Black Thumb.

I'd like to share another success with you.

For as long as I can remember, I've been the grim reaper of plants. Well, flowers really. Not even I can kill a philodendron. The thing is, up until recently, I chose not to own indoor plants, because they would invariably die within a month of purchase. One "african star" survived a little longer. Once it stopped blooming, the stalk of the flower shrivelled up and hung there for a while. I made the mistake of trimming the dead stalk to make the plant look better. It died within a week.

But, some time early this year, I fell in love with orchids and I decided to give it one more shot. I waited until Ikea had a special and purchased a small one (about 18" in height) for €4. That was in March. Not only is it still alive at the end of May, but it has been blooming the entire time. It's growing like crazy and it's regularly replacing its old flowers with new ones.

It'll probably die this summer while I'm on vacation, but until then, I'm going to enjoy my newly-discovered inner gardener.

I feel a new project coming on...

Yes, my last post was a serious post, and now I'm reverting back to my crazy, project-oriented self to tell you something awesome.

The Boy gave me a pair of earrings for my birthday this year, made of silver and fresh water pearls:


I've been thinking it would be awesome to make a matching necklace for special occasions, but wondered where I would be able to find inexpensive fresh water pearls. And then, while searching for a missing earring that I suspect may be in my "craft box" to be repaired, guess what I found?


Yes. That is a 16" string of freshwater pearls that I plundered from my mom's bead collection (with her permission, mind you) the last time I was home. I took a number of beads I liked so I would have something to work with the next time I felt like creating.

I don't actually know if the pearls are real, though I suspect they are due to their weight and the way they feel cold to the touch. They're a tiny bit bigger than the pearls on the earrings, and also tend a little bit more to ivory, but I don't think that's all that noticable. And I doubt I'd do any better finding matching pearls if I searched for a year.

So, until I have time to make my new necklace, I'll simply revel in the fact that I have everything I need to make it.

Ticking Time-Bombs: Post-WWII Berlin

At some point, I plan to write a longer and better article on this topic, but because it belongs to current events, I'd like to touch on it now, already.

At 6:30 this evening, a 550lb WWII-bomb found during construction on the Spree River in Berlin was disarmed. It is the second one this month, and the fourth one in Berlin since I moved here six months ago. Five thousand people were evacuated to safety before the disarming.

The existence of dangerous remnants of World War II is something I believe not enough people know about. Every year, around 5,500 aerial bomb duds are disarmed in Germany. In Berlin alone, it's estimated that there are still 3,000 duds buried throughout the busy metropolis that need to be rendered innocuous. Some of these duds are found by special teams looking for them--anyone preparing to build can ask the government to search the construction site for bombs ahead of time. The rest are found during construction itself--sometimes even after the site has been thoroughly searched.

The biggest problem with these bombs is that they are becoming more dangerous with time. The fuses--exposed to the elements for over 65 years--deteriorate over time. Right now, if a bomb detonates, it's likely because someone hit it with a backhoe by accident, or otherwise touched it in some way. In the future, these bombs are going to become unpredictable, ticking time-bombs. The fuses will eventually deteriorate to the point that they will explode without warning, and without the chance to evacuate those living and working in the area. Homes, businesses, and schools (!) alike are affected by this hidden danger.

Even with these precautions, people still die. In Göttingen last summer, three professional bomb-diffusers were killed when a 1100lb bomb exploded as they were preparing it for disarming. I heard the explosion from nearly 2 miles away, though at the time, I didn't know that that was what I had heard.

It's not just the aerial bombs that cause problems. There are still millions of smaller unexploded ordinances stemming from World War II littering the country. Russian grenades pose a significant problem because they don't look like the grenades in movies, and therefore go unrecognized. They can show up in just about anybody's garden after a good rainstorm, and they're small and lightweight enough to be found and played with by children.

Although one could argue that landmines in Afghanistan are a bigger problem, I think it's important to communicate to people that, no matter where it is in the world--whether it be a third-world country, or the home of Europe's largest economy--war leaves a permanent mark. It is an outrage that people die as a result of a war they weren't even alive yet to witness.

Until the day that the very last explosive device is disarmed, I will have to deal with evacuations, traffic jams caused by restricted areas during disarmings, and maybe someday even delays in building my own house in order to have the building site searched for explosives. I hope I will never become a victim of World War II, killed by a bomb put there by my very own country.

Bad idea.

If someone posts a relationship status change on Facebook, do not be one of the first to comment on it. I am getting E-mail updates non-stop from the other people commenting on this wonderful new engagement. I don't know a single one of these well-wishers, and my LiveMail's chime for every new E-mail is no longer Pawlow's bell in my world, but is rather inducing a playback of "O Fortuna" in my head every time I hear it.

UPDATE:
Facebook now offers a button called "unfollow" so this won't happen.

It's that time of year again!

I have the impression that "that time" is more than annual, though.

Every once and a while things get out of hand at school. This time around, it's due to the fact that all of my graded presentations and multiple super-important exams are within two weeks of each other. Oh, and one of my friends is visiting from the states, which will also eat up a bit of prep-time.

So I'm riding an emotional rollercoaster of soaring optimism and crippling panic attacks. Right this moment, I'm feeling pretty good, but I'm sure in about an hour I'll be practicing breathing techniques while sobbing in a dark corner with a teddybear.

I suppose instead of blogging (and/or sobbing), I should go study.

[Insert funny comic relating to studying here]

Bruises.

A few years ago, I was playing ultimate frisbee with a bunch of friends and The Boy. He and I were on opposing teams, and when I play against him, I get pretty competitive. Long story short, while pursuing the Frisbee, we collided at high speed:


The Boy’s knee made impact with the middle of my thigh. I was in so much pain, I was certain I had broken my femur. However, after a horrendously long minute thinking I was going to die, the pain slowly subsided, and there remained nothing more than a dull throb. I limped from the field and decided to watch the game from the sidelines for a while instead.

A few days later, I had the biggest, bluest bruise I’ve ever had. No wait, no I didn’t. No, actually, there was absolutely no mark on my body at all from the full-body, high-speed impact with my 6’4” boyfriend. Weird.

On Sunday, I took the train from The Boy’s home to my home. The Boy gave me one of his old bicycles to use in Berlin, so I was travelling with said bicycle. While running to catch the train, one of the pedals on the bike bumped the back of my leg. I will admit that it did hurt a little bit, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Stuff like that happens to me on a regular basis. I guess I need to learn how to walk next to bicycles, or just spend more time riding them.
And from that minor bump, I got this:


That is a bruise the size of a small peach. Or a large plum. And it hurts like a b*tch.

I have to say, though, that I’m probably lucky I even know where the bruise came from. I can’t even remember all the times I’ve discovered bruises (especially on my legs) and have no idea what put them there. I used to get mysterious bruises on my knees, until I realized they were all the same height—and the same height as my coffee table.

I know it’s kind of sick, but I actually get all excited about bruises. They make me feel a little like some tough warrior princess. Rawr.

Sleepy days and sleepless nights...

I'm a pro at driving myself crazy.

Around 9:00pm every evening, I hit rock-bottom. I get really exhausted, and all I'd like to do is go to bed.

But then I think, "No way! If I go to bed now, I'll be awake by 5:00am, and really, who would want that?" So I look for something to occupy myself until bedtime. The occupation has a tendency to be internet-related (catching up on my favorite blogs, facebooking, researching any current symptoms I have to figure out what deadly disease I've contracted, etc.)

And then, BAM!! It's midnight, and I'm still in the middle of an article on Cracked, but I ought to be in bed at this exact moment in time if I want to function in the morning, but I still have to go through my nighttime rituals like personal hygiene and reading in my bedtime book and updating my facebook status one more time!! And I know that by the time I'm actually in bed and turn out the light, it will be well past 1:00am!

And this happens every single night. And every morning, I get up at 7:00am like a freaking soldier, because damn, I'm not going to lose gym-time in the morning because I was an idiot the night before. And every morning, I tell myself that I'm going to go to bed at a reasonable hour tonight, so I'm not tired the next day. And every night, my plans fail miserably.

So, now that it is 12:36 in the morning, I wish you a good night.