hmmm... adolescent heartbreak

Tonite... a guild member said it had been a looonnnnnng day for him.

Everyone took the bait, of course. His girlfriend had just dumped him... per sms. 'But we can still be friends.'

And everyone jumped in, and started offering consolation and advice..

He said he would go out and get blind drunk tomorrow... and there were about fifteen people who strongly advised him to forget it... wouldn' help. I was one of them.

He likes my new rogue... Wilde Wanda, thought the name was cooool. I said it was a real person back in the 70's because she always beat up on the police, so I thought it was fitting... which he found even cooler. I told her I'd met her once, and that she'd been nice, actually....

I didn't tell him that she was Vienna's only female pimp, and was notorious. And I did meet her... she checked into the hotel, hiding from the cops. The criminal police came and checked our books and she was in there, but they overlooked it, and Peter and I didn't rat her out. She was sort of a rebel hero, and great fodder for the newspapers... besides which.... she'd have torn us limb from limb... smile.

So this kid... goes by the name 'Grandpa Simpson'... and plays it badass. Thank you, Simpsons, for giving shining examples to young people all over the wuurrrld.

Turns out he's only fifteen.

When he signed off, he said thank you, he felt like he'd found 'fambly' in the guild.

And they really are very nice.

It was an interesting look into the minds of an adolescent with raging hormones.... seemingly... who got hurt.

A global every day story.

People aren't really so different wherever you go. Being so comfortable to break up per cell phone message? How tacky. I was just about to add 'in MY day...' and realised... I got oooolld.

smile.

wish to clarify something...

My darlin'---- aka Annti... wrote that she liked something I'd written on my wall on Facebook, and I haven't written anything there since shortly after my birfday... Because I am not a fan of Facebook, never have been. I only check once in a very great while to see how some of my relatives are doing.

So I'm not certain what she saw there.

But I wish to clarify something here and now. She said to get my head out of my butt... well she said to come out of my role playing game on-line, and get to work.

She has never known the effect of what the high horridays can do to you over here, so wasn't offended. You tune out, mostly... and y'know what? So does the media, mostly.

It's as if the world stopped, or something.

As to playing... for me it isn't ABOUT the game at all, really... not really. Oh, it's 'pretty' and gruesome, and I get some 'fun' out of it, no doubt about it. Amazing graphics, and thank whomever on high.. no SOUND.

It replaced something I'd been very much missing over the past three years.... contact with people. At my work, every day was an adventure. The door would open, and I might meet one of the most amazing people on the planet. Or they might be just boring. But it was always fulfilling, and I made the most wonderful contacts with my guests. Ones that went beyond just catering to their wishes... really long terrific discussions, and knowing about who they were, their histories, what they were disappointed about in their lives, what they hoped for, history above all.

The job may not have paid well, but for me.... it was damned enriching.

And I miss 'my' guests. Very much. It is difficult to go from having a day filled with adventures to a day of more or less complete hermitness. And though I LIKE solitude mostly... I miss the possibilities of just meeting people who can blow your mind, engage you in new thoughts and passionate discussions, and learn things.... even if you disagree with them.

You can take a rainy night in November 1976, for example, and this man walks in, big classic renaissance head from a painting, and in a cheap plastic raincoat... or sort of a coverall, don't know what to call it. It was pitiful looking. And I thought, 'Oh, some farmer from the boonies.'

Well to check in to a no-tell ho-tel, you have to show ID. And he gave me a German passport. And in it stood 'The Prince von Schaumburg zur Lippe'. And I thought... oh boy, how do I ADRESS this man? Oh well, I'm 'Murkin, will stick to 'you' in the polite form or avoid it altogether.'

And by the way... the Austrian nobility lost their right to carry their titles on offical documents after WWI. The Germans didn't. It's a difference.

Turns out he was the most modest man I have ever met, and was a yearly visitor for nearly thirty years. And one of the richest men in Germany. But with take a room without an inside bath. Till we had no more. He was an engineer, and was always here for train transport conventions. And I got to know him as much as he was willing to open himself up. Fascinating.

See what I mean? Every day an adventure, hey. And then? Dullsville. Oh, I did manage to get myself messed about with some colorful people getting Peter the care he needed, but now? I see two to three people every day, and it is automaton city... get your snigarettes, get a bit of food, get your arse home. That is it.

So playing the game is sort of a substitute, and is never about the game at all.
It's about the uncertainty of who you might meet in a small group, or a chat, or just 'so'. And can be bloody amazing.

I read a study result report about lying on-line. People are less likely to do that. It's anonymous, and sometimes without warning, they will talk to you so openly, it leaves me spitless.

And THAT is what interests me most about it, or I'd have given up on it months ago. It's the personal contact.

So no, haven't got my head up my arse... just found a bit of something to replace what was taken from me so brutally.

And still find the time to check on the news and the usual things I look at, only you know what? Lately everyone has been so disgusting to me... I end up not wishing to comment at all.
So am not running away from reality... just curious about who I meet next, and what the hell comes out of their fingers, writing in private chats.
Hardly escaping reality, I assure you.

Tja, kiddies...

I'd forgotten to relate this one.....

I found an angel in Peter's room.... crayon colored, gold foil wings... cute.

So I asked, 'Hey, you got a girlfriend? What's with the angel?'

He didn't know what I was taling about. So I showed him the 'damning evidence'.

He said, 'Oh, I made that with ths grade school girl. She wrote my mane on the back. Boy she's got a lot to learn.'

I turned it over, and the kid wrote it in blue crayon like she says it: 'Peta'. I have the photos to prove it, as John used to say...

On the one hand, I fell apart laughing. On the other? Is our children learning?

And I was FLOORED. Peter and grade school kids? Of ALL the things they offer, he got roped into that? He always pretended he didn't like children. But he did, actually, if they were someone else's and polite... which you don't see a lot of too often nowadays.

When the upstairs neighbors, the nice ones had two in succession, I was glad... little feet pattering about in a year or so, and something to bake to put in their school lunchboxes.

Peter was irate.

Just goes to show, hey. Elias, the oldest, was the funniest. Without wanting to be. He was four or so, and Peter had had his third amputation, and it was the first day I could take him outside.

He was in the hall, and saw what was missing. And he said, 'OH, poor Mr. P. He broke his leg, he's much to be pitied.'

Yup....

He broke his leg, hey. Amazing how little ones process what they see. Actually, I thought it was hilarious.

Huh... Peter doing crafts with grade school kids...

How far away can you get from reality?

I just wrote something difficult... and realised that women can be stalkers too

I wrote a lonnng letter to Peter's aunt. Stuff that she needn't know, but deserves to. She went through the same thing with her husband, after all, so it won't be as if she doesn't understand... she just might not want to. 9o or not, she needs to know, it's her only nephew.

I didn't write them over Christmas... I was still digesting my visit on the 2oth. Hell, I didn't write a lot of people I should have written.

Buuut... the year is ending... and you know what? That's when the ghosts of your past come if you pause and reflect. And I have nothing but time these days... trying NOT to pause and reflect, because it can be painful.

And you think of the past, and the present, and sort of look to what you can do in the future to make what you don't like different.

And as per usual, there are impatient little ASSHOLES who are already shooting off fireworks all over the place. And it isn't even Sylvester, New Year's Eve, which here is named after some saint who met a grisly death... which should surprise no one.

And people come to mind who I haven't talked about, and Bill and Marion are so in my thoughts of late... will come to them later.... but not this post.

Except for one thing... whenever they came over, before they decided... it would be in the night when they were alone, and Bill would turn over and ask Marion, 'How about going for a Krainer on the Hauptplatz?' And then she knew they would be travelling again to see us here.

A Krainer is a spicy sausage you can eat at stands, with mustard and horse radish, if you want it even spicier. A local specialty. Bill was such a romantic... lol.

And it triggered a memory I hadn't thought of in ages. A swishy Swiss guy, who really had it in for me. I was young and half-way attractive... ONCE...

I was on night shifts, and it was a reign of terror, hey, what he did. And he'd go up to retire for the night, so he said, and I'd sit on the sofa to rest my eyes, but then I'd hear him coming down, and quickly got to my desk and running the calculator... and he'd be disappointed, and say, 'Oh, aren't you going to sleep?'

'Uh, no... I'm sort of working, and have the bookkeeping and statistics to do.'

Crestfallen.... 'Oh, that's too bad'.

Uh-huh.

So I had my day off, no bothersome Swiss tse-tse fly, and had to do something downtown, was always, always in a hurry, and hear:

'Yoo-HOO!'

He was at .... Bill and Marion's Wurstelstand. Invited me to come eat with him... ooooooo, a Dinner Date, hey!

I was having MUCH better ones with my late first infatuation Hellmut. Who is also dead now... funny how that works. At least those dates were top-notch, even though he was very messed up in his head. The newest good movie, the best restaurants... he knew about romance, but was very very confused. Like... he had this girlfriend, Gaby, who was elegant and all Hermés... oooo.

And I sort of waved, away from me, and yelled, 'No TIME, sorry!'

So Swiss Guy... went and cried on Peter's shoulder, which we used to laugh about so much. It was early, and we weren't together yet.

And being a total flamer, Swiss guy said 'and then he went, like THIS!' and gave a grand sweeping gesture of pushing away... as in GRAND gestrure of sweeping him away.

He was incensed... He'd invited me to 'dinner', after all.

Errrmmmm... I don't think I would have much enjoyed it.

I think I understand what women feel getting unwanted attention. Got it from the other side as well. Aggressive women hitting on a young man. 'Whaddaya say we go out to the tour bus next door, and make for some 'high-life?' In German, very attractive forty-something lady on a tour.

'Ummmmm errrr... I have to stay in here, I'm responsible for everyone in the house.'

'You know what they say, Dienst ist Dienst and Wurst ist Wurst'. If something is wurst to you, in German, it means it doesn't matter, just do it. And Dienst means duty... figure it out.

And I said, 'No, sorry, I hope you understand.' She was miffed, but dignified... and in her cups.

Or the celebrated Irish authoress Edna who wanted me to come to her hotel room and ply me with a lot of whiskey after having had a very long discussion about Catholicism of the Irish Jesuit brand.. took a lot to weasel out of that one without hurt feelings.

But the worst, the absolute worst... was a janitoress who had the big cinema below to clean, and I had the upstairs one. She had to be Hulk Hogan's lost sister, only really not attractive in any way, and she hit on me more times than I can count. Unlike the others, I had to see her nearly every day. A Valkyrie with an industrial vaccuum cleaner, hey...

One night she said, 'I don't care HOW long it takes... I'm going to HAVE you!'

'FORGET it, why cant'cha?'

The lady in the bus? Might have been a nice experience, if I'd thought I could handle it... no strings, just lust... if I'd had it.

The authoress? No... I was in awe of her.

The janitoress? She scared the bejeebus out of me.

The men?.... it was easier. I knew where they were coming from and could deflect it.

I really doubt that men talk about being stalked by women as a rule, but in my experience, they can be.

It's why I do not like men who think they are god's gift to the world, and act insanely agressive toward women... except women do it too... some of them.

So the Swiss 'yodeling dodel'? Fell into the janitoress category. Dodel means fool, btw.

Invite to dinner at the Hauptplatz, and at the very stand that was the reason for Bill and Marion to come over for a visit?

No, Preciousses... it would have been a desecration of a sacred spot.

So here we are... the only silent night this country ever sees, and a three-day horriday...

We're already just about on lock-down as a nation... a few hold outs to get more money out of buyers, but... in forty-five minutes this place is gonna look like everyone died and the dead stillness will be overwhelming.

I did my shopping.... three days of nothing to be had otherwise.... and was on-line getting 'presents' from my game. They are doing an 'event'. Lots more loot when you kill things, and then sell what they drop. I could also turn my horse Estella into a reindeer, but I wouldn't do that to the poor dumb creature.

And since I declared myself the guild grinch... and everyone was ooooo.... Merry Christmas, I was all, 'oh yeah, happy horridays you guys.'

So we're down to the crunch... three days of absolute quiet.

I just spoke with Peter... five minutes is ok and he is half-way there... it was just more sadness. He didn't realise that today is Heiliger Abend, and for austrians, the 24th is the very very very big one, not the twenty-fifth.

I asked him about their Christmas party, and he was all 'it was all right', but am not sure he remembered. Juliana told me they were sort of overwhelmed the day before it when I visited. They have fifty patients, and 100 people rsvp'd.

Their common rooms aren't all too spacious, so it was a worry. On the other hand... fifty people, and two visitors per? Tja, just brush them aside, hey, and forget 'em. That ratio is telling.

Today must have been good. He said he'd eaten too much at lunch, and it was fried fish and potato salad with mayonaise, and he was uncomfortable. That was an hour after lunch, so I guess it varies with him still... who knows how the mind works? I have this idea that his is sort of like a fun-house at the moment.... the room with the distorted mirrors. And black holes. Something like that, anyway.

And yeah, on Christmas Eve, you eat fish here. I often talk to the tobacconist lady I see first thing every morning. We both have a passion for cooking, so I said, 'I have a Christmas gift for you.' And gave her my recipe for Filet of Sole in Sherry out of my New England cookbook that Marion gave me, and is very precious to me. Because the woman said she was doing sole tonight. Don't know if she'll try it, but she seemed very happy to have it.

And I dragged my sorry arse over to the market to wish Millie a merry merry... very early, before she got deluged with demands for flower arrangement miracles at the last minute. She drilled me on what I was planning to eat for the 'horridays'.. I said, 'nothing special'.. I'll bake a chicken breast in the oven, and that will hold me for two days, and the next will have Breinwurst.

'YOU! A four-star cook! Oh, RRREN!'

'It's not the same, doing it for yourself, and gawwd knows I've not much appetite these days...'

I mentioned the sole in sherry and she said, 'Oh gawwd is that good!' It's a simple, fast, very elegant dish. I normally had to work on the 24th, or better said, volunteered, but it was stress pure. Up at four, at the market at five to buy three days' worth of food, dump it in our kitchen, then do my shift, and coming home, I did NOT want to do an extravaganza, and that recipe was perfect. Delicious, festive, done in no time. Peter had cooked the potatoes for the salads, and had prepared it, a rapunzel salad with bits of garlic and potato in it and with pumpkin seed oil, our local specialty, and chilled a bottle of champagne. And had bought some very expensive desserts from the top bakery in town. So I had 20 minutes of cooking, and we sat down and let go, lit the tree, and the advent wreath, We never did big gifts at Christmas. I'd get some nice clothes, maybe, he'd get a ritzy calendar, he loved art ones... We kept it low key, and in the real spirit of things. The big gifts always came when the one or other of us never expected it. Sometime during the year, out of the blue... sort of a declaration of love. I've always loved that about him. And I would do the same, of course.

I sort of liked it like that. It was more about tradition than anything else.

Millie was my 'victim' if I was test driving recipes for an upcoming dinner... brought samples, and she was always
'Oh, THIS one you have to give me!' I assume she spread them through half the market. It got so I nearly didn't trust her... she always said they were perfect.

Just another facet of how subversive I could be... smile.

This is probably one of the saddest Christmases I will ever have.

I sincerely wish that my readers have a very nice one, a thoughtful one, without the stress, and think about the important things one should be grateful for... health, good relationships, love wherever it comes from... and just STOP... and breathe a bit. I think that is what it should be about.... and wish it for all.

Merry Merry, etc. etc.

Just when you think, hey....a little thing happens, and you think you've been hit by a truck....

My friend Annti knows me so well, somethimes too well, I think. And she can see procrastination 5ooo miles away... and more or less ordered me to get off my bony arse... and go visit Peter. Or I would be very sorry later... maybe... or something. With examples... very graphic... of things she regrets.



Since the last time, I keep telling myself, and telling myself, GO, scrimp ... and it was so sad... I couldn't get up the resolve to do that day trip. And it is one given the bad connections with the öffies.. public transport.

Well, he still knew me... or I think he did... sometimes it's hard to tell. Juliana, who is in the admin office, came out to greet me... you can't smoke in the building, you can't smoke on trains any more, so once I get there.. I sit on the bench outside, and light up and try to steel myself for what I might find.

I asked her how he was doing, she said, 'Fine'... I recounted what he'd said last time, and hadn't known it was me for several moments. She said, 'He just gets confused sometimes'... Well she can tell that to others who want to assuage their feelings for putting their loved ones in a home, and sugar-coat it, but there is no way I was buying it.

The picture above? Taken this afternoon... about two minutes before the hammer came down. Again... I was being inane, and said, 'So what was for lunch? Was it good?' And I could see he was thinking and thinking really hard... and then he suddenly looked defeated, and stretched out his hand to me, and it was trembling, it frightened him because he didn't know. He looked so terribly sad. I took it and said 'hey, it really doesn't matter.' He doesn't know what is going on... but it frightens him at times. And it tore me apart inside, but kept it in. I asked him if he'd gotten a card from my cousins. 'No, but they called.' Uh-huh.. I told him he might get a card from Annti, of whom he is fiercely jealous... and he said, 'I feel so sorry for her, she's been through so much.' And that I should wish my Dad a Merry Christmas and everything good. Which was new...

It was one of his more apathetic days, and he didn't have much to say. So I was stuck there for over three hours, and he was tired, but didn't want to sleep, and I sort of just 'made conversation'. He doesn't remember the big cook off bet with my boss any more... erased in his memory.

And when I mentioned Marion and Bill, he said, 'How are they? Have you heard from them?'

That is like getting run over by a truck and having it back up on you as well...


I gently explained that they are no longer among us.... which he'd known before. It was like seeing fresh grief... new to him.

I said, 'I know Marion LURRVED to go shopping with you...' when he was squandering his fortune, and he said yes.. 'She really did love doing that...' he'd pick her brain for what's sensible and in good taste, and EXPENSIVE. She understood him maybe even better than I did, and it amused her... but she didn't know a lot of what was going on in the background.

I don't know... but there are lots of holes in his long-term memory as well as not being able to tell you what he'd eaten a half-hour ago. And he was so TIRED... spent three quarters of an hour with his back toward me in what is his most comfortable position in the bed... which is a wonderwork of hospital 'beam me up, lower me down' technology. The way I feel tonite... I'd want one and never ever want to leave it.

And I said, 'Listen Peter... wouldn't you like to turn over and face me? I've MASSAGED your back often enough, and ditto seeing your backside. It would be nice to look at you. I didn't pay out forty Euros to look at your arse.'


And then it hit me... it was the side he always took in our bed, when he held me, and often watched me sleep... At least he didn't cry like a lost little boy when I left... it exhausted him.




The home is nicely decorated for the horridays... Outside everyone's door is some sort of photo of the patient, and nice Christmas decoratons the capable made.





Everything is tasteful. Some people may wonder why I don't take pictures of other patients or halls full of them in wheelchairs, and so on. I will and CAN not do that. It would be an invasion of their dignity and privacy, and ghoulish. There was a man on a gurney out in the corridor today, and after I'd gotten in Peter's room, he started yelling 'Es tut mir so LEID! Es tut mir so LEID!' (I'm so SORRY'....) It went on and ON... Took them about half an hour to calm him down, and did I mention he had shins and calves that resembled a Biafra baby? And I said, 'Y'know.... I'm beginning to wonder what he's so sorry about.' 'Oh him.... he yells all the time... it's worst at night.' A year ago, he would have been agressive about it. For him... I guess it's just 'a day in the life'...

I got home... somehow. Emotionally drained.

Angry, agressive, and so I linked onto my game to get rid of it. And my guild was full of the youngest members saying 'gawwd, I had such a shit day!'

And I lost it... said, 'You wanna know what a shit day is?' And summed this up in five sentences.

That shut them up.

On the other hand, and it was clear to them that my partner is a man... it was 'oh gawd, was he in an accident?' (I assume they meant 'with brain damage or something?'). It was from the youngest members. And I said, 'No, diabetes, and I'm going 'off' now... my heart is too heavy. Nite.'

One shouldn't spread gloom during an 'event'. Have met nice people.

One thing I never expected from just playing an on-line game...

is the amount of sheer honesty that goes on in the chat window... which is tiny, and drives me crazy, normally...

So you have to join up in groups which raise your game points and is the sort which you can be in many different places, but you're still getting the perks. If you are on about the same level, you can do things together in one area, and that jumps the scores even more... depends.

Otherwise... on the way to the crucial level of fifty... you end up doing mind-numbingly repetitive things to get those points, and people begin talking. As long as their avatars aren't in immenent danger of being killed.

And in some, there are people who 'know' one another if they are advanced players, and talk about things that are so personal.... kinda breath-taking.

Yesterday there were two thirty to forty-ish women. One of them has two sons. The youngest is ill. I kept out of the discussion... it was between them as if they were alone and there weren't two other people seeing the discussions.

To clarify, if you are in a group, only the group sees it. If you are in a guild, there is a tab, and only the guild members see what is going on. And if you want EVERYONE online to see anything, there is a total tab, and they do. So group tabs are very personal sometimes, or funny.

Whatever, yesterday was sort of heart-breaking. Woman with a boy who was fine till he was fourteen, and then all hell broke loose. The kid has an illness where the nerves in his brain don't function correctly... and he started overdosing on visual/audio input... hearing voices, hallucinating... it was wicked bad, as we say in the Northeast where I grew up.

The kid has been in a clinic for the last six months... not able to go to school, and the city of Hamburg has no program to teach him at home... although Bavaria does, but that is too far away, and whe won't let him be out of her supervision.

I assume the boy is schizophrenic, and will dependent on meds for the rest of his life, and this woman was so tortured... looking for maybe why SHE was at fault, or something. It made me so sad, I quietly left the group.

So during this horriday season, try to think about others less fortunate than we are.

And I had my knight Pip up, to gain points so that he catches up with what he was supposed to have learned until now. Thanks to my developing cataract, which is doing fine, thenk you... I hadn't seen that where you learn a new ability for your character, there was a second tab with passive abilities. Except the writing was dark grey on an even darker grey, and I thought it was blank, didn't see the words, and thought it would become important later. So he has to learn a lot fast, and that takes mucho points.

So I went to the place where I can get the most points for each monster killed, but they are so easy, there isn't any danger that the avatar dies. And invited a Lady magician to group with me... I'd only planned to do it for an hour or so... it gets mind-numbingly boring, and even with the group, progress is snail-paced.

She was doing the same, 'farming', they call it... and so we started chatting about virtually nothing... where we chose our character names from, books, videos, or better said films, and I let a bit slip about Peter...

And she got a bit agitated. THAT was a new reaction.... and then she blurted out that she is transgender, and had begun the correction process six months ago. Jaw-dropper, hey. I really thought... well never mind what I thought... sort of an in-your-face lady like my Annti, had seen her around on-screen and in a couple of big groups, where discussions like that never happen.

That turned into a six-hour marathon chat while we were doing mindless things, and her figure levelled. Mine didn't.... yet. Only a matter of time... maybe by Christmas.

I've never been able to really speak with, or have a serious discussion with a transgender person before. I just said, 'I'm really glad you told me that.'

And the rest of it was really too personal for me to repeat here. It would be a betrayal. And I quickly learned not to push with some questions... and listen.

She only talks about technical things with her transexual friends. Which I can understand.

I told her she could have a gay one... if she wished.

Up till about the third hour, I really believed I was speaking to a twenty some odd year old young person, and was acting accordingly. Do you live in a large city? They have so many help groups. Yes, she did. Which I found to be a relief... for her...

And around then, I asked, 'How old are you, and I know that is something you don't ask a lady, just curious, and you don't have to answer...'

And she said, '56'. Jaw-dropper much? And I just said the first thing that popped into my head... 'WOW! Oh wow! I really don't want to think about what you've been through.'

She gave me 'flirty eyes' Look like this ^^

Never married, never wanted to hurt anyone... how unhappy and cantankerous would that make anyone, huh?

For her, it sorta just came outta da blue... and she made her decision. And was surprised that so many of her women friends started hitting on her sexually. Which pleasantly surprised her.

'Errm, so you're a lesbian?'

'Of course'.

Uh-huh... I'm trying to wrap my head around that.

Y'KNOW... everyone has pre-conceived notions about lots of things, and sometimes are all too politcally correct in their thinking, yet still feel uncomfortable. I'd be the first to admit it.

But sometimes.... sometimes.... it really pays off to LISTEN.

You can learn something and get a further edumacation, believe me.

And no, I don't know who she is, or even what her name is. Maybe she's still deciding on the latter.

We were on the subject of pets in the game and their names... I told her about Annti, who had a beautiful black cat named 'Boy'. 'Turns out she does have a black cat too... Named 'Blondy'. And I said, you know what? I LIKE you....' Cracked me up... the sort of humour I love.

So yeah, you can learn lots playing an on-line game... there are other stories, but these two most recent ones only prove my point. And yes, whoever she is, I like her.

A couple of things you should NEVER ask a European you've just met...

1. What do you do for a living?

2. How much money do you make a year?

3. How much do you pay for rent and utilities?

I've seen it TIME and time again. You want someone to shut down and put you in the 'asshole' category of their estimation of you? Be my guest, go right ahead.

It is considered, and I consider it.... the height of rudeness.

People here will ask you about your 'pedigree'... what sort of mongrel... which can also be a bit rude.

If you haven't disqualified yourself by asking 1-3...

But on the whole... if you can be polite and charming, and show you have some sort of education, and something in your head instead of just money and numbers... you can be accepted, and travel in circles one would never have thought possible.

Been there, done it...

It was fun... but the higher you get... the less you like them.

And they get creepy.

I sorta like the middle class. The higher up you get, the more artificial they become... anywhere.

I didn't like it. And retreated.

But the new Romans, as I call them, the blow-hard 'Murkins', they really are in a class for themselves... In places where they have no idea where they are, or what the history is, and make bloody fools of themselves.

And looking for a buck.

I prefer to be where I am, but it's been corrupted over the years as well.

THE CHALLENEGE... once upon a time...

I was just 'talking' to my most favourite guy... after Peter...Who is hopelessly hetero... and was a role model for me... gawwd I wanted to be that cool...

Which is neither here nor there. But he was telling me about how Christmas dinner was going to be at his place this year, and so on... and since families grow... ten people, hey. Lots of work.

And I remembered 'MY FIRST BIG DINNER'... uh-huh... out of anger and pure stubbornness.

I sort of got 'into' cooking due to Peter... how better to seduce someone other than inviting him to a really super dinner, right? Tricksey, sneaky, Preciousses... and being stubborn I could carry it to extremes hardly ever seen in the Western World. He got a bad cold but was working? Who was in the street car for a half-hour ride cross town with a boiling hot hearty irish stew or chicken soup, stinking up the car? Yeah, I had it bad... At least I didn't irritate the other passengers as much as I made them envious... and hungry...

Now my old boss... whom I was lucky to have for over twenty five years.... had this blind spot. Americans had no cuisine, they only ate MacDonald's hamburgers, and it was all terrible... And Austrians of that generation really nearly revered food, having gone without during the War and afterward.

The first cookbook that came out after WWII? I cried. I'd heard all the stories. Everything geared to regenerating and putting on weight... 'Take an egg... if you can GET one...' It's a remarkable document. And there were farmers who got really rich, taking valuables in exchange for food. Which caused resentment that lasted a long time.

And I'd say, 'That's not TRUE! My family cooks remarkably well!' And go on and ON about all the wonderful things that were normal in my family, and especially about cool guy's mom, who did catering, Well, the first year, I met the Webers, not knowing they would become like substitute parents for me for many years to come. And I was telling Marion about it, because she loved her some cookbooks. And I said that was oh-ful.

That December we had our normal abnormal Christmas party, and my boss was always 'verklemmt', and it was chicken from the take-put place next door with potato salad, and apple strudel... or something... and it was expensive.

So the following year, Marion and Bill came back. And she presented me with the cookbook to end all cookbooks... Yankee Magazine's New England Favourite Recipes from 1976.. it is so good, it is in virtual tatters today, decades later, through much use and three moves. And American measuring cups and spoons. Since things here are metric.

I was FLOORED that she would remember that, and have a lot to say about her and her husband Bill later this month.. am steeling myself for it.

Well when the Christmas party time rolled around again and my boss was agonising over what to do... I said, 'I would like to PROVE to you that American cuisine is good. And I d cook. It's probably gonna cost one thousand Schillings.' That was a fifth of one month's pay I was getting, so it was bold of me, but not more than she had spent the previous year. She took me up on it. I explained I would be using the New England cookbook for EVERYTHING and prove she was wrong, and it was on.

It would be for SEVENTEEN people, our staff and the office. Hhhhiii... talk about biting off a huge chunk and having to chew and chew... and CHEW...

The catch was... I couldn't use the restaurant's facilities, because we were separate businesses, and I wasn't cleared for that.. you have to get a clean bill of health from the dept of health. Did that in Berlin... they check you for contagious diseases, hey... if you are healthy, you can work in the food industry. Regulations, anyone? I don't think they hurt.

So there was only a cubbyhole of a room where the staff made their lunches. Let's see... there was a double hot plate, a tiny broiler oven.... and that was it. Logistics, logistics....

And I thought, 'oh, just you wait'...

So I got my thousand schillings, and went grocery shopping, following this amazing book.

I began a day ahead... that is when you make soup, and have stuck to my method ever since... because totally fresh soup is a bit bland, it needs to sit. And I baked fresh gingerbread, and stored both in the attic, covered, because it was cold enough there and the mini refrigerator was too small. And it was a fresh tomato cream soup. Everything from scratch, not short-cuts... and was throwing thoughts and thanks over to Connecticut for the measuring stuff and the book.

I had the day of the party off, so was up in the kitchen at six a.m. And charmed the Slovenian cook in the restaurant to lend me a huge pot, some large platters and some cutlery, beíng young and cute. She was the one who was so offended when they introduced daylight savings time, but was a lovely person. We called her Mutti... Mommy.. Jane called her the 'pepper witch' because she really overdid that on her salads, otherwise, she did well.

I promised to bring back everything clean as a whistle, and it was off for a race against time. Yankee pot roast with potatoes and carrots. 30 minutes of prep, and then I recreated the phenomenal salad platters I remembered from my cool guy's mother's feasts. Curried eggs, everything else cut well and pleasing to the eye. And I'd made 4... count'em, FOUR original dressings from scratch the night before, using my double hot plate at home.

If I play, Preciousess... I play to WIN, and it was my first time cooking for more than one person.

The time came, I had really done well... piping hot soup, and the roast beast, (and you try juggling THAT on two hotplates). they went nuts over the salads and the dressings, and I warmed the gingerbread and made fresh whipped cream for it while they were devastating that. They found the gingerbread 'odd'. Not that it wasn't good, but unusual for them. Otherwise, a huge success. I've rarely been good at desserts because basically, I don't like them.

The chambermaids the seamstress and the laundry ladies were kind enough to help me clear away, clean up and return the things I'd borrowed from the resaurant.

And I shyly asked my boss... 'did I prove my point?'

And she said 'Ach!' No, Ach! can be said sort of disparagingly.. It's the tone that makes the music as we say, and that was that sort of 'Ach'. A friend of mine says 'Pfffft!' instead... like brushing off a fly. My boss said, 'Das ist nur eine AUSNAHME!' 'That is just an EXCEPTION!'

On the one hand I laughed, because I won. On the other, it irritated me to death.

You can't change people's preconceived notions just doing it once, it's a fluke for them. When Marion visited the following year, she had a really really good creole cookbook as gift for me. And laughed herself silly over my outrageous plan the year before. 'Don't worry about it, I'm sure it was great.' Well, over the years I impressed her...

And... I got asked for an encore the following year, and did creole lamb, and lots of green stuff to go with it. Screw Christmas and turkeys... how do you get one in a tiny roaster oven anyway... I did that once with a St. Martin's goose and soon had the fire dept in the no-tell ho-tell... which is another story altogether.

I wasn't asked after that, but had gained some begruding respect, which meant much to me. Only they still thought I was an 'exception' to the rule. And saw that I really worked my arse off to do that. They didn't want to put me out any more. I know that one wasn't a flop, because the bookkeeper asked me to cater one of her parties, but I was way too insecure about that.

And I enjoyed it thoroughly, being young, and full of energy. I did. It was fun.

And it taught me a valuable lesson. And made some rules. After that.... dinner parties were for two people---me and Peter---and four others at most. Otherwise, you're the work mule, and the others have the fun.

Cooking well is an act of love too.... and you aren't gonna change anyone's mind about the eating habits of 'murkins if they come over as tourists and stick to MacD's because they are AFRAID to try something new. Times changed... for the worse.

So isn't it ironic... today's meal was 200 grams of ground beef, and a baked potato. It was what my budget allowed, not that I liked it.... hamburger was on sale today.

Economics dictate a lot of things.

Few things make me laugh outright nowadays, but yesterday? Oh, Elvish! You aren't dead after all!

Yup, was slogging along at my game, trying to 'level'... advance one. BORING...

To 'get' it... as in most such games, there are classes and one of them has to do with elves... there can be Dark Elves, High Elves, (and no the latter has nothing to do with pot or crystal meth), and so on... And the adjective pertaining to them would be 'elvish'.....

Now, playing the game is free of charge. The makers subsist from what they sell for real money in their on-line shops... but you can play it and get through without really having to buy anything. So I guess they prosper nicely. For Halloween, you could buy advanced 'armour' and run around in a Zorro costume, for instance. Only ten Euros or so, and the perks would last for a month. I guess the youngest players love that stuff.

So I was just gathering points, bored, because no one I know was on-line or willing to do a group effort... and it happened.

This figure in an outlandish suit flitted by me on screen... (you see whoever is in your area who is online)... and it was a white suit, and the figure had 70's huge sideburns, and bling, and I thought wtf???? And looked at the avatar's name.


IT WAS ELVISH PRESLEY!


And it was an elf, of course.... I had immediate giggles.

They keep SAYING he isn't dead...

Brilliant, just brilliant. Every time it flitted by, I started laughing again. Best game character name EVAH. I love things that make me smile, or even laugh aloud.

I have a duck sitting on a table nearby...

No, not a live one... it's cooked to perfection...

I received a gift certificate for a supermarket, and since I hadn't been able to afford one for a few years now... I bought a duck.

And made it a la 'orange'....

And now it is just sitting there minus half a breast. It wasn't what I planned, but... my appetite is really small these days.

Wanna come over?

WAR on Cristmas? Faux has it all wrong, you have to go to Berlin...

Every city has it's advent Christmas market, ok? People gather and get sloppily happy, and try to get in the mood with mulled wine, and cookies and lots of goodies... and buy junk for their trees, and gifts no one will ever really WANT, and so on...

Someone call Bill O'Reilly quick! Grist for his Faux News mill, hey...

It seems some nut job is running around the Berlin Christmas market, and offering mulled wine to people, and then they suffer circulatory collapse, and throw up and are poisoned.

Don't they know you don't take candy from strangers as a child, and drinks from odd strangers even if they are in their cups? And what the hell is the motive for doing something like that, huh?

Well those are happy 'horridays'...

The Germans are hopeless... always said so.

You can see the report here... if you speak German...

Hokay.... edumacation

This will be a sorta-kinda rant, so you may leave now.... door's in the back, don' t confuse it with the fire-exit, which is locked and against the fire laws, last I heard, but hey.... the people who own the building didn't subscribe to the fire department, so if you smoke and the place catches fire, they'll come over and watch us burn. Please refrain from smoking, ok? This won't take long...

Edumacation... hmmm... what's set me off, you'll ask. Well... hearing that some people in the occupy Wall Street movement have two degrees and still can't find jobs and are in debt... sometimes to the tune of over two hundred THOUSAND dollars. Let that sink in for a minute.

Up to two hundred THOUSAND dollars! That should qualify them for Something...

For a person my age.... it freaks me totally. I grew up believing that higher education was the only way out and maybe up. I wanted the 'out'.

And hearing that the current cost of going to Yale is 42 THOUSAND dollars a year knocked me off my seat, hey. Left me friggin' spitless. Who could AFFORD that nowadays, huh? Oh yeah, the 'elite'.

Reporters keep telling us that things began going down-hill socially thirty years ago. Nooooo... it was longer than that.

And it was ALWAYS about class. In 1968, I was a senior in high school. I went to my so-called guidance counserlor and said I wished to apply for a college. My SATS were very good, but my high school... oh lordy... the kids from the north end got the perks, and schmucks like me were just barely tolerated.

And this counselor guided his north-end kids into the best colleges in the nation. So what do you think I got?

He laughed in my face with an expression of derision on his stupid face I can't even describe. 'You? College? Forget it!'

Stupid irish git...

And I thought, 'You just wait...'

I just wasn't 'good' enough, because I didn't come from the right 'background'.

Well, the people from the right 'background' were sorta sleazy in their morals, Preciousses...

So I said, 'I'll show them, all right.'

I got put on a waiting list at UNH, and got accepted to a business college meanwhile, so I went there for a year. It was small and in the neighborhood, and looking back, really helped me for the rest of my life to know about bookkeeping, which is the driest, most horrible thing you could wish for.

I was working, it was affordable, but I had to work a LOT.

And my first semester, I made the 'dean's list'. And got mentioned in the dreaded Union Leader, the most despicable paper in the nation. Don't get me started, hey.

So, I re-applied to UNH, and wonder of wonders... I got 'accepted'. And the troubles began.

At the time, UNH was the most expensive state university in the country. The tuition for one semester was one thousand dollars. Just the tuition. At the time... in Austrian Schillings, that would have been three months pay for them. Twenty five thousand Schillings.

Just to make it clear.

So I went looking for help. A grant, a scholarship, whatever. And y'know what? Catch-22 Preciousses. The system was gamed from the get-go. 'Do you work?' 'Yes.' 'How much do you make a year?' Told em. 'Ohh, we're so sorry, you're not eligible.'

To make it clear, was in a suit and tie and short hair in 1969, but class 'tells' with such people.

And I thought, 'fine, what am I supposed to do now, starve for a year, and then they take pity on me, or something?' Was despondent.

My boss and ersatz-father Bernie took me aside, and said, 'Son, you need a loan... I will help you with your first one, that you get it. But it will be the most important thing in your life to establish good credit, and pay it back in time, so that you can get another. You'll need a second job to swing this. There is a janitor job open for one of the small cinemas, and it pays well... would you take it?' Would I? I'd have done anything...

So we went to the bank next door, and he co-signed my first loan.. I would NEVER have asked my parents to do that, and they wouldn't have, am pretty sure even now... and I was off and running. Oh, right, now I remember... I did ask, and they wouldn't have co-signed because... they'd just co-signed one for my brother to buy a car, right. Goood all ballsy 'Murka. He was 'solid', I was the 'dreamer'.

That loan only covered the cost of having the 'privilege' of attending. I don't remember HOW, but I think it was through some of my co-workers with older brothers who were in the same predicament, and I landed in a car-pool to attend lectures. We all had to schedule our classes so that we could go out there and back, and work our jobs, and not waste time waiting for anyone else.

We had to drive over fifty minutes to campus, fifty minutes back, and I was still working 80 hour weeks, so it was fucking stressful.

Youth and resiliance is a wonderful thing. What did a day in the life back then look like?

Up at six, made toast, then rushing for my ride at 6:50. The long drive to Durham in a VW Beetle I love to this day. Except for the windshield wipers. When you needed them, they didn't wanna work. The first time they wimped out, I took the cord out of my anorak, cut it in two, and we opened the vent windows, and got synchronised, having tied them to the wipers and pulling them back and forth. Dave kept taking the car in to fix it, and it was fine.... worked so well in the sunshine, but hey... if it rained or snowed? Get out the cords. Otherwise the car was a gem.

Later he had a Mustang, and it was such a lemon.

So... Durham just before eight, a run to the Mub, which was the student cafeteria, and then RUN with a huge cuppa to class with the sand not even rubbed outta my eyes.

Classes until two or so... and we met in the Mub.. and drove home... sorta in a daze.

And sometimes I slept. Then it was off to my normal work, and when the cinemas closed, I was up in the smallest one, cleaning up the mess the audience made with my vacuum cleaner and cleaning toilets till about one a.m. And ran home to sleep for four hours if the new cop on the beat didn't fuck up my routine because he didn't know me.... On the weekends, I was at work from 8 a.m. till nearly midnight. I didn't know the meaning of sleep. Studied in the car.

So you can forget all the college films about partying... I think the only thing we did that was out of the ordinary was to go to a neighboring town one day and see the otherwise banned swedish film 'I Am Curious Yellow'. I fell asleep. I think I remember two blonde people copulating on a stone fence in front of a villa, but I wouldn't swear to it...

Now at the time there was the Viet Nam war. And the draft issue. Those things never entered my mind. I was thirsting for knowledge, and a better life. I soon learned that full-idjits who had straw for brains got passed so they would be exempt. I had to WORK for my marks.

I was glad when they changed it to a lottery thing... they drew dates of birth out of a drum, and the number ones would be the first to go. Mine was very high, so there was little chance of being drafted to a war I thought was wrong. if it had been low, I would have acquiesced... not knowing that so many people in later generations got exemptions because their families were rich. Those things always have a way of being 'fixed' somehow.

After my second year, I got into a summer program for German... had changed my major from psych to that... because the psych dept. was not into what I liked at all. And German fascinated me... just from the structure and logic of the language.

So I paid yet another large tuition, having gotten a leave of abscence assent from my boss, who was the most generous man I have ever met... and got to the school only to find that I was also supposed to pay for room and board... way beyond my means.

And I thought, 'Oh gawwd, this is a nightmare...' Said I was sorry, but I didn't have the funds for it. Did they make me work for it? Uh-uh.. There was a short consultation, and Jürgen said... 'We have good news. The German government will give you a grant, you can stay.' As if it were the most normal thing in the wurrld, hey. That that was POSSIBLE...

And it was the best summer of my life. I was finally a uni student, in a dorm, and with new-made friends, and all the fun and craziness that entails, and learned what I had been missing. Because I was poor.

And still finished two semesters of intermediate German in eight weeks and got a citation as best of class at the end. And a recommendation to go to Munich to work the following summer if I wanted to do the jr. year abroad programme in Salzburg.

Which brought up the next dilemma. HOW to afford a whole year in Salzburg, even if I did find a job in Munich the summer before?

Well back then, there was something relatively new.. a government loan, hey.... low interest...

As I'd proven four times that I was a credible client, paying back one thousand dollars pro semester to get the money for the next one.... it was easy. Got it. It would be two large payments, at the beginning of the Fall Semester, and another before the second. I was all set.

I found a place and paid a year's rent in advance to the people I rented from in June. Was conscientious and didn't splurge.

But then a strange thing happened. Nixon devaluated the dollar two weeks before my second check arrived, so I only got half the value. Can we say, 'screwed over?' I had to drop out of classes and work waiting tables, and was glad to get even that. My boss was the drunk Tartar From HELL.

And my boss had to bail me out for the money to get an airline ticket home. Gawwd love him. The minute I was back and I saw him, I said, 'You KNOW you're going to get your money back asap.' And he always had this sphynx smile, and said... 'I know. Don't worry about it.'

So I sorta missed out on the edumacation part of the second semester, but got one of another sort entirely.

And there were rumblings and a new spirit was in the land.... to put it in biblical terms...

The powers that be... whoever they are... decided that if you were in high school, two years of a foreign language would no longer be a requirement to go to college.

(Huh... and I thought I'd be a teacher...)

And the bottom dropped out of the job market, and I knew people with Masters degrees who were washing dishes in restaurants just to get by, because, you know... no red-blooded 'Murkin would EVAH want to learn to speak 'ferner'..

And I began that fourth year, and had a horrendous run-in with the head of my dept. I'd spent three hours with him the Christmas before when he visited us... alone. And gave him fifteen pieces of my mind about how ill-conceived it was, and that Salzburg was not the setting to put such a programme. And he did not like me for it. (I heard they later moved it. So I was right.)

It was the second week of going with a new car pool and new debt. My dept. head was hostile. And I thought, 'Y'know what, B? This is self-defeating. Pay off your debts, and wait to see what happens', so I thought it would be a hiatus to re-coup my assets... the ones I no longer had.

I had no idea how much worse things would become.

So I re-paid all my debt in less than a year, which was good. And things became worse in the job market, which was bad... And that was the end of my 'edumacation'.

No one I know from my class back then ever became a teacher... which says a lot.

On my home front, things went from bad to worse, and I finally said, 'ok, am outta here... debt free, have a bit of money... I'm getting OUT.

Compared to these Occupy people today... I can count my blessings that I had it EASY. The banks weren't the completely soulless sharks they've become today. HOW are these poor young people going to ever find their way to land again?

Everything about all this is WRONG, and pepper spraying those 'lazy' students like cockroaches when they protest tuition going up AGAIN? It just doesn't add up to me....

So what did I learn in my edumacation? I learned to think critically, read analytically, and a language. Not much bang for the buck. And that the privileged always get the free rides and a golden ticket to a job they aren't suited for, and that vitaman C (connections) wins out every single time. Not what is in someone's head. Or their potential.

And ya haveta think... this was nearly forty years ago.

The way it is now horrifies me.

The difference here? There is no tuition unless you aren't Austrian, and then it it pitifully low. They did introduce one for locals for a while, but the outrage was so ginormous, they rescinded it. Of course there are costs for boarding, and so on. But they aren't nearly NEARLY so prohibitive. I inscribed one semester at the beginning, hoping to finish my BA. It was really inexpensive. But there was a problem. I had swing shifts, and would have missed half the lectures, and soon learned it was a losing battle. Besides which, who would have wanted an American-born German teacher?

Reality BITES....

I had some enormously impressive teachers here, and attended some lectures that left me spitless.. My all-time favourite was my friend G dragging me to his anatomy class. He was just starting out, and the professor was so demanding, they feared him. But the guy was a first-class showman. He'd bring in his 'presents' for show and tell... covered with a towel in a porcelain tray....

Once it was an arm minus the epidermis. 'Don't let this disappoint you. With a living arm, it's much rosier, and juicier.' Another it was the arm-bone attached to the shoulder bone, and he demonstrated how it can become dislocated... gutwrenchingly true-to life. And the students got to study the raised nodules on the upper arm bone, which all have names... really.

He was dramatic... but fucking effective.

G. tried to scare me. He said, 'Oh, we have to go down here.' Into a cellar. I said, 'Hokay'. And it was the dissection room, lots of live corpses, some with or without the epidermis. And all these students working on them, studying.

G. was certain I would faint or something. I don't think anyone could have disappointed him more. I said, 'OH! It's like 'the visible man', we used to have these models where yóu could see all the muscles, and the veins and arteries and the nerves... it's sorta coool. So this is where you study?'

Left him speechless.

Things like that are an education. No one needs to spend 42000 dollars a year for some asshat to fill their heads with junk they aren't ever going to be able to use.... or hardly.

You can leave the room now. Done.

WOW, Hillary....!!!

I choked on my fish... talk about unexpected and out there in your face liberal. Kudos.

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It's taken me four days to breathe in deeply and it doesn't hurt...

Which is why I went silent. And it was due to pure LUST....

Lust is a terrible terrible thing. Look where it got Herman Cain, but, mine was sorta kinda harmless.

I love eggs. I do, and they were never a problem. Up until about eight years ago. And there was to be a christmas party, but I knew we were gonna have to wait for ages till we got to a restaurant and was hungry, and made a big plate of scrambled eggs. And never got there. My sinuses closed, I could hardly breathe... I'd become algerisch (algerian) which is an old joke between Peter and I because of a Mrs. Malaprop who'd wanted him to close a window in the hospital when his mom was dying, and said she was algerian to drafts. But meant allergic, of course.

So since then, I've been 'good'. I avoid them as much as possible... and not missing a soft-boiled egg at breakfast took a while. Of course I tested this theory of mine, but an egg? Bring on a respirator, hey.

On Nov. 30th, I was in the supermarket, and they had something new. And inexpensive, which is my criteria to buy something to eat for the day where I normally have NO appetite. Quiche Lorraine... oooooo...

Now if I had been thinking normally... anything named after my bio-mom should have set off alarums and bells, and sirens and whistles. 'Toxic'.

But I had a LUST for one. Whithout thinking about what was in it and I have made a few in my time. 20 minutes in the oven, and done.

I took a few fork-fulls and had a taste-bud orgasm. And reality hit me... 'good gawwd there's lots of egg in this.' Of course there was, that's the main ingredient.

And I thought with my fork paused in the air... 'Hokay.. you should stop right now!'

And the debbil was on my shoulder saying, 'You want it, it's delicious, and you never throw food away. Eat.'

And in Austria, there's a saying that 'einmal ist keinmal'. Once is never. (shrug) It's used to excuse all sorts of behaviour. So I ate the whoooollle thing. And loved it. I just expected some discomfort, you know?

Ya think!

That was certifiably DUMB. I didn't figure in the asthma component.

In the afternoon, was uncomfortable, but it didn't worry me... went to bed fairly early in the evening as I'd been up since like about three-thirty a.m. And woke up about three in the morning with a shock... For over fifteen seconds, I could not breathe in. I really thought, 'this is it, I'm gonna die, here...' It was like paralysis. And then something loosened, and I took in air.

We all never think about breathing... y'know? When it becomes a conscious act, it's sorta radical.

From then until today, it was 'da pits'. I couldn't even draw in half a lungful without it hurting. Felt like someone was wringing out my lungs. So it's taken days, and now I can take in a deep breath without feeling someone is strangling me.

Which is nice.

In other words, I inadverdantly poisoned myself. With a pie named after my biological mother, but in reality after a province in France.

There's irony for you...

The following days, was only up in fits and starts.

And my birthday was in there, but slept through most of it. I got my e-mail, and laconically answered some things on Facebook, where I never usually go. And opened my card from my best friend, and she made me cry... but not the bad sort of crying. I've never been so moved.

For a while, I was afraid to sleep, and only did so days... as if a bit of light was a difference in making you feel safe... and up most nights... trying to wait for it all to subside. And distracted myself with my online game, and some people from the guild were totally nice, and one in particular helped me with a problem I'd been unable to solve, and advanced some in it. And chatted, and laughed... anything not to think about how I was feeling, which was like spit-up apple sauce a baby suddenly didn't like.

One in the guild... I think he's a student and lives with his parents still, but loves to auto-group me, and we talk privately... was gone over that time, and when I came on today, he said, 'Hey, wasn't your birthday on the 2nd? I hope it was good.' And I'd only mentioned in passing, that I'd wanted to level up my Beschi (conjuror) for my birfday on Friday.' He remembered. If he is 'on', he's the first to greet me. And wants to go for a group activity. And then we do something boring in the game and 'talk'. I make him laugh a lot. We talk about all sorts of things, social issues, old movies, serial killer children (the bad seed), and he has a very astute mind and some good opinions of his own where I can say, 'Y'know what? I think you're right.' Whatever, when I went 'on' today, he was right there with HEY! And I wrote 'Hey, Kaede!' (I don't know what it stands for or even his name.) And as we were on the global chat tab, some asshole told me 'Lern deutsch!) 'Learn German'. Probably an aryan neonazi. And I was momentarily furious, normally everone is polite there, and sixteen terrible things I shouldn't say on-line came to my mind and wanted to go right into my fingers on the keyboard... till I turned Austrian...

'Ummmm shouldn't that be 'LernE Deutsch?' Kaede bust a gut, and said privately, 'Hey, don't go all Duden on him.' Duden is the official german language guide for correct grammar and a lot of other things. I said, 'Sorry, but sometimes I see things here that make me physically HURT.'

Today he signed off with 'bis später :)' Written out because I said seeing bs always makes me think for a split second it means bullshit. took me a moment to realise he'd gotten a chuckle out of it.

Whatever, despite all the discomfort and feeling like something the cat dragged in... some things made me smile, and am slowly feeling better.

And the next time you lust after something you know isn't good for you... calculate in ALL the variables, ok? Lust is a bitch.

New Orwellian things you will be hearing....

Frank Luntz is despicable.... brilliant, but despicable...

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Ed really can rant.... love him...

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