Prosecco, Coughing and the Juno Soundtrack

People, why isn’t it Throwback Tuesdays?? I, for once, mostly get nostalgic on a Tuesday. And, funkily, I don’t seem to be alone with this sentiment. Part of that is remembering that I have a blog.

Basically, it started off as as an attempt to study with my coffee and wine buddy, Charlotta. Clearly this was going to be a focused and sober enterprise. But what can you ACTUALLY do if there’s prosecco in the fridge, right? So here we are.

Charlotta is struggling with her essay writing and I’m struggling with actually saying anything substantial here – the unanimous solution: bullet points.

  • The indie phase I had when I was around 15 was actually really really fun.
  • The Juno soundtrack never gets old.
  • I need the loo, give me a second.
  • Back.
  • Maybe this (annoyingly persistent and painful) cough is finally going to put me off smoking.
  • Probably not.

Oh, yeah, and I’m finally doing something with my life (something that allows me to apply my excellent procrastination skills) – uni in Scotland!!

B x

Having The Crazies

It is official: I am literally going insane. As in, I am on the verge of a nervous breakdown. My mind racing from one crazy thought to another, I’ve come to the conclusion that my momentary insanity is caused by a number of reasons.

For once, I have been around my parents for over a week now. I love my parents, but we really are better apart. When I’m in my flat two hours away from my parents, we skype every Sunday, and occasionally message or email to let each other know what is going on in our lives. Apart from that, they leave me alone and I leave them alone. This seems to be ideal for all parties involved. From time to time I come down for the weekend, we spend two pleasant enough days all together and then, on Sunday evening, I am glad to be on my way home again, back to my own life.

Naturally then, being together for an extended period of time is unusual territory for all of us, seeing as, despite being only eighteen, I haven’t lived with my parents for three years now. Also, I am generally not that good at cohabiting with anyone over a longer period, I need my own space and my own rhythm of things. There is nothing that makes me more anxious than having someone around who questions what I do, when I do it and especially my way of doing things. Somehow it makes me very defensive and angry and I really don’t like feeling that I have to justify my ways. I’ve got enough insecurity as it is, no need for more external sources of it to open up. For some reason, parents are champions at questioning your every move. Drives me crazy. See, I’ve had my every move questioned for more than a week now, the crazy accumulates.

Another major cause for panic and doubt is the future. Both the immediate future and the wider one. In the immediate future I am awaiting a new semester, fair enough. I’m actually quite looking forward to that, doing nothing for months established the base line of insanity, so yay. But on the other hand, my flatmate has moved out and the university has automatically assigned me a new one, which technically means that I will come home to find a stranger in my flat that I will have to live with for the next few months.

The less immediate future, often just called “the future” or “my life”, I’d say, generates the highest level of anxiety. I’ve applied to universities in Scotland back in October and I’ve heard back from most of them. That is, all but one. Of course, this one has to be just the one that I really really really want to go to: the University of Edinburgh. Now, you might think, if I’ve been waiting since October to get an offer or be rejected, why does this propel me to the verge of a nervous breakdown now? Well, thing is, they told me I’d hear from them by March 31st, WHICH IS TOMORROW!!! I swear letting me hope for this long is pure cruelty on their part. I literally don’t even care anymore what their response is, as long as they give me one and let me move on with my life. It is the uncertainty that is making me crazy. If they don’t want me, I can arrange for accommodation, insurance and all that jazz for my second choice of university (who have presented me with an unconditional offer months ago) and I can just live my life.

I am now doomed to spend another 31 hours checking my emails and having frequent panic attacks. Part of me is filled with rage and the other one is begging for mercy. “Desperation” is the word that sums up both aspects.

Have mercy on me, University of Edinburgh, you f****** bitch!

B x

The Gilmore Girls Therapy

Whenever I have to sort out my life I do so watching Gilmore Girls. It is perfect. It is practically made for running in the background while I pay bills, clean my flat and make big life decisions. I’m not sure why. I guess it’s the perfect blend of interesting and trivial.

Plus, 77 episodes is the perfect length for a series that you can watch again and again: It is long enough that although I watched it a thousand times already I still can’t speak along the dialogue. And it is such a strong independent woman show. It motivates me to get a grip and move on with my life, live it. Okay, yes, that sounded a bit melodramatic. After all that would mean ‘living my life’ is checking emails, making doctor’s appointments and mobbing the floor. But, after all, sorting out my life, however boring, is better than sleeping all day and putting off showering for too long (to justify it, I tell myself that I’m giving my hair an all-natural conditioning… I know, sad). Plus, when I watch episodes of Gilmore Girls it isn’t even boring.

Also, Gilmore Girls is infinite inspiration. Rory Gilmore is my spirit animal. Just watching this show with its innumerable literary and pop culture references makes me want to do the things that I love doing. You know when you’re miserable and you know exactly what to do to stop being miserable, but you’re to miserable to do it? Yeah. Well, Gilmore Girls helps me escape that vicious circle. Who needs therapy, ay?

B x

Oh Liebster….

Here we go, finally. This is loooong overdue. Back in the day (like a month ago or so) Tezzy over at The Tezzy Files nominated me for a Liebster Award (thanks again and sorry for leaving it so long!) and I’ve put it off until another nomination kind of forced me to get moving. Thanks for finding me Lost Girl!

What do I do now? The more or less official rules state that one should mention the person(s) who nominated you, answer their 11 questions and then nominate 11 other bloggers to answer 11 questions that you made up. Well, I guess I just gotta answer 22 questions then.

Let’s start with Tezzy’s questions, shall we?

  1. What is your biggest blogging inspiration? Life, I guess. All the rumblings going in and out of my brain. Books and TV and food and songs and all of that.
  2. What is your best kept beauty secret? Oh, I’m a bit helpless when it comes to make up and all of that. But, I do believe in moisturizer. For me, moisturizing is almost a sacred process, it makes everything better.
  3. Describe your personal style in 5 words. Casual, confused, comfortable, (I’m running out of words starting with C, sorry) low-brow, spontaneous
  4. If you had all the money in the world, what would you be doing? Travelling the world, although that’s a cliche. I guess after some time I’d buy a nice flat in central London, enroll at UCL (seriously who can afford nine grand a year plus living in London) and study various languages for a decade or so.
  5. List three things you’d want to have on you if you were stranded on a deserted island. A really good friend (preferably someone who could double as a lover), sun tan lotion (aka moisturizer with SPF) and a fully stacked e-reader with a million good books (and some bad ones so I can have a bit of a rant from time to time).
  6. Who is the one person you’d want with you on that island? Hm. I haven’t really found that really good friend who can double as a lover yet…
  7. Name a celebrity you aspire to be. Scarlet Johannson. I adore/idolize/worship her.
  8. The genie in the lamp grants you three wishes. What will they be? Ok. For starters, I’d like to be more capable of everyday life. Stop forgetting or losing things or always being late, for example. Then, I wish I could cook. For that, I would not only need the skills of a master chef, but also the patience to spend more than 10 minutes in front of a stove. Oh, and I’d like some self-confidence, please. Not too much, but a decent amount.
  9. What is your fondest childhood memory? I remember the books I read as a child as if the plots were my own memories. My favourite author was Astrid Lindgren, so when I think of my childhood, I always think of the Swedish countryside.
  10. Name a food dish that takes you back to your childhood. I was an extremely picky child. I didn’t eat meat or most vegetables, so whenever I went to dinner at my grandparents’ all I ate was potatoes with gravy, and it was my favourite dish in the whole world.
  11. What is your biggest food craving as an adult? Um. Any kind of Greek food. Especially gigantes, giant beans.

That was only the first batch, friends, hang in there. Moving on… Here are Kassandra’s questions:

  1. Why did you start your blog? To relieve my friends and family of some of the thoughts that cross my mind and need to be shared with the world.
  2. If you could make a living blogging would you quit your current job? I’m a student, so no. Also, I think it wouldn’t do me good.
  3. What topic do you wish you could blog about, but are too afraid? Um, hard to say. I played with the idea of writing a post titled “10 extremely unhealthy (but effective) dieting tips”, which I, as a former anorexic, am an expert on. But it’s a bit of a downer and I hate the idea that someone might be influenced negatively by it, so no no.
  4. Do you share your blog with family and friends? No. The idea is to find another outlet for my crazy thought processes. Also it’s quite liberating not to.
  5. Has your blog ever upset a family member or friend? Hence, no.
  6. Everyone on earth subscribed to your blog, what would your next blog post be about? How awesome the Netflix series ‘Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt’ is.
  7. Name one celebrity you wish was reading your blog. (This person can be living or dead.) Scarlet Johannson (see above)
  8. Who/what is your favorite blogger/blog? I love Flavorwire.
  9. Would you ever want to collaborate on a post with another blogger? Hm… No. I’m more of a solitary worker/writer/blogger. I love interacting with others, but teaming up isn’t my strong spot.
  10. Which blog topic is your guilty pleasure? Ugh this is easy. There is something perversely satisfying in blogging about blogging (about blogging).
  11. What is the one thing you really dislike about blogging? The guilty feeling in my throat when I don’t tend to my blog regularly.

I MADE IT!! Just gotta come up with my own stuff now, very sorry if it turns out to be a bit random…

I nominate:

100 Days Of Sunshine     Tenure, She Wrote     That’s So Jacob     Dark Roast     Paige Hanson     Ellis Goes On Holiday     Finding My Inner Zen     Stories From The Belly     Some Type Of Artist     I Refuse To Follow Your Blog     Storyshucker

And here are my questions:

  1. What is your signature dish?
  2. Your favourite Britney Spears song?
  3. What do you catch yourself doing when you think nobody is looking?
  4. If you started a cult, who (or what) would you worship?
  5. Who is your weirdest celebrity crush?
  6. Honestly, what do you think was there first, hen or egg?
  7. Imagine you could ban one phrase that people keep saying (like “What up” or “That’s what she said” or “Zu Risiken und Nebenwirkungen fragen Sie Ihren Arzt oder Apotheker*”), which one would it be?
  8. Would you rather live in a house or a flat? And why?
  9. What’s your favourite meme/gif?
  10. What’s the most tasteless item you own?
  11. Which 11 bloggers do you want to nominate for the Liebster Award?

I know the last one is a cheat, but I’m really hungry now and I’ve decided to treat myself to sushi today, so I need to go 😉

B x

Of Horses And Men… Or Why Artsy Cinema Just Isn’t For Me

I have this vision of myself: creative, open-minded and cultured. Every once in a while I try and expose myself to the kind of things that I suppose would enhance this self-image, I see live music and visit a gallery and eat fancy food and all of that. Except, most of the time, I have to find that I am very much not cultured and hip. I prefer classic food (as in the kind of food that 6-year-olds enjoy) to innovative cuisine, art in museums is just a bit full-on for my taste and I get intimidated if I don’t know all the words to all the songs that a band plays like everyone around me seems to.

Today I have encountered another excellent example for this. Instead of sitting on my sofa watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory I went to the cinema. The cinema itself made me feel the way I wanted to feel: serious and thoughtful. Not only did it show funky off-mainstream films, but the whole make-up of it was unconventional. I mean, it didn’t even sell popcorn. And if you did decide to buy a soft drink, you were presented with an organic lemonade by a small local business. Also, no trailers! What a shame! I love the trailers and at that precise moment, organic lemonade in hand, I would have been eager to see what other artsy movies were coming to the cinema. But no.

Let’s cut to the chase. The film I went to see is called ‘Of Horses And Men’ (I know: “Of Mice And Men”, “Of Monsters And Men”, “Of Horses And Men”…? What next??). It is and Icelandic production and, according to the Guardian review “deserved its cult status”. Well, let’s see about that, shall we? Because she’s been riding Icelandic horses for years and because organic lemonade isn’t cheap (I’m just a poor student, ok), I brought my mum with me. When the film was over and the lights were turned on we both sat there, stunned.

You might want to see the film for yourself, but brace yourself. I’m fine with the dark, dry humour, but the film is just too graphic and grisly for me. They just never panned out, and lingered way too long. The disclaimer that followed the film “No horses or people were hurt during the making of this film” was truly needed, which is just really not a good sign. Here are my two top worst moments in this film (spoiler alert!):

  • A farmer cuts through a barbed wire fence that another farmer had built over a public road. The second farmer, enraged by the ruined fence, chases after farmer no. one with a small tractor. Riding away on his horses, this farmer, fleeing, encounters yet another fence, which he tries to cut through in a hurry. The barbed wire slings back and whips across his face. Blood everywhere, farmer blinded. Still, he manages to get up on this horse, instructing it to just bring him home. At this point, the other farmer catches up to him, is horrified by when he sees the bloody zombie-like face and drives off the cliff in his tractor.
  • Having met “la mujer de mi vida”, a South American tourist decides to learn how to ride a horse to impress the Swedish horse lady he met. To do so, he joins a horse travel trip, but not knowing how to spur on his horse, he soon get’s left behind. A struggle for survival ensues, in the midst of a snow storm. He kills his horse, cuts it open, removes its insides and crawls inside it. Days later, they find the horse and pull him out, alive. In the ending, he proceeds and encounters the Swedish girl.

Afterwards we found the film was open to anyone aged 12 or over. I mean, twelve!! If I’d seen this film at the tender age of twelve, I would have been scarred for life. Also, I would probably avoid Iceland and its inhabitants at any cost. Which brings me to my next point: What is wrong with those people?? I imagine that when you live on a quite isolated island near the arctic, things do get weird. It’s like a friendship group that develops its own ‘a little too dark’ and ‘a little too dirty’ private jokes when they spend a lot of time together, but this is just beyond normal (I do realise that this is some hard-core generalizing, soz).

So, no more artsy cinema for me in the near future. This morbidity is gonna last me for a while.

B x

If Only I Had Mons

For a while now I’ve been keeping a list on my phone titled “If only I had mons”. It started out as a collection of items I could possibly purchase if I had money left at the end of the month, but soon evolved to including things I’d buy “If I won the lottery” (for which I’d have to play the lottery in the first place) and “If I didn’t think these are totally overpriced/useless/unnecessary”. Ladies and gents, here it is so far:

Cross trainer
Trail running shoes
Books
Really good olive oil
An infinite supply of razor blades
Water filter
Really expensive cosmetics: clinique, benefit, bumble&bumble and the like
A wine glass
Laser eye surgery
First aid kit
Lingerie
A car
Philips alarm clock
Membership for workaway
Sushi
Magazine subscriptions
Hiking socks (they are literally SO comfy)
Wine decanter
Yoga clothes
A tortoise
An apartment in an expensive city (London or Copenhagen or something)
An armchair

What items make your “if only” shopping list?

B x

Komm wir gehn’, komm wir gehn’…

Dear friends, today is the day. I have to admit, usually I despise music in German. And I have a point: a lot of it is just horrifically horrid. Yet, here we are, and I am sharing with you guys a song that I have grown to love. In German.

At first, I didn’t like it. There are really corny rap sequences that I still don’t appreciate as such, but the song has grown on me with every homemade stereo it blasted from at German festivals, inexplicably linked to the taste of beer and that shabby but gorgeous open air music feeling. For a few summers this has been the song playing on repeat in my head when I stumble-danced back to my tent after a long night of singing and dancing and drinking. That opening still makes me perk up. Dis my jam.

I’m putting your hopes up. It is a shabby song. But so good. Here’s the original and the translation of the chorus:

Do you want to take drugs with me?
It’ll rain red roses then.
That’s how I saw it on TV
Do you want to take drugs with me?

Come, come let’s go.
Come let’s go down the drain together.
Come, cos a wreck is a place
Where a treasure’s hiding.

Also I found this amazing remix by Robin Schulz that doesn’t have all the corny verses, only the first part of the chorus (sadly also not the catchy guitar thingy playing in the background).

B x