"Every morning in February has been magestic, and for this - I thank you, February."
I am a margin writer.
a firm believer that emptiness can be filled with words. white space aches.
Uli bought me this german book that I began doing German in - still do - but it became quickly apparent that it not for foreigners but rather native speakers wishing to improve on their own language. On one incredibly tedious tedious tedious day I smoothed the creases on page 15 and began with the words: "Stefan throws spitballs, Tina looks less than thrilled. Vicki falls asleep to the monotone voice of the Physik professor, while Wolfi spins his rubix cube in a rainbow vortex..." and that was the beginning. I have written everything from homesick woes to exchangie philosophy to classmate observations to libbi-isms sprinkled upon page after page.
some of excerpts:
"David hurls a wadded up piece of paper at Benita. She fires it back. Matthia laughes, it lands near my toe. I hand it to David, who looks intently at me for several seconds, and decides on 'thank you'. You retard, I know what thank you is in German."
"I am a conversationalist at heart. Conversation is my bread and water. I believe this exchange has been difficult because the lack of words and good conversation. Words have lost all their meaning in the last 5 months, I no longer thrive on them."
"I love that when I write ink splatters on my palms and fingertips. It's beautiful to see something of such a vivid hue stain skin so colorless. I am in love with this occurence."
"The spontanity that the train allows is incredible. The idea that you are allowed the freedom to move as you please, explore as you desire, act upon your immense wanderlust for the scarcely unknown... lolita. lolita, fire of my loins! such passion! viva la LIFE!"
"Today is against me. I am positively fuming. The geography teacher can't possibly blame Dominik's bad mark on me because we don't even sit near each other or talk during that class. The unfairness of this situation overwhelms."
"A pen change is like the summer. The chance of rejuvination and being reborn hangs in the air...but this is the chance for my words to start all over. What a lovely concept."
"missing the diversity of American foods. Mia and I had the most intense skype convo last night about how we want miss being able to walk out of the house at 2 am and grab a cheeseburger and fries at Denny's...go to the Walmart at 11 to play hide and seek...Krispy Kremes at 4. Such convenience does not occur to the Austrian people, sdjkfhskjfh."
"Marius is happy today - I think he's in one of those moods when he's liable to grab somebody's crotch. Achtung, Robin."
"Ich werde tot sein: my mantra."
and so much more. More personal and private, more deliciously in depth, more than what appears to skim the surface. I am not a complex individual - but musing is definitely a defining trait. A conversationalist and a muser. though, sometimes it's poetry. bits of prose glued together with the faintest of themes.
On my mind now: I got my flight information last week. July 16th, leave Graz Airport at 6 am, arrive in Frankfurt at 7:25. Leave Frankfurt at 10:50, arrive in Detroit at 2 pm. Be awesome in Detroit until 8:00, and then arrive finally in Portland at 9:36 pm on the same day. I am unsure what to think about this - good or bad? As eager as I am to leave I will miss everything I've complained about this year. The USA seems foreign, big, unfriendly...