More precious than gold

Dear Constant Readers,

I haven't written much, as those of you who have been following my blog can see. I apologize if I've kept anyone at all waiting. If it's any consolation, I'm behind on a lot of things, not just this. I do have plenty to talk about, but for the past couple of weeks I've just been a little out of my senses, it feels like.

I started writing an entry last night, but was too tired to complete it, so I put it off, and now I'm starting over tonight, because I didn't really like what I had written last night. It wasn't of the nature of how I was feeling; indeed it felt a tad more superficial than what I would have liked.

I think that's weird that I write about feeling not well about being superficial in this, in a public blog, where God knows who is reading it. When I've told people about this, they say that they probably couldn't or wouldn't write something so open for the whole world to see. But for some of those who have read it and have sent me feed back, they seem to like the fact that I try to be rather candid, even if at times I think for an instant that I shouldn't have said something. I do try to reserve some info, of course, (we all do,) but like I've already mentioned before, this is therapeutic for me, to get some shit off my chest.

Potential future exchange students: Be not afraid, the stress I sometimes write about happens to everyone (doubtless many people are already aware of this), even those who aren't doing a study abroad, so don't let some of the stuff I vent give you the idea that living/studying (mostly living, hopefully) is more pain than it's worth. It's painful sometimes. It's almost always worth it. It *will* always be worth it if you want it to be. This has been one of the best collective experiences of my life, I honestly can't imagine my life without having lived away from home like this. I've tried to write about some of the great things as well, about living abroad, and sometimes I think the negative stuff in my blog outweighs them. If this is the case, from you, the Constant Reader's, perspective, then I'm sorry about that. My intent is to be informative, candid, honest, entertaining, and hopefully consistent...but certainly not negative.

One reason I am relatively open, though, is so that if someone reading this feels similarly, they can know that they aren't the only one, if I haven't mentioned that before.

I don't get much feed back anymore, and heck, I like hearing from people, but I must be doing something right, or I hope so, because almost always what I get back is good messages, and I thank you senders for that, it really is encouraging to help me write this the way I do.

I actually almost never go back and re-read either this or my personal diary entries (the director's cut version of this, I guess you could say) so I don't always keep track of what I've already written, and what might be repetitive. But in this case I did go back and just skim a little of my last entry because of its relevance to the past few weeks. I mentioned a girl with whom a relationship sort of began, but then didn't really happen...because I didn't really feel the necessary chemistry, and because I didn't want to be obligated to one person when I still wanted to have the free time (and honestly, the simplicity of just being single) early on in the year to meet more people, spend time with them, and see if I could establish some friendships. So her and I never really became a couple. And I thought I was happy with that, but the truth is, now it looks like she really does have a boyfriend, and now I realize that perhaps I screwed up.

Last week this was a lot worse, this feeling. I was blue and depressed, especially when I saw the two of them on together in the kitchen or corridor, or whatever. So I told some friends about it, because that's what you do in situations like that. You don't need the bullshit self-indulgence of suffering in silence. I told them what was bugging me, and they were generous and listened to me sing my sad song. And they were friendly and said that happens man. And it does. It does all the time, and if there was someone else here, I'd be telling them the same thing. But it's hard to tell yourself this, even if you believe it. Believing in something doesn't make the pain disappear. It's more like a lighthouse in a storm, I'd say. My favorite bit of advice was given to me by a man I've never personally met, but with whom I've corresponded over (can you guess??) languages and phonetics...and incidentally he's been one hell of a boost to talk when I've had questions or needed encouragement, even though we haven't spoken that much. But anyway, he relayed some of this stories of broken romance, and advised me to just sit around in a dark room in my boxers and eat Cheetos for two days, and then move on with life. Because it's OK to feel down, it's quite normal, it happens. Don't let it rule your life, but realize that if you are feeling sad for awhile about something like this, chances are there's nothing wrong with you.

And then I felt better. I had some good talks with some good friends, (you guys and gals know who you are). I spent some time with some people socializing and I just felt better. But then today I sank low again. I foundered for lots of reasons. I mentioned I'm behind on some things, which include making flashcards for my German, getting things packed and sent home, getting some emails sent out (some of them by weeks), getting classes for the fall lined up (all though, actually, I had to wait a while anyway to see what I'm taking here), and naturally, when I mentioned above.

After school ended, I took the day off from people mostly. I was invited to go grilling, but I needed the me-time. I did end up playing a board game with two friends, and then this girl and her new boyfriend (apparently) and tried to be a good sport, but it was crystal clear to everyone I was distracted, especially when I saw the chemistry between them.

I really do not know why I feel so bad about this. It's not heart-breaking caliber, but getting your thumb slammed in the door still sucks. I don't understand it...We were never advanced in a relationship, and it broke off several months ago, and really there has been very little contact between us ever since. It's gotten better, but still rather limited. Plus I'm going home eventually, so can't really expect something major to develop, unless I'm one of the Few who actually do do something like that. I don't quite understand why this has effected me so.

However, for those of you who ask yourself the same kind of questions, here are some, hopefully, words of wisdom that I've found and will share with you. You *don't* need to understand something to experience it. I don't get why I'm hurting like this, but indeed I am, and that's what it comes down to.

Something else I know, though, as well: This is normal. I write it, believing it is another process, like I mentioned above, but I still have my wits about me. Right now I have been feeling some negative shit, and I haven't been happy, and the thoughts dancing through my skull haven't been including rainbows, but I still have the sense enough to know I'm not crazy, and that this will come to pass. (It better, because if life has shown me anything about this, it'll probably happens a few times again!) I am not a crazy person, or a suicidal person, or anything like that, I'm just a normal dude completely obsessed with languages who's had a fucked up beginning of his second semester in Germany.

Iona told me that I worry too much about stuff. And you're correcto-mundo, my friend. I do, and that's yesterday's news. And I'll admit this to the wide world from my corner of the internet: I admire you for putting up with me as long as you have. From the bottom of my heart I appreciate that. Dylon and Maren, that goes for you, too. I've spilled my guts to you guys talking about somethings I didn't think I'd have the courage to bring up to you, but you've all always took it well, and I am very grateful. These are some of the things I try to be, and I think your examples are inspiring for those who would notice.

To Ily and Maria and Amanda and to everyone else I've turned to this past year (or longer, depending on the person), regarding issues, major or minor, that I've wanted to discuss, I've been most fortunate to find people like you. You are the ones I hold in my heart.

And (especially to you, Iona, I say this) I am trying to play it cool. I just sometimes forget to play it cool. I think it is just my personality to turn nothing into a potential headache...I don't think details like that are always what's wrong with a person, it's just personalities they need to work on, like developing more patience or being less arrogant, or whatever the unique situations might call for. And I'm trying. I don't know how to go about it, but I'm trying to be more easy going about it all.

Sometimes I just don't know who I am. I'm sure a lot of people feel this way though. There's a quote that goes something like "Know who you are, because if you don't, know one else does." Well, iddn't that cute? You *do* need to know who you are, and you *do* need to believe in yourself when know one else does, but I think the people we associate with in our lives tell a lot about who we are. Speaking from my own personal experience, I do need to ask people a lot of questions regarding issues I'm uncertain of. You *need* other people's input sometimes to know that you aren't the only one feeling like such and such a way, and to know if there is something wrong or not. Considering the circumstances, usually there isn't, or at least nothing that can't be handled well and improved to a degree. When I think about that quote, I agree with it in that you have to be your own person, and know who that person is, but it's not a concrete thing, and it's not in a vacuum. Sometimes a second opinion is just what is needed.

One of my major issues is just being more sure of myself. I think this is the big reason why I don't like that quote; because I think it helps to talk to other people; but there is also the point where I just need to believe in myself more. In languages it is quite obvious: I'm much better than I often give myself credit for, but when I get nervous or am tired, or for whatever reason choke on the language I'm speaking instead of use it well, I tend to get overly frustrated and mopey. Yet I know I'm good. I'm not perfect, but I know I have more natural talent than probably a lot of people in the world. (Talent, by the way isn't the end-all, but it helps quite a bit.) And I don't say any of this to brag, but I know this because when I'm doing good, Germans generally can't place my accent...I still sound foreign, but generally they don't guess I'm American. By now I'm reasonably fluent. And the times I've asked other-language speakers to tell me something so I can practice the pronunciation, I'm not always dead-on, but usually better than what foreigners typically say. I'm starting to find out I have more ability in it than I initially thought.

And lack of self-assurance comes through in other area's of my life. Maybe it is because I've tried to keep any arrogance in check, and have gone into over-kill on that...which is also a type of arrogance, actually "Oh, look at me! Woe is me!" Poppycock, I say. But still, I could give myself more of a break on languages, and just on life in general, than I do, and I should. But regardless, having people to talk to are still essential to full life, I think. But how does one give themselves a break? Do we all have that ability to reach down into ourselves, or do we even all have the self-assurance, planted in us like an instinct? Or is it a case where we are a product of our environment, and thus have to learn this self-assurance?

I generally find myself searching for...me I'm still young, but I don't think that's an excuse to not give it some thought. I'm looking for the core qualities about me, and I think I know what those are. But there are somethings I just can't figure out. Everyone wants to barbecue every weekend. I don't (that is to say, not as often as they do, I guess). Some friends want to go swimming ever Wednesday. I don't. They want to play basketball, but I don't. Why do I disagee to all this? Well, basketball, that's easy. I have no sports instinct whatsoever. If I were the shadow of a basketball player, I'd get fired for not being able to keep up. That goes for most sports, too. When I do play them, I occasionally have fun. When I go swimming (if I don't freeze, which I do easily) I have fun. When I grill and all that, I enjoy it as well. So maybe I just don't like the ideas of it....for God knows why. I think sometimes I want the change of scenery, too, so to speak.

This might be why, though. I think it matters with who you are with, and your mood. When I feel obliged to do something or be alone in my room, usually I do the first thing, but not always in the best of spirits. It's perhaps the wrong attitude to have, and actually putting it into writing here is helping me see it from another perspective. But it still doesn't change the fact that sometimes I don't want to swim or eat grilled food, or go to a party or whatever.

Sometimes I just want to take the day off. So maybe I'll try to do that more often.

When I start talking about relationships and heartache, and end up talking about grilling, I think it's time to stop. I had no idea it was going to be this long, but anyway, I think I've said quite enough for tonight.

I sincerely hope all is well. And if it isn't here is another favorite quote of mine: "This too shall pass".

Sincerely,
Tristan

Over There

Dear Constant Readers,

Here I am again, after another longer-than-one-week absence. If you are reading my notes on Facebook instead of on Blogger, then you perhaps saw my message that I was gone for a week in my status, that is if I remembered to say so. So, this blog then is then partially about last week.

A couple of weeks ago, Katrin invited me to go to a camp called Taize, in Southeast France, I think it was. Taize is an ecumenical Christian camp set up and established by a fraternity of Brothers who live there. So, that's about all I knew before going. I was again got the traveling jeebees and wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but then knew I'd feel bad later if I turned down this chance to travel around again, so I accepted the invitation. The day after Easter, armed with my backpack, some fruit, a sleeping bag, and "To Kill a Mockingbird" (the latter two items both supplied to me by Maren), I headed off in a bus trip with six other German people, roughly my age, and thus began the six hour trek to France.

The drive went surprisingly fast, considering how long it took to get there. We got to the camp safe and sound and then we got registered and/ or checked in. It was a large camp, and quite international, I think with 50 some countries represented sometimes, and room for some 2-3,000 souls. In my cabin, I was with 3 Germans, one French guy, and a Swiss fellow. In my guesstimation, probably 80-90% of the people there were German, so I certainly wasn't out of practice for my German.

This was the layout of the schedule: in the morning there was an hour long prayer service, which consisted of repeatedly singing a lot of short songs, readings, 10 minutes of silence, and then communion or blessed bread for whoever wanted it. Afterwards there was a simple breakfast. And then, in my schedule, I was free until midday prayer, which was all the same except for the communion, and then a simple lunch again. Afterwards, I had KP duty all week (everyone there was supposed to have some task to do) after which I went to my course (there was an option of three: I chose "The Last Seven Sentences of Jesus on the Cross") and then we broke up into groups to discuss some questions that were asked of us. After that, we had tea, which I also had KP for, and then free time until dinner and then evening prayer, which was just like the one before lunch.

When I first got there, frankly, the singingly annoyed the hell out of me. How many times can you sing the same damn song? They are only 30 seconds long apiece, yet they were repeated until they were full-length songs. But after a few times of singing, it started to grow on me. Some of the songs were quite beautiful (my favorite one was a Swedish one that went: Kristus, ande din ar en kalle med porlande vanten, "Christ, your spirit is a well of eternal water" I think is the translation...The melody sounded moving and a touch haunting) but some of them were still not so great.

There really was a peace to be found in the camp, though. I won't describe it in dramatic or sappy ways the way spirituality sometimes is, but it really was just a simple peace. It didn't feel like I was in France (I probably had the German language to thank for that)...the landscape was absolutely gorgeous, and I got some photos snapped off for Facebook, which I'll post later. One of the people in my conversation groups, a Finnish girl named Jen, described it best by saying "It's simple: just eating and praying," and that's what a lot of it was. The weather was beautiful, so in one's free time, they could find a place to sit by the pond or under a tree and think, or like what I did, read, and take pictures of grass.

I didn't feel that I made any close connections with anyone, though. I thought I might have, once: there was one person that I spoke with, a volunteer from Berlin who worked at the camp, and her and I talked a bit about theology (she had studied religion pedagogy), and I think we had a good talk, but ultimately, I don't know if I really met anyone who I will stay in touch with for a long time. Sometimes that happens, and I was hoping it would, here, too, but I guess it didn't. It wasn't all that surprising, but it was a bit disappointing. That's not to say I didn't meet people that I don't want to stay in touch with (there are a few who have my email address) but I didn't find a reciprocate of that connection...I guess is the best way to describe it. Or maybe I'm completely wrong and someone will contact me. Who knows.

Despite the number of Germans, I was surprised by the other countries represented: namely Sweden and Finland. A fellow from Australia made an interesting comment in saying that missionaries are now coming from Asia to do mission work in Europe. I said I hope they don't use the violence the Europeans did. To me, though, the presence of these countries was more impressive than the presence of all the Germans, all though that was noteworthy, as well. It was like a breath of fresh air for me, to find similarities in corners of the world I never really would have expected to see any in.

I was looking forward to coming home, though, by the end of the week. I missed my clean room, I missed hot showers, and good non-camp food and all that. And the internet. There I said it. The trip home wasn't much different from the way there, except for we were all much more comfortable with one another, and I even finished reading my book (it was excellent, by the way, check it out if you haven't read it before), but it still seemed to take longer. I was glad to be home again, but felt awkward, a bit like a fish out of water.

For a lot of reasons I felt like this. I suppose being at camp had something to do with it, but also, I felt like I somehow needed to get my life aligned somehow. I tried to express this to a couple of people, and the general consensus was that a) that's normal to feel that way, and b) that I think too much. To the first, I say, that's great, but then shouldn't normal feel...well, normal, and not like things are out of whack? We have instincts for a reason. Maybe I was just disoriented from coming home. Maybe the weather was too hot.

To the second, that I think too much...Probably, yes, sometimes. Or that I dwell on things too easily. I don't know. But I don't think I think too much, because I don't know any differently. In other words it's like saying someone breathes to much. Well, that's just what we do. And if something in my life feels off, then I'm probably bound to think about it a bit.

I think, also, this has something to do with it: When I came here, back in September, I was hoping I'd find a girlfriend, but nothing really developed, despite what some times when I thought it would, as I believe I've mentioned here before. Regarding who I am thinking of, we are still friends, to a degree at least. But there is a twinge of guilt, and I guess envy, when I think that she finds someone instead. I suppose it's normal to feel that way, but some people might say "Well, you had your chance, besides, it didn't feel right, what should you care?" Because, I'm still human, I say. I don't like feeling jealous, and I try to get on with my own life, and be happy, but sometimes it's like getting rained on. I can deal with it, but give me a chance to recover a bit. Part of me I guess would still wish things had worked out better between us, so when I see someone else in that position, I feel a little sour.

And I'm sure there's someone out there, or so I'm told, but she's hiding really well. Oli oli oxen free, do you exist? Now in my life is probably not the time for such notions, anyway. I don't want to sound dramatic. This is something I think about, but I don't think I'd go so far as to say I dwell on it anymore like I did a few years ago. I guess it's part of maturing.

A girlfriend/boyfriend is never a solution to a person's problems. Before they can be happy with someone else, they need to be happy with themselves. Other people can help them, but ultimately the individual needs to be strong; they cannot always depend on someone else supporting them. But I won't lie and say that sometimes I'm just flat out lonely. I have great friends, I have a spiritual life, I have a bit of adventure in my life, but sometimes I just feel like I want a hug. Doesn't everyone feel that way once in a while?

I am happy with my life, for the most part. Sometimes I'm sad, sometimes I'm lonely, sometimes I'm confused about what to do, or even dwell on too much negativity. Sometimes I can be too hard on myself. But overall I don't feel generally unhappy. I get overwhelmed and a bit panicky, but then things tend to work out. But I have the feeling that something is missing from it, and I cannot figure out what it is. I often have the feeling that I need to talk with people, because I hate having things on my chest. But my mind works like a bunch of little gears going and I think that it's wearing me down, and for all the flaws in my life, I can't solve them all, and I feel that that is the hand I have been dealt, that's what I have to work with. My happiness is a choice, not a ray of sunshine shining down. I have to work at it everyday, some days are better than others. At the moment I'm feeling a little down again, but that comes and goes, because humans aren't static. Joy is a gift, peace is a gift. Happiness is earned, I think. Like the man said, someone who looks for happiness will never find it, one who works to make help others will have happiness find him.

But, that still doesn't change the fact that I sometimes just want someone special to share my life with. When I look at some of my friends/classmates...they are in relationships, they are engaged, they are married...well, the latter two I personally would rather hold off on for a number of years, but with the first, I guess how does one not notice it sometimes? Sometimes when I think about it, though, I wonder if even it's even my thing. I've never been in a serious relationship, and don't really know the first thing about the commitment I've no doubt it takes. I have an idea about the qualities I'm looking for, but sometimes, I wonder if I'm being too picky, or if they are just qualities I like about myself; I tell myself it's just because I'd feel compatible with such a person, but I also think maybe it's me just getting a little full of myself. Still, though, ideas aren't bad to have when looking for someone.

What I probably ought to do is just forget the whole thing, and at least for the time being in Germany, I kind of have, because I'm going home in a few months anyway. I'm not sure I can ever totally forget it, though.

Well, anyway, I'm not really sure how I got on that...I took a break from writing this and came back a moment ago to work on the last few paragraphs.

I feel that it would be wrong of me to not mention at least a small opinion of what happened in Virginia yesterday. I felt kind of bad I was out of the country when this happened. I don't know why...I have the news coverage here, if I want it. I guess I feel a sense of loyalty...if a tragedy strikes, I guess I feel I should be there with the rest of the nation. I want to point something out, though, because this is a bit of a hard concept to grasp for some, I think. When we are at home and we see news of people dying in wars in countries where no one can pronounce the names, gee, that's too bad, but it's over there. Well, to me, I could just as well say Virginia is "over there." To many Germans, that is probably exactly the case. Most people will probably feel a vague sense of loss that I think is expressed well in this little ditty by John Donne, called "For Whom the Bell Tolls":


No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

Basically, what it means is, for me at least, if someone dies, even if I didn't know the person, I usually feel a vague emptiness, not quite a sadness always, but at least a vagueness at the extinction of a member of my species.

But it's over there...so tough luck, but it's on TV, so it might as well be on another planet.

This time it was at home, wasn't it? Not so "over there" now... This isn't a political message, I'm just trying to point out how small our world really is, and that what people here about in the papers isn't fiction. It is depersonalized, it is overwhelming, so we perhaps shut ourselves down to it, for our own survival...or out of fear of some kind...but it's *us*. I think more people need to realize this. I can't speak for other countries, but for America it's a bit harder, I think. There's still some isolationism that the internet cannot breach. We don't share a ton of borders, and our country is huge. I don't know what this realization would accomplish, but I doubt it would hurt much.

A friend of mine said that concealed weapons could have helped end this quicker, if students were allowed to carry them. And he's right, probably. Someone probably could have stopped the killer before he murdered so many people. But I don't think that concealed weapons are the answer. I won't deny they are the possible means to end crime in it's tracks while it's happening, but I also think that as a whole, people aren't ready for such a law. Speaking for myself, I would be uncomfortable with it. I'm not anti-guns, but I think the people who support this idea of concealed weapons are still in the minority. I'm not saying they're wrong, because I just don't know, but I think that until more average Joes agree that this would really help, I think the idea should not be implemented. We simply are not yet ready for it. Unfortunately, there may not be another answer, given the situation. There must be, but there very well may not be. Norway, for example, doesn't arm their police: armed police cause the criminals to feel they need to be packing, as well. But then again, Norway doesn't have the crime America has. But I can't help but feel this would stoke the fire somehow. And then again, if me or a loved one were in danger, and I could stop it, I wouldn't be pacifistic about it.

But I wasn't there. Maybe I should keep my two cents in my pocket, after all.

Anyway, I don't have much love for politics, on the giving or the receiving end, so I'm not going to continue on this. This is not what my blog is about. To be honest, when I write, sometimes I'm uncomfortable about all I say, but I think there are some universal themes in it, and hope that maybe someone reading it would find comfort somehow... Hmmm, that sounds really familiar. I may have already written that, so if I did, I guess I really mean it!

Anyway, that's it for me. Have a good one all! Hope all is well.

Sincerely,
Tristan

Back to Writing Again

Dear Constant Readers,

For the past four or five days my internet has been down again. Not only was it down here, but for some reason unknown to me, my school computer account had also been shut down, so writing on my blog was not possible, and a few other details I need worked out have not been possible. So to those of you who may have been looking to see when I'd write again, I apologize for the delay. It's already in the early hours of the morning, but I felt this had waited long enough.

Part of the reason why I enjoy writing in this blog is because it gives me a place to talk about things I can't talk about with everyone here. Most of the friends I have don't speak English as a native language, and even the ones who do speak English I'm almost always speaking German with. This is good for language practice, but when it comes to things that I really have and need to get out, this is very frustrating.

Last week is an example. For the past month and a half I've been on break, as I've written about already. Most of that time has been spent fairly constructively, either traveling around, or in my own slightly reclusive way of studying German with my grammar book. Almost all of my friends are busy, or are not around, so it leaves me with a lot of time on my hands. I've tried to make the most of it, but sometimes I get antsy and start to wonder about whether I'm being constructive or wasteful.

Anyways, onto what I wanted to say about last week: I've been working very hard on my German. I've been trying to do all things German...right now I'm taking a bit of a break and am reading another quick novel in English, I hope to be done with it in the next couple of days...but for the most part, I'm trying to make this last 4 months or so very successful ones regarding the language.

For all my love of language, I have to work very hard at it; maybe it comes easy to me compared to other people, but if it does, then it's relative, because it sometimes feels very difficult. In any case, I was telling Christina about how I feel self-conscious speaking around friends rather than around strangers, and she found that odd, but then went on to say that that is all I seem to talk about with her, and that I think about it too much.

I remember the first time someone really brought to my attention how much I was talking about language with them. Up until that point I didn't realize it, but it was true. Afterwards I felt terribly awkward speaking with this person again, I felt like I had already ruined future conversations by appearing as completely obsessive and narrow-minded and blind to the world around me.

That was years ago, and since then my opinions on obsessiveness has changed, and I am not blind to the world around me, but I still felt vulnerable to what Christina had said, and although she didn't intend it, her words cut much deeper than she had realized.

And this is why. And I hope with all my heart that someone reads this and knows what I'm talking about. Languages are my life. For the past seven years, a solid seven years, I've immersed myself in grammar books in languages ranging from French to Lakota to Esperanto to even Klingon. I've invented my own rudimentary language, (but I never learned to speak it). I've spent hours pouring over articles about linguistics, what it takes to be an interpreter at the United Nations (which is what I wanted to do for a a few years), joined and am an active member of a language forum on the internet, and have left my home culture and everyone I know, twice, to live other countries mainly just to learn the languages. Some people become exchange students to see another culture (and I wanted that, too, of course), some do it to make friends in another part of the world, some do it with a lot of partying on their minds, probably. I don't know. I did it, mostly, for the language, and a bit of romantic flare: even though the world is explored, I can still somehow find adventure somewhere.

This is not what I'm all about. I do have a life beyond this. I like to write, as I hope is clear by now. I like to read. I want to learn the piano, and to be better at drawing and painting. But at my heart I'm a linguist of sorts.

So when Christina told me these things, I wondered if I had somehow, unconsciously, been pushing people away. Despite talking about these things in this blog, I actually like my privacy. But as the saying goes: I like being alone; I hate being lonely. I love having visitors come by my room. I love hearing from people commenting on my blog, I love socializing with my friends. In short, I guess I would describe myself as introverted, but with a love of company when the time is right.

So I felt torn between two things that I love: my love of language vs. trying to make and keep the friendships I have here. How, I asked myself, do I stop doing something I love so much, stop thinking about it, at the cost of the other? Because for all the love of my hobby, a language will never give a person a hug. I language is a piss-poor soundboard. A quote hangs in a polyglot's study, so I've read, and it goes something like this: The pursuit of only money or only knowledge lead not to happiness. My language studies are a passion, over almost a decade I admit that they have consumed me, not to where I'm insane for them, but they mean a lot to me. But they are an intellectual study, and I know that a person needs far more than mere intellect to lead a full life, which is what I'm striving to do. I think relationships are the key to that. And yet, for all the friends in the world, if I can't be myself around them, the self that is completely enamored for linguistics, then that wouldn't really be me. It would be like being friends with Picasso, and him never feeling comfortable mentioning he was a painter. I've heard of pilots who do it because it's in their blood, not because it's their profession. And I've heard the same about sailors. And this is how it is with me, I think.

So, that was the quandary. I felt cornered. But I didn't really feel like I had anyone to talk to. Ever since then, Christina and I were on speaking terms. I felt awkward around her, and she didn't seemed much inclined to chat anyway. I hadn't figured out how to try to communicate and talk to Katrin yet, and my other two friends who were in town that I felt like I could mention this two, both of them American exchange students, they were both busy as well, and besides, I wasn't sure how to bring it up. Sometimes I feel like I use them so much for advice anyway.

For two days or so this stewed in me until finally, sitting in the kitchen trying to read a book in German Katrin had given me for Christmas, after everyone had left, I finally broke down and wept, wondering what in the hell had gone wrong, and where to go next, because I really didn't know what course to take. I half hoped someone would see me and ask what was wrong, and I half dreaded this as well.

Katrin found me, and became alarmed at seeing me in such a state. I've seen people break down in front me since coming here, and at times have felt low myself, but had never exposed myself in this way to anyone here yet. She sat down across from me at the table and persuaded me to tell me what was bothering me, in English, if I wanted to, which I did, at the time, but when I finally got the chance to tell someone what was bothering me, I didn't even know how to describe it. I knew what I felt was genuine, but I couldn't find the words for it at first. While trying to think of what to say, Katrin's friend Lisa (who we visited several months ago in Mainz, if you remember me mentioning that) walked in on this rather awkward moment, but was gracious enough to be patient with me as I tried to explain to Katrin what was disturbing me.

So I told her what Christina and told me, and I told how I felt like I had been isolating myself without knowing it, and about how people tell me I think to much, but there is really no way I can find to turn that off, especially if there is no one here to do anything with and I'm alone, and I told her how I missed talking to her (Katrin) and how even though our friendship had seemed to go cold, she was still an important person to me, and that I was sorry for whatever had gone wrong. She took all this, especially the latter part, with a somewhat stunned and speechless expression. I didn't know what to make of it, but it seemed to be the right thing to say. I still didn't know how to talk to her, so I just talked, and didn't care how it sounded, because I needed to get it out of me.

After that, I calmed down a bit, and the rest of the evening went fairly smoothly. Katrin later told me that I should have just come to her in the first place, and that she thought I was upset at her...Which was odd...I'd never really been upset at her, a bit puzzled and hurt at how things were, but the whole time I had been avoiding her because I thought she was upset at me and wanted space.

So communicating screw ups go deeper than language problems, I guess. It was nice to get that out of the way between us.

A few days later, while speaking with Christina, she mentioned that Katrin had mentioned how much I had been hurt by what she had told me about thinking too much about languages, and apologized for causing me to misunderstand her. It wasn't her fault, I don't there's anyway that she, or most people here, can understand how it would have affected me, but it was nice to hear that from her as well, and to know that she wasn't all annoyed with me, as I feared she might be.

Some people say "Don't care what others think about you" and to a point they are right. You have to be your own person. But I do care what other people think, again, to a point. I care if they think I'm being a jerk, or completely narrow-focused on something, especially since in both cases I try not to be. If she's annoyed with me, I would have cared about that. Maybe I couldn't do anything about it, and if she was just a face in the crowd to me, it wouldn't be such a priority to worry about, if any at all, but because she is someone I care about her, her feelings are something that I try to be considerate of. I try to be like that with most people here that I meet.

So, I don't know how things will go now. I intend on pursuing my German studies, and that's all I can say. I seem to be on mostly good terms with everyone around me, for which I'm glad. I'm stressed about two things, though: my class schedule for this semester, and how hard it seems to be to get things to fit with what I need, and a religious camp in France I'll be visiting for a week after Easter. Katrin invited me to go with her to a place called Taize, and I accepted, although I'm nervous about it, as I usually am before I go some place new, where there will be thousands of strangers. However, I'm sure it will be fun, and my classes will be boring as hell, and those are just the facts of life one has to accept. Somehow I'll at least get them to work out.

So why did I spill my guts like this tonight? Because everyone has a shit time once in a while. Maybe some of you didn't want to read about it, but I'm sure all of you could relate to it. Maybe somehow it might be comforting to those who are having a hard time with something.

Be cool. Hope all is well.

Sincerely,
Tristan