Bloggerific

Guess who had a surprise 4 hour meeting today. Guess who then had to miss lacrosse practice after work because he had to make up for the 4 hours of work he was expecting to be able to do all afternoon. Stupid work.

I joined a lacrosse team here in Hannover this week. The guys are really cool. I have this feeling that they get really fucking crazy, too. Last night was the hardest drinking I've done in a while.

Should be a lot of fun. And a good chance to meet some cool Germans and to improve on my own language zkillz.

PS - I love my new computer, QWERTZ keyboard and all.

http://www.hitachigst.com/hdd/research/recording_head/pr/PerpendicularAnimation.html

Last night, I had this crazy, crazy dream.

In typing the following dream, I remembered another dream that took place before it. I was with someone, I think it was my cousin Ryan. We were at this crazy sports field, probably somewhere in Germany. We found out later it was a softball field of sorts. We decided to play and somehow, the teams wound up being me and Ryan against a full team of Germans. The game was set up really weird, so we had to be taught the rules first. It was basically just like softball, except the pitches came from the side. Imagine a fence along the third base line. Now on the 'out of bounds' side of the fence, put a pitcher who throws the ball down the third base line to the plate. Anyway, I sucked at this game. The Germans gave me a very hard time because it's supposed to be an 'american' game but I'm no good at it. That was the softball part of the dream. The rest is not really connected, except in dream-chronology.

So there were these evil knights who were climbing this tower to get to some mystical treasure with special powers which they intended to use for evil purposes. This tower was quite run down. Holes in the stairwell, etc. The knights were all dressed in evil armor (which generally just means black) and they had horses following them. Well, one good horse snuck in behind the other horses. The camera pans up to his face and zooms in and you see a grin on his long face and in his eyes. The good horse starts to nudge the evil horse in front of him in the butt so he moves forward. He keeps doing this, faster and faster until finally, evil knights and evil horses at the front of the line start to fall out of the tower. The plummet all the way to the bottom and die. For some reason, Justin and I are standing down there with a dog. I don't think it is The Woofer, just another dog. The evil knights die and we decide to go. We walk over to this big field where there is a chicken tied up. We go over to the chicken and I start to untie it. The chicken is totally tame and is friendly. Then Justin's like, 'I can't wait to eat this thing, its going to be so delicious.' The chicken, who understands english, starts freaking out. I get the chain undone from the ground but now the chicken is swinging like a pendulum. I don't remember if we tried to cut its legs off with scissors then or what. (PETA, this was only a dream, I would never try to cut the legs of a chicken off with scissors.) I woke up before we could cut the legs off the chicken or kill it or feed it to anyone or anything.

Hi Everyone. Happy Easter. (Happy Sunday to everyone who doesn't believe in Jesus as their savior and to those of you who don't believe in the Roman Calendar, I don't know what to tell you. Happy Now, I guess.)

Sorry to bitch so much the other day. I guess I should have kept that entry to myself. Life is good for here. (89.7% of the time) Sometimes it seems helpful to write that shit down. Thank you Dave for your helpful insight. You are exactly right, that is what is a struggle, to take your past and build on it in the present. Life's a work in progress. Yesterday I progressed by cleaning my apartment then going to the Irish pub in Germany with my friend from Hong Kong and having a couple of pints of Strongbow. Today, I'm going to progress by making photos and going to a German Easter festival tonight.

I commented on my own blog and, apparently, I added myself as a friend on facebook:



I still have to get to the bottom of that facebook thing...

Peace out, homies. Enjoy your Sunday.

-Kyle

I feel as if there is something which wishes to explode forth from my chest. I don't know what it is. I miss so many people, so many places, so many memories. I am aching so badly with it this evening. EVERYTHING from my 3rd grade classmates and my 4th grade teacher to high school swim practices to trying to do a headstand-pushup and falling on my head and hurting myself real bad at wrestling practice to the gazillion people who made such an impact on me in college to my family to my grandmothers and my grandfathers, four people who i don't think could be much more different, or, at least as grandparents go to lacrosse to european travel with a great friend whom i started to piss off in a few days time to falling for the 'there's a quarter stuck to your forehead' trick in college to staff trip to fast track to kimball camp to singing camp songs ridiculously loud and feloniously off-key to past girlfriends and records set in grade school gym to only knowing my height in the past year or so because i was so ashamed of my shortness for the 20-22 years before that that i always struck it automatically from my memory to cyo basketball practices to the music i listened to in gradeschool, in high school, in college to the two girls in gradeschool who were a little bit creepy but were very friendly to me to playing soccer or football or basketball at recess and being 'good' because i was willing to run faster, harder and longer than anyone else to playing travel soccer and being pissed at marcus because he had already won his trophies so he didn't give a shit if we did well in the tournaments we were in (what a washout) to the crazy college guy who reminded me of someone from limp bizkit who was my freshman lacrosse coach and made us do sprints, then slide in a giant puddle of mud one practice to george, my soccer coach who was from south africa to that crazy middle-eastern guy who was the most competitive (to the point of excess) coach for the celtics to grade school crushes and never knowing what to do about them (oh wait, that still happens) to staff meetings where i would rate everyone at the meeting for their contribution (or lack-there-of) to breakfast club and sittin' club to all-nighters doing con-aps or systems homework to all nighters doing nothing but keeping my sophomores from doing their systems or con-aps homework to saving a goal on the house team when i played in maumee and my dad's story about how the people on the sideline were asking 'where the hell did he come from' because i ran back from out of nowhere to keep the ball from going in the goal to staying up all night with the other camp counselors even though we knew that we would be dead the entire rest of the week because, lets face it, being responsible for 12 loud, fiesty, energetic 7 year olds is tiring to being afraid of ghosts at my cousins and my dad pulling me aside and telling me to grow up, there's no such thing as ghosts to yearly camping trips with my cousins where the dads would eat an entire cooler of food each per day and the kids would spend the entire day catching nothing with fishing poles and the entire night catching nothing with frog spears to opening campfire at summer camp to dueling with david with swords made of bamboo to dinners with my family where 8 different conversations would take place simultaneously with only 6 people sitting at the table to seeing the cherry blossoms bloom on my street before they cut down all the beautiful trees to put in city water lines to finding 6-8 dying carp in the backyard after a big flood then taking them to the creek to let them go before going to school to going out in our row boat with my dad to clean up all the stinky dead fish that would break open with a nearly-toxic smell when we tried to pick them up in the net to throw them away and doing it because no one else in the community had the nuts (or the juniority (gegenteil von seniority)) to do it to seeing a german girl in the subway in munich that inspired me to write the only piece of literature i have ever written of my own free will to going to arizona with the guys and bridget and riding four wheelers around the dunes and hiding from a giant windstorm at pizza hut with keith's uncle who was a really cool guy to high school football games to... basically, all my life seems to be flashing before me and it makes me feel like i want to explode. It makes me feel like I can never go home because no matter where I will go, there will be so many homes at which I cannot concurrently be present. "And I still haven't found what I'm looking for." I feel like I couldn't even know what I'm looking for, how could i find anything better? But I can't stay put, life is not stagnant.

[30 second pause to catch up to reality]

(Interruption: I know that I am writing about the same thing that everyone is going through now, already has gone through several times, or will go through [again?]. I'm sorry if that bothers/bores you.)

It's so freakin hard to recognize that I can't go back to the lives that have made me so happy in the past because it's not there anymore. Everyone who has been so important in my life has moved on, the things aren't the same as they used to be. Some of the relationships last, some of them go, most of them just change a little. It's so hard to look to the future and decide now what will make me happy about this next step in my life and then do everything that I need to do to make that happen; to make me happy. I'm trying to be proactive, to take my own life into my own hands and make my own happiness but it feels like there is something I'm not doing or maybe I can't do to get there.

Last statements: I'm frustrated. I guess if I was busy 100% of the time making the wonderful memories that I have, some of which were listed above, I would never have time to remember the memories. What, then, would be the point? I miss you, my friends. Even those of you I haven't talked to in years, I think of you often. I hope you are all doing well.

I realized today, I have a deep stereotype. Actually, I think that it might only be that I wish I had this stereotype, but I swear, when I thought it, I thought I had always thought it. Anyway...

An Italian walked into my office and I thought for a moment that all Italians came from New York. Seriously. This thought was in my head and I had no way of getting it out for at least a good ...60-90 seconds. Then I realized it was stupid because I've met Italians in Italy. Then I thought maybe they came from New York as well. Even now, I'm not sure what I believe...or want to believe.

The second thing is that Google now has Google Calendar. I have been waiting for this for months and months and months. At one point, I may have even submitted the idea to google labs, I'm not sure. Anyway, I am super excited. If nothing else, it will allow me to keep track of people's birthdays more easily. And my vacation plans, as well.

This past weekend, I went to Paris to meet a certain Marlo Manaloto. Yeah, she's Italian, but she's from Jersey. Anyway, my journey there was nearly treacherous. I left work with one slip of paper folded up in my pocket. On it were directions from the airport to the nearest subway stop to the hotel where I was going to stay. At the time that I left work for the airport, I thought not much of it. I thought I remembered the name of the hotel. And with all the travelling I have done, you would think I would have known better than to think that I could just pop up from the parisian subway and right there would be my hotel. But these thoughts didn't really hit me until after I got to the airport in Paris . When I got to the airport in Hannover, I found my plane with no problems because, as I explained to my brother, airports are ridiculously easy to get around. I found my counter and tried to check in. Now, Marlo had told me not to check any bags because it would take extremely long to get them back on account of the riots. When I checked in, I went through the normal procedure: Reisepass bitte, oh, you're American, we'll do this in English then. How many bags? None. Ok, put it on the belt. No, I have no luggage to be checked. Ok. Put it on the belt. No, I don't want to check this bag. I know, sir, but it has to be weighed. [bag weighs in at a sweltering 10.2 kg] Sir, is there anything you need out of the bag? What's the limit, 10kg? 5. 5? Are you serious? That's absurd. What, sir? Nothing. So I checked my bag. On the plane, I slept/daydreamed about the riots going on in Paris. I dreamt that Marlo led me on some exciting adventures to see the riots. In the dream, we were standing right at the very front of the 'riot line' and I was taking some Time-magazine-worthy photos. All of the sudden, the rioters got pissed at me and started chasing after me. I gave the camera to Marlo and told her to run while I tried to fight them off for long enough for her to get away.














This is a picture Marlo took of me. I think she has it right. It belongs in a 'Welcome to Paris' book.

So the plane lands in Paris at the 'budget airline airport.' I don't know if you've ever flown a budget airline, but I always seem to forget when I buy the budget airline ticket that I'm getting a budget terminal, as well. These places are seriously shit. You either get the shag carpet or the stuff that's so old you can only tell it used to have a color when you look in the very corners where no one has ever walked. If the lights work, they are likely in the blinky-going-out stage of their existance. It's an old terminal. Anyway...I am at the baggage conveyor belt place and I'm standing near the front of the conveyor because I want to get my bag and get the hell out of dodge. As I'm standing there, I'm half-sleepily watching for my bag and memorizing the directions to the hotel. (At this point, I still haven't realized I don't actually have directions to the hotel, only to a certain subway station.) Suddenly, I snap out of my daze and realize that nearly everyone is gone, the belt is empty, and I don't have my bag. I hear some french over the loudspeaker and start to look nervously around me for my bag. The thought enters my head..."I don't have a clue what I would do. I have lost my bags before, but I have had them sent to my hotel. I don't know the name of my hotel, what the address is, anything. I would be screwed." Then, there it is! It's at the far end of the conveyor, about 20 feet from the opening in the wall that eats all unclaimed baggage. As I start to walk the 30 yards over to it, I hear the english translation of that french I heard earlier: "All unclaimed luggage will be systematically destroyed." (I'm pretty sure now, that what they said was 'unattended' not 'unclaimed', but at the time, I was FREAKIN OUT!) So I sprinted over to my bag. I slid into the wall as I grabbed it as it was halfway through the hole in the wall. As I started to walk away, several people started clapping. I took a bow and smiled.















Marlo taking a self portrait and me sneaking in on the action.

Getting to the subway station where my directions told me to go, I came above ground and started to freak out as my optimistic hopes were crushed. I had hoped I would remember the name of the street or that the hotel would be clearly visible right as I stepped out of the subway. It was not clearly visible, nor did I remember the street name. I thought I did, so I started to find that street. Luckily my better judgement overcame me and I decided to step into an internet cafe where I obtained the necessary information. I found Marlo and was immediately relieved. My fears of being raped and left for dead in the streets of Paris were vanishing.


So Marlo and I went to get something to eat cause neither of us had had dinner yet. We found this pretty cool little restaurant/bar/(we found out later)underground karaoke place. I was pretty sure that the french people would be mean to us, but Marlo is Marlo, so everyone was super nice. We had a carafe of wine and some delicious french bread. I had a three course meal with some mozzarella and tomato salad (no lettuce, extra delicous), Delicious Duck, and chocolate mousse. The mousse was absofuckinglutely incredible. As we were leaving, Marlo started talking to our waitress. They started talking about the movie Amelie. Apparently, they both love it. So the waitress left with us and showed us where one of the scenes from the movie was filmed. She gave me her number, completely unsolicited. That reminds me, I should email her, I forgot. Anyway, she walked and talked with us for a little bit along this cool little canal through the city. By the way, I love the way to say goodbye to french girls. You do one kiss on each side of the face. Like, not actual lips on the cheek, just press cheeks, make a kissing sound, then do the other side.


So after seeing the canal, Marlo and I went for a walk. We met these cool drunk/high french guys and a girl. They were singing and yelling in the street. The guy was telling us about how New York is Babylon. We had no idea what the hell he was talking about but he was so funny trying to explain it to us. He would say, "Babylon" then some shit in french. We would look at him and shrug. He would turn to his friends, speak some french, they would look at him and shrug. Then he would turn back to us and make the hand signal for money (rubbing his thumb against his fingertips) and say "New York is Babylon." followed by some french again. The entire conversation we got about three things that we could associate together. Reggae, 'Babylon', and New York.


The next day was relaxing, but is better described with the photos, I think. We spent the time at the Cathederal of Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower, in the Louvre park, and in a supurb french restaurant. We went back to the hotel and I immediately passed-the-fuck-out. Sorry about that, Marlo. I was a lame-o. K-Y-L-E-O, K-Y-L-E-O and Lame-o was his name-o.


On Sunday, we went to the market and bought a couple baguettes (fuck spelling french words), some cheese, and a bottle of wine. We took the subway to the Cathederal of the Sacre Coure. On the way up to the Cathederal, we stopped in a nice wine shop and asked the guy to open our 3 euro bottle of wine. Marlo handed it to him and he looked at it and kind of made a face. I said, "we should have gotten our wine here, he sells good wine." "He made a grunt and said "This could be good, I've never had it before." Haha. Anyway, we had our stereotypical french lunch on the steps of the Sacre Coure overlooking the city. It was absolutely beautiful.

Then I came back to Hannover. It was a great trip. Thank you, Marlo. You are a great travelling buddy.

Here's one more special picture...

I went to the grocery store this evening. I was looking at the cheeses and between regular (48% fat according to the front label on the package) and light (19% fat) gouda, I chose light because I decided then I was going to start watching my weight. Then I came home, decided that I watched it long enough while I was purchasing cheese, and proceeded to eat half a loaf of cake. (Cake comes in loaves in Germany. It's both weird and cool. At the same time.) So I thank you, metabolism, for giving me the opportunity to so haphazardly choose my diet and exercise habits. I just need to get my lungs and heart to be in shape without exercise and I'll be all set.

Sorry everyone. Paris was awesome. It was a great trip from the very start. Unfortunately, I am waaaay too tired to write about it right now. I spent the evening processing some photos from the trip so that I will hopefully have some to post in the coming days. http://ohyeahphotos.blogspot.com/ for all of you who are unaware. Paris + Marlo = Super Awesome. Bis dann.

Peace out.