Embrace the Ambiguity...Game, Set, Match (er, Full Time)

The other week I was in Hungary having dinner with the customer I was visiting. Several of us were sitting around the table as we waited on a few more colleagues to arrive. We started discussing sports; the three Hungarians I was dining with all enjoy skiing and cycling. They are all friends (which is nice to see in a firm), and tend to take their bike (spring/summer) and ski (winter) trips frequently. The ski season is just coming to an end, so everyone was getting their bikes out in preparation of the season change.

Inevitably, I was asked about my own tastes in sport. One of the guys is a huge fan of women's basketball; he had been following the team for 20 years or so. I found that not only intriguing but also sort of endearing. He apparently hasn't missed many matches since becoming a fan.

As I have had to do several times since living in Europe, I explained that although my childhood gave me plenty of exposure to a lot of different sports(including basketball), both as a spectator and a player, I always preferred soccer. (I almost always say soccer, since everyone assumes initially that I refer to american football when I say football). Hungary is not really known for its prowess (but hell, look where I come from), though they might have a chance to qualify for Euro 2012.

At any rate, I related my tale that I had pretty much only played soccer through most of my playing years, save for an interlude when I played tennis for my college team. I actually laughed out loud when I mentioned tennis, reminded of the absolute absurdity of a 3 year stint on a team where I was an average player at best. I never quite developed my mental game on the court. As a result, matches were quite entertaining, as I could quickly lose control of a match, especially against any opponent who was talented enough to identify the plethora of weaknesses to my game.

Still, I did enjoy the experience, managing to be a decent contributor to the team. My physical ability, particularly my serve, helped to get me noticed. More than once I could snatch a few games off of a better player just because I could blast the serve and accumulate enough aces to momentarily rattle them. Of course, I was a bit of a one trick pony, so as soon as they figured out how to beat me, things tended to go down hill quickly.

Ultimmately, I returned to the pitch soon after college, and while I sort of wish that I had not skipped the opportunity to improve my footballing (while running around on the court), I do think I did make for a decent footballer in the end, though that is a story for another time. (preview - in a seemingly insane moment playing indoor with some guys, a teammate compared me to Bobby Moore. Flattered as I was, I actually asked the teammate if he was on crack...)

We had a couple of palinkas as I finished telling my story, and that more or less rounded out the evening nicely.

A couple of days later, Pablo reminded me that he and I had both always been better doubles players on the court, and I appreciated his analogy, especially since it gave a perspective that I hadn't thought of previously.

As always, I like it when a random comment gives me something to think about. Thoughts of double faults and broken racket strings (and a banner day when I bopped myself in the forehead trying to return someone's serve, resulting in me bleeding all over the tennis court) stayed with me during this past week as I commuted to work each day on the train, sort of mingling with my recent ongoing search to make sure the music doesn't fade completely away.

I greatly enjoy the experience on the train. I tend to hang out in the board bistro, where you can buy a coffee (mornings) or a beer (evenings), do a little work, or read a book. At the rate that I am reading, I am going to have to hit the library a bit more frequently.

There are usually other regular commuters that have the same idea as me, preferring the bistro to trying to fight for a seat in one of the passenger cars. I have never really been one to initiate conversations on the train (or planes, or automobiles, for that matter), and a prime reason (other than my shyness) came up one afternoon as I boarded the train in Düsseldorf. Two other guys who I had seen before sort of jockeying for that place on the train platform that puts you directly in front of the door to the train, thus allowing you to be one of the first to board as soon as the passengers have gotten off. This is a particularly significant thing when you have no seat reservation; being first on means you have a better chance of finding the spot (either in the passenger car in an unoccupied seat or in the bistro where you can get a table) that you want.

Train travel, especially for commuters, can create a bit of overcrowding. Usually you can purchase a ticket and ride any train. This potentially means that you can travel with a lot of people at one time, with more passengers than there are seats on the train. Football weekends are good examples, as are holidays when all the soldiers get a weekend furlough. Thus, there are times when you get on a train, only to find out that travellers (and their bags) are scattered all over: in the aisles, in the foyer, or anywhere where there is a place to lean, stand, or squat.
All the more reason to pick out your preferred spot and try to get situated quickly. It's a bit like musical chairs, and no one likes to suddenly find themselves without a place.

So, when the train arrived in the station, I found myself getting into the bistro just before the other two regular commuters, but as I was just about to put my bag on a little table, one of the guys sort of threw his own bag onto the same spot, more or less beating me to the place.

"Sorry," he said, more or less meaning anything but.

"Macht nichts," I responded, meaning, "you are a fuckhead."

I took the table across from them and opened my book, realizing that it was not worth worrying about. After all, I still had a spot for myself. My irritation came simply from the fact that he easily noticed that there were two spots and could have simply taken the one that I was NOT about to take. Ah well, it really came as no surprise. Most commuters tend to be a bit jumpy at the best of times. Mintues later, after we were en route to the next station, about 10 people all tried to order refreshments from the helpless guy behind the counter, and somehow everyone wanted to be first, as opposed to standing in a queue. I sipped my own beer and continued reading, glad to have a little spot at my table.

While I enjoy the train travel, the one thing that was a bit of a concern is the expense. I own a Bahnkarte which greatly reduces my ticket price, but as I am finding that I will probably not have to travel outside of Germany as much as I initially thought, the expenses of a daily commute to work were adding up quickly. After the debaucle of the shit hotel I stayed in a few weeks ago, I feel more inclined to simply commute each day, so long as the expenses aren't out of control.

I wisely decided to upgrade my Bahnkarte this past week (after riding home with fuckhead and his buddy), and was pleased at the service I got from the Reisezentrum as they helped me get the change application filled out. If it works the way I think it will, I will actually save more money commuting than if I actually stayed away from home during the work week. I was very glad to get this sorted, as it has helped create my little routine.

Later, at home, I lay in bed listening to a little "Night Music," feeling comfortable that at the very least, my work week is starting to get a bit structure, at least as much as can be formed in a job that is never dull, changing from day to day.

So, I entered the holiday weekend still trying to get back on track with the music, as my concerns from the other week had not yet subsided. Fortunately, a few tracks from Richard Butler hit rotation at just the right moment, and things seem to be improving on that front. Thank goodness. Throw in a bit of Joy Division and the Police, and look the fuck out...

After all, sometimes you just have to change the game.

keep the faith
bryan

soundtrack
The Make - Daryl
Into You Like a Train - Psychedelic Furs
Fall On Tears - Love Spit Love
Complete catalog - The Police
Complete catalog - Joy Division

Half Full or Half Empty

You know, when I was in college, I had a friend, and somehow, he and I managed to get going on a „who can be the most pessimistic“kick. Entertaining as this was at the time, it was a bit dangerous, and I found the whole experience quite educational. He had a way of saying, “Everything sucks, and if something good happens, it will be like a bonus.” Because of this approach, he almost won the contest, but in the end I won out, though I will save that story for another time. Sometimes best to leave a few skeletons in the closet, no?

We eventually grew up and out of our pessimistic tendencies, at least for the most part.

For me, rightly or wrongly, I developed a habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve; I have touched on that many times over the years. That took me a while to come to terms with, but I accepted things eventually, finding ways to mask emotion with a whole lot of satire, grim humor and wit, which further developed my style.

This style is not without its drawbacks, as I have always had a knack for laughing out loud while telling someone to fuck off (thus giving the impression that I was joking while I really was quite serious), or sometimes saying something so absurd, with a straight face, that people would almost take offense, thinking surely I spoke in jest, while I was quite the opposite.

I struggled with the feelings of being misunderstood for a long time. It took a bit of time before I realized that my style appeals to a much smaller audience (hence the reason that there are five regular readers of this blog…though I do thank each of you!), and while I accept that fact, sometimes it becomes a bit much.

I might add, though, that I grew up in a culture where cheerleaders happened to be everywhere, a wee too bubbly and chipper for my taste, and perhaps my pessimistic feelings came from the need to compensate, as I surely found them to be a bit much.

Like we all do over time and experience, we (or at least I do) reflect on things, and sometimes discover that it is ok to change our tune. This is not to say we should stop liking punk music in favor of opera; to that, I would laugh out loud with a hearty fuck off! I believe the change comes more gradually, which is better, as it allows you to develop at your pace. (er, punk, then shoegazer, then prog, then classical, and then opera? Er, if it suits you.)

With me, I slowly stopped wearing shirts with slogans like, “Smoke this, cheesedick motherfucker,” or “join a frat, rent a friend,” not because I no longer believed in the sentiment, but because I realized that the slogans were rather rude, and apt not to be so accepted. I am sure my Eco and Literature Profs would be relieved to know this. Probably a couple of old bosses, too. More important, though, I am glad for me.

Over the years, my pessimism has decreased, but not necessarily in the complete direction of optimism. That said, I do tend to support and cheer (we all have a bit of cheerleader in us) when compelled. True, those times may be infrequent, but what I lack in quantity I make up for in quality, because I deem them so important to me. Whether this be something like the FA Cup final in 2005, or wanting my nephew to do well on a math exam, or simply wanting a friend to be safe, happy, and at peace.

Yes, I tend to be selective, mainly because I tend to extend quite an effort in supporting the causes I feel worthy, and it can be equally rewarding and exhausting. But, even when I feel like I am running full speed into a brick wall (Barca-Arsenal Champs League 2nd leg 2011, for example) I still feel it the right thing to do, even if the result isn’t what I wanted, or expected.

The valuable lesson that I learned is to prepare yourself for the fact that you may have to say “Ouch!” Not everything or everyone will accept the Rah Rahs…
Ironic, that the very reason that people turn pessimistic is because of the rejection, or a big fucking brick wall.

Like I said, I am glad that I understand this, and while it doesn’t always make my life particularly easy, it is part of life all the same.

Alas, I have had a few moments recently where the bricks were a bit tough, or maybe I was running too fast. At any rate, I would have to say that some of the music stopped. This generated a bit of personal concern, as have this feeling I am living a short story that I wrote years ago (while wearing a silly shirt that said, “smoke this, cheesedick…”), and this story had a very horrible ending.

I am in the middle of figuring that out at the moment, and all things considered, I am ok with things, particularly since, and I must say this with a straight face: “Bring it On” is on the video on demand in my hotel, and I am in. So what if it is in Hungarian.

After all, we’ve all got a bit of cheerleader in us…

Keep the faith
Bryan

Soundtrack:
Smells Like Teen Spirit - Nirvana

Think About the Way

"Life's tough," I read in a text message about a week ago. Yes indeedy.

The comment stuck with me all last weekend, and lingered through this past week. Unlike last week where I commuted daily to and from Düsseldorf, this week I had booked a hotel to stay in.

I spent Monday with the office to myself. Not a soul in sight. The receptionist sat out front, and had already mentioned that things were pretty quiet until Tuesday. I got a fair amount of work done during the day, though at this stage in the job, I am still getting into the swing of things. Thus, there is not so much to do. I find that a bit uncomfortable, because I am used to having loads on my plate.

Colleagues tell me that I should be patient; there will be plenty to do in good time and likely sooner rather than later. I reckon that they are right, and I should really enjoy the time while I can, sort of gradually working my way into things.

However, I feel a little self-conscious as of late, so having a few idle moments in the office is the last thing I want right now.

Ah well, I took advantage of the slow day and left the office a few minutes past 5, and walked to the U-bahn stop. En route, I got a front row seat of a motor accident, where a woman drove a car into a man riding a motorcycle. Though neither seemed to be going that fast, the man still got flipped several feet into the air, and the whole incident was bloody awful to have to see.

Though I had a direct view of the accident, I was about half a block away, and therefore couldn't really consider myself a witness. Other workers finishing for the day were right there on the scene, and scurried over to try and help. Meanwhile, I went ahead and got on my train and headed back downtown. "Life is tough," I thought to myself.

I was pretty well freaked out by the whole thing, and while I mean no disrepect to those involved in the accident (particularly the injured victim), my own personal mood was rapidly going downhill. And it was only Monday.

My hotel was situated a few minutes walk from the train station, and I realized as I checked in that it was going to be a shit hole. The neighborhood was pretty lousy (as most neighborhoods next to German train stations tend to be), and I hadn't seen any interesting restaurants close by.

Of course, the room rate was pretty reasonable, only about 40 Euro per night, but I had hoped for a bit more atmosphere. Deciding to suck it up (life is tough!) and remembering that the entire week had already been billed to my credit card, there wasn't much I could do about it.

After unpacking, I set off in search of a quiet restaurant where I could do a bit of reading, preferably for a few hours, as my room was so small that I wanted to stay out of there as much as possible. 10 minutes walk further down the street brought me to fuck all. The neighborhood was marginally better than the immediate hotel surroundings, but only just. I decided to walk a bit further in hopes of finding a small gem, otherwise I would be forced to head back to the kebap shop across the street from the hotel.

The extra bit of walking paid off: I came upon a little tapas bar which looked interesting. I walked in, indicated I had no reservation, and was allowed to sit at a little table in the bar. The staff were friendly, the sangria was pretty good, and, as it turned out, the tapas were quite impressive, and reasonably priced.

I tucked in, and spent the next few hours enjoying the quiet atmosphere, my book, and the sangria. The restaurant was not very busy, but I assumed that had more to do with the fact that it was a Monday night, not the busiest of eating out nights.

My bill came to just over 50 Euro, but that is because I had eaten so much. Tapas tend to be better suited for parties of more than one, but, hey, life is tough. I was more than satisfied, despite the splurge. Besides, I had not eaten all day.

Indeed, there were a lot more people in the office on Tuesday morning. I would say that the other folks are at the very least, relatively polite. However, they were not overly friendly, nor were they particularly interested in why I was there, or what I was doing. Since they are all in sales and marketing, I would say that is fairly typical. I am in ops, so they will usually only get involved with me when they need something. Kind of a strange environment to be in, but I hope that over the next few weeks and months (when I am not travelling and actually in the office) things will be a bit more comfortable. In fairness, I have only been with the company two months, and it was only my fourth day in the office. They probably need a bit of time to adjust to me, too.

As the work day finished, it started to rain, and I lost any sense of adventure for trying to find another restaurant, so made it easy on myself and returned to the tapas bar. The same staff from the previous evening greeted me with a bit of surprise, but I pointed out that the food was fucking great, and the menu was quite extensive. I ordered a few new items for round one, then repeated a couple of dishes from the previous evening.

I was engrossed in my book, but took a quick break during the evening to chat with a stateside colleague about my early days on the job. He reassured me that things would certainly get better on some fronts, but the chaos and bizarreness would also be prevalent...

The chat helped, and I returned to my cramped hotel room feeling a bit less isolated, knowing that I was not really as alone as I currently felt.

I chatted with the office receptionist on Wednesday, and she pointed out that my hotel was a shithole in a pretty lousy area of the city. I mentioned that I kind of wished she had told me that the previous week, but thanked her all the same.

As a creature of habit, it was no surprise that I returned to the tapas bar again on Wednesday evening. I had already prepared an explanation as to why I had to keep going back to the same establishment, but was fortunate that the waitstaff from the first two nights of the week were not there, likely having a night off. Unfortunately, the place was packed, and the waitress on duty did not know me from adam, but begrudgingly found me the one remaining table, even though it was marked as reserved.

I quickly realized that they were actually understaffed. In a tapas restaurant, this is a bit challenging, as dishes are whisked out to the tables as soon as they are ready. I felt a bit unsettled, as my table was in the middle of the bar, kind of in the traffic lane between the kitchen and the other tables. By the second glass of sangria, though, I felt somewhat better. The chef brought out one of the things that I had ordered, and we suddenly started chatting in Spanish. This upped my status in the place considerably, especially with the busy waitress, who became at least civil towards me, if not almost friendly.

By the end of the night, I had decided that I would return to Frankfurt on Thursday evening after work. It was not that I was tired of tapas, my dining experience had been the best thing about the whole week. However, I was feeling a bit too far from home.

On Thursday morning, I gave the hotel clerk my key, saying that I would not be staying that evening. He was a man of few words, and more or less dismissed me, acknowleding that he already had my money. As I walked to the U-bahn with my bag, I noted that I would tell my parents to find a better hotel before they arrived in Düsseldorf; this one was shit.

Though my current situation is all about feeling a bit unsettled and isolated, I do enjoy riding the train between Düsseldorf and Frankfurt. The commute home on Thursday was easy, and I was very glad to pick up a couple of pizzas at my local shop and get home to my flat.

The pizza was a nice change from the tapas, but as I finished dinner and prepared to do a laundry load, I discovered that I had a new issue to deal with. No hot water.

A couple of years ago, I had experienced a problem with my hot water heater, and ultimately had to have a man come out and do repairs. On that visit, he mentioned that he had had to fill up the water level, but never bothered to show me that I could take care of that myself, should the need arise in the future.

Sometime last summer, according to a little gauge on my hot water heater, the water level needed to be topped up. The term is Nachfüllen, and I checked about on the internet looking for instructions, preferably with photos. I did find a few forums which described the process, and upon further discussion with a few people, I had some idea as to how to take care of this task. The forums all mentioned that it was pretty easy to do. Hmmm.

After trying once or twice unsuccessfully to fill up the water level, I assumed I was doing it wrong. However, I still had hot water, so was not too worried. True, because the tank level was too low, I would frequently hear noises that were a bit unsettling, especially to house guests.

This went on for several more months, but as long as the hot water flowed, I found it easy to forget about.

All that changed, of course, on Thursday evening when my luck ran out.

Friday morning I checked the internet forums again, hoping that a newer post might have been written (with pics). Nope.

I decided to give it another shot myself, remembering that one time someone had shown me where they attached the hoses to get water into the tank. At the time, it wasn't very clear to me, but hey, life is tough.

By the middle of the afternoon, I felt beaten. My efforts to resolve this on my own were fruitless. This was certainly not helping my self esteem (I am DIY!) and was likely going to require a telephone call or two to the Hausmeister. My German has also been a bit shaky over the past couple of weeks, partly because most of the work day is conducted in English.

Fortunately, the Hausmeister was patient with me, but he, too, was unable to instruct me over the telephone as to precisely how one goes about Nachfüllen. But, he gave me another telephone number for someone he thought could help. Minutes later, I was speaking with Frau Rot, who told me that her fixit men were all out on calls, but one would call me back as soon as they got back to the office.

About 30 minutes later, she phoned me back to tell me that a guy was on his way to my flat. It was easier for him to show me in person.

So, at 5pm on Friday afternoon, the man arrived at my flat, we walked upstairs, he connected the hose to the same two places that I had already tried, then turned a little key on the radiator, turned on the faucet, and within two minutes, the Nachfüllen was complete. I felt a bit idiotic, since I had done everything that he did, save for turning the key. In fairness, no one had mentioned anything about this key before, neither the friends I had consulted nor the internet forums.

With great relief, I had hot water again. Order restored.

I opened a bottle of wine to celebrate. The whole day had been most stressful, but was ending on a decent note. At the very least, I can put up with the "I told you so's" and move on to the next bit. How funny that something so seemingly easy gets so complicated.

Last night, I took a quick trip to Köln to have dinner with my parents, and related the tale as we sat in a restaurant eating, erm, tapas.

Life is tough, no?

keep the faith
bryan

soundtrack:
Over and Out - Alkaline Trio
Enjoy the Silence - DM
Age of Consent - New Order
Think About the Way - Ice MC

Avoiding an(other) Identity Crisis!

Like anyone else with a vivid imagination, I tend to find connections with various characters in films that I see. As children playing with friends after school, which one of us was Luke, or Leia, or Han Solo (or an ewok, for that matter)? I have always favored films by John Cusack and Colin Firth (the earlier stuff), as I always felt something in common with the characters those actors have portrayed. This does not mean that I went through junior high thinking I needed to ski the K-12 or anything like that.

After watching St. Elmo's Fire last weekend, though, I did spend a couple of days thinking about post college and the challenges we all faced as we acclimated ourselves to the "real world." Interesting how people you never expected to amount to much became stellar people, and likewise, folks that always seemed on top of things back in school have had less than pleasant times.

I have to assume that when we find outselves in self thought, or even self doubt, we sometimes seek a pick me up in the form of a film, typically one that we already know (sometimes not, I suppose), just we know we will be able to identify with a character, and see things which provide us a it of reassurance.

Sure, we have the ability to sort of manipulate this sensation, and tend to select a movie where we believe we are guaranteed to find something reassuring. At festive family gatherings (ie Thanksgiving, or Christmas Eve), I doubt seriously that anyone is saying, "Hey, who feels like watching Schindler's List or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo?"

Let me be quick to point out that I am not suggesting that we try to live our lives along to a movie script, I am simply saying that with stories (music, too) we often find things that we can relate to. And we want that in our lives.

Sometimes, though, we find ourselves seemingly caught on the back foot, as the events of daily life suddenly remind you of a specific character or story. This happened to me this past week as I commuted daily to my office in Düsseldorf. Monday morning, I was singing to myself ("Heigh-Ho, Heigh-ho, It's off to work we go,"), feeling a bit tired from the emotional end to the weekend.

The commute to Düsseldorf takes about 90 minutes, but because the train is busy (with other commuters), I was unable to get a reserved seat, so went to the bistro and had a coffee and read a book. After two months on the job, I was actually going to my "office" for the very first time. Sure, I was a little anxious, partly because I wasn't too clear on how to get to the office, and furthermore, did not really know what to expect. This particular office is primarily a location for a different division of the company. The work done there would not have too much to do with me, and visa versa.

I managed to find the office without too much trouble, and felt a little bashful as the office manager showed me around. There were not too many other workers there, which I found a bit strange, but I was told that that was normal, usually most people were there Tuesday through Thursday, working from home (or commuting) on Mondays and Fridays.

My two primary German colleagues were both travelling on Monday, so neither was in the office with me. I felt a bit awkward sitting there in a rather empty office. Of the other three people there, one made a bit of chit chat with me, asking who I was and what my function was in the company. I struggled to explain, fumbling a bit for words, not really because the conversation was in German, more so because I was still trying to get settled. I always need a few moments (hours, or days...) to reach my comfort level. It goes without saying that this early in the new job, I am still searching for my daily routine, wherever, whenever, however. Each day is more comfortable, but actually going to my office for the first time was a bit new.

The day went ok, and around 6pm I took a train back to Frankfurt. Ideally, I will plan to stay in Düsseldort during the work week (when not travelling), but due to a Messe, there were no hotels available. Fortunately, the one way commute is not too terribly long, and I was able to get a bit of work done. However, I was a little tired, a bit sleepy. Upon arriving in Frankfurt, I ate a quick dinner, then went home to bed.

Tuesday was a repeat of Monday, with the bonus of better knowing the public transportation routine, making the transfer from the train platform to the U-Bahn without incident. (The previous day, I had felt a bit of a dope, as I stood around in the middle of the train station, getting in everyones way as I tried to find my bearings. I tend to be selfconscious about that kind of thing, and it is not as if I am a dwarf or anything, right?)

On the way home on Tuesday evening, I saw a guy who had been on the same homeward journey the previous day. On the U-Bahn in Frankfurt, we exchanged a few words, finding out that both of us had the commonn situation of living in one city and working in another. Both of us travel, so there is no pressing need to relocate; commuting is sufficient.

I was feeling a bit grumpy on Wednesday morning, not to mention sleepy, dopey, and bashful, and was a bit concerned about my mood. For most of the weekend and early days of the week, I was struggling with the question, "why is everything so strange, is there something wrong with me?" as I tried to cope with various things in my life. Am I making the right decisions, am I doing the right things? I suppose we all ask ourselves these questions regularly, but maybe not all of us do this while sipping a latte on a train coach, slowly realizing that we seem to be caught up in a Disney film.

However, I took the time to reflect, and as I seem to do so well, at least for myself, confirmed for myself that I am on the right path (and thank goodness the right train!), and got through the workday in decent fashion. I was very glad that I had arranged to work from home the rest of the week, on account that my parents would be arriving the following morning. I decided to take an earlier train back to Frankfurt, and was pleased to find the bistro not so full.

A man was at the table across from me, constantly looking at his smartphone (just as I was). He made a few business calls, and I noticed that he spoke German well enough, but like me, was not native. I tried to ignore him, but kept glancing over, as he spoke somewhat loudly, and I couldn't help thinking that perrhaps my own German accent sounds a bit like his. I don't really know.

He was a fairly big man, so his voice was fitting. Big guy, big voice. A few minutes later I was startled from the magazine that I was reading with "Achoo achoo achoo!"

At first, I looked around, wondering if there was a baby hamster on board. The noise I had heard was very dinky and strange.

The man was pulling out his handkerchief, and I bit my tongue, refraining from making a rude comment out loud.

Way to go, Sneezy.

We arrived in Frankfurt soon after, and I bumped into an old Kumpel on the platform. He lives in Stuttgart and commutes to Frankfurt regularly; an old drinking buddy from the pub.

Later, I ran into another friend that I hadn't seen since the beginning of the new year, and we caught up over a few beers. A nice way to finish the day.

Well, the rest of the week has been pretty good. At the very least, I can be happy with the fact that I accept how things are.

Now, I have got to run off to the DVD shop and hopefully find something that will help me get the silly song out of my head.

Heigh-Ho, Heigh-Ho.

keep the faith
bryan

Bryan Wears Dark Socks

Man, do I ever hate sorting socks.

Over the past couple of years, I seem to have overstocked myself on boxers and dark socks. I won't say that I stop in every H and M that I see, but every couple of months I do find myself buying a few pairs of boxers and inevitably, a six pack of black socks.

Once I get home to put the new articles away, I discover unopened packs of socks that I had previously purchased, lying happily (and forgotten) in the drawer. Ah well, I will certainly need them one day I always tell myself.

I seem to have the same habit with shaving cream, shower gel, and fabric softener, also, due primarily to the fact that I am an impulse buyer, but I will leave that story for another day.

Because I do not let the dirty laundry pile up, the clothes get washed frequently, folded, then placed in the bureau, only to be worn again pretty quickly. Thus, I tend to wear things over and over again; wear clothes for the week, wash them on Saturday, then wear the clean clothes again the next week. Jeans and shirts all seem to be the same (in kind of a Nancy and Sluggo sort of way), always dark (ok, black) and in the same style.

In reaction to some pressure from some of the more fashion conscious I know, I now wear white socks less and less. In Germany, dark socks are key. This is not a huge issue, but it has created a bit of an imbalance in my laundry sorting.

Usually, I have to let the whites kind of accumulate, since they are only white t-shirts now due to the absence of white socks. Not a problem.

However, what can be a bit challenging is the fact that I have multiple loads of dark that have to be done each week. One for the jeans and shirts, and one for the boxers and socks.

With the sudden shift from constantly being at home to being on the road several days each week, or perhaps even longer, I have had to change my laundry strategy, if only slightly. I decided to put together little travel packets: sorting 5 pairs of underwear and socks in preparation for the next trip. This resulted in a couple of things: I could better rotate my socks and boxers, and even allowed for me to find some of the cool boxers buried deep in my drawer.

When I got home Thursday afternoon from Budapest, I took a look at the laundry situation and decided that I would do the majority of the wash on Friday and Saturday; no nead to run a load on Thursday. Keep in mind that one has to plan a little with this domestic task. I do not have a clothes dryer, so am limited to the hanging rack in my bathroom for getting the clothes dry.

Friday morning I took a train a couple of hours north to attend new employee induction day. Not the way I really wanted to spend my work day, basically because I had, er, a fair amount of work to do and no time to sit in a video conference talking about company history and where to find the link to company news on the intranet.

Fortunately, the meeting wrapped up about an hour earlier than I expected, so I caught the next train back to Frankfurt, stopped off at a pizzeria, then went home to have a very quiet night after a rather busy week. Before I sat down for dinner and a movie, I threw a load of laundry in the wash. I managed to watch all of St. Elmo's Fire, then hung the wash on the drying rack (noticing that there were a lot of socks), then went to bed.

This morning, feeling refreshed, I enjoyed a couple of coffees, then started another laundry load (sheets and towels). Then I looked again at the rack, and realized I had a bit of folding to do. Sure, the boxers (5 to a kit, please!) are easy, but the pile of socks seemed a bit intimidating, so I had another coffee before I attacked the pile.

One would think that such a menial task would not be so annoying, but with black socks, it just takes a bit longer to sort. In all, it took me a good 15 minutes, and while I was glad to get things finished and the stuff shoved in the sock drawer, I noticed yesterday's socks lying on the floor of my bedroom. I had forgotten to put them in the wash, so they will now sit in the hamper for another week.

The cycle repeats itself.

This long-winded little tale about my domestic life is brought to you today by Lenor fabric softener (Energy - clear blue flavor!) and the Clean Clothes Brigade, all to the soundtrack of an interesting mix of The Police, Joe Jackson, and Blaggers ITA.

Keep 'em clean, and keep the faith.

bryan

Alone Again...or So Lonely?

A friend of mine contacted me last month right as I was starting the new job with the news that he was about to put up a blog on his website. In addition to putting up a daily post in real time, he also shares from his journal entry from the same day eleven years ago. I found that to be a very interesting concept, and have really enjoyed following the posts; every couple of days I go to his site to read a few entries.

Pause while I just remembered that he said he was going to be in Frankfurt for a couple of days this past week. Shit. Needed to have a pint with him. (said blogger is mentioned in one of my earliest German posts. Who said that an Arsenal fan can't be friends with a fan of Man U?)

Due to my action packed movie watching and novel reading experience last weekend in Glasgow, I found myself a little behind in blog reading. I travelled to Bolougne-sur-Mer on Monday via the Chunnel, which was quite cool. Two colleagues and I arrived at our hotel, checked in, found a local restaurant, then returned the hotel after dinner. I tried to connect up to the Wi-Fi in my room, but was totally unsuccessful.

I found that the local telly was showing L'auberge Espagnole, one of my favorite films, so decided to watch that instead of doing any work. A few minutes later, one of the colleagues sent me a quick text message with the news that the other colleague had to return home suddenly as his wife had just gone into labor. Thus, we would visit the repair site without him.

The next day at the supplier, I found I was still unable to connect to the wireless network. My colleague came around the table to check my laptop, and pointed out that my wireless was turned off. Damn.

As I turned red with embarrassment, I waited for him to zing me by stating the obvious. "So, you worked in laptop repair for the past 15 years, huh?"

Well, I deserved that.

The rest of the day was spent on the repair lines, and though I did connect up and pull down my work emails, I did not have a chance to look around on the internet until Wednesday morning. I found an interesting post that my friend had written the previous week on the subject of being alone or being lonely.

That afternoon, we drove back to England, and I was dropped off at a train station about an hour outside of London. I purchased my ticket and Underground transfer; I needed to get to City Airport for my return flight that evening to Frankfurt.

I contemplated the blog entry during my entire journey home, and have continued to reflect over the past several days that I have been back in Frankfurt, rereading the entry several more times. One sentence really grabbed me: "When we can be alone with ourselves and we do not need anyone else, then we can love like we have never loved before."

I have always thrived on my independence, and acknowledge that I tend to be on my own most of the time. I stop short of saying loner, because I do greatly enjoy other people's company. Furthermore, while I have certainly exhibited a tendency to be a nonconformist through the years (I recall a manager's parting comment as I resigned from a job I held at an insurance company, "Bryan, you did a lot of great things for us here, but you will go a lot further in your career when you stop going against the flow."), I have been able to develop both my professional and personal life by always reminding myself it was better to try and be myself as opposed to trying to stand out.

No sense in attempting to point out the obvious, right?

Since I have been in Germany, people have told me on more than one occasion that I really am no different than anybody else. Although I initally took offense at the comment, I quickly realized (and remembered) that it was the truth. I had confused the fact that I was alone, or feeling alone, when in reality, everyone else has those same feelings. OK, living abroad in a different culture brings about a feeling of isolation from time to time, but so be it.

So, while I continue to be aware that I am alone, it was not until the latter part of last year that I noticed more and more feelings of being lonely. It was rather a new experience for me, and has certainly created some anxious moments.

With the new job comes additional isolation. I am travelling a bit more (er, a bit????) and am conscious of the distance that has created. I was so glad to get home last Wednesday night and have the chance to see people that are close to me.
Sure, sometimes I wonder if I am missed, but then I read a blog post and the reassuring words.

I am comfortable with the fact that I can be alone. This ability to not feel dependent on someone enables me to concentrate more on the things that I know I carry with me: faith, hope, and love. Whether I am playing the song by the Damned on guitar, or dancing in a club to the cool track by the Police, reading a blog post, travelling to Budapest, or just living life, I keep the faith, have hope, and am able to love.

See you out there.
bryan

Voices, Sounds, and Images

„Grrrr,“ said my colleague in way of greeting on Friday morning outside our hotel.

“Morning,” I mumbled just as deeply, though it was more of a grunt.

Said colleague was with me on my very first day of work about five weeks ago, and we discovered almost immediately that neither one of us is particularly chatty in the morning, each requiring a bit of time (not to mention a coffee or two) before we are able to fully function.

I do have my moments, though, when I feel a bit inclined to make conversation, and because of my experiences just minutes before at the checkout desk, I did feel compelled to relate the story despite the early hour.

At the checkout desk, the service agent had greeted me cheerily, but was somewhat drowned out by the noisy alarm that was sounding from the mobile phone behind the counter. She was doing her best to ignore it, but I recognized the sound, because my mobile has the same alarm. In fact, I initially thought it was mine, so had quickly checked my pockets and confirmed that I was not the culprit.

As alarms go, it actually starts out kind of soothing, in a funky, synthesizer sort of way, then quickly, albeit gradually, launches into a noise not unlike the sound of the Jägermeister machine from my local pub, a pulsating, grinding machine sound that forces a quick reaction to switch the alarm off. It is one of the most annoying sounds I have heard.

There was someone being served ahead of me, and during the few minute wait this alarm went off multiple times, each time for about a minute, then a minute’s pause, then back to the, er, grind. I was sort of confused as to why the hotel agent hadn’t already simply reached over and switched the mobile off.

“Very sorry about the annoying noise coming from the phone, “ she said apologetically. “The phone was left somewhere in the lobby (presumably by a forgetful guest) and we do not know how to switch it off, as it is in German.”

I kind of smiled in response, as things became clear. “Perhaps I can assist,” I said, “my phone is also in German, I have the same device, and I might have a good idea as to who the phone belongs to.”

“That would be oh so lovely,” she breathed with relief. “This alarm has been going off for the past hour.”

An hour? (perhaps hotel protocol is such that one cannot simply eject the battery or, worse case scenario, throw the device onto the ground outside in the carpark so that a car can accidentally run over it)

With a quick press of the button, I disabled the alarm, and also pointed out that in future, should this happen again, just press the button on the screen that says, “beenden.”

I paid up, then headed outside, grunted my greeting to my colleague, then asked, “Wo ist dein Handy?”

He reached in his pocket, pulled out his phone, and I went on to say that one of our colleagues from Germany was probably looking for his device at that moment. As if on cue, I looked inside to the hotel restaurant and noticed another colleague going through his jacket pockets as if he were looking for something.

“Er, I think the mystery is already solved,” I laughed, but upon holding up my own phone and mouthing the question, “where is yours?” to the guy inside, he held up his own device.

My outside colleague quickly sent a text message to one of the other members of our group, and within a few minutes we had identified the co-worker who had been ransacking his own room in search of his device. We had a bit of a chuckle as the guy sheepishly collected his mobile, and that was pretty much the way we started our workday.

The fact that all of us were carrying identical German phones was not too surprising. Everyone from the German office of our department was in Glasgow for a meeting with our entire European team.

In all, there were to be about 40 people in attendance, including the higher level managers from the North American corporate offices, who were there to present to us the plans and strategies for the coming fiscal year. A bit of a rah rah team session, if you will. More on that in a minute.

Due to some local personal business that was pretty important for me, I had worked from home during the first part of the week, and, realized how necessary that had been as I made my way to the airport Wednesday morning, very much glad to have made that decision.

I flew from Frankfurt to Amsterdam, then hung out for a couple of hours as I waited for my (grunting) colleague to arrive. He and I then flew on to Glasgow and met up with our Scottish colleagues, as well as a few others from around Europe.

Thursday we worked out of our Glasgow office, and during the afternoon other colleagues from the team arrived from Germany, Spain, Italy, and England.

That evening, we all gathered at a Japanese restaurant, one of those where you sit around the cook top and watch the chef delight and amaze the diners. The dinner gathering itself was very new to me. Such things were very rare during my time in the states, partly because of my career position at the time, and partly because that just was not the work culture.

On the way to the restaurant, a couple of colleagues had described the last team gathering, the company Christmas party. Again, my stateside boss had just not ever done a Christmas party or dinner, and for the four Decembers that I worked in Germany up until this point, I had always been travelling, thus missing the team Christmas outing. (note – I am not trying to say woe as me, just simply stating the facts and setting the stage).

We walked into the restaurant, met several new colleagues, then grabbed a seat next to my Scottish colleague. (For the sake of clarification, I have several Scottish colleagues with whom I work very closely. Likewise, I have several German colleagues that I will be working closely with, assuming that I start spending some time in the German office at some point in the future)

This particular colleague is quite humorous, likes to laugh, and I am glad to be working with him. He gave me a bit of a run down on the new faces sitting around the table, as well as giving a bit of a description of the antics of the particular restaurant.

Drinks were ordered, as were our main dishes, then, the chefs came out and got to work. They started by frying up some potato discs, and I understood that the chef would soon be tossing bits to the guests, who would attempt to catch a piece in their mouth.

As we were on the end of the table, we got to start, and I willed myself to catch the piece thrown at me; perhaps a way of redeeming myself from the wine spilling incident that I had created a few weeks before in Hungary. Sure enough, I caught mine first try, and on around the table the game went until it reached a couple of the women who had arrived from North America. First, one declined with a shake of her head, then a second, and then the third woman sort of shook her head and gave a bit of an “Don’t even think about it,” kind of look.

I am sure that most of the chefs have had to put up with this sort of thing before, where someone refuses to participate in the fun, and while I can appreciate both sides, I do realize that sometimes you just have to join in, despite your character. (pardon the brief tangent: my father once related a story where he had done Karaoke in a Japanese bar simply because it was the expected thing to do while on a business trip with the Japanese hosts. I was horrified at the thought, as my father is completely tone deaf, but finally understood that singing ability was totally irrelevant to the situation. I put the lesson learned into practice soon after when I attended a wedding in Boston. I knew absolutely no one, save for the bride, who I had met a couple of times, as she was a friend of my sister’s. At the reception, we had to get up and dance around the dinner table and sing a song. Somehow, I rose to that occasion, and flamboyantly reenacted a David Lee Roth song with such enthusiasm that I amazed the other wedding guests, as well as myself. )
Anyway, the chef took this in stride and finished rounding the table. Fortunately, all the other guests did partake in the food throwing. The chef then went back to work preparing the entrees, slicing, dicing, adding oils and sauces. At one point, he grabbed a plastic ketchup bottle, turned to the grumpy woman who had glared so defiantly when refusing to catch a potato, pointed the bottle in her direction, and squeezed .

Well, the effect was astounding. Turns out that it was one of those fake ketchup things, where red string sort of shoots out, startling the unsuspecting person. The woman reacted as you might expect, shooting back from the table with a start, horrified that she might have just had tomato sauce spilled on her. She almost spilled her wine glass (been there, done that) and struggled for a few moments to regain her composure as we all laughed at the joke.

Because my colleague and I have already had a few moments where we have laughed so hard that one or the both of us have almost choked, we could not believe our luck; we were sitting directly across from the woman, and her facial expression before, during, and after were so extreme that we could not stop laughing. Her eyes bored into the prankster chef with such severity that I actually feared for his safety. She simply was a very serious person, who unfortunately does not like to joke about.

My buddy and I laughed about it for the remainder of the evening, and again the following morning as we arrived at work. Not only was the evening enjoyable and entertaining, I got a glimpse into the types of people I would be working with.

So, Friday morning, we gathered in the conference center, and various people, including the woman from the ketchup incident, presented the details of what we have to accomplish over the next year. I did learn a lot, and confirmed that I now work for a very large organization: lots of different departments, different people, and different locations. All of this adds to the challenge of the job.

As I listened to each person presenting, I noticed that all of them had the habit of ending each statement as if they were asking a question; the tone of their voice went up. It soon started to annoy me a little bit, because it was EVERY statement, but I made a mental note to discuss it later with a German colleague, and focused on the subject matter.

The experience was educational. Indeed, I have a better understanding about our direction, but also have a better understanding on how people from different regions work with one another. It is the human nature element that is of particular interest, especially since I am knee deep into a multi-national, multi-cultural professional and personal life, now.

The meeting wrapped up in the middle of Friday afternoon, and I said farewell to some colleagues rushing off to the airport to catch their flights home. Those of us not needing to get out of town went back to the office, where we proceeded to chat about the events of the day (and laugh about those events that were humorous) and do a bit of work.

My grunting colleague and I transferred to a hotel in downtown Glasgow, checked in, and then headed off in search of something to eat. He was due to fly back to Germany very early Saturday morning, while I would be staying through the weekend, before flying to London Monday afternoon, and on to a meeting in France during the first part of the week. (It did not make sense to fly back to Germany from the UK on Saturday, then turn around Monday and fly right back to the UK, where I can (ironically as it ma y seem) then get back to the continent. Travel logistics were way too complicated and time consuming.)

Well, the weather Friday morning in Glasgow was cold, rain/snow, and pretty much crap. The rain/snow mixture kept up throughout the day and into the evening, with a forecast of about 30 centimeters of snow due in the area by Saturday afternoon. Turns out that the snow never really accumulated, but the weather has remained quite crap.

Friday night, we walked 20 minutes or so to a part of the city with a variety of restaurants. As we walked through the cold, we joked about the fact that both of our voices are quite deep (particularly in the morning) and quite the contrast to the voices we had heard during the presentations. My colleague was equally aggravated by the way each statement sounded like a question. Though we had been trying to find an Indian restaurant, we came across a Brazilian tapas bar that looked interesting. My German colleague had done some work (and subsequent vacationing) in Brazil, and immediately steered us over for a closer look.

What was going to be a quick mojito became a 5 hour session. The tapas were great, the drinks tasty, and the scene pretty groovy. For those of you who have ever done the Gloria’s or Monica’s Aca y Alli salsa nights, you know what I am talking about.

Around 1am, we called it a night. I was tired from the week, as was my buddy, who also had the unpleasant task of getting up three hours later to go catch his flight. Then, he was faced with another couple hours drive home from Amsterdam.

Thus, Saturday morning I had a nice lie in. I looked outside, saw that it was still snowing and sleeting in a way that makes you kind of want to stay inside with a book and a cup of cocoa, and realized I had no book. I took advantage of the breakfast buffet, then braved the elements and walked to the high street, found a bookshop, and picked up a few things to tie me over for the weekend.

The weather has really been rotten, so I have taken advantage of the fact that I have no obligations and caught up on some reading and movie watching. True, may be a bit quiet for a weekend get away, but hey ho, I have enjoyed it.

It is hard to believe how quickly things are moving. I am about to begin my sixth week in this new job, which will soon enable me to simply say job. The experiences have all been interesting and very much worthwhile. I like having the multi-cultural professional relationships, as that adds greatly to the experience, the learning, and the humor.

Fake ketchup bottles and annoying mobile telephone alarms are optional, but they certainly help.

Keep the faith
bryan

Wonder Twin Power - Form of...a Slippery Slope

One of my fondest memories from childhood involved the Saturday morning ritual of watching cartoons and eating cereal with my sister. She and I got out the TV trays and ate Crunchberries, Fruity Pebbles, or something along those lines, on the floor and watched for a couple of hours. A favorite show happened to be the Superfriends, where all the super heroes worked together to make the world a better place.

Years later, I realized how much influence the show had had when I quipped, "Meanwhile, at the hall of justice," around some people, and just about everyone recognized the quote, and why I had used it in the particular situation. I know that my generation apparently has a tendency to use pop culture quotes in daily life, perhaps more than other generations, but sometimes, you just have to say, what the fuck! (first person who comes over here and tells me what film that comes from will gladly get taken for a schnitzel and a pils)

What took me a bit longer was to recognize that my sister had equally fond memories of those Saturday mornings, too. A particular team of the Superfriends was a duo called the Wonder Twins. Yes, I have referenced them in earlier stories, and might have even described Saturday morning cartoon watching once before. However, my sister and I, through the years, tend to use our secret identities (you see, we are the Wonder Twins, though she is a little older and I am a quite a bit bigger) as a way of helping each other through the rough spots.

I found myself in a bit of a rough spot this past Monday evening, after arriving in Glasgow. Workwise, everything seems to be going along just fine. On the personal front, though, I briefly lost the plot, and must have startled the other guests that were entering the hotel I was staying at as I wandered around the parking lot talking with my siter on the telephone. The details of the crisis aren't so relevant to this piece; I simply needed to reach out and get a bit of support to help me remember where I stand in my life and its rich pageant.

Without any regard to the roaming charges associated with using a German mobile to call a Spanish telephone number from a location in the UK (sometimes you have to say what the fuck), I phoned my sister, and was very glad she picked up.

We chatted (interpret that as some angstridden really tall little kid losing hair faster than you say, "Fruity Pebbles are really sugary," stomping around a parking lot with a beer in his hand and a handy in his other) for the next hour and a half, after which I felt a little better, though physically and emotionally drained.

The next morning at work, I glanced at my sisters slogan on her skype, and smiled when I read Wonder Twin Power!!! She had not done much more than listen and offer some encouragement the previous evening, but it had helped a lot, and this was her way of reminding me that things would be ok. Indeed she is right, even though I may need to remind myself regularly.

At any rate, I was able to concentrate better on work throughout the rest of the week, which was great. After a few weeks on the job, I am starting to feel like I am doing stuff each day, becoming more involved, making decisions, etc.

I met a couple of colleagues who are also working remotely in other parts of the world, and it was cool to compare notes and hear about their experiences in the African and Middle Eastern markets. During dinner one evening, they touched upon the fact that they had their work cut out for them, having to operate in tough markets, and somewhat limited chances to visit the office in Glasgow. Like myself, they are also a bit isolated, perhaps even more than me.

Midweek, I watched the Old Firm derby with some colleagues in the bar of a local restaurant, and recalled an old magazine article Pablo had given me some 20 years ago which discussed the rivalry, the hatred, the violence, and the, um, football. The match itself was almost insignificant, save for the fact that Rangers lost. Loads of reds and yellows, arrests, and commentary the following morning on how disgraceful the whole thing was to Scottish football. Thank goodness I didn't get beaten up, though.

I found myself watching an episode of Glee later on in the week (who said life on the road wasn't fun and eventful?), got involved in a a bit of banter involving the Old 97s (glad you enjoyed the show, Karen), ate a few more sandwiches at work (Ploughman's taste really good, especially with the sauce), but was really glad to head for the airport yesterday afternoon.

As I said a couple of weeks ago, it is only a matter of time before I flat out miss a connecting flight. Though we landed on time in Amsterdam, the line at passport control was longer than I had ever seen it. The problem was, EVERYONE was about to miss their flight, so it was not as if they could allow those of us with tight connections to butt in line.

The experience was absolutely surreal. More on that in a future post.

My gate was closing, and I sprinted through the lounge, shoes untied, belt in hand (I hadn't bothered to try and sort that after the security, as the time was too tight) up to the counter, quite a bit more huffy puffy than I care to admit. All I could say was, "Shit."

The girl at the gate sort of smiled when I said that, then pointed to the waiting bus outside; turns out I wouldn't miss the flight afterall. I thought that perhaps I would need to find a better connection in future, especially when the pilot announced midflight that the reason the plane was so empty is because some 20 other people had been held up at the same security log jam as me.

So once again, I am back at home, enjoying a sunny Saturday morning, alas, without cartoons. Yep, I am listening to Fight Songs, and realizing how similar my life is to Calvin and Hobbes (though I have a bear instead of a tiger). Imagination is a wonderful thing. It helps you appreciate reality.

And if it doesn't, well, you just might have to say, "what the fuck."

keep the faith
bryan

Breaking the Glass, er, Ice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.