That's Wiiild

Mmm, June.

It's that special of year where I'll promise to start writing to you again.
Then, mid-post I might just realize that the only thing I have to talk about is the fact that I really should be writing more often. You really shouldn't write more often if all you can think to write of is how much more often you should be writing. It's horribly dull.

Luckily, I escaped suburbia about a year ago & am now chock full of thoughts, memories, photos, plans and even some videos to fill you up with.

Books have been read, currywurts (oh so many currywursts) have been consumed, songs have been heard, and faces have been smiled at.

July, a one-way ticket to Las Vegas, and a friend ready to road-trip will bring me back to the lovely, soccermom haven of North County.
How do I feel about this?
It's confusing.
Europe fits. Germany fits. The cobblestone, duck-filled parks, rivers, forests and Metros fit.
&where am I headed?
Southern California; home of "The Hills".

Thoughts like these don't help at all.
I'm determined not to sulk.
God knows I've done it enough.

Rather, it's time to pull out all the little things I've missed about the place that grew me.
Let's see.

Parking. Parking in Germany, anywhere in Europe really, is a total bitch. An expensive bitch.

Coffee houses. I had all of these romantic ideas about writing in my journal day after day in cafe after cafe. Don't get me wrong, it's a nice idea. But the problem lies in the difference between a shabby sofa, and a chic rod-iron chair. Comfort, friends, comfort. Who wants to read sitting upright, in metal no less?? Not me, man.
Agh, Old California Coffee House, get ready for a serious display of affection. I am going to love you so hard.

English Books. Every now and again I'll walk into a bookshop, just to be surrounded by books. It's a major tease. My language skills are always sharp enough to get the jist from the back-cover, but dull enough to know that they can't handle the whole book. The first English bookshop I walk into will probably send me into some sort of frenzy. I might even clap my hands and skip.

Being able to tell noisy movie go-ers to shut the fuck up! Agh, nothing is more frustrating than feeling the deep deep urge to tell someone to step off, but knowing how dumb you'll look if you don't understand their response.
Last weekend my favorite park was absolutely jammed with soccer fans for the public viewing of the first Euro match. I was the first person not let into the park. I've been waiting for an hour and some loud mouthed kid comes pushing behind me "Hey lemme through" he said (in German).
So basically, I said "Why?" a couple of times before letting him push through and get kicked out again by the police. Then I spent the next 15 minutes or so, High Fidelity style, pretending I spoke perfect German so I could go:
"Look asshole, you're not getting in, no one's getting in. And if we are, there's no way I'm letting a skinny 15 year old with crappy behavior in before me. Beat it."
Yeah!
I should've skipped words and elbow banged him. Or something.

Later, when the police were considering letting a few of the people who'd be long-standing in, the kid goes "Yeah, yeah, us four", motioning towards me and another couple.
Pfah! "Us". Sorry, bud, I am not in any way associated to you; you loud, unfriendly, pushy, cargo-capri wearing young man.

Record Shops. I'm sure Germany's got some somewhere. But they're no-where to be seen. I've found a few, and some look cool. But nothing to suit my music needs. Lou's, you get big love too.

Working with kids my age. Don't get me wrong, 7&9 year olds are awesome, but everyone needs a little balance to their social circles.



Haha.
Windows live messenger just popped up, alerting me to the new email I've received.
Apparently "Agence Sparkle" is trying to contact me.

Well I'll be off.
Wouldn't want to keep Mr. Sparkle waiting.

Best!
Kelsi