Poverty

Originally I wanted to write about it in an earlier post but I figured that my happy and good experiences of last week and the gig don’t go that well with the content of this post. To me it seems inappropriate. Thus I’ll dedicate this post to that day only.

Recently we were talking about poverty in social science classes. We talked about relative poverty, social classes and all that stuff you aren’t really interested in because it’s all about made-up cases of some random person. It’s just numbers, black ink on white paper. Graphs and diagrams.

But I had to realise that the “real” poverty – the poverty you find outside your textbook, the poverty you usually wouldn’t come in touch with simply because you were lucky enough to be born into the families in which you live – is much worse than the things written in your school book.

As some of you may already know I work in a place called The Centre. Girls whose families came to Germany from mostly Turkey, Pakistan or Lebanon can go there. We help them with their homework, do some fun stuff with them and simply let them have a good time. The majority of the families are poor or part of the “lower social classes”.

The Centre sometimes works in cooperation with the social welfare office – this is how I got my second job (as a private teacher).

The girl I’m helping with her homework is about to go to a secondary school and it’s more than obvious that she wants to learn and that she wants to be good in school. But more than anything else she wants someone to believe in her. I’ve noticed that before but on Wednesday it hit me like a bat when I realised how desperately she wants to be appreciated – just by someone. She’s turning twelve in a little more than a week.

I’ve sometimes seen her coming in with scratch marks on her face – her older brother has a “wild temper”.

I got the job because she likes me and she listens to what I say. A couple of weeks ago she said she liked coming to the Centre because it’s the only place where she can laugh.

However, for an hour we were doing some maths and then we went on with German. She didn’t have her schoolbooks with her and couldn’t remember what they were doing in class, so I improvised. She told me that she doesn’t really like reading because it sometimes gets boring. I told her that the really good books never get boring. I digged into the messy racks until I eventually found a copy of “The Neverending Story”. It’s a brilliant story and it was written by Michael Ende, a German writer (which was enough of a reason for me to make it part of the German lesson). I made her read the first pages out loud and waited if she was showing any emotions. At first she was complaining about the book being boring but as she read that the protagonist had lost his mother she got more interested in it. Eventually she admitted that “it doesn’t sound that bad”.

As we were leaving the Centre and I gave her a ride home I asked her what kind of sweets she likes the most. She didn’t want to answer. I had brought some ice-cream before as her brother was going to some festival she would have liked to got to too but which she couldn’t because the welfare office had told us to start this week with the private classes. I guess, I have never seen a child so happy and thankful for goddamn ice-cream.

I parked the car in front of a large building and followed her inside because I wanted to introduce myself to her parents. They invited me in even though I was dressed inappropriate (which I completely forgot to think about – It was a really hot day so I was wearing short jeans, which maybe isn’t the best idea when visiting a traditional turkish family).

The mother only spoke a few bits and pieces German and gesticulated that I shouldn’t talk with her but her husband.

“You are Scarlett, student from welfare office, he? Waste of money. My daughter stupid. Won’t learn, no.”

At first I thought that he maybe wanted to say “My daughter is not stupid” so I said: “No, she’s fine. She’s doing really good. She knows more than others of her age” (which is true).

“No, no. Stupid as shit.”

Meanwhile a baby-boy had crawled towards me and was playing with my shoes. “You’re son is cute”, I said because they seemed to expect me to change the topic.

“Gonna be like father. Strong”, the mother said and I just smiled and nodded politely.

“Cute”, I repeated.

“Marry?” She picked up the baby and gave me an insistent look. “Wanna marry boy”, she asked again. “Come drink coffee and marry boy!”

When no one laughed I realised that she was deadly serious.

I apologized that I couldn’t stay any longer and left as fast as I could.

After I left that part of the city I realised how much “too much” this situation had required from me.

I heard my heart breaking as I realised that this girl’s father doesn’t give a shit for his daughter.I mean seriously … if you are a parent … how can you not love your child?! Currently the idea of having kids of my own does not appeal to me at all but – what the hell?! How can you

1. Not love your child?

2. Tell him/ her that he/she is “stupid as shit”?

3. Claim that it’s waste of whatever when it helps your child to build a good future.

The German school system is a little different than for example the English. We have one kind of primary school and four different kinds of secondary school. “Hauptschule” is the easiest and with this kind of leaving cert you are not allowed to enter university (we don’t have colleges) – you attend this kind of school for 5 years. It’s kind of the lowest schoolform we have.

Her parents only allowed her to go to that kind of school even though her primary marks were good enough to go to “Gesamtschule”, which is a little harder but where you also can make a leaving cert that allows you to go to university (it’s called “Abitur”).

The reason why her parents won’t let her go to that better school is: We don’t know it. We only know Hauptschule.

If you have the Abitur you can almost become everything that you want to be. Without you’re pretty limited.

It just makes me want to cry.

I just hope that the social welfare office and the youth welfare office take enough care of the family so she doesn’t have to marry some unknown guy as soon as she’s old enough.

This is just wrong.

Just an Ordinary Saturday

Everyday it’s pretty much the same story. During class, while eating lunch, while being at work or during a work out I get so many ideas for good posts. I really mean – those ideas sometimes really are illusively good. Yet, as soon as I finally have some time to write them down … they’re gone. Swept away. Faded. Simply lost.

Though, I must admit that I would consider it quite remarkable how fast my brain deletes more or less awesome stuff, as I almost always carry a notebook with me in which I can scribble my nonsense. Instead things like this pop up in my head: “Four years and ten months ago there was a guy on ‘Who Wants to Be A Millionaire’ and he was stuck with the very last question. It said: Which animal is poisonous? A) Mungo B) Whatever C) Platypus D) Who cares.”

(I knew that the right answer was C) Platypus - it has a sting, just saying.) It’s a scourge to be limited by one’s own brain.

However, now that everyone is in bed and I still am tired (the last week was exhausting – seriously) I do refuse to sleep.

Today was the first gig of this year for my guitar students and me. They really did a good job and we actually drew quite a couple of people to the stage. For some of the girls it had been the very first gig and they naturally were awfully nervous the night before. One of them actually texted me to tell me that she felt a little sick. But all of them were pretty healthy today. Some of them have been playing the guitar for only half a year which makes me even more proud. (Self-praise is no recommendation, blabla I know  .. but c’mon … half a year of practice and then delivering a good performance plus the songs weren’t that easy – I refuse to teach them things like “Are you sleeping brother John”).

My coworkers really liked it, too. We also played one turkish song and as I left the stage the felt-tip-girl (Me: “You’re six years old, why are you wearing lipstick?” Her: “I’m not wearing lipstick.” Me: “Are you supposed to be lying? What is it then?” Her(extremely proud): “Felt tip.”), from the homework-program, ran towards me and completely puzzled shouting: “When did you learn to speak my language?!”

Me: “Giants speak every language.” (The kids sometimes call me giant as they obviously are much shorter than me and I am the tallest working in the Centre. I sometimes call them that giants eat ill-mannered children. I consider it educationally valuable.)

The father of the the Italian girl later came up to me and hugged me and thanked me for my work (which confused me a little as I never thought that it could mean that much to some people, that I teach their children the most basic guitar knowledge – yet it was a warm feeling and made me feel good – very much so actually.)

To sum it up briefly: The kids were pleased, I was pleased, my boss was pleased, my parents were pleased (they were watching me and my students for the first time) and everyone else was pleased as well. It was a good day.

The only thing that really confused me was that when I said hello to my boss she, instead of a casual hug, she gave me a kiss on the cheek (like my grandma does). That was a little … unusual – but who cares. (She’s known me since I was 12 and thus it’s not exactly ‘weird’ – but still unusual).

Tomorrow I’ll be having a gig with my own band (Father Rock, etc.). We are planning on finally sorting out an issue who kept coming to the practices for more than a month now and who apparently now is a part of us(…) and that freaks us (except for Father Rock) out.

 

When Good Karma Is On Vacation

Even though I was either at school or at work all day long (and later on band practise) it really was good and enjoyable day. It couldn’t have been any different because yesterday most definitely was the lowest day of my week. At least.

In the morning I wrote my last history exam before the summer holiday (I actually was more than surprised when I knew all the facts – I will still get a D. Or a C-. Just because my teacher doesn’t like me. [I do know that this is a common excuse for bad grades but do believe me the C in history is my worst grade and he just so doesn't like me .. seriously.]). At the end of the exams I – for some reason- suddenly felt terribly sick and my skin felt as if it was burning. I never get overly excited in exams so this wouldn’t be a reason. After returning my paper I stayed in our school’s bathroom for a while just for the sake of feeling cold water on my hands and face.

Afterwards I managed to drag myself to P.E. classes ( I don’t have to participate as I currently am slightly injured) and I almost got hit by several balls numerous times (still while feeling as hosting a super nova inside of me). Once I got through with the discomfort of almost getting struck dead by wild volleyballs I forced myself to ride my bike downtown to work.

Then again I had to do my best to get my group of guitar students to show some decency by promising to turn up next Saturday. They are having their first gig and even though I told them about it more than 2 months ago they suddenly were like “Oh, well. No, I have to watch my little brother playing football”. – No. You. Don’t.

Once my duty was done I headed off home. While getting on my bike I somehow ripped my jeans (the new one) as I lately lost about 7 or 8 pounds and now most of my jeans are too big.

I returned home at about half seven, had some time to eat diner and relax for an hour but then I remembered that I had been given homework. Lucky me. On the stroke of midnight the only thought wandering through the gyri of my brain was “fuck this shit” and I skipped the assignments that were left.

So when I woke up today (at sweet 6 o’clock in the morning) I felt a little unrested. However it must be said, that today was quite a good day. Mr White didn’t feel like teaching Biology so we went to the park nearby to do some “live experience of mother nature”. I never knew that we had turtles living in that mini lake.

Also my friends were pretty entertaining even though I sometimes start to worry about Germany’s future leaders.

While we were in the park Lenn had my phone because I left my school bag at school. Afterwards he gave it back to me. On the way to work I sent him a text: You still have my phone.

Lenn: Haha, now I can send myself messages from your phone!

Me: What would be the point of that? Turn it off! Come on!

Lenn: Sure, sure. I won’t mess with it. I’ll just see were it is and turn it off.

Turned it off.

Me: Either you already got the troll or you’re a liar. You didn’t turn it off.

At this point he obviously started to panic.

Lenn: Shit. I can’t find it. I promise I’ll find it. And then I’ll turn it off. I’ll give it to you tomorrow.

Me: Please tell me you’re kidding me … there’s absolutely no way you could have lost it. Think about it!

Lenn: No, no. I’d never lose your phone.

He called several times, desperately trying to locate it by its sound. Eventually – as I couldn’t take it anymore – I picked up.

Me: You’ve better be kidding me.

Lenn: Oh – how the hell did you find it. You’re not even in my hou – Wait. Oh my .. no. *undefinable words*

Me: I am worried about your future.

Call me evil but I just so couldn’t stop laughing. It kind of really made my day.

Also I finally sorted out all the terms and conditions for my new job for the welfare office (after only 4 goddamn weeks). And I had diner on my balcony enjoying the evening sun and a couple of strawberries.

Tomorrow school start 2 hours later – and I can finally catch up with that rare thing called ‘sleep’. Good night, my dear people of the Internetz – and always remember to keep it dramatic (which by the way reminds me of a drama-loaded story I wanted to share but not tonight).

Lalala – Untitled

So, it’s just 7 more weeks to go until the summer break. And that’s more than enough. I’ll be done with all my exams in about 2 weeks though and thus it then will be quite boring in school as we won’t really do a lot of useful stuff. Nevermind. Just 10 more months to go. I don’t want to start whining.

Last week I was off school on Thursday and Friday (once more this month) and Savannah and I chose to pay a visit to a town nearby. The only reason we went there is that really awesome comic store and we spend ages in there. I so couldn’t make up my mind which comics I’d take come but eventually ended up with those.Unfortunately I coudln’t get the signed “Batman Incorporated”. If it’s still there the next time I’ll go there I most certainly will get it.

It’s pretty awesome though, that they have “Old US Comics” (that’s what it read on the sign) but now I have some from 1998. I suppose I can’t enter the competitions that are mentioned in there anymore.

Yesterday it was my friend’s Dawn’s Birthday. She turned 19 (now you’re almost in your 20s, my Dear. 20! ... First it’s 20, then it’s 30, 40 … you know what follows). Savannah and I came up with this pretty cool idea. I haven’t done any 8 bit drawings before but I think it turned out alright for the first time. Well, I guess it did.

It really made my day seeing her carefully unwrapping all that stuff trying hard not to rip off the pictures (Love you, Dawn!).

I better keep it short today – I can hear my undone homework yelling.

Taking up Painting

Today I pretty much didn’t do anything except for eating breakfast, cooking lunch (Jamie Oliver pancake recipe!), eating it and oh well .. eating diner.

As of lately I had more time for my drawing and painting stuff as usual – which is a little paradox because I was looking for a (second) job for the summer. I didn’t get a job in a bar or a restaurant but by now I found something much better to do. Or better said it found me.

Those who are reading my posts regularly might know that I work in some kind of center where kids who immigrated to Germany (or who have their origin in another country) can come to to find new friends and where they are being helped with their education. My job would be to teach them how to play the basic guitar skills (Tuesdays) and help them with their homework and cook with them (Wednesdays). We have a lot of kids who live in poor families and who are from the lower parts of society – which is why the Center and the social welfare office sometimes work together.

So, that welfare guy came in on Wednesday and my boss wanted me to talk to him too as the girl for whom he came pretty much rejects the majority of my coworkers but for some reason has chosen to put her trust in me. I really like her and I feel so sorry for her when she comes in and has another couple of scratch marks on her face because her brother lost his temper.  However, she’s going to secondary school after the summer break and because the welfare office wants to support her as much as possible they offered her to take private tutoring. The guy asked me if I knew someone with whom she might get along.

As I said, I really like her a lot and it’s very obvious to see that she – even though she isn’t even 12 years old – is trying to get out of her misery that badly. I really want to help her, even though I could only do a little. So I grabbed the chance and now I will try to fight stupid Maths and the damn hard German language with her. (I know that I am not the bravest and most succesful Number-Knight of them all – but I can surely do secondary beginner’s Math. And by the way, back then I had straight Bs.) After rescheduling my week so that I could learn with her that welfare guy revealed that it’s a proper job. Meaning I’m getting paid.
The job found me. I’m a lucky person, yes, I am.

To take up my thought about the drawing and painting stuff – I currently am doing it a lot.

And now here’s what I was actually going to write before I got stuck with that second job of mine.

This is what I started recently. That weird looking white stuff is meant to be her hair – I put some structure paste on the canvas to make her hair look more plastic. (I apologize for the bad quality of the photograph – the better picture is on my grandma’s camera, which apparently isn’t here.)

I usually don’t paint such pictures (usually it’s a little more action or some movie scene) but it kind of just came to my mind after another nightmare. I wouldn’t like to paint it in realistic colours but that’s pretty much all I got. Maybe it would look cool if I used only white and blueish/ green colours.

What would you guys say? I’d really appreciate it if you shared your thoughts about it with me. No matter what it might be.

I would post more paintings I did but unfortunately my really good ones have been displayed in our schools gallery for some time and thus someone might recognize it if it was on here. (I know it’s a damn tiny chance but that’s still too much of a risk for the anonymity-loving me.)

Good night, guys!

Madness & Insanity – And Other Things That Drive Me Crazy

After the whole kerffufle (isn’t it a truly intriguing word?) in school on Monday I am very glad that I was off the rest of the week. I made up my mind and came to the conclusion that I most certainly want to be done with school, start going to university (in Germany we don’t have colleges) and don’t see those attention-whores, show-off douches and two-faced bitches ever again. Well … I would like to see them in 20 years again. I bet that most of them will have failed – in every possible way.

That’s how those kind of issues usually solve themselves, don’t they?

I did put a list together, though, which will make me never forget the most stupid things I had to listen to.

Here’s a quick example (no specific order – you might want to decide for yourself which one is the most dumbest):

1. “Why aren’t you wearing make-up?” “I’m not forced to put it on every day, am I?” “But you’re in SCHOOL” *shocked look*

2. “If the amount of caffeine in my blood isn’t at least 0,5 mol/litre and if I don’t refuel at least every 30 minutes after I’ve burned at least 120 calories I will die.” (I suppose he had not a single clue what those words actually meant and he randomly put them together so that they seem to sound like a full sentence.)

And currently my favourite:

3. “If you would stop writing good grades people might like you a little more and they might even accept if you came to their parties.” (Those kind of parties where everyone is trashed after half an hour, half of the girls are embracing their on-off-relationships with the toilet and the the other half off them is losing their virginity (for the x time) to some guy they met half an hour ago for the very first time. The guys who aren’t busy pleasing the girls get incredibly drunk and/ or stoned and start demolishing their surrounding. There have been a couple of guys who lost their memory of the last 2 years or whose lungs were about to collapse – all due to drugs. I guess this is how natural selection works.)

I only need to listen to this bullshit for another couple of months, not even a full year.

Today, however was a pretty drama free day though.

While walking into town I met a bunch of kids and the boy was excitedly pointing at my chest (I was wearing my Superman t-shirt and had left my jacket open). One of the little girls who was with him – she was maybe 6 years old, playing with her Iphone, her fingernails painted pink – and she said “It’s the Playboy sign, isn’t it?” And I was overwhelmed by a sudden feeling of pity for the generation who is just ten years younger than me.

I met up with Marilyn for lunch. We wanted to try out that Chinese snack bar but weren’t too sure if we really should take the risk. (Snack bars in this town are not to be trusted easliy). We decided on giving it a go though and even though it didn’t look like it the food was quite amazing. Actually it tasted better than the food you get in the expensive Chinese restaurants a couple of streets from there. It was pretty cheap, too. I most definitely am going to eat there more often.

We went for some ice cream as well and I got that amazing Kinder Chocolate ice cream.

A couple of hours later we found ourselves looking through some of the boxes that (for some reason) are everywhere in my room and we found a jigsaw puzzle (for 6 year-olds). We were done pretty fast. After some fruit salad for diner we then came back to looking through my old games. We got stuck with another jigsaw puzzle for almost the next 3 hours. (It was just 500 pieces but hey – come on! How long didn’t you do a jigsaw?)

We felt a little bit like freaks working on that Swiss’ landscape but well – it could be worse. We could be teenage-mom-freaks (not that I would exaggerate on this one).

I’ll now take my leave and head to bed (I got a new mattress) and after sleeping on my couch for about a week I really am looking forward to go to bed. (Too stupid that I had a lot of ice tea today and I am not used to drinking caffeine or theine).

Have a good night guys!

Nothing to do here

The last couple of weeks were kind of crazy but still bearable. But NOW things are about to get way too weird (even for someone like me).

Here’s the story:

By no means I want to sound arrogant (or whatever you want to call it) but I am quite good at school and better than most of the other students in my year. And even though I lately got two Ds I still am doing pretty good (it would take a lot of time to explain how the German school system works – I might do it some other time – so you just need to take my word for it. If my current grades were my final grades I would get into medical school – maybe you can make a little sense of it now).

This hasn’t always been that way because I needed to have that “wake up experience” 4 years ago. Back then I was with a lot of people who now proved themselves as shallow and dumb group of idiots. To express it differently: I was one of the cool kids.

After I returned from my exchange year in Ireland I saw things differently, friendships broke apart and I repeated the year that I missed in school (because I now wanted to get the good grades).

I’ve been with these people for almost two years now and up to know no one considered it to be a good idea to piss me off (I’ve made my point pretty clear in the beginning … and in between).

I have found a couple of amazing people and I am lucky to consider them my friends. I seriously couldn’t care less about the others. I don’t care for what they say, I don’t care for what they think about me and I give a shit that they dislike me. It’s not even a full year to go until I won’t see them again.

So, today after things have gotten a little to crazy over the last couple of days I figured it was time to show some reaction to the latest rumors.

That guy who has been spreading them had always been kind to me as long as I had something he wanted or as long as I could be of some kind of use to him (…) and now he’s being a little upset that I got another A+ and he didn’t (because he never does anything).

I don’t care that he doesn’t like my clothes and never misses the opportunity to tell me, I don’t care that he keeps telling my how weird my face looks, how unattractive and fat he thinks I am (said the boy who – if tossed into the water – would always float because of his fat keeping him from drowning) …

BUT

I do care that he started telling that I got my good grades because “my oral talents would suit my teachers” ( … if you know what I mean).

Excuse me. But that’s truly pathetic.

Politely I asked him whether he could spare a minute.

“When and what did I ever do to you that you keep telling those lies about me?”

“I never said anything.”

“I’m blond but I’m not stupid. Show some balls and look me in the eyes when you’re lying. I don’t care for all of you guys to like me or to hate me. I would only ask you to stop behaving like a pathetic little boy if you expect others to treat you like a man.”

“Well, if you changed I didn’t have to.”

“Oh, I’m forcing you. My bad. What kind of change would you recommend?”

And this was my favourite part. I just couldn’t any different but to shake my head and laugh.

“If you stopped participating in class people might like you a little more.”

“So … you’re saying that if I start getting bad grades you’d be satisfied?”

“Yep. Pretty much. Just stop being such a nerd. Or a freak. Whatever you are.”

“Wow! I never thought about it this way. You know what?”

“Are you gonna stop?”

“Not the tiniest bit.”

And then I just left. Because … seriously .. what the fuck?!

I’m sick of the “cool people”. I’ll go back to my nerd cave, keep wearing my nerdy clothes and I will keep studying and writing good grades just as I did.

I consider myself an open-minded person who tries to emphatize with a lot of people and different opinions. But today I figured that I met my limit. I just don’t get it.

Having fun for the next 11 months and getting a horrible job which is badly paid for the next 45 years of my life – or work hard and get the job I really want?

I’m really looking forward to meet all those people in 20 years. I seriously do.

That other place in which people sometimes go missing

As some of you might have noticed I have been a little absent from the blogosphere for the last couple of weeks (let’s face it. It has been 6 solid weeks – my heart is crying). And here come my explanation for my absence:

I was taken away from this magnificent world of blogging, taken away (kidnapped!) and taken to a cruel and mostly very unpleasant place called

REALITY!

 Don’t go there, guys! Even if someone promises you that there’s going to be a lot of candy, chocolate and shoe shopping. It’s a trap! Just don’t go there! Don’t.

Horrible things happened there. I don’t even want to recall the memories (basically I got back a couple of exams. Two of them were pretty much a punch to the stomach. Got two Ds – which looks pretty shitty in my row of As – still I’m doing better than last year. The we had parent-teacher-meetings – nothing to worry about, one of the teachers who gave me an D is willing to “overlook” it when he’s going to do the final grading.  I almost managed to get a second job – mainly for the summer – but, well … almost.  I might get another call from another bar sometime soon, though. Or better said: I really hope so.

So basically I was pretty busy trying to get my “adult life” or whatever you want to call it, started.

At work it has been a little  troublesome as I got a lot of calls for the girls and me (for those of you who are new – I’m a part time guitar teacher) for a couple of gigs. The girls are quite excited about it because they’ve never played or sung in front of someone else but there parents.

Meanwhile my band and I were in the record studios again and finished recording the songs for the EP. Also we’re working on our performance for the 20th May, as we were asked to play at a church event (don’t get me wrong on this one, we’re not talking about a church event where granny and grumpy grandaddy walk hand in hand, complaining about how few visit the church nowadays. No it’s a rather bigger thing. So far more than 600 people are expected … plus maybe another hundred … but you’re right. No big deal. Not at all!)

So … you guys see I have been relaxing for the last 6 weeks and pretty much didn’t do that much ( caution: Irony!).

I apologize for not having enough time to write but I am glad that none of you clicked the unfollow button ( I’d give you a medal but you’re quite far away). All the best from Germany (where spring finally arrived, too),

Scarlett

Oh – I almost forgot! Keep it dramatic!

The unexpected, the unplanned and the exciting things

It’s half past two in the morning, I really don’t feel like sleeping and I finally found some time to do what I have been planning to do on a daily basis during my easter holidays. Let’s blog!

Originally I wanted to write something every evening but things didn’t go exactly according to plan and nothing really happened in the first couple of days except a bunch of islamic kids trying to understand why christians celebrate Easter (“Well, there was that man who happened to be the son of God and they nailed him to the cross, he died, was buried and after three days he came back to life.” Wide opened eyes. “So you’re saying Jesus was a zombie?” “I guess it’s one way to look at it.”)

I was offered a theatric part for a play. They’ll play it in spring next year in Milan during an international drama festival – I guess I won’t do it though because I will have my final exam around this time. Besides I already was in Newcastle with them last year. It really is a great opportunity though. Stupid priorities!

Then it was Easter and I was busy eating all the stuff my grandma had cooked (I made her very happy by eating until there wasn’t any space for even a tiny little bit in my stomach – definitely a first world problem). And finally all the exciting things happened but oddly they took up a lot of time (how unusual).

After the first couple of days and after I was done with working (first week only – thank God!) I met up with my godmother and her kids to bake some easter stuff. It indeed was a very nice afternoon that we finished off watching Star Wars Episode I. Halfway through the movie I got a rather unexpected call. The conversation was pretty short and went like this:

Friend: You’re home?

Me: Not yet. What’s wrong?

Friend: I need to get out of here.

Me: Back at 8.

Friend: 8 it is then.

And this is how the rather exciting part of my break started (that was on Good Friday and Easter in between of this and the other exciting things – nevermind).

The next afternoon I was on my own again, still thinking about what my friend had told me but being relieved she was feeling better.

After she left to head home my mom gave me a package that had been in the mail for me. I haven’t opened it yet but there’s an awesome drawing of Batman and Catwoman on it! I’m dying to see what’s in there ..

Easter means not having to eat as much as in the Christmas time but still – if granny makes you diner you better eat it or the sun won’t shine for you. (It’s supposed to snow tomorrow. AGAIN.)
Every time my family meets for special occasions (such as Christmas, Easter, Birthdays, etc) it works the same way.

1.) Arrive at Grandma’s place

2.) Annoy her until food is ready

3.) Start eating

4.) Dad and I are getting started – making comments that never fail to steer the conversation in a direction where everyone soon starts to “hate” everyone, paradox statements and arguing for no reason

5.) Lean back, eat desert and watch

It works every time. Usually my Dad and I are always the scapegoats after they eventually figure out that there’s no proper reason to argue but this time we were off the hook as they had a lot of material to talk about. Happy Easter for us.

Two days later Lenn and I were organising the last bits and pieces for Marilyn’s birthday gift (I’ll talk about this in another post). Followed by a late birthday party from which I came back home blue (blue as in actually blue, like a smurf – not in the sense of being sad).

I guess, today was my favorite day though. My mom was hosting a little diner party for her friends and thus I got the car – which was pretty awesome because I picked up a friend and we drove to the record studios where everyone else who is in the band was already recording a couple of songs. We got there later because Father Rock didn’t want us “to burn our energy”.

While we were waiting for our turn we watched Father Rock and our producer trying to sign Craig his entry for the offbeat because he seemed absolutely confused in between.

I must say that it is quite an amusing image to see a pastor and a long-haired producer whose curls were dancing while the two men were punching the air. Especially if you don’t have a clue about what is going on and you absolutely can’t hear anything because you still are in a sound-protected booth.

Eventually we got to sing one song but had to leave our work unfinished till the next time. But hey – we’re going back to the record studios once more (still three songs left to be recorded).

Jamie (the other girl singing) and I went to see a movie afterwards but when we got to the cinema they were only showing movies in which we weren’t interested that much. Instead we drove back home (or better said I tried finding a way home – because of the road works we had to take several detours) and we kind of spent more than 2 hours in a local fast food restaurant because we had so much to talk about. I really like Jamie and it’s a pity that we never did a lot together. Time to change that!

Now it’s already 3.15 am. I still don’t feel like sleeping. Just watched two episodes of Breaking Bad (that show is getting better with every episode!). Tomorrow/ later I will visit my other Grandma. I promised her that I would come over for lunch, then we’ll wash the drapes and afterwards she’s going to tell me the beginnings of the story of her life .. maybe.

I asked her if she would tell me about it so I could write it down. She grew up during WWII and was one of the unfortunate people who had to flee. Most of the time she tells me certain bits and pieces but it really is just a tiny little bit and even though I was trying hard I can’t but the pieces into a whole big thing that would make sense to me because there are still so many gaps in between. I don’t want her story to be lost.

3.30 am. I really should go to bed.

Keep it dramatic!

Father Rock – what have you got?

A couple of hours ago I returned from a short trip with a couple of friends, band members and members of the Team.

Let me define “Team” first of all:

Shortly before our confirmation a new pastor came into our little town. Whenever we tell people about our times with the him we refer to him as Father Rock – which couldn’t describe him better (he’s a protestant man of God – Father Rock sounds better than Pastor Rock – just deal with it).

I myself have neither been a great believer nor a very religious person. Maybe there is a God above, maybe not, maybe it’s a he, maybe a she. Who knows.

However when Father Rock came into our town things started to change. Those of us who would have never talked to each other suddenly did because he built up a team. (You can compare it to Dubledore’s Army from Harry Potter, except we had an actual person around whom we’d gather.) Even though we were only 14 years of age he organised advanced trainings for us so that we could help him with the kids that hadn’t had their confirmation yet. Of course religion was a big part of the whole thing but he never forced us to believe in something. Some of us are atheists, some are catholic, some are protestants and some are not really sure. It never mattered though, because he was teaching us how to get along with each other. To tolerate and accept each other and how everyone’s special talents make us the best fucking team ever.

From the very beginning he tried to bring music in our lifes as he would always encourage us to sing along with him (and it wasn’t church songs only). Then one of his coworkers who has been working for our parish for … since I can remember (and much longer) gave us the possibility to learn how to play the guitar.

We tried it and Father Rock encouraged us – always. There’s that nice quote, I don’t know who said it but it goes like this:

If you want to light something on fire you have to burn for it yourself first.

I’m not exaggerating if I say that he was and still is our super nova. He lit us all on fire. e.g. By now I have my own “students” to teach how to play the guitar.

He formed a group that would meet up regularly to sing and make music. We made the music during his services. But then we got better and better. We got a name and are a proper band since February 2010. We went to the record studios once to record a single and we are going back there in a couple of weeks to record an EP. We are featured on a CD of our city’s “finest”. We have our own T-shirts.

Some of us still work with the confirmees. One of us is going to study theology in autumn. Over the last four years we became our parishes team for everything.

Before this whole thing started I always believed people, or better said teenagers, who work for their church as lame and boring. I thought they had nothing better to do or that they had no friends at all (poor perspective of a 14-year old).

But by now I know better. Religion is only subsidiary when we meet. Like, our drummer is a pastor – how cool is that?!

Over the past months we started growing apart because some of us are going off to university, some have other things to do – but we all try to make it possible to meet up at least once a week.

After all Father Rock is not only a pastor. He’s our drummer, our manager, our fire and person to lean on. Some of us got sick over the years (sickness of all kinds) but he was there to help us and if he couldn’t help he was just there to listen. He’s our friend and always behaves as one. There’s no adult and children-relationship. We’re just equal.

However, once a year we all hop in the mini bus and go on a very short vacation. We just go to a town not even an hour away from here but it doesn’t really matter. We just go there, have fun, laugh a lot, mess with potato crisps and he shows us how to put kangaroo-shaped crisps into our external ear (it really works!). We sing and make music. By now there are a couple of new guys on board but still the “original” core is there as well. By “original” I don’t mean to differentiate – we were just the very first “Team”. And we’ll always be (which makes me feel strangely proud).

The basic idea behind this trip … well, there is none. It just us and we get the opportunity to form even stronger or new bonds. Father Rock in the middle of everything. He always does that thing he calls “perspective talk”.

Each of us meets him in the library without the others. Then he tells us his opinion on things and changes concerning us. He tells us about our talents and about the potential he sees in us – mostly everything is positive and even if he does have something negative to say he does it in a way that makes it impossible to feel offended. He gives us the opportunity to pour our hearts out to him and he gives us all the time in the world.

At the end of the “perspective talk” he would ask whether we have something we would like to tell him, about him and his work.

Two years ago two friends and I were in Sweden and we imagined how it would feel when he had to leave. Later that night someone found us crying. And it was just a thought, not reality.

We cook together, clean up and prepare our improvised beds. After diner we’d play a game that requires the ability to function as a group – again bringing us closer to each other. We officially call it a night with a little prayer and a couple of songs (there has to be a little bit of religion, after all he still is a pastor). Afterwards the “relaxed” part of the weekend starts (as if we weren’t relaxed already).
After several games of Werewolf (Mafia) and new found skills like putting crisps in our external ears, “throw up” Fanta through our noses (ever laughed so hard?) and arguing over the most trivial things we went to bed. As soon as the lights were turned off and everyone went quite we realised someone had left the lights in the bathroom turned on. Another couple of minutes later in which all of us were refusing to get up again someone would eventually take pity and turn it off.

This went on three more times – because then the door was open and there were noises, then a girl missed her mobile phone and no one wanted to set the alarm clock.

Actually I wanted to write about the trip only but somehow this post turned out to be (pretty much) about Father Rock only. I don’t mind. I’m speaking for all us when I say he is the best that ever happened to us (not only as a group).

If there really is something like a God, he sent him to us. I know that it sounds cheesy and for me it’s hard to describe emotions that I myself am feeling. I just can’t put in words what he did for us. For me. He knows, though. And that’s the most important thing.