Ahh, Madame!

Isn't it interesting, how life unfolds.
These past few weeks have been so hectic, they passed by in a whirlwind of activities. Sacrificing sleep for the sake of work and socializing.
I'm very happy about the way that they unfolded, but as my usual detached self, I couldn't help but notice how sometimes I felt like an outcast.
I know it wasn't a malevolent act on anyone's behalf. Merely an overlook. It also happened to the two other costume girls. We're a part of this great and wonderful team, but since we float around for most of the time, and only really come in for the final week, we don't get to be as much a part of the lovely family of performers and crew that spend all of their time together.
I can't help but be sad at this fact, because it makes me feel a little invisible. Not that I want to be the socialite and have all attention directed on me, but just having my presence acknowledge would be nice.
Lately, I find that I'm super selective regarding with whom I spend my time. Mostly because it seems like such a waste of time and energy to try and converse with people who will ultimately forget that I exist a few days after the festival ends and we part ways.
Maybe it's the German influence that has crept into me, or has biased my view about the topic. Or maybe I'm growing into a more stern and selective person than I wish. Either way, I'm as socially awkward as ever, and it annoys me to the utmost when I'm in a large group of people.

Uncertainty is the leitmotiv of my life

The words that I want so badly to express collide in my mind in an infinite display of fireworks. Next to that grandiose show, I am belittled and obscured. I hide somewhere in the back of my mind.

A sense of being a failure.
I suppose I can say I am unhappy with the person that I am, or that I have become. Somewhere along the way, I have lost something precious that defined me as a unique person, and no matter how much time I spend retracing my steps and inspection the ground, I can't seem to find again. I look at myself in the mirror, and see everything that I am not instead of everything that I am and can become. And my expectations of myself are beyond my own reach, and so, I am unable to feel like I am accomplishing anything at all.

Looking at the future, I can't say what I see, because I don't see anything. Or almost anything. An opaque layer of fog divulges a few paths, but where they lead is unknown to me. I am afraid to venture on any of them, and there, simply, I stand. My immediate surroundings are colourful, blue skies, white clouds, green foliage, though everything might as well be grey, because it does nothing to cheer me up.
The future should elate me with its possibilities and novelties that are yet to be discovered, but the feeling never lasts very long. I try to make myself think that I am excited about something, be it an idea, a new place to visit, or a new project to start. It's difficult to even start on any of those things. I push back, and back, and back the things that I want to start, until they start to fade and I forget the initial excitement I felt about them.


I have an extreme need to share all of these feelings, and I am unable to do so. Hence this anonymous blog on the internet that somewhat helps me to try and put my thoughts into words. It doesn't even begin to describe how I feel, but it's one less layer of gloom. I want so badly to open up to my friends, but I'm afraid that they'll get bored of my feelings of impending doom and cast me aside, until I am all alone, again.
These emotions, of course, I only feel when I am already alone. When I am surrounded by others, I forget about these sentiments, and I feel much better. My loneliness though returns always, like a faithful companion that missed me dearly and cannot wait to have all of my attention again. The need to reach out is great, but the fear is greater. I am sad, alone, and afraid of my own thoughts.

Un sentiment d'insuffisance, d'être inadéquate

Encore une fois, c'est un grand tourbillon dans ma tête. J'ai du mal a me concentrer, et je ne peux que mesurer l'ampleur de mes fautes, ou pis encore, mes supposées fautes que je me suis créée, par accident, et qui prenne le dessus sur ma raison.

J'en ai quadruplement marre de me battre avec ma tête. J'me trouve idiote et inutile, et je ne vois pas trop le bout du chemin, surtout parce qu'il ne semble pas y avoir de chemin du tout.

La plus simple tache me paraît une montagne. L'effort mental que me demande une simple décision m'exaspère jusqu'au point où je prends une décision sur un coup de tête, parce que je n'en peux plus de retourner les options encore et encore et encore dans ma tête. Même des décisions aussi simple que: devrais-je prendre le train ou le bus de nuit? C'est pas compliqué, c'est pas la mer à boire. Pourquoi est-ce que ça me semble si dur?

Et ahhhh, comme toujours, j'ai envi d'hurler, de me défouler. J'me sens isolée même parmis d'autres gens. C'est affreux.
Cette année en Allemagne me laisse avec des sentiments très ambigus. D'un côté, j'ai eu beaucoup de temps pour la croissance personelle, mais de l'autre j'ai aussi l'impression d'avoir passé trop de temps en isolement, et du coup, j'ai encore plus de mal qu'avant à me sentir à l'aise autour des gens. L'anxiété sociale me casse les pieds. Je n'arrête pas de me demander ce que les gens pensent de moi, et je me crée des phobies à m'imaginer qu'ils me trouvent stupide, inintéressante et cliché.

Ce que je déteste encore plus, c'est que même quand je fais vraiment des efforts pour connecter avec les gens, j'me sens mise de côté et rejeter. Je déteste être ignorée.
Est-ce que je suis invisible? J'me sens invisible. Ça n'aide pas du tout mon estime de soi.

J'ai envi de dire "fuck you" au monde entier. Je sais pas comment décrocher.

Et puis, comme ce texte l'exemplifi très bien, mes pensées sont partout à la fois. Entremêlées les unes dans les autres dans un fouilli incroyable où il est impossible d'en extriquer une seule, parce qu'elles forment une chaîne où tout se suit sans ordre aucun. Trop d'émotions embrouillées qui essaient de sortir tout à la fois. C'est la cohue, le chaos total.

Keeping on top of things without externally set time limits is hard

Obviously, I have a problem with self-discipline.

Seeing things through without any external driving factors is something that I find incredibly difficult.
Sometimes, I even find that I'm talking myself out of tasks and projects. Projects that I initiated in the first place. How fucked up is that? Surely, many people also do that. But I find myself left to my own devices waaaaay too often. And after I've kept myself trapped in my bedroom for too long I start to question the very need of going out of the room unless absolutely necessary. Even getting out of bed can be problematic.

Example: it took me two days to talk myself into going to the Bahnhof to take passport photos for my application form to re-apply to this programme in Germany. Two. Days.
The bahnhof is a 5-minute walk away from here. And it took me two. days. Whole days. I kept talking myself out of it. "Oh but I'm wearing makeup now, I'll go tomorrow." "Uhm, I need to change my nose ring to one that I can flip up, I'll go after school." "Oh, it's raining lightly, I'll wait till it clears up." "It's past 6 o'clock, I don't feel like it. I'll go tomorrow morning,"

*Slams head against wall* Yes, I think I need some external motivation. Big time. Nothing too fancy. A buddy to come round and have tea and scones, and quatsch about for an hour or so.

But you know what I find intensely funny and ironic (read here: the best way not to cry is to laugh) is that I decided to live in a WG (shared flat) so that I wouldn't live alone and go insane. Clearly something didn't quite work in my brilliant plan. Because I can feel insanity creeping up. Sometimes I even get up, start laughing and jumping around in my bedroom to reassure myself of the fact that I am still, in fact, a human being. But coming back to the point of this paragraph. Though my flatmate (formerly flatmates) are (were) really nice, we never bonded, or did much of anything together. We keep to ourselves, and since it's now been 6-7 months since I moved in, I don't know how to approach them in a desinvolte (disinvolved, but I like how the french sounds better) manner. Now it's just painfully peinlich (awkward, I like the aliteration here) when I try to start a conversation or do some small talk. Hell, I've reached the point that I won't go into the kitchen if I here my roommate in there.

And so I practice escapism as much as I can. Oh look, a free weeken- Tschüüssie! I'm out of this place. And then I straggle back in as late as I can on Sunday (or Tuesday), to show up to school the next day. I just leave a quick note. Something along the lines of: Hey, I'm gone, see you. Sometimes I am a tad more explicit: Hey, I'm gone to Leipzig, medieval fair, see you. That is self-explanatory. Who in their right mind wouldn't want to go to Leipzig for a medieval fair.

And that, meinen Damen und Herren, is my trouble.

First post of February

I was extremely fortunate in having a week's vacation at the beginning of this month. I went to visit my brother who happened to be in Germany, and spent the weekend with him. I was so happy to see him, and spend time with actual human beings, and exploring new places. After the weekend I went to Vienna for 5 days. It was wonderful, I met really cool people at the hostel, I visited museums and galleries, I did activities. I spent more money than I had budgeted.... And I thought.

I have a short list of topics for my future posts, but for now let's just sprawl what's currently on my mind.

Obviously I think a lot. And it often goes in loops. I was less miserable this past week, since I was surrounded by people almost all the time. I had missed that feeling dearly. It's not so much that I need to be interacting with people all the time, I just need to have people around me. Being in a hostel, I was precipitated into a scenario where I had to interact with people. I clicked instantly with 3 fellow roommates, and we had a great time for the week. We formed a bond of all being solo travelers in a foreign land, sharing a hostel room. You know, that is a great feeling.

Now I'm back in Germany, I've barely spoken to anyone, and I've fell back into that feeling of despair, loneliness and emptiness. I've known for a while that how I feel is connected to the social interactions that I'm having. I like being at home with my parents, because even though we don't talk at every moment, they are right there and I don't feel lonely. I liked living with one of my best friend last August (even though I had several breakdowns during that period because of stress) because I'd come home and have someone to hang out with.

Here in Germany? Well, my roomies are nice, but we never really bonded. So I feel quite lonely most of the time. I try to tell myself that I can use that time to be creative, but it mostly just makes me feel drained. So I end up couch-potatoeing and watching movies and series, instead of doing things that make me feel better. Like drawing, sewing or reading.





I've also thought a great deal about you, oh you.
Not a single day passes without my thoughts wandering to you.
I think I've pushed you away earlier, thought my goal was the exact opposite.
I'm afraid to push you away again, by being too forward.
It's an endless push-n-pull inside of my head.
Should I talk to you? But what if it scares you away? I can't risk that... I couldn't handle it.
So I just sit here, sad and forlorn, hoping that you'll come back without my prompting.
Oh, how many things I would have done differently if it meant I could hold you in my arms again.
I miss you. Please come closer.

Fear as a dictator of my actions

As I mull over the infinite possibilities and variations of topics about which I could write, one that I find prominent and that I feel controls a large portion of my life: fear.

I realized this a few months ago when I was talking to new acquaintances, and somehow, the discussion steered in a particular direction, and I simply said: "One thing that I'm afraid of is to walk outside and see someone I know without recognizing them." This has happened many times, to the point that someone needs to be waving their hand about 30 cm from my face for me to notice them... There's a 99% chance that I'll be listening to music and/or somewhere far inside my mind when I'm walking outside, be it a leisurely stroll or a power walk from point A to point B, and I'm usually more or less oblivious and unaware of my general surroundings. Unbeknownst to myself, that simple sentence revealed to me the depth of my ambiguous relationship with the sentiment of being afraid. To my statement, one of the girls replied without hesitation: "Oh, but you mustn't be afraid." And her answer has stuck with me since then.

As I turned around that sentence in my mind, I realized how obstructed I am in my everyday life. I realized that the fears aren't phobias, but rather inhibitions that hold me back.

- Going to a new place: what if I get lost?
- A few hours before going to a social event where I'll have to mingle and meet new people: what if I don't find anybody to talk to? And worse, what if I do find people to talk to and they think I'm dull and unintelligent?
- After the excitement about a new opportunity has faded: why did I bother to apply? I'll get rejected and then I'll feel worse about myself.
- About doing something new by myself: Why did I think this was a good idea? I should just stay at home...

And I could name such examples for a few pages. Looking at it, I realize it all comes back around to my perceived lack of social skills. Do I actually lack social skills? No, probably not, though I must admit that I'm more comfortable as part of a group, and I don't have to do much of the talking. I'm very happy with sitting back and following the conversation, chipping in when I feel the need, but not being the centre of attention at all times.

I try to step out of my comfort zone when I can, though these nagging little voices in my head keep telling me nasty things. They're hard to ignore, and they really sap my morale. I tell myself that by being self-aware of this tendency, I can combat it more effectively, and kick my fear producing brain in the butt, like an old computer that somehow responds to the physical knocking on it's outer shell when it keeps crashing. It's probably not doing anything, but makes you feel better.

A general feeling of dread

I've had a few things on my mind lately. Not that I don't usually juggle with a thousand thoughts anyhow, but these are persistent, and I keep coming back to them. Last night, during a bout of insomnia, I sat in front of my mirror and started braiding in my fake dreads. With my laptop on a stool next to me, playing music at a low volume so as not to disturb my housemate who are usually asleep at 3 in the morning. That peaceful quiet time with myself allowed me to think more about these two things, and let me analyse them, and compare, and try to rationalize my feelings.

The first one is about my birthday. I'm turning 23 in a few days, and I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to do anything for it. I'm inclined to not do anything and spend the evening at home, but at the same time, a part of my brain tells me I should try to do something. In an ideal world, I would invite my close friends over to dinner at my place. This scenario won't work though, for two simple reasons. My kitchen is extremely unfriendly, all with being too small and not having a table... The second is that I just haven't been able to make the connections with people that I would consider close friends. Friends, yes sure. I've made a few of them, and they're all very nice and interesting. But I'm so insecure, and I'm so used to people not turning up whenever I've tried to invite not-quite-close-friends to similar events that it's causing me more anxiousness than anything else. I've invited a few of these new friends for late night pizza, let's see how that turns out.

The second is my upcoming trip to Munich and Vienna. I'm extremely lucky in the fact that my brother is currently in Germany, and that I have next week off from work, and so I'm able to travel to Munich to see him for a couple of days. I'm really looking forward to seeing him, though I'm a little disappointed that he's in Munich. I've been saying for the past few weeks that I hate Munich, and so I'm not exactly excited about going there. That feeling stems from the general feel of Munich, which I didn't like the first nor the second time I was there, and also because of something that happened last time I visited, and of which I care not to describe anymore than this vague statement. I'll be staying in a hostel there, hoping I'll meet some travelers with whom to talk. Otherwise, I might just have a couple of glasses of Wine at the hostel bar and lose myself in a book.
On Feb 2 I'll be taking the bus to Vienna. and spending a few days there. I'm actually looking forward to that leg of the trip. Some people have told me that Vienna has an eastern european feeling to it (which is why they didn't like it). I must say, I like eastern Europe. Very much so, hopefully I'll like Vienna then! I've also been told that it's a little bit bourgeois in its ways. There's only way to find out. I've reached out to the online community on couchsurfing for people to meet and things to do. So far on my agenda I have visiting the Belvedere collection of Klimt and Schiele, eating a piece of Sachertorte, going to some heavy-inclined bar/pub/establishment that serves alcohol, and possibly going to a karaoke night.
Knowing myself, I'm excited now, though on the day of I'll only want to stay in my bed, and not bother with going anywhere. I almost always feel like that. The days leading to a new situation (a trip, a party, a new class, anything that takes me out of my house to go and possibly meet new people in short) I'm stocked, and then on the day of, I don't know what happens, but all that excitement strangely scampered away and leaves me wishing I had never decided to do anything. It's this constant feeling of dragging a boulder behind me, without being able to shake off its chains that are so strongly bound to my ankles. I try to get out of my comfort zone, I know it's healthy to do so, and I almost never regret it. Conscioustly, I know I'm being silly, but I can't simply take a day off, tell that dreadful part of my brain to shove it and actually enjoy myself for once.

It seems to me that almost everything I do lately has this impending sense of doom. It seems silly that I'm so overly conscious of my thoughts and what I sense as their crushing inaccuracy concerning the 'real world'. I wonder if one day I'll be able to reconcile the two parts of my brain that keep steering me in completely opposite directions.

Acknowledgement of my status as a white privileged bitch

First thing first, a cold hard look at the truth of my situation.

I'm a white woman, privileged already by that simple fact.
My body shape is quite average, not super skinny, not fat. A healthy size, with a rounded stomach, like the renaissance nudes that I like so much, with some curves, but not too much.
I have an education, a bachelor's degree at the age of 22, and waiting to see if I'm accepted to grad school to pursue a master's.
My parents are supportive, and they even help me out financially, as I have a lot of student debt. Although I technically don't make a lot of money, I have a roof over my head, I'm warm, I have clothes that let me indulge in my gothic-inclined tastes, and I eat whenever I'm hungry.
Not only that, but I'm also living in Europe for the year, and I have a job that isn't too demanding, and they give me lot's of holidays. And I travel during those holidays, because I'm able to save money and spend it on exploring new places.

Sounds like I'm on the right track to be happy. But I'm not. And I realize that my situation should by default make me happy. I'm able to fulfill all of my basic needs and beyond. I feel like I'm not allowed to complain about my situation, because so many people in the world don't have access to half of what I take for grated. And it makes me feel ashamed of myself for being unable to appreciate those things to their just value.

For Christ's sake. I'm eating nutella out of the jar, and I'm contemplating which movie I should watch later this evening. What is that for a rough existence?

I'm constantly trying to reconcile one side of my self with the other side, and I'm utterly failing. I'm feeling empty most of the time. I have a hard time getting excited about anything. I put on a smile, a real smile, because I'm apparently able to control the muscles around my eyes that tell the difference between a genuine smile and a fake one. I fake that everything is alright, because I can't explain how it's not.