Outside our flat, November 2010

Today, while Facebook messaging an old school friend of mine, I realised it’s almost exactly five years ago that I graduated from school. It’s kind of funny to think about it, the expectations I had and all the things I did since leaving school and my old hometown forever.

The thing is, I never cared too much about school. I’m sure a lot of people had a different idea of me but I was just very lucky to have a more or less good grasp of things, my short-term memory never failed me and I was able to not study very much at all and still get by and have fairly good grades. Surprisingly good to be honest. I didn’t care about most social aspects of the whole thing either. From the age of thirteen or fourteen I’d always socialised outside of school, I had friends from everywhere and instead of going to the local cocktail bars on the weekends, we would travel the country to go to gigs or simply make plans for our future and listen to our favourite bands, obsessing over small things and being teenage angsty and sentimental, gin in teacups, that sort of thing.

I remember meeting one of my favourite teachers some time after my graduation. She told me I was one of those people who are noticeably looking forward to their graduation and thoroughly prepare for it. Apparently something within me changed quite a bit during the last few months of school. The prospect of a new life was so close and I remember being terribly impatient.

But I did what I had planned on doing long ago: I moved out. This was one of the most important steps for me and probably one of my best decisions ever. I remember that a lot of people didn’t really get it – me, being seventeen years old, packing my bags, renting an apartment and living my own life. How I would call my own place “home”, rather than the house my parents lived in. How I would spend my semester holidays doing my own things rather than moving back into my old bedroom. But it was what I wanted and it did me good.

I moved again, still went to uni and kept doing my thing. The narrow-mindedness bored me, I wanted to go to other places and do other things so I graduated and decided I would never go back. I remember being frustrated since the continuation of my education didn’t live up to my expectations at all. It all happened so quickly, I finished my last exams, quit my job and on my last day of uni I packed my bags again and left for Berlin. Why not? I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I started working in retail and became pretty good, I made money and moved in with my friends. There were parties, drinks, tears, hot summers and freezing cold winters, quiet nights in and messy nights out, tattoos, black coffee, angst and doubts, old friends and new friends, electronic music, blood, sweat and light-hearted happiness.

Now here I am. I still have the same ideas and ideals. I’m the same person, really. I might look a bit different, I might seem more confident in myself but I’m the same girl. I’ve only learned a lot. I don’t know if I’m the cool person I thought I would be by now five years ago but I get by. I do an interesting job without slaving away. My hair is long again and naturally red, I’m tattoed and I know how I like to dress, sometimes I think I actually look alright. I listen to great music and read amazing books. I have friends, I know people, I know how the big city works. It all works out. And I know that if I’m ready I can just pack my bags again and leave, just like that. That’s all I ever wanted five years ago: my own life.

Added some colour to my lates tattoo today, more red roses and another universe. Again done by Robekkah at Tatau Obscur.

Polaroids by Michi. I promise I will be more active on here soon.

We started our day with a nice breakfast just off Kottbusser Tor and watched the streets getting busier and busier from the kitchen window before we headed out into the sun. It’s so hot at the moment, I can barely think, but it was a good day. Nothing crazy, just a nice day out in the parks and out on the streets.

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1. Today I had my first beer float. If you – like me – are not too familiar with absurd American food inventions, check this out. Yep, beer and vanilla ice. It was surprisingly tasty and I had two cups while we finished putting stickers on and sorting the new magazines in the office. Also: Is it iced coffee weather?
2. It’s Friday and I’m staying in tonight, doing my laundry and hair. Especially doing my laundry makes me feel like a boring house wife but to be fair, I can’t remember the last time I actually stayed in on a Friday so it’s nice for a change. I will make up for it by going out on May day after a nice breakfeast with friends in the heart of Kreuzberg. (I can’t believe I’ve just used this phrase myself, it’s probably one of the most overused advertising phrases I’ve ever read in my entire life and even though I don’t mind the expression too much, I can’t help but chuckle every time I read “heart of Berlin” and “heart of [insert district here]“.)
   
3. I’m currently trying out Google Drive and I like it so far. I like having all my things in one place, even if that means giving them all to Google – emails, RSS feeds, news, search, videos, files, even browser. The idea of that “second internet” both Google and Facebook are trying to create has been fascinating me for a while now. I mean, the thing is, it’s true, Google technically knows more about me than anybody else. And I don’t care. My life is so irrelevant, I have nothing to hide. Go ahead and make money out of my data, I’m well aware I’m the product, not the customer. Think about it. Now I only wish my Social Networks were in the same place, I seriously do, and I know it’s party my fault that it’s not happening because I don’t use Google+ either.
4. I started biking again & it’s amazing, so much batter than being stuck in the dark underground for an hour every day. I feel twice as healthy & my headaches are practically gone. Maybe Summer isn’t that bad after all…
5. By the way, I really love this song:
   

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Last weekend we went to a party, stayed until the next evening, danced, sat in the sun and I made a pearl necklace.

We made lemon squares for an office birthday and couldn’t help but make another batch for ourselves.

Two quick photos of my new tattoo which I got today. We decided to only do the outlines this time (which took four hours after all), there’s gonna be some colour added to it very soon. Again done by the amazing Robekkah at Tatau Obscur.

I started taking photos again, to help me remember all these things I usually forget. I’ve had an amazingly surreal weekend, so many people, faces, places, happenings and chlichés. I will do a proper update soon, but I first need to collect my thoughts again.

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Sometimes I wish I could be a tourist again in my city. Arriving at central station in the morning, looking forward to exploring the city further, doing things, being somewhere else. Public transport was exciting, having a coffee in café was exciting, going to bars was exciting, walking around was exciting. Everything was new and full of life.

I know, it’s not Berlin, it could be anywhere. It’s not even the city, it’s me.

The stations, I know them all by heart. I know all the ways and all the lines. I always know where to go, I just quickly check Google Maps on my phone. I look at my feet, I never look up anymore. Public transport is a pain in the arse, never on time, the trains are crammed, I’ll be late for work again I think, as I’m trying to shove through the crowd in the city centre. I just want everybody to leave me alone. The sun is shining, it’s beautiful, but I’ve seen it all before. I know how the city works and I know where to go. What, when, where. On weekends I go out to forget, to numb myself where the music is louder than the city outside, louder than the voices in my head. I don’t want to leave the house. The city is eating me alive, it’s chewing me up and spitting me out in the most random places. It’s called daily routine. It’s called overstimulation.

It’s not the city, it’s me.

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Dear Berlin,

I didn’t come here to have the time of my life and you know that. I didn’t come here to party, have fun, be wild – I came here to continue my existence and because I had nothing else to do. Maybe it was wild, maybe it was fun, maybe it wasn’t. I have never romanticised you and I never will, after all we had been friends with benefits for years before I eventually made the move. Don’t ever forget that. I don’t regret it, you’ve always been very kind to me and I’ve realised I need a city like you by my side: big, powerful, challenging, a city I can get lost in, a city that pushes me to my limits.

But you’re just a city, like every other city. I’ve seen you ice-cold and brutal, I’ve seen you warm-hearted and soft. Living with you can be a rollercoaster, you’re unpredictable and always have a surprise in store. You give me so much but I can’t give anything back. I’m not satisfied anymore and it’s not your fault. I’m sorry I’ve taken you for granted.

Don’t take it personally, it’s not you, it’s me. We’re all whiny cunts to be honest, we keep complaining about how you’re treating us, you soul-sucking bastard, how you’re playing with us like a cat plays with a half-dead mouse, how you drag us to every party and spike our drinks with rohypnol. We just won’t accept you for who you are. But I’m being honest with you here, I’m stuck with you and I need a break. One day I’ll be gone but don’t worry, I’ll be alright.

You always meet twice.

xo

Today I had the final touch-up done to my universe tattoo. It only took about an hour but I forgot how much I love getting tattoed. There’s definitely something therapeutic about it. Sure, we all know it’s addictive, but to me that’s always been a very lame excuse. I mean, you want it, you finally do it and realise it’s less of a big deal than you always thought it was. It hurts but it’s bearable, your body is trying to soothe the pain, the adrenalin and endorphines kick in and you feel great. It’s healing and hurts like a bitch but in the end it looks great. Finally you’re able to discover something new on your body. You’ve changed it, within a couple of hours. And of course you want to do it again.

I love planning my tattoos carefully, doing research, looking for examples, scribbling down my ideas. I love knowing that I’m making a decision for the rest of my life which, to be fair, is a pretty rare thing these days. I love seeing the final draft, the transfer, the outlines on my skin in black paint. I love the sound of the needle and the few seconds before it hits my skin, knowing there’s no return.

It’s one of the few things that actually makes me happy because it’s one of the only ways I know to change myself and add something to who I am. I have my next appointment in early April, it’s gonna be a bigger piece again and I’m excited!

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Welcome to my job. Two years ago I was working in a shop with a massive pair of boobs in the shop window. Today I work in an office –  but the boobs keep haunting me.

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I’m exhausted. My body is revolting against my mind and my mind is revolting against my body. I keep swallowing painkillers for my headache and typing the same shit over and over again, for the thousandth time, how I am stuck in a neverending loop of things waiting for something to happen that never comes, how I’m not a bored middle class loser, though, since I keep choosing this and deliberately deny myself anything else because I feel like I’m not ready yet. How I’m okay with that, yet not okay, how I want something else but don’t know what it is. How I keep boring people with my never ending ramblings.

A few years ago I was desperately chasing happiness. I was proud that I had finally realised life isn’t about what you have achieved, it’s not about a great and boring career or money, it’s about being “happy”. Waking up in the morning and feeling good, enjoying life, that kind of stuff. I started reading countless self-help blogs and even though I soon realised that this whole pink and glittery ~*My life is fabulous!*~ thing didn’t quite work for me, I felt good in the realisation that I could do whatever I wanted to do, I just had to go and fucking do it.

Things changed as I got older and realised I will never find this “happiness” I’m looking for, no matter how hard I try and change myself over and over again. I started wondering whether it was even worth it. One time I caused a bit of a debate by writing something on my blog that if people asked me what I wanted to do with my life, my answers would range between “die” and… I don’t even know. I had to explain to my friends several times that I’m not suicidal, let alone being disrespectful towards people who have actually died. I just didn’t have any prospects which meant the only thing I knew for a fact was that at some point, the next step in my life would be to die. It was the only thing I knew I would want to do one day.

I’m not religious, I don’t believe in heaven or hell and I don’t believe in rebirth, either. I believe that when we die, all our organs will stop working, we will stop thinking and all the tiny chemical reactions that defined who we are and now were, will stop, too, and leave us with nothing. Like when you close your eyes for a nap, wake up two hours later and don’t remember sleeping. Only without the waking up. Like The Nothing from The Neverending Story. Just nothing, not even memories. I like the idea of that. I like the logical consequence of it, that it doesn’t matter what you have done with your life. Maybe your happy life was easier to bear than your sad life but it will all be gone and won’t matter. It took me so long to realise that nothing ever matters. A lot of people seem to like the idea of lying on their deathbed, knowing they’ve had an amazing life, done everything they wanted to and enjoyed every second of it. I don’t, cos when it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It’s all so simple.

I can’t make it in to Cologne this year and I’m pretty sad so I’m baking traditional pastries for our office, listening to things like this full blast and wearing my new hat.

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♥ all the things that happen when you least expect them ♥ not having any cash & still getting by, it’s refreshing to go out with only five cents in my pocket & still have a good time ♥ leaving a lame party & sit in the back of a Spätkauf instead, drinking beer & talking about the most random things ♥ ordering my food online & allowing myself to indulge in fast food every other week ♥ meeting new, interesting people ♥ playing all my old, much-loved DOS games in Boxer – this was one of my childhood favourites ♥ the first snow, even though it means it’s fucking freezing outside & I don’t want to leave the house ♥ making memes and rage comics about situations in our flat ♥ my flatmate putting the “Let the garbage Jenga begin!” one up on the wall above our impressive garbage bag collection ♥ catching up on the latest episodes of Fringe & I don’t even know why ♥ finally having a washing machine in the flat ♥ dressing up ♥ Plants vs. Zombies ♥ very slowly making bigger future plans ♥ massive Sunday brunch at a nice restaurant with lovely people, followed by a walk through the snowy city, a short flea market visit and hot chocolate ♥ this web comic, I’m not gonna lie, it freaks me out every time ♥ sleepyti.me – it works, I swear! ♥ typography ♥ planning my next tattoo (standard!), collecting images & notes and taking them to my artist soon ♥ being ridiculously boring without feeling too guilty, lame and old ♥ messy weekends and productive weeks ♥ feeling alright and getting by ♥

Sorry for the lack of updates, I just don’t know what to write about.

Finally got more photos developed – some from this year and last year with mainly the same people in them.

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Fashion Week is over and I’m exhausted. And I don’t even care too much about fashion. The thing is, like everyone else I would always dress somehow, buy things I like and save up to buy even more things I like, but I never cared about the industry at all. I don’t find designers or models particularly glamorous, I never actively cared about trends, fabrics or even quality as I would just naturally go for the cheapest. It has changed a slight bit over the years and that’s clearly something Berlin, growing up and the internet did for me.

After doing the whole round of trade fair madness for the past couple of days, the party atmosphere at Bread & Butter and a more professional vibe at Premium, I made my way down to Toast & Jam on Thursday which had a pretty successful first day, too. Of course I didn’t say no to helping a little with the catwalk show and I always love a bit of stress, so I ended up helping my beautiful model into her vintage secretary outfit within split seconds, only to help her undress again and zip up her original 1950′s dress. It went surprisingly well, considering I normally barely manage to even dress myself. The rest of the time I spent working, looking at clothes and going out.

From a professional point of view, there’s clearly something about it. The rest is overshadowed by the idea of a fake exclusiveness, everyone trying their best to represent this big industry of the rich and beautiful by throwing free cocktails around, goodie bags, shows, music, bigger, better, brighter.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun and I’m grateful, but unimpressed.

I think the true reason we’re so indifferent is that we still wonder how to fit into that whole thing. We grew up learning that consumerism is boring and superficial, we used to be poor students, now we have jobs and we still can’t decide where we belong. We’re downing bottles of Sternburg on the streets and drinking free cocktails with a view over the nightly Berlin, surrounded by Italian fashion people in suits. We’re not hip, we’re not glamorous and decadence doesn’t suit us very well, neither does a plain working life. We’re part of something and part of nothing and as long as it’s fun, I don’t even care.

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A quick life update, and again, I’m in bed. A few days ago my right ear stopped working properly and it turned out there’s fluid behind my eardrum and I will have to have it cut open in a minor operation to be able to hear properly again. Being German I shouldn’t complain about the healthcare system but finding a doctor was kind of a nightmare, having my insurance cover the whole thing another one and besides the fact I can’t work and concentrate and now have a shitload of work to catch up with, I am on antibiotics, drowsy, nauseous and just generally annoyed. The other day I was joking about it being yet another cheesy life lesson, something like “Don’t ever take your senses for granted.” and to whoever thought I had to learn this lesson, trust me, I have.

In other news, Fashion Week is coming up again next week, and even though I don’t care too much about the actual fashion or the runway shows, I guess it should be fun. Ridiculously overdressed people all over the city, desperately hoping to get their photo taken by as many street style blogs as possible, people fighting over dead-ugly brand tote bags at Bread & Butter and the like, free food and drinks everywhere, random events, fairs and parties… And a nice change of scenery and routines for me, especially after a weekend like this one which I’m going to spend at home with the company of nose spray, antibiotics and my bed.