always grabbed the blue carton off the shelf. As it happens, the whole and low-fat milks are set side by side on the shelf.
In a word, Duh. In two words, mystery solved. Not only have I figured out what my problem was in the milk foaming department, I’ve also finally realized why other customers always seemed to spend so much time examining the cartons of milk. They were looking for the right fat content to be sure that they didn’t select the wrong one, whether it be for the sake of preparing super foamy milk, or simply because of their diet preferences. Hmmm, live and learn.
All in all, it’s been a pretty amusing week. I provided a bit of entertainment on Monday night when I suddenly was hit by a charley horse while sitting in a little café. I jumped up and did that little “ouch, holyshitholyshitholyshit!” thing that you have to do as you try to loosen the muscle so that the cramping stops. It’s not the funniest thing in the world to experience, but once it stops, you have to laugh with relief, along with whoever happened to observe you cramping up, as they tend to be laughing hysterically already.
I did take some time to entertain myself, too. I set up my second laptop, got the wireless working, and spent a few minutes skyping with myself, before powering down and heading off to see the Gaslight Anthem play a show Thursday evening.
Last summer at a festival, I saw this band play for the first time, and they left an impression, as I mentioned in a post shortly thereafter. I looked forward to their next release, and was quite pleased when it came out a few months back. The group did a few festivals in Europe during the summer months, but none were too close to Frankfurt, and truth be told, I really wanted a chance to see them at an individual concert, where they would have more time to play.
So, when the fall tour of Europe was announced, I marked the date in my calendar, vowing not to miss the show. Too many times this year I’d had to miss concerts due to conflicts involving work. Well, I’ve certainly managed to free up my time, but when it started raining like hell on Thursday evening, I suddenly had an urge for a quiet night in watching movies, even though I’d already purchased my online ticket. “Boop!” I skyped myself. “Log off and get yourself to the show, you mediocre barista!”
That’s all I needed, just a little push. I grabbed my jacket, was walking down the street to the U-bahn in the pouring rain, when I decided to splurge on a cab, which would get me to the show in about 1/3 of the time.
I had to show the cabbie how to work the GPS system, but within a few minutes, we arrived at the show, and after a quick feel up by the security guy who was a bit too cozy, I was inside the concert hall.
A new punk act from the UK was playing the early set. Their stuff wasn’t bad, and I’ll keep an eye on them. The concession stand was a madhouse, but I organized a couple of beers (one to drink, one for backup), then found a spot to view the stage.
The second act was a guy named Chuck Ragan, performing a solo acoustic set. I’ve been familiar with his old group Hot Water Music for several years, but wasn’t really so overwhelmed. His solo work, however, is incredible. Check him out if you can, particularly live. His stage presence is magnificent.
Shortly before 10, the lights went out, and the unmistakable beginning of the Clash’s “Straight to Hell” came on the PA. I smiled to myself, realizing how good this show was going to be.
Halfway through one of my favorite Clash songs (and apparently a favorite of the band, too), the Gaslight Anthem skull and cross bones banner was unfurled as a backdrop (hmm, a bit St Pauli), and the band made their way on stage.
When I listen to TGA, I can’t help but dance about. This has made for some interesting moments at home, and a likely source of amusement for my neighbors across the street, at least until I started remembering to close the blinds. In concert, though, the crowd of fans danced and stomped about with great pleasure. The band just enjoys the hell out of playing, and it is so obvious that you can’t help but get enthused.
For two hours, the guys just rocked things up. The three albums they’ve produced to date kind of progress in style, similar to the first three albums by the Clash. While I recognize the connection and the influence, the Clash will always be the Clash, and thank goodness, the Gaslight Anthem will always be the Gaslight Anthem. TGA’s style is their own and is to be admired. As I said above, the guys enjoy playing their show, and that says something for the power of influence great music has on people. Sing like no one is listening, and dance like no one is watching…
Towards the end of the show, right about the time for encores, I ran into a few folks I know from my neighborhood. They tend to hang out on the corner of my street at a little punk-rockabilly store. We all enthused about how great the show was, and watched the band finish their set. What a great evening.
So, it’s continued to rain here over the past couple of days, but I’ve been sitting indoors, enjoying quality milk foam and listening to Chuck Ragan and TGA, with a bit of Clash thrown in just to make things complete.
Keep the faith.
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Not Quite a Weekend Review
I’m sitting here in a quiet café in Hamburg, just a few meters from Michaeliskirche. I arrived in Hamburg yesterday afternoon; it’s only about four hours away from Frankfurt by train.
As I studied the U-bahn map at the Hauptbahnhof, an employee of the HVV (Hamburger Verkehrverbund) approached me, asking if he could help in any way. Though it was actually his job, I was immediately aware of his open friendliness and willingness. We sort of discussed the best route to take; we were on the east side of the city, and I needed to get to St. Pauli in the west. I’d pretty much already figured things out, but he confirmed things for me. Indeed, I would have to transfer after a couple of stops to the next U-bahn line. Pretty easy stuff.
A few minutes later, I found myself on Reeperbahn and just sort of wandered, hoping I’d stumble upon my hotel. Earlier in the week, I had purchased a guidebook of the city, was impressed with the fact that I could read and understand most everything in German, and more or less familiarized myself with the city map. Thus, I had a decent idea of which direction to take, and within a couple of minutes, found my hotel. I checked in with the help of very friendly staff, had a quick look at the map again to orient myself, and after the obligatory welcome drink, took a little walk around the waterfront.
My primary reason for the excursion was a Jimmy Eat World show. I’d recently bought their latest release, and while I first became a fan at the end of the 90s when I moved back to Dallas from Boston, I’ve always been kind of an on again, off again listener. That is, until this past year, when a few new songs grabbed my attention, and suddenly they’ve been in heavy rotation on the ipod.
So, the club was directly across from my hotel, but with several hours to kill before show time, I checked out a bit of the waterfront, though it was already dusk and I couldn’t really see all that much. I walked a bit more, enough to build up an appetite, then found a restaurant down the street from the hotel that looked decent.
After their initial surprise that I was dining alone, the staff in the (apparently trendy) lively restaurant was once again, super friendly. Yes, I’m well aware that I’ve just commented on my self perceived friendliness of people working in the service industry in a city known for its tourism, but still, I got the impression that it’s a pretty easy going city.
From my spot in the restaurant, I watched the queue for the show, and became kind of alarmed that by 6pm, the line had already stretched down the block. The show wasn’t due to start until after 8pm, which was when I planned on arriving. I enjoyed a handful of beers and some grub to tie me over the next couple of hours, then paid up.
45 seconds later, I was walking into the club, and discovered that those folks who had queued up early were fortunate to have decent spots from which to view the stage. I, on the other hand, though pleasantly full from burger and beer, was stuck towards the rear of the venue, but within striking distance of the bar.
The bar served beer in tiny plastic cups that reminded me of those little sippy cups that say they’re dishwasher safe but really aren’t. Beer was kind of expensive, but being that I was on vacation, I didn’t wince much. Since the cups were on the small side, frequent refills were required.
I’d heard a song from the opening act on lastfm or somewhere, and had already decided to skip that experience. However, German concerts always seem to start a bit early, so I wasn’t really sure that I’d successfully missed them until the main act hit the stage, which was only about 15 minutes after I’d arrived.
Well, the band launched right in, and despite my somewhat obstructed view, they certainly impressed. The next two hours passed quickly as the band kicked on, playing a nice mix of their stuff from the past 15 years. When you go to a show alone, you can really concentrate on the music. On the other hand, you kind of notice how alone you are. Sometimes, you want to share the experience with someone, you know?
The thing that has always attracted me to Jimmy Eat World is the band’s ability to be a good blend of punk, pop, and plain rock and roll. Their earlier stuff was more punk driven, then got a bit poppy (though with seriously dark overtones), and over their tenure has really developed into very listenable rock and roll.
True, several of their songs have turned up on soundtracks of various teen angst dramas shown on television from the past 10 years, but hell, they’ve tended to turn up on a lot of my comp cd’s also; their stuff is just cool.
Yes, the sound attracts a slightly younger audience (um, when does the next Twilight trilogy DVD come out on blu-ray, again?) but I really didn’t feel that old at the show. Shoot, the band members themselves are close to my age, too. I did take note that the 5 or 6 people that had to be carried out (excessive heat, too much drink…who knows) were about the same age as I was the last time I got thrown out of a show; it felt good to have learned from that experience and stick around until after the encores.
So, I’m glad the band skipped Frankfurt as a tour stop, forcing me to do a road trip to see them. I was long overdue for a show, and this one hit the spot.
After the encores, we all spilled into the street, and I spent the next 90 minutes wandering around the Reeperbahn, Hamburg’s red light district as well as the main spot for concerts, discos, and theatre. You kind of have to watch your step in the area, but I was quite sober again, helped by the big dinner and the rain that had started to fall. Truth be told, it’s worth it to see the spectacle, but not where I want to spend every weekend.
Thanks to double-paned glass, my hotel room was pretty quiet, even though it overlooked said Reeperbahn, so I slept reasonably ok.
I slept until 9 or so, had a bit of breakfast, then have spent the day just walking around the city, and quite a cool city Hamburg is. It’s a great thing when a city sits near water, and Hamburg not only has a river running through it, but also a lake. I walked all along the docks, then through several other districts of the city, taking in the various market places and other points of interest. There are loads of bridges (I crossed most of them), really pleasant views, and it’s been quite a nice day walking around a big city for hours.
However, my feet need the rest, and Bryan needs a latte, hence the afternoon pause in this café. In a few minutes, I’ll climb to the top of the Michaeliskirche tower and get an overview of all the places I’ve seen today. The weather has been really sunny this morning, and after a little rain interlude (which is why the journal pages are wet), the sun is peeking out again.
2 hours later…
OK, I’ll touch on the three Säulen, here. First off, fitness and health. I just climbed to the top of Michaeliskirche Turm, which is 132 meters high. I elected to take the stairs, about 452 steps of them, thinking that I was tough.
By the third story, I was a bit huffy puffy. A guy about my age was just ahead of me, and I thought I’d try to keep pace with him. Turns out he was struggling, too. He even broke sweat.
On the seventh story, I almost thought I was going to have to stop for a bit. However, I pressed on, and was rewarded upon reaching the top. Wow. Totally cool. One can see for miles, and I looked out over the harbor and over the whole city, retracing my steps from earlier in the day.
I’d set out this morning with no real plan, just walking, looking, to see whatever I could see. Yes, I did have an idea of some of the “things to see” in Hamburg, but I’d previously thought that to get from one place to the next, one would need public transportation. However, I found that I had really covered a lot of ground on foot, and not surprisingly, saw a lot of stuff.
Because I didn’t refer to the map, I sort of walked in whatever direction I fancied, and simply kept encountering nifty things to see. I’ve always had a decent sense of direction (I’ve had a secret desire to be kidnapped, put in the trunk of a car and driven around, just so I can pop out and say, “we took four left turns and we’re right back where we started!”) so never really felt too lost. Since there was no game plan to speak of, it’s not really as if I was “lost” in the first place. I was just exploring.
It helps to have a river, which helped me keep my bearings, and if that wasn’t enough, I only had to look for one of the church towers. OK, it’s Hamburg and not Istanbul; I’d like to specify where I’d prefer to be kidnapped…just setting the record straight.
Anyway, after enjoying the view of the city from the observation deck, I walked back down, realizing my legs were feeling a bit rubbery. God knows how they’ll be tomorrow.
So, I’m thinking I’m not so fit. Sure, I’m in the gym a lot, which brings regular commentary from Kumpels and friends. While you might argue that I sort of look fit, this is not quite the same as “being” fit. Put me on a treadmill for 10 minutes, and I think I’ll be in need of a doctor. Skip the smoking comments for a moment, I’m referring to the fact that I’m not conditioned. Thus, I’m noting the need to do a bit of cardio more regularly. That’s now added to the “to do” list. (Isn’t it neat how one can write with such motivation about getting fit while sipping a San Miguel?)
Before we move on to the next pillar, I’ll briefly touch on the smoking. I’ve been failing miserably at quitting over the past 4 months, and it is really irritating me. I’m quite tired of smoking, and am looking forward to the day (coming soon) when the shit is behind me. Yes, the dragon has not yet puffed his last, and I know few people believe me, but it is what it is.
Now, pillar number 2. Work. Ha ha ha ha ha….roll on the floor and laugh out loud. That pillar is under reconstruction, pending the right architect, plans, and funding. So far, so good.
Pillar number 3. Wow, I could write (and actually have been) for days on the topic. I must say that after two weeks of doing the permanent lunch break, I realize just how lopsided my life has become over the years. Take away the work from a guy who only worked all the time and you’ve only got a guy. I went quickly into the realization where I don’t have much of a life. All the years spent doing only work stuff really exposes the absence of the things that make life worth living in the first place. I’m a guy who needs quite a bit of looking after (er, perhaps a bit of Paddington Bryan), and generally a fair amount of encouragement. Typically, that means, hit me in the head with a 2x4. Otherwise, I won’t always get the message.
The problem is, no one is looking after me, so if I don’t do it myself, then I might be well and truly fucked. Thus, if I don’t push myself (i.e.…keep a 2x4 nearby at the ready), nothing will happen or change.
For some reason, I thought that upon my arrival in Germany, I’d meet people and suddenly, I’d be invited off to see things and places, doing stuff. Well, I didn’t realize that the Germans aren’t like that really, and even once they got to know me, no one was ever struck by my openness and willingness (hey, I should go to work for the HVV!) to try new things.
Why? Because I was a one trick pony, and all work and no play makes Bryan a dull boy.
Now, I’m in no way slighting my friends in Germany; they simply call a spade a spade. Furthermore, I have done some really cool things, both self-initiated and through invitation. However, it struck me today as I wandered around the city just how similar the experience was to my first months in Boston: I didn’t know a soul, and I just got on with things.
Um, let’s stop for a moment and pat ourselves on the back for having had the guts to make a dramatic change in life not once (Boston), not twice (Valencia), but three times. Not many people can say that they’ve done that; not by their own choosing, at least.
But, for everyone who always listened to me yammer on about my ambition to work and live somewhere else (i.e. ”away”), particularly in Europe, the patient message was always there. “It’s only so good an experience as you make it, B.”
I think, now that I have more than 15 minutes to reflect (thanks to the extra 60 hours per week that I’ve been gifted), I can see that more clearly. I have done a less than adequate job in making sure that this pillar was firmly structured, choosing instead to flash about and excuse anything with a, “um, too much work.”
Sure, it’s easy to say when you’re unemployed, sitting in a cozy Spanish restaurant (mas chorizo, por favor!) and feeling hoppy boppy, but I’m going to hang on to the notion.
I know plenty of people who have given me grief over the years for working too much, and my response was (and will likely always be) “yeah, but I like what I do for a living.” (Don’t confuse that with: I like who I work for…company or otherwise)
It’s the passion I’ve had with my work that helped me get here, and I’m proud of that. Ironically, some of those same people who berated me have found themselves in a similar situation to mine: too much time in work, and too little time developing the third pillar. I understand the trap very clearly, and am curious as to how to better find the right balance.
It certainly isn’t easy, and I’m not interested in finding a solution here in this piece. Recognizing it as an area which needs a lot of attention is important. That’s the main theme of today.
Right about now (if not 3 pages ago), someone is saying, “Gee, why doesn’t he just write ‘hey, I went to Hamburg at the weekend and had a good time. Why does he always get all philosophical and dreamy?’” (pause, while I smile)
Funny, it’s when all three pillars take a bit of a hit that suddenly the clarity comes, and along with it, plenty of uncertainty about the future. Five years ago, I listed out a bunch of goals for myself during an exercise with a friend in trying to figure out my universe. My friend pointed out that of all the goals I wanted to fulfill, I hadn’t written anything down about a desire to find a partner and have a family, and was I going to.
I was asked that same question just the other week, and wasn’t too surprised to hear myself answering that yes, I do have those desires (though I actually said something more along the lines of having that pipe dream: my pessimism always jumps to the forefront when discussing relationships, and that, combined with my calamitous ability to simply fall in love with the wrong girl makes for a laugh out loud, roll on the floor, reread update for pillar 2 one more time experience), but it’s only got a chance of happening once I recognize where I am in my life.
And where am I right now (besides the quite literal but surreally groovy experience of sitting in a quiet restaurant specializing in paella de mariscos in Hamburg, conversing only in Spanish)?
I am simply here, and here to stay.
Yep, I’ve just slid a New Order lyric into the write up, simply to mock the absurd, albeit extremely rewarding life that I have.
So, thanks for reading, you. It took quite a bit for me to unload here, and my words just didn’t come out earlier in the week.
Keep the faith.
Soundtrack
Vox Populi – 30 Seconds to Mars
Window in the Skies – U2
Indefinitely – Old 97s
Stars Above Us – Saint Etienne
That Was Then But This Is Now – ABC
Walking To Do – Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
Scared As You – The Cure
Like a Hurricane – The Mission UK
Dizzy – Jimmy Eat World
Let Down – Radiohead
Safe – Travis
More – The Sundays
House – The Psychedelic Furs
Be Sensible – Jimmy Eat World
As I studied the U-bahn map at the Hauptbahnhof, an employee of the HVV (Hamburger Verkehrverbund) approached me, asking if he could help in any way. Though it was actually his job, I was immediately aware of his open friendliness and willingness. We sort of discussed the best route to take; we were on the east side of the city, and I needed to get to St. Pauli in the west. I’d pretty much already figured things out, but he confirmed things for me. Indeed, I would have to transfer after a couple of stops to the next U-bahn line. Pretty easy stuff.
A few minutes later, I found myself on Reeperbahn and just sort of wandered, hoping I’d stumble upon my hotel. Earlier in the week, I had purchased a guidebook of the city, was impressed with the fact that I could read and understand most everything in German, and more or less familiarized myself with the city map. Thus, I had a decent idea of which direction to take, and within a couple of minutes, found my hotel. I checked in with the help of very friendly staff, had a quick look at the map again to orient myself, and after the obligatory welcome drink, took a little walk around the waterfront.
My primary reason for the excursion was a Jimmy Eat World show. I’d recently bought their latest release, and while I first became a fan at the end of the 90s when I moved back to Dallas from Boston, I’ve always been kind of an on again, off again listener. That is, until this past year, when a few new songs grabbed my attention, and suddenly they’ve been in heavy rotation on the ipod.
So, the club was directly across from my hotel, but with several hours to kill before show time, I checked out a bit of the waterfront, though it was already dusk and I couldn’t really see all that much. I walked a bit more, enough to build up an appetite, then found a restaurant down the street from the hotel that looked decent.
After their initial surprise that I was dining alone, the staff in the (apparently trendy) lively restaurant was once again, super friendly. Yes, I’m well aware that I’ve just commented on my self perceived friendliness of people working in the service industry in a city known for its tourism, but still, I got the impression that it’s a pretty easy going city.
From my spot in the restaurant, I watched the queue for the show, and became kind of alarmed that by 6pm, the line had already stretched down the block. The show wasn’t due to start until after 8pm, which was when I planned on arriving. I enjoyed a handful of beers and some grub to tie me over the next couple of hours, then paid up.
45 seconds later, I was walking into the club, and discovered that those folks who had queued up early were fortunate to have decent spots from which to view the stage. I, on the other hand, though pleasantly full from burger and beer, was stuck towards the rear of the venue, but within striking distance of the bar.
The bar served beer in tiny plastic cups that reminded me of those little sippy cups that say they’re dishwasher safe but really aren’t. Beer was kind of expensive, but being that I was on vacation, I didn’t wince much. Since the cups were on the small side, frequent refills were required.
I’d heard a song from the opening act on lastfm or somewhere, and had already decided to skip that experience. However, German concerts always seem to start a bit early, so I wasn’t really sure that I’d successfully missed them until the main act hit the stage, which was only about 15 minutes after I’d arrived.
Well, the band launched right in, and despite my somewhat obstructed view, they certainly impressed. The next two hours passed quickly as the band kicked on, playing a nice mix of their stuff from the past 15 years. When you go to a show alone, you can really concentrate on the music. On the other hand, you kind of notice how alone you are. Sometimes, you want to share the experience with someone, you know?
The thing that has always attracted me to Jimmy Eat World is the band’s ability to be a good blend of punk, pop, and plain rock and roll. Their earlier stuff was more punk driven, then got a bit poppy (though with seriously dark overtones), and over their tenure has really developed into very listenable rock and roll.
True, several of their songs have turned up on soundtracks of various teen angst dramas shown on television from the past 10 years, but hell, they’ve tended to turn up on a lot of my comp cd’s also; their stuff is just cool.
Yes, the sound attracts a slightly younger audience (um, when does the next Twilight trilogy DVD come out on blu-ray, again?) but I really didn’t feel that old at the show. Shoot, the band members themselves are close to my age, too. I did take note that the 5 or 6 people that had to be carried out (excessive heat, too much drink…who knows) were about the same age as I was the last time I got thrown out of a show; it felt good to have learned from that experience and stick around until after the encores.
So, I’m glad the band skipped Frankfurt as a tour stop, forcing me to do a road trip to see them. I was long overdue for a show, and this one hit the spot.
After the encores, we all spilled into the street, and I spent the next 90 minutes wandering around the Reeperbahn, Hamburg’s red light district as well as the main spot for concerts, discos, and theatre. You kind of have to watch your step in the area, but I was quite sober again, helped by the big dinner and the rain that had started to fall. Truth be told, it’s worth it to see the spectacle, but not where I want to spend every weekend.
Thanks to double-paned glass, my hotel room was pretty quiet, even though it overlooked said Reeperbahn, so I slept reasonably ok.
I slept until 9 or so, had a bit of breakfast, then have spent the day just walking around the city, and quite a cool city Hamburg is. It’s a great thing when a city sits near water, and Hamburg not only has a river running through it, but also a lake. I walked all along the docks, then through several other districts of the city, taking in the various market places and other points of interest. There are loads of bridges (I crossed most of them), really pleasant views, and it’s been quite a nice day walking around a big city for hours.
However, my feet need the rest, and Bryan needs a latte, hence the afternoon pause in this café. In a few minutes, I’ll climb to the top of the Michaeliskirche tower and get an overview of all the places I’ve seen today. The weather has been really sunny this morning, and after a little rain interlude (which is why the journal pages are wet), the sun is peeking out again.
2 hours later…
OK, I’ll touch on the three Säulen, here. First off, fitness and health. I just climbed to the top of Michaeliskirche Turm, which is 132 meters high. I elected to take the stairs, about 452 steps of them, thinking that I was tough.
By the third story, I was a bit huffy puffy. A guy about my age was just ahead of me, and I thought I’d try to keep pace with him. Turns out he was struggling, too. He even broke sweat.
On the seventh story, I almost thought I was going to have to stop for a bit. However, I pressed on, and was rewarded upon reaching the top. Wow. Totally cool. One can see for miles, and I looked out over the harbor and over the whole city, retracing my steps from earlier in the day.
I’d set out this morning with no real plan, just walking, looking, to see whatever I could see. Yes, I did have an idea of some of the “things to see” in Hamburg, but I’d previously thought that to get from one place to the next, one would need public transportation. However, I found that I had really covered a lot of ground on foot, and not surprisingly, saw a lot of stuff.
Because I didn’t refer to the map, I sort of walked in whatever direction I fancied, and simply kept encountering nifty things to see. I’ve always had a decent sense of direction (I’ve had a secret desire to be kidnapped, put in the trunk of a car and driven around, just so I can pop out and say, “we took four left turns and we’re right back where we started!”) so never really felt too lost. Since there was no game plan to speak of, it’s not really as if I was “lost” in the first place. I was just exploring.
It helps to have a river, which helped me keep my bearings, and if that wasn’t enough, I only had to look for one of the church towers. OK, it’s Hamburg and not Istanbul; I’d like to specify where I’d prefer to be kidnapped…just setting the record straight.
Anyway, after enjoying the view of the city from the observation deck, I walked back down, realizing my legs were feeling a bit rubbery. God knows how they’ll be tomorrow.
So, I’m thinking I’m not so fit. Sure, I’m in the gym a lot, which brings regular commentary from Kumpels and friends. While you might argue that I sort of look fit, this is not quite the same as “being” fit. Put me on a treadmill for 10 minutes, and I think I’ll be in need of a doctor. Skip the smoking comments for a moment, I’m referring to the fact that I’m not conditioned. Thus, I’m noting the need to do a bit of cardio more regularly. That’s now added to the “to do” list. (Isn’t it neat how one can write with such motivation about getting fit while sipping a San Miguel?)
Before we move on to the next pillar, I’ll briefly touch on the smoking. I’ve been failing miserably at quitting over the past 4 months, and it is really irritating me. I’m quite tired of smoking, and am looking forward to the day (coming soon) when the shit is behind me. Yes, the dragon has not yet puffed his last, and I know few people believe me, but it is what it is.
Now, pillar number 2. Work. Ha ha ha ha ha….roll on the floor and laugh out loud. That pillar is under reconstruction, pending the right architect, plans, and funding. So far, so good.
Pillar number 3. Wow, I could write (and actually have been) for days on the topic. I must say that after two weeks of doing the permanent lunch break, I realize just how lopsided my life has become over the years. Take away the work from a guy who only worked all the time and you’ve only got a guy. I went quickly into the realization where I don’t have much of a life. All the years spent doing only work stuff really exposes the absence of the things that make life worth living in the first place. I’m a guy who needs quite a bit of looking after (er, perhaps a bit of Paddington Bryan), and generally a fair amount of encouragement. Typically, that means, hit me in the head with a 2x4. Otherwise, I won’t always get the message.
The problem is, no one is looking after me, so if I don’t do it myself, then I might be well and truly fucked. Thus, if I don’t push myself (i.e.…keep a 2x4 nearby at the ready), nothing will happen or change.
For some reason, I thought that upon my arrival in Germany, I’d meet people and suddenly, I’d be invited off to see things and places, doing stuff. Well, I didn’t realize that the Germans aren’t like that really, and even once they got to know me, no one was ever struck by my openness and willingness (hey, I should go to work for the HVV!) to try new things.
Why? Because I was a one trick pony, and all work and no play makes Bryan a dull boy.
Now, I’m in no way slighting my friends in Germany; they simply call a spade a spade. Furthermore, I have done some really cool things, both self-initiated and through invitation. However, it struck me today as I wandered around the city just how similar the experience was to my first months in Boston: I didn’t know a soul, and I just got on with things.
Um, let’s stop for a moment and pat ourselves on the back for having had the guts to make a dramatic change in life not once (Boston), not twice (Valencia), but three times. Not many people can say that they’ve done that; not by their own choosing, at least.
But, for everyone who always listened to me yammer on about my ambition to work and live somewhere else (i.e. ”away”), particularly in Europe, the patient message was always there. “It’s only so good an experience as you make it, B.”
I think, now that I have more than 15 minutes to reflect (thanks to the extra 60 hours per week that I’ve been gifted), I can see that more clearly. I have done a less than adequate job in making sure that this pillar was firmly structured, choosing instead to flash about and excuse anything with a, “um, too much work.”
Sure, it’s easy to say when you’re unemployed, sitting in a cozy Spanish restaurant (mas chorizo, por favor!) and feeling hoppy boppy, but I’m going to hang on to the notion.
I know plenty of people who have given me grief over the years for working too much, and my response was (and will likely always be) “yeah, but I like what I do for a living.” (Don’t confuse that with: I like who I work for…company or otherwise)
It’s the passion I’ve had with my work that helped me get here, and I’m proud of that. Ironically, some of those same people who berated me have found themselves in a similar situation to mine: too much time in work, and too little time developing the third pillar. I understand the trap very clearly, and am curious as to how to better find the right balance.
It certainly isn’t easy, and I’m not interested in finding a solution here in this piece. Recognizing it as an area which needs a lot of attention is important. That’s the main theme of today.
Right about now (if not 3 pages ago), someone is saying, “Gee, why doesn’t he just write ‘hey, I went to Hamburg at the weekend and had a good time. Why does he always get all philosophical and dreamy?’” (pause, while I smile)
Funny, it’s when all three pillars take a bit of a hit that suddenly the clarity comes, and along with it, plenty of uncertainty about the future. Five years ago, I listed out a bunch of goals for myself during an exercise with a friend in trying to figure out my universe. My friend pointed out that of all the goals I wanted to fulfill, I hadn’t written anything down about a desire to find a partner and have a family, and was I going to.
I was asked that same question just the other week, and wasn’t too surprised to hear myself answering that yes, I do have those desires (though I actually said something more along the lines of having that pipe dream: my pessimism always jumps to the forefront when discussing relationships, and that, combined with my calamitous ability to simply fall in love with the wrong girl makes for a laugh out loud, roll on the floor, reread update for pillar 2 one more time experience), but it’s only got a chance of happening once I recognize where I am in my life.
And where am I right now (besides the quite literal but surreally groovy experience of sitting in a quiet restaurant specializing in paella de mariscos in Hamburg, conversing only in Spanish)?
I am simply here, and here to stay.
Yep, I’ve just slid a New Order lyric into the write up, simply to mock the absurd, albeit extremely rewarding life that I have.
So, thanks for reading, you. It took quite a bit for me to unload here, and my words just didn’t come out earlier in the week.
Keep the faith.
Soundtrack
Vox Populi – 30 Seconds to Mars
Window in the Skies – U2
Indefinitely – Old 97s
Stars Above Us – Saint Etienne
That Was Then But This Is Now – ABC
Walking To Do – Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
Scared As You – The Cure
Like a Hurricane – The Mission UK
Dizzy – Jimmy Eat World
Let Down – Radiohead
Safe – Travis
More – The Sundays
House – The Psychedelic Furs
Be Sensible – Jimmy Eat World
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Pictures To Prove It
I have never really been a fan of having my picture taken, driven likely by the fact that I don’t believe I make for very good photos. That said, I don’t just run and hide every time someone pops out with a camera. Sure, I’ve been tagged a few times on facebook or wherever, and I guess it just goes with the territory.
My indifference to being photographed has extended to actually taking pictures. I can’t count the number of times that someone from the states has complained that I never seemed to have any photos from Frankfurt or somewhere else in Germany. However, I never really used a camera when I lived in the states, either. It just isn’t my thing.
Truth be told, I’m kind of on the fence. On one hand, I’m always kind of glad that someone does actually seem to have a camera around, thus saving me the hassle. My mother is pretty good about snapping lot of pix at just about every family event. Likewise, friends on both sides of the ocean seem to have the knack for documenting the right events in the right fashion.
Sometimes, though, I get the feeling that people kind of over do it. I think during the last four years of commuting to work each day by train, maybe three times in TOTAL did I not see someone taking a photo of the regionalbahn or the intercity train. Yes, the very train that runs about every half hour between Frankfurt and Darmstadt. Hardly the necessary picture to put up on the wall…
True, I live in a city which has a lot of tourism, but I’m really speaking more about those moments that happen in regular daily. I saw a guy taking a picture of somebody entering the Apotheke the other morning; is it so necessary to document the purchase of foot powder or whatever?
OK, I’m not really trying to pass judgment here. I personally prefer trying (stress the word “trying”) to relate the experience through writing. Of course, I don’t try to describe it so much as I try to help the reader visualize it, simply by connecting it to something the reader already knows. Hence the reason I’ve always tended to say that the typical grocery store in my neighborhood is pretty much exactly like the Whole Foods Market on Lower Greenville, as opposed to me trying to upload a photo of my local Rewe for everyone to see.
Enough of me being off on a tangent; I was just trying to make the point that I like relating events better without pictures, leaving the reader to imagine the scene themselves.
So, the events of last week were all centered on my final few days of work. It was a wee bit emotional, and I’m rather glad that no one popped out a camera.
As you can imagine, I spent more time smoking and joking in the office than I did actually doing “work.” After all, I was in exit mode, and more interested in making sure I’d handed things over to my team. The humorous bit is that my job has always been more about how I did things as opposed to exactly what I did. Processes are pretty easy to document, since the job itself was relatively straightforward. The challenge came from trying to explain the “art” of actually doing the job. Style comes from the individual and tends to vary from one person to the next, even though the results will pretty much be the same.
What I found to be a bit touching was that my colleagues seemed a bit distraught that I was soon to be out of the, er, picture. They were concerned that the support was going away, so I really spent my final days just reassuring everyone that they already had the knowhow, the right answers; they are more than capable of carrying on without me.
What made things emotional was when my team gathered and presented me with a card telling me just how great an influence I had had with them; an influence that they found very special, and one they would not forget.
Yep, that choked me up.
I spent four years building a team, building a program, and suddenly, I am no longer there. It meant a lot to see that everyone (er, save the firing manager) was very gracious and appreciative of my efforts.
So that was last Thursday afternoon. It was nice to go out on a high. I was glad to be leaving, but a bit sad to leave the group, the customers, and the experience. A handful of external phone calls and emails from the customer and partners expressing gratitude and well wishes just made the day better.
I’d planned to go out with my head high, with a smile on my face, to ride off into the sunset. I did just that, though the crowded bus didn’t have such a dramatic effect.
Last Friday, I officially started vacation, which officially extends until the end of November. How long I extend my vacation beyond that is up to me. So far, so good.
Relaxed and smiling are two words which have reentered my vocabulary, and it’s quite nice to have them back.
I’ll relate more on the vacation time in the coming weeks, but focus is on stress free, with a capital fuck yeah. Remind me to relate the story about chopping up a habanero pepper, then inadvertently rubbing my eye; whatever was I thinking???
Excusing that unplanned incident (which I’ve written off as a moronic glitch), the kind of stress I’m experiencing right now involves deciding if I should have a coffee, then a shower, or a shower, then a coffee each morning. Not bad.
A couple of weeks ago, I was photographed at a birthday party. Someone later commented just how anxious and worked up I looked in that pic.
I will say that one can notice a whole lot from a photo, particularly someone’s true emotions. I just saw some pictures of a recent wedding where everyone, dressed in elegance, and simply beautiful (like, knock you over beautiful), looked really really happy.
The cool thing is that if I happen to get caught in a photo right now, myself, people will be saying the exact same thing about me.
Keep the faith.
bryan
My indifference to being photographed has extended to actually taking pictures. I can’t count the number of times that someone from the states has complained that I never seemed to have any photos from Frankfurt or somewhere else in Germany. However, I never really used a camera when I lived in the states, either. It just isn’t my thing.
Truth be told, I’m kind of on the fence. On one hand, I’m always kind of glad that someone does actually seem to have a camera around, thus saving me the hassle. My mother is pretty good about snapping lot of pix at just about every family event. Likewise, friends on both sides of the ocean seem to have the knack for documenting the right events in the right fashion.
Sometimes, though, I get the feeling that people kind of over do it. I think during the last four years of commuting to work each day by train, maybe three times in TOTAL did I not see someone taking a photo of the regionalbahn or the intercity train. Yes, the very train that runs about every half hour between Frankfurt and Darmstadt. Hardly the necessary picture to put up on the wall…
True, I live in a city which has a lot of tourism, but I’m really speaking more about those moments that happen in regular daily. I saw a guy taking a picture of somebody entering the Apotheke the other morning; is it so necessary to document the purchase of foot powder or whatever?
OK, I’m not really trying to pass judgment here. I personally prefer trying (stress the word “trying”) to relate the experience through writing. Of course, I don’t try to describe it so much as I try to help the reader visualize it, simply by connecting it to something the reader already knows. Hence the reason I’ve always tended to say that the typical grocery store in my neighborhood is pretty much exactly like the Whole Foods Market on Lower Greenville, as opposed to me trying to upload a photo of my local Rewe for everyone to see.
Enough of me being off on a tangent; I was just trying to make the point that I like relating events better without pictures, leaving the reader to imagine the scene themselves.
So, the events of last week were all centered on my final few days of work. It was a wee bit emotional, and I’m rather glad that no one popped out a camera.
As you can imagine, I spent more time smoking and joking in the office than I did actually doing “work.” After all, I was in exit mode, and more interested in making sure I’d handed things over to my team. The humorous bit is that my job has always been more about how I did things as opposed to exactly what I did. Processes are pretty easy to document, since the job itself was relatively straightforward. The challenge came from trying to explain the “art” of actually doing the job. Style comes from the individual and tends to vary from one person to the next, even though the results will pretty much be the same.
What I found to be a bit touching was that my colleagues seemed a bit distraught that I was soon to be out of the, er, picture. They were concerned that the support was going away, so I really spent my final days just reassuring everyone that they already had the knowhow, the right answers; they are more than capable of carrying on without me.
What made things emotional was when my team gathered and presented me with a card telling me just how great an influence I had had with them; an influence that they found very special, and one they would not forget.
Yep, that choked me up.
I spent four years building a team, building a program, and suddenly, I am no longer there. It meant a lot to see that everyone (er, save the firing manager) was very gracious and appreciative of my efforts.
So that was last Thursday afternoon. It was nice to go out on a high. I was glad to be leaving, but a bit sad to leave the group, the customers, and the experience. A handful of external phone calls and emails from the customer and partners expressing gratitude and well wishes just made the day better.
I’d planned to go out with my head high, with a smile on my face, to ride off into the sunset. I did just that, though the crowded bus didn’t have such a dramatic effect.
Last Friday, I officially started vacation, which officially extends until the end of November. How long I extend my vacation beyond that is up to me. So far, so good.
Relaxed and smiling are two words which have reentered my vocabulary, and it’s quite nice to have them back.
I’ll relate more on the vacation time in the coming weeks, but focus is on stress free, with a capital fuck yeah. Remind me to relate the story about chopping up a habanero pepper, then inadvertently rubbing my eye; whatever was I thinking???
Excusing that unplanned incident (which I’ve written off as a moronic glitch), the kind of stress I’m experiencing right now involves deciding if I should have a coffee, then a shower, or a shower, then a coffee each morning. Not bad.
A couple of weeks ago, I was photographed at a birthday party. Someone later commented just how anxious and worked up I looked in that pic.
I will say that one can notice a whole lot from a photo, particularly someone’s true emotions. I just saw some pictures of a recent wedding where everyone, dressed in elegance, and simply beautiful (like, knock you over beautiful), looked really really happy.
The cool thing is that if I happen to get caught in a photo right now, myself, people will be saying the exact same thing about me.
Keep the faith.
bryan
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
When You're Happy and You Know It...
I had the pleasure of skyping with my family this past week. While somewhat routine, the calls were nevertheless much needed, greatly appreciated, and came just at the right time. My sister and nephew gave me a group hug, which was absolutely vital. My mom gave me all the news from the neighborhood and has been sending me text messages from Annapolis, where she and my father are spending a few days holiday. (cool to see that my mom has no concept of how much it costs to send an SMS around the world, just to say, “hey, we saw a boat!” mom approval rating – always quite high!)
My grandmother and I caught up last Saturday afternoon. She related her joy of being honored as the oldest DAR member in Dallas with a little display at a museum at the State Fair, adding that she was able to serve as living proof that the DAR really exists to a girl who had only heard about the DAR from an episode of the Gilmour Girls.
As we continued to chat about my imminent extended vacation, my grandmother went on to ask me the pointed question, “what is it about living so far away in another culture that is so important to you?” She’s asked the same question multiple times over the past 20 years.
Initially, I was a little exasperated, thinking that she had either forgotten or had never understood my previous answer. However, as I answered her again, I found myself wondering, “is my answer changing?”
I was indirectly asked the same question yesterday, though it was more along the lines of how it is to be so far away from family.
The answer is pretty simple, but somewhat complicated to explain, though I’ll only touch on part of my answer here.
I would argue that most everyone, myself included, does not make it a lifelong ambition to go off and be really miserable – whenever, however, or wherever.
Happiness, in my opinion, is what more people are likely after. Again, the questions have to be asked, “how, when, and where?”
Years ago (I can say that now that it’s been 5 years since I lived in the states), I remember pointing out to a colleague that, if I had to work in the same shit job, full of nonstop stress, frustration and anger (much as it was then), I’d just as soon do it in Europe, because I would be happier. Yes, I’m fully aware that even when I made the statement, I’d not been able to actually say that I’d already lived in Europe. But I had the feeling…
Well, I got that chance, took it, and not only am I happier (as dreamt, as planned) I also got a double load of additional stress, frustrations, and loads of other unpleasantness with the job. That said, the experience has still been extremely rewarding.
However, part of my original goal was always to learn (through interaction with other cultures and environments) to find a better balance between personal and professional life. I do feel that I could have learned the balancing act a wee bit better.
Plenty of people here have mentioned they notice the more negative impact the job has taken on me over the past years. While I will always be cognizant of their statements, their feedback, I’ll still look back over the past four years thinking that there have been more good times than bad (work related), but I believe also that most everyone here would still say the opposite. Lesson learned. Furthermore, that aspect will change.
A colleague at work today pointed out today that I looked happy, enthusiastic, relaxed (albeit still nervous and wacky…typical bryan), just like I appeared when we first met 4 years ago. In short, he gave me both a compliment and a reality check in the same breath.
Again, lesson learned.
Yesterday, while walking around the city, I sat smiling in a garden by myself, just thinking about the events of the past week, as well as a bit about my uncertain future. (note – this was not one of those “ooh, what’s up with that scary man with the leering grin over there on the bench” type smiles…more of a “mmmmh, it’s a nice chilly day outside. I’m glad I’m here enjoying it” smile)
It was time well spent, proven by the fact that my colleague wouldn’t have said what he said otherwise).
So, with 2 working days left, that smile grows bigger.
It’s not exactly a do-over that I’m getting, but it was overdue all the same.
Keep the faith.
bryan
My grandmother and I caught up last Saturday afternoon. She related her joy of being honored as the oldest DAR member in Dallas with a little display at a museum at the State Fair, adding that she was able to serve as living proof that the DAR really exists to a girl who had only heard about the DAR from an episode of the Gilmour Girls.
As we continued to chat about my imminent extended vacation, my grandmother went on to ask me the pointed question, “what is it about living so far away in another culture that is so important to you?” She’s asked the same question multiple times over the past 20 years.
Initially, I was a little exasperated, thinking that she had either forgotten or had never understood my previous answer. However, as I answered her again, I found myself wondering, “is my answer changing?”
I was indirectly asked the same question yesterday, though it was more along the lines of how it is to be so far away from family.
The answer is pretty simple, but somewhat complicated to explain, though I’ll only touch on part of my answer here.
I would argue that most everyone, myself included, does not make it a lifelong ambition to go off and be really miserable – whenever, however, or wherever.
Happiness, in my opinion, is what more people are likely after. Again, the questions have to be asked, “how, when, and where?”
Years ago (I can say that now that it’s been 5 years since I lived in the states), I remember pointing out to a colleague that, if I had to work in the same shit job, full of nonstop stress, frustration and anger (much as it was then), I’d just as soon do it in Europe, because I would be happier. Yes, I’m fully aware that even when I made the statement, I’d not been able to actually say that I’d already lived in Europe. But I had the feeling…
Well, I got that chance, took it, and not only am I happier (as dreamt, as planned) I also got a double load of additional stress, frustrations, and loads of other unpleasantness with the job. That said, the experience has still been extremely rewarding.
However, part of my original goal was always to learn (through interaction with other cultures and environments) to find a better balance between personal and professional life. I do feel that I could have learned the balancing act a wee bit better.
Plenty of people here have mentioned they notice the more negative impact the job has taken on me over the past years. While I will always be cognizant of their statements, their feedback, I’ll still look back over the past four years thinking that there have been more good times than bad (work related), but I believe also that most everyone here would still say the opposite. Lesson learned. Furthermore, that aspect will change.
A colleague at work today pointed out today that I looked happy, enthusiastic, relaxed (albeit still nervous and wacky…typical bryan), just like I appeared when we first met 4 years ago. In short, he gave me both a compliment and a reality check in the same breath.
Again, lesson learned.
Yesterday, while walking around the city, I sat smiling in a garden by myself, just thinking about the events of the past week, as well as a bit about my uncertain future. (note – this was not one of those “ooh, what’s up with that scary man with the leering grin over there on the bench” type smiles…more of a “mmmmh, it’s a nice chilly day outside. I’m glad I’m here enjoying it” smile)
It was time well spent, proven by the fact that my colleague wouldn’t have said what he said otherwise).
So, with 2 working days left, that smile grows bigger.
It’s not exactly a do-over that I’m getting, but it was overdue all the same.
Keep the faith.
bryan
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Dirty Socks in the Hamper, Please...
Well, last week was national depression awareness week, or something along those lines. At least, that's how I interpreted it when I read one of the yahoo headlines.
I sort of laughed to myself when I read the brief article on the top things that drive depression; I was 6 for 6 from the short list, and while I'd like to think I was already aware (ie..no need to celebrate a week of "hey, wake up! all this shit going on right now is bugging you" when you already know it), I did appreciate the reminders.
The past couple of weeks I've slept very little, which does not do good things for someone who tends to need quite a bit of sleep at the best of times. More than once, I had frightening moments when I glanced in the mirror as I shaved. “ooh, scary!”
True, I always wear my heart on my sleeve, and efforts to mask my emotions only work so well, even with the wit and sarcasm I have in my arsenal. People noticed my demeanor, and I found it difficult to explain just how frustrating it is to have to get up and go to work each day despite being totally uninvolved in things, now.
Fortunately, my appointment with the court to discuss my severance package was scheduled for Thursday. The early part of the week was full of ups and downs as I struggled with a bit of anxiety. I wasn’t exactly sure how the process was going to go. While I’ve accepted the fact that it’s simply the way things are done here, I am still not in total agreement.
Thursday morning came, and I wore a suit to work (first time in quite a while without ska-core footwear), which caused a bit of commotion on the bus, as the conductor (actually most of the passengers who commute with me each day, for that matter) was a bit surprised to see me in my attire. Upon arrival at work, my boss even pointed out that one normally didn’t wear a suit to this type of appointment.
I saw his point when I arrived at the courthouse after lunch to meet my lawyer, who showed up in just a sport coat. So, the proceedings were pretty straightforward: we sat with the judge and the company lawyer and discussed the fact that I had been dismissed. Their argument, there was no longer a need for someone to do my job. I did have to explain to the judge just what exactly my job was, and after that, the company put an offer of severance on the table. After a quick hallway discussion with my lawyer, we countered with a higher figure, and, after a bit of haggling, involving a rather unprofessional remark from the company lawyer about me being from America, we agreed on a settlement. The judge documented things, and we left the courtroom. Case closed.
It took me a few minutes to let things sink in. I now had closure on a matter that had been causing me a lot of anxiety over the past weeks. True, I may have left a few grand of compensation on the table, but it was important me to get this issue resolved, so that I could move on.
This closure proved very significant. For the past months, I’ve put up with listening to colleagues complain and complain about the situation at work. Indeed, things have not been good, but I had failed to see just what a negative impact this was having on me. Now, it’s settled, and I have only to work 10 more days, and then I’m through.
I felt better and better throughout the rest of the day, as I returned to work for a couple of hours, then later as I got a haircut, then visited a pizzeria, then skyped with the padres during which I had to explain all of the events again. Later that night, I nipped over to the pub and had a beer by myself outside. I took a few minutes just enjoying the moment to myself, though I did offer a few correct answers to a couple of people playing the pub quiz who popped outside to ask me who won last year’s UEFA Cup and who is Ireland’s national team goalkeeper.
A few minutes later, I was home in bed, but within the hour was up again, eating cold pizza and watching a movie. The events of the day had caught up with me, and I was enjoying some new found energy. That, or was it the double espresso I had around 10pm? (gee, is this my future? No more drinking caffeine after 8pm, otherwise I’ll never get to sleep?)
Friday morning I felt refreshed, and ready to begin my last 10 work days. Refreshed is not to be confused with “totally coherent.” Still half awake, I walked into the bathroom, hawked a spit into my dirty clothes hamper, and would have been pulling yesterday’s socks out of the toilet had the seat not been closed. Thankfully I developed the habit of leaving the seat down from a friend of mine during the year. It’s been a while since I’ve done the old subconscious switcheroo (ie..putting Tupperware in the electric oven, putting metal in the microwave, or locking your house keys along with the car key inside the rental car when you return it to the hertz office at 1.30 in the morning), and I couldn’t help but laugh.
I was still chuckling as I arrived at work, wearing the standard jeans and boots. Order restored, at least for the moment.
Last Sunday marked the 20th anniversary of the reunification of Germany. I’ve been reading about “that was then, this is now,” in my little “learn German” magazine that I get each month. Back in school, when Tim and I used to look at his poster of the fall of the Berlin wall, we used to get quite emotional about the significance of the historic event. Neither of us knew (nor imagined) that years later, I would have the chance to meet and befriend people from both the east and the west.
I certainly am not comparing my personal situation to such a meaningful event, but I do recognize that I have my own Wende, my own turning point, too. While I truly believe the coming months will be challenging for me, I’m still comforted by the fact that I’m still reminded that it’s ok to express your feeling when you feel so inclined. Take action on the things that you can control (like pursuing new employment with a positive attitude), but for those things that you can’t control, simply take it as it comes. Sobre la marcha.
Keep the faith
bryan
I sort of laughed to myself when I read the brief article on the top things that drive depression; I was 6 for 6 from the short list, and while I'd like to think I was already aware (ie..no need to celebrate a week of "hey, wake up! all this shit going on right now is bugging you" when you already know it), I did appreciate the reminders.
The past couple of weeks I've slept very little, which does not do good things for someone who tends to need quite a bit of sleep at the best of times. More than once, I had frightening moments when I glanced in the mirror as I shaved. “ooh, scary!”
True, I always wear my heart on my sleeve, and efforts to mask my emotions only work so well, even with the wit and sarcasm I have in my arsenal. People noticed my demeanor, and I found it difficult to explain just how frustrating it is to have to get up and go to work each day despite being totally uninvolved in things, now.
Fortunately, my appointment with the court to discuss my severance package was scheduled for Thursday. The early part of the week was full of ups and downs as I struggled with a bit of anxiety. I wasn’t exactly sure how the process was going to go. While I’ve accepted the fact that it’s simply the way things are done here, I am still not in total agreement.
Thursday morning came, and I wore a suit to work (first time in quite a while without ska-core footwear), which caused a bit of commotion on the bus, as the conductor (actually most of the passengers who commute with me each day, for that matter) was a bit surprised to see me in my attire. Upon arrival at work, my boss even pointed out that one normally didn’t wear a suit to this type of appointment.
I saw his point when I arrived at the courthouse after lunch to meet my lawyer, who showed up in just a sport coat. So, the proceedings were pretty straightforward: we sat with the judge and the company lawyer and discussed the fact that I had been dismissed. Their argument, there was no longer a need for someone to do my job. I did have to explain to the judge just what exactly my job was, and after that, the company put an offer of severance on the table. After a quick hallway discussion with my lawyer, we countered with a higher figure, and, after a bit of haggling, involving a rather unprofessional remark from the company lawyer about me being from America, we agreed on a settlement. The judge documented things, and we left the courtroom. Case closed.
It took me a few minutes to let things sink in. I now had closure on a matter that had been causing me a lot of anxiety over the past weeks. True, I may have left a few grand of compensation on the table, but it was important me to get this issue resolved, so that I could move on.
This closure proved very significant. For the past months, I’ve put up with listening to colleagues complain and complain about the situation at work. Indeed, things have not been good, but I had failed to see just what a negative impact this was having on me. Now, it’s settled, and I have only to work 10 more days, and then I’m through.
I felt better and better throughout the rest of the day, as I returned to work for a couple of hours, then later as I got a haircut, then visited a pizzeria, then skyped with the padres during which I had to explain all of the events again. Later that night, I nipped over to the pub and had a beer by myself outside. I took a few minutes just enjoying the moment to myself, though I did offer a few correct answers to a couple of people playing the pub quiz who popped outside to ask me who won last year’s UEFA Cup and who is Ireland’s national team goalkeeper.
A few minutes later, I was home in bed, but within the hour was up again, eating cold pizza and watching a movie. The events of the day had caught up with me, and I was enjoying some new found energy. That, or was it the double espresso I had around 10pm? (gee, is this my future? No more drinking caffeine after 8pm, otherwise I’ll never get to sleep?)
Friday morning I felt refreshed, and ready to begin my last 10 work days. Refreshed is not to be confused with “totally coherent.” Still half awake, I walked into the bathroom, hawked a spit into my dirty clothes hamper, and would have been pulling yesterday’s socks out of the toilet had the seat not been closed. Thankfully I developed the habit of leaving the seat down from a friend of mine during the year. It’s been a while since I’ve done the old subconscious switcheroo (ie..putting Tupperware in the electric oven, putting metal in the microwave, or locking your house keys along with the car key inside the rental car when you return it to the hertz office at 1.30 in the morning), and I couldn’t help but laugh.
I was still chuckling as I arrived at work, wearing the standard jeans and boots. Order restored, at least for the moment.
Last Sunday marked the 20th anniversary of the reunification of Germany. I’ve been reading about “that was then, this is now,” in my little “learn German” magazine that I get each month. Back in school, when Tim and I used to look at his poster of the fall of the Berlin wall, we used to get quite emotional about the significance of the historic event. Neither of us knew (nor imagined) that years later, I would have the chance to meet and befriend people from both the east and the west.
I certainly am not comparing my personal situation to such a meaningful event, but I do recognize that I have my own Wende, my own turning point, too. While I truly believe the coming months will be challenging for me, I’m still comforted by the fact that I’m still reminded that it’s ok to express your feeling when you feel so inclined. Take action on the things that you can control (like pursuing new employment with a positive attitude), but for those things that you can’t control, simply take it as it comes. Sobre la marcha.
Keep the faith
bryan
Monday, October 04, 2010
Two Halves Make a Whole
The plant on my balcony has been doing rather well the past three weeks. However, I was slightly alarmed to notice last week that about half of the blooms seem to have died, while the other half seem to still be perky and pretty.
I chose not to take that as a really bad omen; instead I elected to write it off as sheer inexperience on my part to look after plants. I’ve never really had a green thumb, after all.
Meanwhile, it didn’t escape me that half my week was downright crap; not altogether surprising given the emotional and stressful events of the moment. I know that the rollercoaster will continue to swerve and dip, and that will continue to impact my mood and motivation.
Fortunately, two sentences and two photos served to swing things back around for me, so that I continue to go forward with a smile on my face and my head held high, despite things.
Sure the SMS alert that sounded at 3.30am startled me awake, but moments later, when I read about a Boddies in the Old Monk, I smiled at the gesture: it came at just the right time.
A bit later in the day, I read the sentence, “I’m just too hoppy boppy,” and that struck me as an excellent way to express my sentiment, too. It’s not exactly something you can to say to everyone, but when the time suits, go for it.
On Thursday, I was totally surprised to receive two photos, which simply blew me away. Easily, they are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. While I am biased, I just wasn’t prepared to be so overwhelmed. They bring a smile to my face just at the mere thought of them: little bits of innocence, peace, and goodness…from a different era. It warms the heart.
Happy fuzzy thoughts tend to stick with me, and wow, did these ever come at just the right time. There’s always something to be said for finishing the week on a positive note.
So I continue to smile at these thoughts as I begin my last few weeks of work, all the while knowing I’m coming one step closer …
Now, I’m off to see about getting the other half of my plant to bloom.
Keep the faith
bryan
I chose not to take that as a really bad omen; instead I elected to write it off as sheer inexperience on my part to look after plants. I’ve never really had a green thumb, after all.
Meanwhile, it didn’t escape me that half my week was downright crap; not altogether surprising given the emotional and stressful events of the moment. I know that the rollercoaster will continue to swerve and dip, and that will continue to impact my mood and motivation.
Fortunately, two sentences and two photos served to swing things back around for me, so that I continue to go forward with a smile on my face and my head held high, despite things.
Sure the SMS alert that sounded at 3.30am startled me awake, but moments later, when I read about a Boddies in the Old Monk, I smiled at the gesture: it came at just the right time.
A bit later in the day, I read the sentence, “I’m just too hoppy boppy,” and that struck me as an excellent way to express my sentiment, too. It’s not exactly something you can to say to everyone, but when the time suits, go for it.
On Thursday, I was totally surprised to receive two photos, which simply blew me away. Easily, they are the cutest things I’ve ever seen. While I am biased, I just wasn’t prepared to be so overwhelmed. They bring a smile to my face just at the mere thought of them: little bits of innocence, peace, and goodness…from a different era. It warms the heart.
Happy fuzzy thoughts tend to stick with me, and wow, did these ever come at just the right time. There’s always something to be said for finishing the week on a positive note.
So I continue to smile at these thoughts as I begin my last few weeks of work, all the while knowing I’m coming one step closer …
Now, I’m off to see about getting the other half of my plant to bloom.
Keep the faith
bryan
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Psych it up, vol. 86
It's been a week of realizing the significance of letting go.
When I was given my notice a few weeks ago, I knew that it would be difficult, “tricky,” if you will, to maintain enough motivation to see things through to the end of the contract. However, I wasn’t quite ready for the strange feeling of being “in between.” Basically, I’m just going through the motions, as there’s not much to finish, and there is certainly nothing to start. Effectively, I’m no longer a part of this team.
What makes this a challenge is that I’m truly excited about the new challenges ahead, but, as I don’t particularly like good byes (even shitty ones), I’m feeling a bit stuck. Spending eight hours watching a clock during the work day doesn’t give one a zippy feeling in which to go home and spend another few hours hitting the bricks; chasing new opportunities.
Fortunately, I’m about four weeks away from an extended vacation, as I’ve got left over holidays that need to be taken before the end of my contract. Thus, I’m trying to keep the plans in motion for just a bit longer, knowing that I will have to really accelerate just as soon as I’ve put the current job behind me.
As I’ve said before, it’s going to be harder still, before it gets easy. Of course, that’s typically the story of my life, anyway. Thank goodness I accept that without question.
Meanwhile, I’m having to remind myself that when you let go of something or someone, like work, customers, friendships, etc., you really have to move in a new direction, regardless of the consequences. You can’t really have things both ways. That’s a pretty tough lesson that seems to take longer for me to fully understand.
Often, I need a bollocking or two (ok, about 18) before I come to terms with it, but that’s just part of the process.
So, I keep on finding things to believe in, ways to psych myself up, and ways to smile somewhat uniquely; I’m not really on my way out, I’m simply on my way.
Keep the faith.
bryan
When I was given my notice a few weeks ago, I knew that it would be difficult, “tricky,” if you will, to maintain enough motivation to see things through to the end of the contract. However, I wasn’t quite ready for the strange feeling of being “in between.” Basically, I’m just going through the motions, as there’s not much to finish, and there is certainly nothing to start. Effectively, I’m no longer a part of this team.
What makes this a challenge is that I’m truly excited about the new challenges ahead, but, as I don’t particularly like good byes (even shitty ones), I’m feeling a bit stuck. Spending eight hours watching a clock during the work day doesn’t give one a zippy feeling in which to go home and spend another few hours hitting the bricks; chasing new opportunities.
Fortunately, I’m about four weeks away from an extended vacation, as I’ve got left over holidays that need to be taken before the end of my contract. Thus, I’m trying to keep the plans in motion for just a bit longer, knowing that I will have to really accelerate just as soon as I’ve put the current job behind me.
As I’ve said before, it’s going to be harder still, before it gets easy. Of course, that’s typically the story of my life, anyway. Thank goodness I accept that without question.
Meanwhile, I’m having to remind myself that when you let go of something or someone, like work, customers, friendships, etc., you really have to move in a new direction, regardless of the consequences. You can’t really have things both ways. That’s a pretty tough lesson that seems to take longer for me to fully understand.
Often, I need a bollocking or two (ok, about 18) before I come to terms with it, but that’s just part of the process.
So, I keep on finding things to believe in, ways to psych myself up, and ways to smile somewhat uniquely; I’m not really on my way out, I’m simply on my way.
Keep the faith.
bryan
Monday, September 20, 2010
The Impression That I Get
It’s always very frustrating for me when I catch a cold. I tend to get sick just at the wrong time, and I’ve noticed that over the years, I seem to become a complete wimp. Sure, I’ve never been a really good patient, but now, I’m a lousy patient and a bit “woe as me” oriented.
Last week started pretty well for me: I picked up some CV photos Monday after work, and that was after having submitted an online application at a firm located just north of Frankfurt.
I was feeling pretty good about my progress, and later mapped out the rest of my week while sipping a glass of wine, when I suddenly sneezed three times.
“Oh shit,” I thought. “I’m getting sick.”
I briefly thought I was going to escape unscathed on Tuesday morning, my luck ran out just after lunch. The congestion was starting, a box of Kleenex was consumed, and I knew I was headed for crap.
Later that evening, I managed to have a cup of tea, but was really starting to feel poorly.
A night’s sleep helped marginally, but as I waited on the U-bahn on Wednesday morning, I realized that I had a slight fever. I used good judgment and went back home. After a quick call to my boss, I logged on to work, and suffered from a bad cold in the comfort of my kitchen, managing to use a couple of boxes of Kleenex over the course of the day.
Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday, though I didn’t bother to try and go to the U-bahn.
Friday, I did manage to get back into the office, but was glad for 5pm to come, giving another couple of days for me to finish recuperating.
The quiet time at home during last week was interesting. Fewer emails were coming in, and the phone didn’t ring like it used to. Indeed, things are settling down for me in a hurry around the office. I even noticed that things seemed a bit different once I was back in the office on Friday.
I know that this is normal when your ride is finishing. Typically, your colleagues will have less to do with you, since you aren’t really involved in things any more. However, in the transition period, it’s always a bit awkward, since you’re sort of there, but unneeded. No one can actually say, “bugger off,” but their actions sort of imply that. It’s nothing personal, of course, but it sucks.
Because I was already feeling crap with a cold, and irritated because I didn’t feel well enough to put a lot of effort into a job search, I felt a bit distant from things last week. Things turned a bit surreal when my father skyped me; we had a good conversation, but it could have been a bit better had he decided to wear more than just a pair of underwear.
I was delighted to test my new mobile out on Friday evening, though at first I didn’t recognize the alert tone for the SMS that I received. I was momentarily confused with the contents of the text, but a quick trip to the dictionary helped. However, why do Americans call it a ladybug, and everyone else (in English) a ladybird?
The weekend was spent in further recuperation, watching a few silly movies and favorite sitcoms and resting as much as possible. It was time well spent, as today I’m feeling ever better.
Sure, I’ve got a bit of catching up to do on my, “what are you going to do with your life now, B-bry?” plan, but at the same time that I feel like saying something like, “ni puta idea,” I feel like I can also say, “Alles wird gut.”
At least, that’s the impression that I get.
Keep the faith.
bryan
Last week started pretty well for me: I picked up some CV photos Monday after work, and that was after having submitted an online application at a firm located just north of Frankfurt.
I was feeling pretty good about my progress, and later mapped out the rest of my week while sipping a glass of wine, when I suddenly sneezed three times.
“Oh shit,” I thought. “I’m getting sick.”
I briefly thought I was going to escape unscathed on Tuesday morning, my luck ran out just after lunch. The congestion was starting, a box of Kleenex was consumed, and I knew I was headed for crap.
Later that evening, I managed to have a cup of tea, but was really starting to feel poorly.
A night’s sleep helped marginally, but as I waited on the U-bahn on Wednesday morning, I realized that I had a slight fever. I used good judgment and went back home. After a quick call to my boss, I logged on to work, and suffered from a bad cold in the comfort of my kitchen, managing to use a couple of boxes of Kleenex over the course of the day.
Thursday was a repeat of Wednesday, though I didn’t bother to try and go to the U-bahn.
Friday, I did manage to get back into the office, but was glad for 5pm to come, giving another couple of days for me to finish recuperating.
The quiet time at home during last week was interesting. Fewer emails were coming in, and the phone didn’t ring like it used to. Indeed, things are settling down for me in a hurry around the office. I even noticed that things seemed a bit different once I was back in the office on Friday.
I know that this is normal when your ride is finishing. Typically, your colleagues will have less to do with you, since you aren’t really involved in things any more. However, in the transition period, it’s always a bit awkward, since you’re sort of there, but unneeded. No one can actually say, “bugger off,” but their actions sort of imply that. It’s nothing personal, of course, but it sucks.
Because I was already feeling crap with a cold, and irritated because I didn’t feel well enough to put a lot of effort into a job search, I felt a bit distant from things last week. Things turned a bit surreal when my father skyped me; we had a good conversation, but it could have been a bit better had he decided to wear more than just a pair of underwear.
I was delighted to test my new mobile out on Friday evening, though at first I didn’t recognize the alert tone for the SMS that I received. I was momentarily confused with the contents of the text, but a quick trip to the dictionary helped. However, why do Americans call it a ladybug, and everyone else (in English) a ladybird?
The weekend was spent in further recuperation, watching a few silly movies and favorite sitcoms and resting as much as possible. It was time well spent, as today I’m feeling ever better.
Sure, I’ve got a bit of catching up to do on my, “what are you going to do with your life now, B-bry?” plan, but at the same time that I feel like saying something like, “ni puta idea,” I feel like I can also say, “Alles wird gut.”
At least, that’s the impression that I get.
Keep the faith.
bryan
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Taking it on the chin
A few weeks ago as I was cooking dinner in my flat, I bent down to tie my shoe (as you do when you notice a loose shoelace). Suddenly, I found myself in a headlock, and was totally and utterly surprised. At first, I was unable to react, as I was still trying to figure out what had actually happened. Within a few seconds, I was laughing, with a bit of relief; I hadn't anticipated the strength of the whole situation.
During the next few days, I laughed about the incident more than once. True, unusual things happen to me quite regularly, like when you inadvertently spray yourself in the eye with an aerosol can, or when things get out of control with the espresso machine and the milk sort of explodes around the kitchen. I find these things pretty easy to laugh about; I like little surprises.
Later that same week, I was called into the human resources department, where I was informed that my contract would be terminated at the end of this coming November. This came as a bit of a surprise, and one that I didn't find so easy to laugh about.
Over the past couple of weeks, I've had some time to let things sink in. Truth be told, I think I actually needed this push. Otherwise, I would have been inclined to continue to allow myself to get dragged through the mud in the existing environment. Now, I've got to sort of get myself in gear, and prepare for an all new adventure.
In the last three years, I have made 13 music compilations. Sure, they were ways to express myself, and they've certainly developed over time. The first was more of a reactionary birthday gift, the most recent a way to get through the insanity of work.
I've been listening to these regularly over the last days, as they seem to have particular significance to my present situation, not to mention the music is really bloody good. Though the cd's tell a bit of a story, I've found them to be great comfort as I put them in new context.
It's serving to be a decent soundtrack to this next little period of life, and proving to be quite motivating (as they were actually initially intended) to me as I establish my action plan.
In the weeks to come, I'll hope to provide some interesting details of the antics. Indeed, I expect things to be a bit stressful, but humorous, as well. For starters, the whole idea about having a good photo for your CV: gone are the days that you can wear a 15 year old tie and steel toe oxfords. Perhaps it's time to realize that I'm not exactlly a little kid any more, though you might be hard pressed to believe that when you see me in gift shop selling loads of stuffed animals.
At any rate, stopping to smell the roses and appreciate where you are in life is something that I've not always done so well. Yesterday's little day trip to the wine country nearby Frankfurt was a perfect reminder for me that it is a life worth living, particularly with those people that are close to me.
And while I know that I've got to lead the way in this next little chapter of life, it's of great comfort that I will not be going at it alone.
stay tuned, it's about to get nutty. again.
keep the faith.
bryan
During the next few days, I laughed about the incident more than once. True, unusual things happen to me quite regularly, like when you inadvertently spray yourself in the eye with an aerosol can, or when things get out of control with the espresso machine and the milk sort of explodes around the kitchen. I find these things pretty easy to laugh about; I like little surprises.
Later that same week, I was called into the human resources department, where I was informed that my contract would be terminated at the end of this coming November. This came as a bit of a surprise, and one that I didn't find so easy to laugh about.
Over the past couple of weeks, I've had some time to let things sink in. Truth be told, I think I actually needed this push. Otherwise, I would have been inclined to continue to allow myself to get dragged through the mud in the existing environment. Now, I've got to sort of get myself in gear, and prepare for an all new adventure.
In the last three years, I have made 13 music compilations. Sure, they were ways to express myself, and they've certainly developed over time. The first was more of a reactionary birthday gift, the most recent a way to get through the insanity of work.
I've been listening to these regularly over the last days, as they seem to have particular significance to my present situation, not to mention the music is really bloody good. Though the cd's tell a bit of a story, I've found them to be great comfort as I put them in new context.
It's serving to be a decent soundtrack to this next little period of life, and proving to be quite motivating (as they were actually initially intended) to me as I establish my action plan.
In the weeks to come, I'll hope to provide some interesting details of the antics. Indeed, I expect things to be a bit stressful, but humorous, as well. For starters, the whole idea about having a good photo for your CV: gone are the days that you can wear a 15 year old tie and steel toe oxfords. Perhaps it's time to realize that I'm not exactlly a little kid any more, though you might be hard pressed to believe that when you see me in gift shop selling loads of stuffed animals.
At any rate, stopping to smell the roses and appreciate where you are in life is something that I've not always done so well. Yesterday's little day trip to the wine country nearby Frankfurt was a perfect reminder for me that it is a life worth living, particularly with those people that are close to me.
And while I know that I've got to lead the way in this next little chapter of life, it's of great comfort that I will not be going at it alone.
stay tuned, it's about to get nutty. again.
keep the faith.
bryan
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Bryan's Smart Circus
I came to the startling realization this past week how similar this summer of 2010 is to my summer of 1990. I must say that it's a bit surreal, or perhaps better expressed: unfuckingbelievable.
Seriously, in May-June 1990, things were pretty well out of control. Promptly upon completing my final exam in Macroeconomics, I walked out of the building and started chucking everything I had with me, my pens, pencils, notebook, as hard as I could, as far as I could; I was fairly certain that I'd just failed out of school. Tim's brother (who had just graduated near the top of his class) saw me outside in despair, and I heard later that I'd really freaked him out. That made two of us.
Fortunately, I only got a stern scolding from my school mentor on the importance of performing a bit better academically when my grades were handed out. Of course, my father had a few other choice words to say on the matter, and indeed I more or less got my act together and did significantly better the next terms.
I've had the feeling that my performance at work over these past couple of months has been subpar. A lot of that has had to do with the constant change in priorities; it's almost as if you can never complete one task. As a result, you've always got a lot of balls in the air, and, with one blink, everything can come crumbling down.
True, the industry is such that you've always got to be on alert, and you have to make a lot of decisions on the fly. I've always been relatively adept in this area, but do tend to struggle when the directives aren't quite clear. We've had a lot more politics enter into our company this year, and it is sometimes a bit too much, especially for a hard core middle of the roader like myself.
However, like I did 20 years back, I will have a chat with the principal (er, general manager), adjust the attitude, and get back on track, and right soon, at that.
In 1990, though I suppose you could argue just about any time, I was struck by the changes as friends entered and left my life. In school, this is particularly noticeable as upperclassmen graduate and the freshmen enter each year, and 1990 happened to be significant as a couple of friends of mine moved on, and suddenly, instead of seeing them every day (as you tend to do over 4 years of college), I saw them more and more seldom. The change was difficult for me at the time.
Last month, a friend of mine had a stroke, spent a couple of weeks here in hospital, then returned to his home country where he could receive the necessary care. As he is a pretty good Kumpel, it's been a bit emotional, not only with the sudden absence of my friend, but also the uncertainty and concern I have for his health. All the best, John...
Another friend of mine recently got transferred to another city, so in a flash, he's off to his new challenges and experiences.
Now, people coming and going is really nothing new, and while I take these changes in stride, I'm still struck by the suddenness. At least in school, you sort of knew what would happen each May and each September. Living in an urban village isn't really the same as living on a college campus, but you still become accustomed to seeing people on a regular basis.
I spent the summer of 1990 laughing at the insanity of it all, trying to deal with a lot of different changes at once, but found solace and sanctuary in my usual manner - concentrating on music and football. Italia 90 for me was all about watching a lot of spanish television and appreciating how a world unites itself on a pitch. Combine that with music (remember New Order's World in Motion?) and it made for a rather decent summer. I ended up making myself several compilations on cassette (the "it's gonna get harder still before it gets easy" mix was a particular favorite), and all of it helped me take on the future with a vengeance...
This time around, I'm doing the same thing. Sure, the broadcasts are now in German (and it's kind of funny to hear the announcers pronounce the Latino and Asian names...) but the fervor is incredible; it's a wonderful experience to be in a country where literally everyone stops life in order to watch their team play. That said, I was equally touched by the recent video showing the fans reactions from all over the country that some guy made after the US made it through the first round. Very cool.
Meanwhile, the music is coming hard and fast. I put together a "how to stop the insanity" comp this past week in about 10 minutes; no surprise to me how quickly the tunes came to mind. Like all compilations I make (whether on cassette or mp3), it's simply expressing those thoughts which I wasn't able to communicate so easily through writing or conversation.
So, two laundry loads, 10 double espressos, and a bit of vacuuming later, this piece is done.
Indeed, it will still get harder before it gets easy, but the ball is rolling, and the beat goes on.
Here's me laughing at the insanity of it all. Keep the faith.
bryan
Soundtrack -
I'll pick the bands, you can pick the songs:
Therapy?, Seal, Dead or Alive, Exploited, Carter USM, My Vitriol, Nitzer Ebb, Flesh For Lulu, Leftfield, Alaska, The Who, The Wonderstuff, and the Jesus and Mary Chain
Seriously, in May-June 1990, things were pretty well out of control. Promptly upon completing my final exam in Macroeconomics, I walked out of the building and started chucking everything I had with me, my pens, pencils, notebook, as hard as I could, as far as I could; I was fairly certain that I'd just failed out of school. Tim's brother (who had just graduated near the top of his class) saw me outside in despair, and I heard later that I'd really freaked him out. That made two of us.
Fortunately, I only got a stern scolding from my school mentor on the importance of performing a bit better academically when my grades were handed out. Of course, my father had a few other choice words to say on the matter, and indeed I more or less got my act together and did significantly better the next terms.
I've had the feeling that my performance at work over these past couple of months has been subpar. A lot of that has had to do with the constant change in priorities; it's almost as if you can never complete one task. As a result, you've always got a lot of balls in the air, and, with one blink, everything can come crumbling down.
True, the industry is such that you've always got to be on alert, and you have to make a lot of decisions on the fly. I've always been relatively adept in this area, but do tend to struggle when the directives aren't quite clear. We've had a lot more politics enter into our company this year, and it is sometimes a bit too much, especially for a hard core middle of the roader like myself.
However, like I did 20 years back, I will have a chat with the principal (er, general manager), adjust the attitude, and get back on track, and right soon, at that.
In 1990, though I suppose you could argue just about any time, I was struck by the changes as friends entered and left my life. In school, this is particularly noticeable as upperclassmen graduate and the freshmen enter each year, and 1990 happened to be significant as a couple of friends of mine moved on, and suddenly, instead of seeing them every day (as you tend to do over 4 years of college), I saw them more and more seldom. The change was difficult for me at the time.
Last month, a friend of mine had a stroke, spent a couple of weeks here in hospital, then returned to his home country where he could receive the necessary care. As he is a pretty good Kumpel, it's been a bit emotional, not only with the sudden absence of my friend, but also the uncertainty and concern I have for his health. All the best, John...
Another friend of mine recently got transferred to another city, so in a flash, he's off to his new challenges and experiences.
Now, people coming and going is really nothing new, and while I take these changes in stride, I'm still struck by the suddenness. At least in school, you sort of knew what would happen each May and each September. Living in an urban village isn't really the same as living on a college campus, but you still become accustomed to seeing people on a regular basis.
I spent the summer of 1990 laughing at the insanity of it all, trying to deal with a lot of different changes at once, but found solace and sanctuary in my usual manner - concentrating on music and football. Italia 90 for me was all about watching a lot of spanish television and appreciating how a world unites itself on a pitch. Combine that with music (remember New Order's World in Motion?) and it made for a rather decent summer. I ended up making myself several compilations on cassette (the "it's gonna get harder still before it gets easy" mix was a particular favorite), and all of it helped me take on the future with a vengeance...
This time around, I'm doing the same thing. Sure, the broadcasts are now in German (and it's kind of funny to hear the announcers pronounce the Latino and Asian names...) but the fervor is incredible; it's a wonderful experience to be in a country where literally everyone stops life in order to watch their team play. That said, I was equally touched by the recent video showing the fans reactions from all over the country that some guy made after the US made it through the first round. Very cool.
Meanwhile, the music is coming hard and fast. I put together a "how to stop the insanity" comp this past week in about 10 minutes; no surprise to me how quickly the tunes came to mind. Like all compilations I make (whether on cassette or mp3), it's simply expressing those thoughts which I wasn't able to communicate so easily through writing or conversation.
So, two laundry loads, 10 double espressos, and a bit of vacuuming later, this piece is done.
Indeed, it will still get harder before it gets easy, but the ball is rolling, and the beat goes on.
Here's me laughing at the insanity of it all. Keep the faith.
bryan
Soundtrack -
I'll pick the bands, you can pick the songs:
Therapy?, Seal, Dead or Alive, Exploited, Carter USM, My Vitriol, Nitzer Ebb, Flesh For Lulu, Leftfield, Alaska, The Who, The Wonderstuff, and the Jesus and Mary Chain
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)