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...

２４ ｈｏｕｒｓ

Ｓometimes the Worst Caste Scenario makes you smile and sometimes life (in this case my life) seems so surrealistic, that there is only a great big laughter left.
And in the best case it comes out of your own mouth.
So i try.

Where do I beginn. I actually don't know exactly when the feeling started, that I am in a movie - or living my own short story. Maybe it began after the party. After the drinking wine and eating chocalatecake and talking about politics. The Finance Crisis, The Oil, The Banks, The Capitalists and Communists and the differences between the Press in Europe and in Canada.

I think it startet at exactly that particular moment, when I climbed down the steep stairs from the Topfloor to the deepest morast of the Basement Suite. Brushing my teeth, going to bed. The easy part when you work the 8th day in a row at a stupid job for a stupid company but at a great place. You think that would be the easy part...
Climbing into Bed, listening to German Fairytale and sleep...
Soon the Fairytale got lost in the noises my pregnant latin american Roomate made by her
yelling in the phone.

"No. No. No."
or
"I am right! I am right! I am right!"
or (my favorite)
"Get over it! Get over it! Get over it!"

sometimes it varied ... kind of:
"No. I am right. Get over it! No.'
The headphones at the aquarium - to afraid to overhear the alarm when using Earplugs ... I basicly understood everything.
He had to get over it and she was right!
Why could'nt he admit that.
It would be easier to sleep without yelling ... but i tried anyways.

Somewhere between one or two am the yelling stopped and as soon as she went into her room, I went to the bathroom ... avoiding a grumpy look at me ... avoiding any contact ... avoiding...

The silence came to me like a gift. Sleep came over me like a desired old friend.
Until my other roomate came home.
The clock said three thirty when I looked at her.

The spanish australian Bartender, who promised never ever bring again a girl back home, when I have to work the next day brought a giggeling jiggeling (and I assume fantastic looking and at the age of about eighteen) female nto his room.
When the giggeling and jiggeling stopped and the roring and snoring and the bumping and jumpingg started I lost my nerve for about two seconds.

Whatever... Wherever...
But when the bumping not l0nger stayed in his room. When the bumping included my wall ' I have to admit that the loosing nerves lasted a bit longer than two seconds.
Instead of beeing loud annoyed I went to the bathroom again.
Time to get up anyways... Off to work..

But then.
Finding something I could never make up ... so little and tiny and yet so disgusting. Luckily not in the bathroom. Luckiliy for the creature infront of the fridge...
layed
a tiny, little dead mouse.

First I was schocked, but then I realized that a dead mouse is not half as bad as a dead rat and got aquainted to the idea of getting rid of the mouse.
But the Thought of touching it. Even in an extented manner, was so ridiculous, that I soon
got to the old good ritual of drinking a cup of coffee before the day (and thinking about dead mice) starts.

Again Luckily
the mouse was so far away from the fridge, that I was able to get my milk out without having to move the mousecorps.
Coffee YES.
But FOOD (even with an very empty stomach) seemed not like a good idea.

Off to work.
The eights day... After the week before not two days in a row, but the tuesday and the thursday off....

I stood and asked.
"Should I make a quick picture?"
"Can I convince you to step infront of the green screen?"
I stood and made the squeeky Dolphin and said:
"It is a magic dolphin. If you smile to it, it squeeks."
and I stood and looked over to the desk.
Over to the people with which I am working ... or better not working.

Who stay there ... three persons at a desk with work for one. Who randomly leave the desk - go to places and then come back. No transparence whatssoever.
Who don't feel so good and leave earlier. Who speak instead of english Farsi and who all hate the job...
Who have every two days a broken tire in the car.
Who don't come over to give me a good word or a smile or a "I do your job for a second."
Who make promises and then break them.
Who rely on me, when there is no compensation for relying.

And suddenly it came to me...
Not working at the aquarium sounds like a good idea.
Not staying here sounds perfect.
Not having to get along sounds idealistic.
Not staying all day long at the windy entrance sounds perfect.

And the idea became a fact and the fact became the idea. Or reverse.

I stayed till closing... Of course I had said, that I only would be able to work until four, but...

“He is gone. He is not coming back. Can you close?”

And I close.

I make the Debit/credit report and I shut down the computers and then I take the camera and look at the aquarium...

Climb over the securityfences to take a closer look at the seeotter.

And get a smile from the Security Guard for it.

Take a look at the belugas, when infront of them there are building up a buffet for a function and have a chat with the chef...

Look at the weird places and go the way we yesterday went again.

But yesterday we forgot the Dolphins... We rushed out and we didn't make it and now i suddenly remember, that there is some kind of stuff like the underwaterviewing and I go there and sit for a while.

Watch them play and whirl away. And sit.

The last time I sat there I really wished, that they would come to me.

Today they come. Without wish.

Two of them.

First they look at me and swim by. Just a random look. To check me out.

But instinctivly... I don't know... i know, that I should bow.

That that is the way to greet a dolphin.

“They say hello”, says one guy who makes the cleaning.

“Do you know, if you have to bow to greet a dolphin?”, i ask.

“I don't know.”, he says. To him nothing spectacular has happend.

One of them comes near to me. I hold one hand against the window and bow again. Hide my eyes. As long as I feel that it is right.

And his head rubbes against the window. And when I open my eyes. I see his eyes closed.

Breathe in and Breathe out.

I smille and then he speaks to me. Looks at me and speaks in dolphinlanguage... and then I ask:

“Can I make a picture of you?”

And he holds still.

All the basementsuite and jobstuff is forgotten....and i take the picture...

And then he swims slowly away again...

Searching rooms

There was this smelly woman on victoria.
There was this young chick from Quebec, who wanted someone who is basiclly never at home.
and then...

there were
marc and trevor in a beauutifull home in the eastend near commercial.

At first I did'nt want to go.
What the heck ... I thought to myself.
It is cold out,
I don't occupy a wintercoat yet and I did'nt have enoughh money to by myself a monthly pass this month and of course I just wanted to rest the last few hours on the mainfloor of the Triumph House.
As long as possible - i said to myself.
Never back in the Basement Suite - my inner credo

But then. I stood infront
of Kootenay loop, looked for the Busses...and some bus... and then I took...
The one Bus and then I took another Bus - the second bus and of course
Then I got out of the bus and it would be very boring, if the story would be over right now, so
my lack of orientation comes in handy...

I am german and not used to the whole "Roads are as long as your thoughts idea" and "Yes"
i marched straight forward in the wrong direction of the eights avenue... it took me a while to figure out, that the numbers are getting smaller and not bigger...And I think NOW i finally grasped the idea which stands behind the whole number thing... it will remain a secret deep in my heart...

Anyways...

I stood infront of the house and had to shake my head a little. Then I had to shake my head a little more, take a deep breath and walk to the front door.
A beautifull old house with beautifull lightning, with beautifull...

Marc opend the door, smiled at me and instinctivly i thought "gay". That is basiclly all i thought. Nothing more. Nothing less. Maybe the words "how nice" come to mind. But not more.
He walked me up the stairs, showed me the living room, the kitchen, my room and showed me
Trevor, who would be my second Roommate.

We chatted a little in the kitchen, when suddenly Marc suggested to better go to the
living room and sit a little.
Movie Stars, Television Shows, obnoxious Australians, Thanksgiving and Tolerance and whatnot ...

And it takes only one question to convince me to move in with Trevor

"Are you also a person who likes storms?"
"YES." (and i remembered one time, when i sat with my little brother outside on the porch and we were watching hours and hours with couchens and blankets over ourselves a thunderstorm coming and going and got all sentimental and excited the same time and then i smiled and said once more ...)
"Yes I am a Stormperson!"

And it takes only a smile of Marc and a gesture, which reminds me of my best friend in Luebeck,to move in with him...

Maybe they don't like the person, which they are interviewing tommorow.
Maybe I don't like the person, which I am seeing tommorow for a room.

Maybe I am just moving in with Trevor and Marc.