give me some mor beer instead

Coming home should be a relieve and shouldnt feel like a stone dropping on your shoulder.

Coming home to the place where you have lived for the last couple of months shouldnt feel like a burden.

But ...

I step into the house I am living in and all feels strange and unfamiliar. The Smell is not me, the noises are not me. The Furniture is not me. And all these inconstructive Thoughts, which I avoided the last few days are running with lightspeed into my head and heart again and I realise in Milliseconds from what I was running away...as simple as that - the Present...

Please think for me. Please say to me, what to do.

Please dont leave me alone with this freaking thoughts. Please dont let me be alone with myself. Please free me ... just a few more hours ... from myself.

Smart Books told me, that I have to focus on the positive things...

So I look around me and see, that I have a Bed and Bedding and a Duvet and I have it warm, if I want to.

I turn up the Heat. I want to have it warm.

So i look around and see, that I have a door which I can close and Earphones which I can put in.

I close the door so I dont see – I plug in my Earphones, so I dont hear.

Trying to rethink a walk with the dog through the forest.

Trying to rethink a goodnight sleep without a roommate who is speaking full of weed with himself.

Trying to rethink the jumping and whirling around of Body-magic. Magic with no future and no past.

Rethinking the Non-thinking... Rethinking not beeing me...

But the only thing i am feeling is “Home” and tears are running slowly down my cheek.

I open up my Emailaccount to get some Messages and get only one.

One Sentence from Home. With a lot of Exclamation Marks.

“I miss you”

Focus on positive things is a lot of Work. I try my best.

Another positive Thought is Beer. I bought german Beer before I left to the Paradise of Nonthinking ... just beeing, with nothing more to do, than to come with... if I like...

And I liked.

I stored the Beer under my Bed, because I know my Roomates Behaviour of the Single Child, who doesnt ask – just takes -

and pop it open....

I breethe in and out, before I take a big sip.

It doesnt matter, if it is warm.

It doesnt matter, if I dont really feel like drinking.

It doesnt matter, that it is still early.

I have to wake up anyways... way to early to go back to the Callcenterhell, where I pretend to function and nobody is questioning the superficial Functioning. The good old Inner Wall is builded up for the Outside. The good old Wall around my Soul which makes me Untouchable.

If somebody would have told me, that Homesickness is something which is natural and comes with the Territory of beeing adventurous – I would have smiled and would have said:

“Sure. I can manage Homesickness.”

A llittle bitter giggle and one more sip of warm beer – Now.

A thousand Miles from Home. Suddenly realizing and feeling, that Homesickness and Lovesickness are Sisters and that they will never be -like the Desire- a friend of mine.

Give me sleep instead.

And I should drink the Beer out of a Straw. Or should leave the House to by Gin. Or should leave it at that. Breathe in – breathe out.

Make Yoga instead. Or start praying.

I stand up, go to the kitchencupboard where the Straws are and tipple as quiet as I can back into my Room. Closing the Door. Plugging in my Earphones.

No Problems from my Roomate. I dont want to listen. I dont want to be strong for him.

I give myself in...

Let the Tears run. Let myself go.

Let me shiver and let me miss.

Let me miss my Family and friends. Let me miss the Architecture. Let me miss the Germans. Let me miss my books and my house. Let me miss the Greeeting Nodding without a superficial smile.

Let me miss my loved one. Let me miss the Love. Let me miss the laughter of Understanding. Let me miss beeing my old me. Let me miss my Past. Let me miss my unlived future.

Allow that evil Sickness to take over – beeing overdramatic and be concious of that.

And it feels better – indead.

That is what she wanted.

Homesickness is female. I know it.

She just wanted her Position to be cleared up.

It is clear now.

She just wanted to take over. And got her will.

The Beer is still warm. The door is still closed. The Earphones in my Ear and the house still doesnt feel like my home at all, but...

My friend the Future is peeking around the Corner.

And I smile, when I imagine them two having a Wrestling Match. I dont have to think about it. I know instantly who would win.

Homesickness just comes with the Territory, but the Future...

Let them two fight...

Give me one more Beer instead... Not that fucking inbetween.

Little Boys stay away from that sarcastic woman

I have always hated these kind of guys and I think the real Hating started at school.
These self righteous and yet immature guys who came on Monday morning to class with the
same old story to tell - how much they drank the weekend before:
"Ey. I was not able to stand anymore."
"I was so fucked, that i slept on the street."
"Ohh. Boy. Ohh.I am still drunk."
"And then... this blond chick which came after me."

When they did'nt speak about the amount of Wodka and Beer they drunk (without dying. But they include in their stories that it was only a matter of luck that they survived)
they spoke about the girls who wanted them, but whom they didn't want.
Or the girls which they chased down the street.
Anyways: Stories about them not getting laid.

Honestly (and i don't want to make an excuse for beeing arrogant, I just explain THAT I am arrogant. If that is a good or a bad thing should other people judge about)
I never had so much to do with these guys.
I thought there were dumm.
Period.
Just Dumm.

Maybe it is also a question about the ideological differences between the Alcohol Drinkers and the Pottsmokers. And as a person who enjoyed the smoking of weed, I never got over the Rift between those two Leages.
Maybe you have to chose very early in which league of People you want to stay.
My presumption is, that you stay there the rest of your life.
Even if you are not smoking anymore.
Your little Lifephilosphie will always be influenced by ... Weed.

The drinkers were just ... well... i have to use the word again
Dummm...

That doesn't mean, that I didn't had or have my drinking phases... But... might aswell...
There was always that kind of ... well... rift...
Let's leave it at that.

These kind of guys put girls into made up skales.
From one to ten
From thin to fat or the other way round.
And they didn't earn at all the arrogant look on their boyish faces with their five minute potency and their unwashed intimates - their not classy perfumes and their not classy baseballhats.

That I lived with one of these Archetypes not only under one roof, but in the same appartement is not only ridiculous and cruel... I would go so far to describe it as somewhere between Masochism (why for Petes Sake had I to move from the Mainfloor to the Basementsuite. Its my own fault!) and Sadism from somewhere high above who smiles at my little life in Canada (why for Petes Sake has everything in Canada to be so expensive and I have to little money to move)

When the answer to undoubtable Critisism
"You are a Macho."
is
"Yeah? cool..."
there is nothing more to tell...

But.
Yes. There is a but.

For a long time I tried to be nice.
(and I really tried to like him - just for my sake. It is hard to live with someone you hate. Even disliking is hard enough. So I tried not to dislike him. I didn't make it to like him, but I made it at least to not dislike him so much. Okay. He was disgusting. Okay. I was disgusted. But I really tried ... really hard... to overcome my incorporate Disgust)
Try to see the good in him.
The good pip in him.
To see his point a view... his trying of beeing reasonable or whatever 22 year old Bartenders with a lot of Hair on their Chests try.

The last conversation we had destroyed it all. A discussion, but not a real discussion. More kind of an arrogant show off on his behalf...


"I think you contradict yourself.", he told me.
"I don't think so.", I answered.
"I know, that that is a contradiction. I see one when I have to."
"Aha."
And I really know, that he just did'nt get it. That he just did'nt understand what i was talking about. Maybe it was to abstract for him ... whatssoever. But I have to admit (and I think that is really arrogant) that I didn't have a discussion with an Australian before.

And he looked at me and smiled.
Leaned a little back with this selfrighteous smile of his.
"I wish we could discuss it in German, because you are not very clear in your english. I think you contradict yourself only because your english isn't good enough."
"Aha.", I answer again, thinking hard about his thinking pattern.
"But that is not true. You got my point. I just don't see the Contradiction."
"But I see it. Believe me. There is a Contradiction." he points out and continues "Your english is just not good enough to argue with me. That is why i don't want to argue any more."

I have to stare at him. I just have to look at his face and am stunned. I have to repeat his point
"You don't want to argue with me because I cannot make myself clear with the english language?", i asked.
"Yes"
And then he comes to me with another smile and his right hand is coming towards me.
"Come on. Shake hands. We're good again, right?"
I shake his hand.
Astonished. Amazed and ... hurt (i think I am just hurt. this little motherfucker hurt me)
and now I made officially the experience how it feels to be descriminated on behalf of my language abilities.

Good to go.
And the little rest of Sympahtie i had for him (and for which i worked so hard)
flew right out of the window.
The respect which was left (okay it was not much, but there was still a tiny bit)
gone "Bye Bye" ...
To reflect my Language Abilities... Say it once more: "Respect gone Bye Bye."

and now - since he is away i can go back to my old and comfy "Hating these kind of guys" again. And have to warn:
"Little australian boy. stay away from sarcastic german women.
They will punch you."

PLP as for Proper Living Person

When I left the house on the beautiful sunny Sunday to go out for a Coffeebreakfast I meet the Chinese Bottle Lady with a big fat
smile on her face.

"Hello.", I greet her - as I always greet people I see often. Okay, I grew up in a little Village - maybe that is just the way these Village People and maybe Canadians do. Also ... I like the Chinese Bottle Lady and give her - when I have some - my empty bottles.


"Hi.",she answered and her smile got even bigger, when I pointed on her well filled plastic bags, which hung on a long woodstick on both sides of her body.
"Ohhh...", she said.
The following Sentences or Explanations made fully clear, how her Day went.

First she pointed at the Alley behind her, make noises like "Ha Ha Ha.", then she pantomimed how she found her bottles.
She lined them up again, collected and put them again into her bags.
Constantly commentating it verbally.
"Uihhh." She was so surprised to find so many bottles in one place.
"Ah." She was very fast in putting them into her bags.
and
"Hi Hi Hi." she was so happy about the Treasure she got now.

After all that illustrations she gave me a "Thumb up", I gave her a "Thump up" - happy that I understood her and happy for her good and productive day.
She said
"Hai." and I "Goodbye" ... satisfied that I know the people in my Neighbourhood.

Maybe it is just the sunny weather which makes People talk.
Maybe it is my looking at people and be open for a conversation - or snippits of Lifestories.
At the Bus then I met a PLP - as he explained me.

I was standing in the Bus.
All seats were gone and a Man of about 60 with a "Playland" Jacket on, was looking at me and speaking something I did'nt get.
Anyways. I smiled and said
"Yes."
"You always have to give something in return. When you find something. You just have to give it back."
"And sometimes it is just a gesture.", i answered. Thinking about getting and giving in a whole other surrounding.
"Once I found a wallet with a drivers License. And the next day ...before I got to work i went to Main and Cambie to return it there. You know. There is a lost and found. When I find something I always give it back. Or try to give it back."
"Aha.", i said. Looking at him and his smiling eyes.
"Once I found a wallet with a little change in it and there was also an american insurance Card in it. With the name on it and everything. I went to the other Lost and Found and brought it there."
"You are a nice person.", I say. Thinking about all the time he puts into the returning.
"I just figured that a drivers License is important."
He gets a tissue out of his pocket and blows his nose and then continues.

"You know. When you are in School and there is this PLP. You know this Parents as Learning Partners. I just switched it in
Proper Living Person." He laughs a little to hisself.
"One of my Coworkers. A young guy. He said to me: 'Hey man. dont do that! It is way to much work.' And I just said: " When I would be your father I would kick you in your ass. I don't want to work for a compay which does'nt return stuff which is lost and which the people need. And she sure needed her Drivers License. It is important." He nodded.
"I just want to live a proper Life. And I want to look at myself with respect."
"That is so true.', i said and thinking again of a whole other thing in a different surrounding. After all. All the same. and there was somebody who understood me. A stranger in a filled up bus.
"And all the bottles i find. As you might have figured I am a sweeper at Playland." He gave me a wink with his left eye. "Anyways. I find a lot of bottles. And I know, that the Chinese People are coming to collect them. So. When I find a bottle I just throw it over ot the other Side of the fence. When I find three bottles. I just throw them over. What the Heck."
"What the Heck.", I repeated and would have loved to hear more stories of him.
"I am sorry. I have to get out now. It was nice meeting you. A proper living person. Have a nice day!", I said to him and he smiled to me and said:
"It is nice to meet another PLP." he answered and smiled back.

When I came home on that sunny Sunday afternoon from my Coffeebreakfast I was just smiling...
Maybe it is just a smiling day...