spent.

error logs full. uptime not guaranteed.
to do or not to do. ignore.
managed. by elimination. return.
pointer to an empty array. default.
intersections. overlaps. override. overload.

no user interface. no interaction. integration. no.
spaghetti. code. life. combustible mixture.
delegate. deteriorate. renegade. resolution?

purpose? purpose. what if? else. to do. tadaa.
spe.nt.

4 hours, 12 minutes ago, at midnight, I turned 24. The small party, good wishes, and drinks are now just a near memory, some marginally alcohol-tinged breath, the lingering smell of smoke pervading my hair. 40 minutes from now, I’m heading to the airport to catch an early plane to a day-conference. That’s life catching up with me. I’m not sleeping in and spending the day lazy and spoiled tomorrow, 4 hours into my 24th year, I’m packing to go to a conference, to discuss life-altering issues like cost-benefit sharing, incentives, and supply chains.

(in keeping with tradition,) Happy birthday moi.

I somehow find myself in a minivan, with some other researchers, heading to a foreign city for a conference. I watch detachedly as I get up at 5:30 in the morning, pack an overnight bag, shower, put on a suit, grab a terrible coffee from the only open place I see, and head towards the meeting point.

A rebelious part of me, the part that refuses in any way to be shackled by life, held back by responsibilities, and let down by adulthood wakes up at some point during the packing. He shudders when he sees me packing a pajama and groggily grabs for his music; a lifeline through the fourth dimension of my existence.He refuses to take it off while showering, shaving, teeth-brushing, dressing, and commuting. At the meeting point, he relents and allows me to utter a few incomprehensible words to my colleagues. The headphones come back on. Skip Ashkenazy playing Chopin and move on to Angra.

Laptop on, browse through photos for flickr. Type up blog post.

It’s been a winding trip that’s led me to this minivan, and this new life. Sometimes, I don’t really understand my choices, sometimes I doubt them, and my abilities. Still, i’m on the minivan, aren’t I?

Only in German supermarkets will you find peanut butter in the “non-food” section. Peanut butter. Not food. Sad. So.Very.Sad.

Also, I just saw someone using my old nickname/nom-du-blog… the one I’d had for several years, and had recently stopped using. I said it out loud, and it rang hollow. It didn’t mean a thing to me. A bit later, I felt kinda sad… but it’s as if that part of that phase of my life is a distant experience… not close to a memory… bah. Time.

I have a strange relation to my two-seat couch when using my laptop. I can only work if I’m sitting on the left side… If I try working when on the right side, I fall asleep, or I start a game of cards. If I try playing a game while sitting on the left side, I lose terribly, feel disgusted by the game and stop playing.

Overheard tour-guide in Berlin:

“So, post-war Germany was to be divided between the allies. The Americans took parts of West Germany, the British controlled parts of North-western Germany, and the Russians took parts of East Germany. Then the French said they wanted a part, since they thought they were Allies too… hehe, seriously.”

First the news: I have been accepted as a researcher at a top university here… one of the best in europe, actually. It’s perfect, I will now be working on my Ph.D., researching a very interesting field, earning good money and will have the stability I have wanted for so long. I’m so excited… things are just fantastic!

In other news, I have sadly learned that i’m a snorer. A terrible snorer. Worse than trains, trams and rowdy football fans. Seriously! This came as a shock to me.

I had known that I snored (a bit) when I didn’t sleep in my own bed, but I’d never known it was like this. A friend had been visiting with me, and I was under the impression that she was sleeping like a baby. Then, a couple of nights ago, my girlfriend stayed over as well… that morning, they both were exchanging glances, and when pressed, admitted that I had waken them up at night. My guest then proceeded to tell me that she would be basically awake between 3 and 7 am because of my snoring, my girl said that it was so bad that she got scared at night, and that she always considered going home because she assumed that 4 hours of actual sleep were better than 8 with the snore monster. My roommate, who’d slept in my room a few nights when we first moved in, came out and said that yes, when I did snore, it was terrible. He apparently could hear me snoring through two shut doors and a thick wall. My cousin suddenly remembered that he used to throw things at me to stop me when I used to sleep over… And blissfully unaware moi had no idea. NONE! Who would imagine that the 3-4 hours of sleep that I get cause so much trouble? Then again, I’d be sleeping, and as one ancient chinese philosopher used to say: “If one snores in one’s sleep, does one hear oneself? That is the question asked to a tree falling noiselessly in the woods while trying to catch a fly with a chopstick.” In other words… who the hell cares?

Finally, I’m pleased and proud to introduce Kreuz!

Kreuz is an over-sexed, under-achieving monster who has no inhibitions. He will be joining us regularly… unless he gets bored and goes away. Please say hi.

Some guy called Tempest, who once had a blog, had a disclaimer that stated that all his posts were induced by an emotional state, happiness, sadness, etc… but never when normal. That isn’t true, as I have recently learned.

I went to sleep a couple of nights ago and I heard this women singing. I look out my window and see a black american lady talking about gospel music and singing some songs… THIS is my new neighborhood. Quite a change, let me tell ya.

I haven’t blogged because I moved into a new flat, and haven’t been working for a while. This means no regular access to the net, ergo, no comfortable surroundings to blog. That was the excuse, or the reason that none could argue with. The more honest LeRamz would actually admit that he was going through a rough patch. That is behind me, hopefully. Existential angst and what not… work, university, carreer, and her… not in that particular order, mind you…

Anyway, I restarted smoking… I still want to stop, but I won’t force myself to go through a weird phase just in order to quit smoking. I got wasted this one night and it triggered a chain reaction which culminated in me thinking things through (I admit… thinking sucks… it always lead to negative thoughts… more on that at some point). I thought things through and realised that it was all within my hands… and I took control. Nothing resolved, but all under control. whatever.. i’m not one to philosophise.

I start work again on monday, so I’ll have somewhere to upload my photos and blog posts from… maybe I’ll finally write about rome and the other shit from earlier… maybe I’ll just drink myself to sleep and forget.

This summer is shaping up to be something fantastic, friends coming over, living with my best friends in one of the coolest (hottest?) streets in town [KastanienAllee for you who are familiar with Berlin's Mitte]…

Yup, yup. My window overlooks the street itself, kinda loud but that’s beyond the point. There’s nothing better than waking up, looking out of the window and having two hot Mitte chicks walking down the street look up at you… let me tell ya.

I fell asleep to the singer’s gospel songs…

“I’d choose jesus over silver and gold… silver and gold, silver and gold…”

you realise you’re being assimilated when you run out at 22:07, pass by the store quickly to get a couple of beers, and run to catch the 22:10 bus. two beers,running after bus, and sipping on the beer. You reach the bus and jump in as the driver closes door, hitting you in the head. A few seconds of staring him down later, you say: “I’m ok” to which he responds “yeah… no spilled beer”. You wonder if that is an examle of racism or simple priorities.

You get off the bus and come crashing down to Earth. The two beers the cute store assistant handed you were Alcohol-free. A German would have picked up on that miles away. It took you 10 minutes. Your friends spot you walking with Alc-free beer and recognize the beer almost before they recognize you!

Lesson learned: There is NO alcohol-free Whiskey.

It just grinds my gears that whenever you’re using a train or some other rail-based public transportation, you see so many perfect photo opportunities…

Speaking of photos, I’m finally getting recognition. The past month, I’ve gotten four requests to use my photos… a magazine in Hamburg doing a feature on flickr will include one of my photos with a description that I wrote and a small biography on me. An online photo magazine will feature another photo. Two of my photos have been short-listed and will probably be included in a Berlin tour book, and an author will use several of my architecture photos in a book he’s writing. I will add links to the photos and where they’re published as soon as I have the details… in the meantime… yay me!

ps: I’m famous, so this is no longer an attempt at getting recognition… if you’re interested the flickr link is in the sidebar… tons of nice photos there. I’d personally recommend the architecture, red, or rail sets… actually… fuck it… It’s all awesome.

So, I caved. Yesterday was very stressful, and I ended up drinking half a bottle of Jack and smoking a whole pack.

This doesn’t mean that I’m smoking again… just a momentary lapse. I’m afraid, though, that when I move into my new flat (best friends, awesome street…. smack in the middle of town)… I won’t be able to resist. Half of our daydreams involved smoking at one point or the other. We’ll see.

Jimmy, I’m not giving up drinking… who do you think I am, Mother Theresa?

Crap. It’s been over three weeks since I came back from Rome, it’s about time I told you guys about that… and uploaded some photos. Maybe later. Suffice to say, there are a lot of things going on around me right now… work, PhD, plans, romance, etc… and me being me, that means I’m oscillating between ecstacy and self-loathing at fairly regular intervals. It’s so annoying that I’ve gotten used to it.

I hate being proven right sometimes. I always held out hope that being decent will eventually reap you rewards. But I said that it’s the assholes that win. At least when it comes to ‘relationships’, that seems to be true. Being the nice guy had me pussy-whipped and appologizing regardless of the situation. Ignoring her, her calls, and her text messages for just a few hours got her worried and made her realize that she couldn’t take me for granted. Ugh. Things should be simpler, but they’re not. Simply ignoring someone I care about annoys me like hell, the cool player in me from three years back seems to be hibernating… I’m not sure I can (or want to) (or can deal with) waking him up again… but it sure as hell would make things simpler…

Ah whatever… Photography. Crazy Romans with their crazy lives… up next on the rollercoaster realm of r.

I quit smoking over two weeks ago. I felt like it. For probably the first time, I realised that I didn’t want to smoking. So I quit. It hasn’t been easy all the time, and various factors have helped me go on. but I’ve noticed a lot of changes already… the negative ones would include a huge appetite, sleepiness, mood changes and occasional nervousness and edginess. The good ones would include sprinting after the bus, catching it, and recovering before the end of the trip, being told that you smell good, being able to work out more, and finally, having your clothes smell like someone you like instead of smelling like cigarettes. Such a beautiful smell at that.

I’m off to Rome. Woohoo. 6 days of sunshine (maybe), mediterranean chaos, photography and distance… my first real vacation with absolutely no responsibilities in ages…

I will also be plotting, over there…. muhahaha… oh yes, I will be plotting and scheming… sweet revenge…

In the meantime don’t do anything you wouldn’t do if I’m around… that means you, thermo.

I’ve been an embodiment of Jeckyll and Hyde for quite some time… except that I oscillate between happiness and sadness, rather than good and evil. Along the lines of that novel, my transition phases used to be more painful, but the lulls in between were long enough to adapt to… with time things have changed… the transition has become part of my being, it’s neither painful nor unique, it just is… the lulls can no longer be called thus, they are way too short and way too instable. I could transform several times a day, I no longer notice myself transforming. I wake wake up in this state or that. I blink, and bam, the nutcracker is squeezing my heart, bam, I’m the king of the world… The lulls are painful. They are now merely phases spent in anticipation of the next change, phases where I exxagerate everything, where I pretend to be ecstatic, in hope of convincing myself that that is a fact, and storing some positive images for the inevitable fall.

It’s joyful, it’s painful, and I don’t trust myself anymore.

guys… you’re great.

I’m not in love. I was exxagerating, of course… it helps to rant and pour it all out… I actually still like her, I still want to be friends… a good night’s sleep, discussing it, getting it off my chest over here, and getting wasted, helped… It’s not such a big deal, I’ve dealt with it… bottom line is, the whole thing lied with me… hell… if it wasn’t for me not wanting to censor myself i’d remove parts of that old post… but no, it’s healthy.

I got it all out of my system… things aren’t half bad… things are good, actually… well, not really, but i’m optimistic for the first time in a while… It had to happen… everything had to happen this way, I needed to get everything back on track…my career, my studies, the girl, my life, etc…

for some reason, I can’t wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow is a good day. Don’t ask why…. tomorrow is a fucking good day. And tomorrow, I start writing the new book… whether I make it past the first paragraph is beyond me,  but that’s not the point. Tomorrow, I start writing the new book, it won’t be different, per se… if possible, it’ll be even more real, even more to the point, and hopefully, it’ll finally allay the doubts that run rampant through my veins…

A friend told me, the other night… and this wasn’t part of any issue… just out of the blue:

“Kiss her like the dog you are, and get medieval!”

I can’t help cracking up whenever I think of that.

I’ve been expecting this for a while. It’s happened often enough before that I’ve learned to live with it, to feed off of it, even, somehow, to enjoy it.

It’s been a struggle staying happy and cheerfull. It shouldn’t be that way. I’ve tried forcing myself, I’ve tried convincing myself, hell, I’ve even tried force-feeding it to others…. but enough. It was always hollow… it’s not right when you have to make an active effort to feel joy, satistfaction, relaxation, or passion. It’s just wrong.

Four issues have been weighing me down. Emotional, Carreer-related, Academic and Familial. Between yesterday and today, all four came to confrontations. I did a stupid work-thing out of sheer frustration. I was able to resolve that this morning…. that, at least, will be OK.

I’ve been waiting for my results, which I should have gotten a couple of weeks ago, to no avail. I called today, and it seems that the only thing missing is the grade from the secondary examiner. Don’t know him, don’t know how important his grade is, don’t know anything…. but at least I’m relieved… there was no snag with the first examiner.

Again, I’ve decided to risk it and just talk over my familial issues…. what’s the worst that could happen?

Here’s the thing, I believe in communication. Which brings me to the fourth issue that required some sort of resolution. Strangely, it’s the one issue that really holds me down, and keeps me unhappy. In ways, it’s the least important, but to me, it has occupied center-stage, if only because It’s the one area that can make me feel like I felt yesterday. It’s the only one that can squeeze my heart and not let go until I almost faint. Still, clarifying things up, by itself, is beneficial, regardless of the outcome.

Apparently, she had no idea I was attracted to her. This is where I started laughing. Wholeheartedly… for the first time in a while. I have the unfortunate gift of being able to see through people… and right there and then, I was shocked that I’d even liked her in the first place.

Apparently, the other night didn’t happen… I was laughing even harder…. Suddenly i’m seeing things? Suddenly, everyone around me is seeing things?

I’m secure enough to tell someone I like them, I’m secure enough to put myself out there…. I hate people trying to out-smart or confuse me. I’m good at that game, and that’s why I don’t play it. I can run loops around her as well as anyone else…

I won’t deny it. It hurt. That was to be expected. You like someone for a while, and then you realise it’s not going to happen… it’s not the greatest of feelings. I am able to get over that. But for that person, who you admired, to play dumb and try to put one past you…

Anyway, I told her not to flatter herself, indirectly, and that it was my issue to deal with… she was just a face. Lie. Whatever.

And then, I couldn’t smile anymore. It was another stab in that self-same spot. It aggravated old injuries, and left me weak and faint. I sometimes doubt that I can take these wounds… they’ll never heal, I think… and that’s what keeps me from being truly happy or at ease.

In ways, I’m still a fucking teenager.

I got wasted last night. I’ve rarely ever get drunk. I can keep my alcohol down. I never get drunk just from alcohol.

Here’s yesterday’s recipe:

Stab. Stab. Stab.

Realise that happiness is a far-off idea, that you’re in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

One carnation-instant-bitch.

9 large shots of MGFJ (My Good Friend Jack) downed within 30 minutes or so.

I vomited. I vomited in the bathroom. I vomited in the subway. I vomited on the street. I still am vomiting, on the inside. The vomit covers my wound, again, in something resembling a healing… but I know that wound is just waiting to be ripped open again. I know that I will probably let number four do the exact same thing. And that it will hurt just as much. And that I will blog it. I know all of that. And I vomit inside, at the knowledge.

I’m still vomiting. But that’s ok. I’ve learned to rise from this pain… it motivates me… I have my doubts, and my fears, and they grow every day… I’m not happy, I’m not at ease, I’m not enjoying my life. That’s also ok. I can take it, and more. I’ve dealt with this crap, and I can deal with it again… Each time, I’ll come out from the fight looking fresh and victorious. Each fight drives another nail into my coffin.

I told a friend last night “I’m not drunk… I’m disgusted”. I was drunk, but the only reason I got drunk was the disgust. Sadly, that’s how it’s always been.

M… you’re the best, thanks for being there yesterday.

An interesting personality test, based on the renowned Myers-Briggs categorisation. In my cases, it rang seemingly true, apart from a few very wrong assessments (imho).

I came out as a Genuine Experiencer. You can read more about my results here. You can take the test here.

My results put me in the ESTP category of Myers-Briggs, I used to be ENTP when I last took that test.

Below is my own personal dna (generated based on my results) and a table with a partial personality analysis. Just what a guy needs with his nightcap.

Confidence	Low——————————————————–High	12
Openness	Low——————————————————–High	88
Extroversion	Low——————————————————–High	86
Empathy	Low——————————————————–High	0
Trust in others	Low——————————————————–High	2
Agency	Low——————————————————–High	26
Masculinity	Low——————————————————–High	62
Femininity	Low——————————————————–High	46
Spontaneity	Low——————————————————–High	72
Attention to style	Low——————————————————–High	70
Authoritarianism	Low——————————————————–High	98
Earthy/Imaginative	Imaginative—————————————-Earthy	24
Aesthetic/Functional	Functional————————————–Aesthetic	36

On the subway ride home, a few days ago, I happened to glance at the wagon behind mine, and was pleasantly stunned to see it exclusively occupied by hotties. Two of them were keeping themselves busy by looking at me, whispering to each other, and giggling. I had half a mind to go over, but thought better of it. With my luck, they’d all be going to some lesbian convention across town… or more probably, they’d all be in committed relationships.

That’s been the case more often than not recently. Speaking of which… I’ve been interested in this one girl for a while. She’s got a boyfriend, but had shown definite interest in me as well. It was, as far as I knew, and according to people we both know, mutual. I’d enjoyed the innocent flirting, and the constant contact with her, since she’s an awesome girl.

Then, a few days ago, as well, we happened to go drinking with a few friends. From the onset, she was taking the initiative. I, on the other hand, wasn’t so sure. I enjoyed the closeness the intimacy, and the soft touches,  but the fucked up gentleman inside me kept chewing my brains out. A cool new friend who was there kept trying to convince me to go for it. In retrospect, she had a point. We left together, and I walked her to her station. I regretted it from the beginning, but on the other hand, I wasn’t completely unsatisfied.

It didn’t help that she also looked ridiculously gorgeous.

She’d turned it on, and she’d went for me. It wasn’t a complete loss.

Was I pleased? Yes.
Was something going to come out of it? I didn’t know. I still don’t know.
Was I satisfied? Well, tie me up, spank me silly, and call me Judy.
Do I regret it still? Yup.

Deliver us from temptation, they say? It gently ripped me apart from inside, and yet I resisted. Is that all you got? I say. Bring it on, papa bear.

That was then, we’ve seen each other again since. I took her aside, and told her (stating the obvious) that I really liked her. I didn’t expect anything in return, but I wanted to let her know.

The end result, I still don’t know. She didn’t move away, she didn’t mention her boyfriend, she just looked at me with those big, gorgeous brown eyes. Some happiness, some sadness, some signs of understanding. Nothing new.

It felt good getting it off my chest, it felt good knowing that once again, I’d played by my own rules, and not followed society’s stupid norms.

I’ll probably just wait and see.

That makes three. Third time’s a charm, they say… no?

I almost got run over by a bicycle today… around noon… up early, heading to rehearsals, feeling cheerful (somewhat) and meditating an important decision… listening to the doors…

I step into the bike lane, and at the last second, notice a girl riding a book straight towards me… I step back, dancing, and sing “keep your eyes on the road…” she rings her bell… and I hear her sing as she passes “your hands upon the wheel…”

I get on the subway… I’m so immersed in the music, I seriously missed my stop several times… the first time, I got out, drove back, and went an extra station by mistake… luckily, a friend ran into me, and kept me from getting out at the wrong station for a third time…

I overshot by two stations on the way back home… again, blame Jim… (actually, you can also blame Mr. Jack).

That wasn’t the high (low) point of my day… I did something that took a weight off my chest, but was probably not a very smart thing to do… we’ll see… you’ll hear about it later tonight.

Don’t you just love people who only ask a question and sincerely listen for your answer when they already know the truth, are not satisfied with it, and are hoping that you’d give a different answer which they can accept and blame any resulting issues on you.

I was giggling uncontrollably during this conversation:

“You’re late.”

“For what?”

“Nothing.”

“Huh?”

“If I had reserved a table at that place, like I was thinking of doing, you’d have been late.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“We agreed that we weren’t going to eat there.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“If I had reserved a table at that place, like I was thinking of doing, you’d have been late.”

“Sorry?”

I guess I have no respect for imaginary appointments… heaven help me.

I have a flatmate who knocks on the bathroom door whenever it’s locked. The other one also picked up this habit. I don’t get it. Is there no more respect for the sanctity of taking a dump?! Is it forbidden to bathe in peace? can I still brush my teeth?
I’m soaking in the bathtub after a long day… relaxing in a sort of decadent way… a glass of whiskey, music playing, and I’m having visions when suddenly, the knocking starts.
Knock knock.
“what!”

“who’s there?”
“fuck off. I ask that! You’ve got the joke wrong.”
“who’s there?” (I should note here, that it was a guy knocking and asking, and we’re the only two guys in the flat)
“amos… amosquito”
“what?”
“potty…who do you think it is!”
“oh.”
Another time, I’m up early in the morning, draining the sea monster, when the knocking starts.

“Jesus! What do you want?”
“Are you going to be long?”
“I wasn’t… until you started knocking, blaster. What’s wrong with you people!”
“Umm… I have to brush my teeth”
“And?”
“Are you going to be long?”
I stopped answering…
Where in the book of fucking etiquette is this sort of thing discussed?!

I mean seriously.

ps:Blaster and Potty are ‘fictional characters’ that happen to live with me. Any resemblance to people, dead or annoying, is purely coincidental. You’ll be hearing more of them for the next couple of months.