My raging disillusionment...Nr. 2

PLEASE TAKE THE TIME TO READ THE WHOLE THING. I'D LIKE TO HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS. -jh

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No, THIS particular raging disillusionment is not about marriage. Let out that breath of air and relax. Well, that's until you read what this post IS actually about. :P

So blogging has been a lot more difficult for me since I returned to Canada. I think it's because I don't feel I have anything to "report" anymore. I mean, I'm home. So I'm either at work or hanging out with a friend or ... watching One Tree Hill. LOL. No joke.

So what could I have to say now that's worthwhile? What could I possibly talk about that would actually interest anyone? There are no more crazy German tales or adventures. Just my old life. And don't get me wrong...I LOVE my old life. I love my ruts and routines. And I love and appreciate this incredible home that I have (country, province, and town) more than ever before. But I have also been wrestling with the feeling that perhaps I should just delete my blog. When 4 or 5 days go by and I can't think of ONE thing that would be interesting enough to put out there on this grand world wide web, I start to panic and wonder whether I might end up losing what has become one of my favourite pastimes over the past 12 months. I love to write. It keeps me sane. And I don't think I suck at it. But ... what if the material is gone?

So I was sitting here today, wondering what I should write about. See, my worst posts are the ones I write when I'm trying to think of something fun(ny) to write about, just to keep ya'll entertained. Because those aren't coming from a real place inside of me. They sound forced ... because they are. And my best posts are the ones where I sit down, place my fingers on the keyboard, and suddenly realize 500 words later that my post is done and I didn't even have to think about it. I realized this I'd say...maybe half a year ago. So I've since then been trying to only write when I get that urge. The urge to describe, portray, create, even entertain. And to erase the anxiety that creeps in when I'm afraid I might forget a certain feeling, sound, smell, place, person, event. I have SUCH a fear of that.

And while I was sitting here today, wondering what I should write about, I thought to myself: "how have you been feeling lately? why can't you be honest, Julia? what's with the frigging writer's block?" And I realized that I've been wrestling lately...well, more like finally admitted...I already knew I was wrestling. As opposed to a light fun-filled blog post with a gazillion silly metaphors, painfully-thought-through alliterations, colourful descriptions, off-the-cuff judgments, and an infinite amount of "frigging"s and "frickin'"s to give it my own little flair :P, this one is a bit more difficult to put out there.

I once again find myself disillusioned.

That is the sentence I haven't been wanting to write for months. But haven't.

I find myself disillusioned about my own faith. See, I was hoping that while I was in Germany this year I would figure some things out. I would spend more time reading my Bible, trying to understand exactly what it is I believe and why. Without the usual distractions of university, work, friends, more friends, and life. I don't want to be one of those Christians who believes because that's how she was raised. I refuse to be. And while most people find it difficult TO believe, I have to admit that I have the opposite problem. I would find it difficult NOT to believe. I mean, I've grown up with this all my life. I only know a world with a God. With a Jesus. So I would be more afraid to face a world where this doesn't exist, just cuz I can't imagine it. And I don't want to. But the worst Christians in the world are the ones who only believe because that's how they've been raised. The ones who haven't tested it. Or made it their own. I recognize this. But that only leaves me with a larger dilemma. What do I do about it? How do I fix this? Can this even be tested?

I really really really don't like fake Christians. I call them "bubble Christians". They live in their little impervious bubbles ... hardly made of soap and water....more like bricks and concrete...and they put a happy face on everything. They listen to worship music 24/7. They judge everyone around them with a simple snide remark or glance, holding a Bible in one hand and a gavel in the other. They claim to believe in something they've never lived a day in their life. And they turn me off. So if they're turning ME off...a good Christian girl...then what must they be doing to those out there who might finally be looking to Christianity for the answers?

The more fake Christians I meet, the more I run in the opposite direction. The more I examine myself...my flaws...and then the more I try to expose my flaws and draw them out, even show them off...to make sure that I don't turn out like THEM (the "flawless" ones). It's the religious equivalent of pinching yourself really hard to make sure you're awake. But in case you haven't extrapolated this further than "it's a GOOD thing to not wanna be a phony, Julia" let me just tell you that this isn't exactly a positive trait...just like pinching yourself on a regular basis probably wouldn't be much fun either. It makes me say things...do things...feel things...that I probably shouldn't be doing or saying...or even feeling, all in an attempt to not end up on the opposite end of the spectrum. But I don't want to return to middle ground. I find myself so tired of middle ground. I'm sick of it. Bored of it. I crave the extremes. Any extreme? No, an extreme. But is it good for me?

A high-school friend of mine, Kyla, blogs too (you can find her in my blogs list on the side). And I find myself checking her blog ALL the time. It seems that while she and I may not have spoken face-to-face for...oh, I'd say...2 years or maybe more...she seems to be having similar thoughts. Similar struggles. I can totally identify with so much of what she's been saying. And it is actually her honesty...her courage to put her personal issues about her own faith out there for all to see that has given me the strength to do it myself.

Is there safety in numbers?

Or are there answers in numbers?

Another reason I decided to write about this ... even though I REALLY...and I mean REALLY ... didn't want to, is that Pastor Sieg actually mentioned the whole "being a Christian because you were raised that way" issue in church this last Sunday. I was immediately intrigued because this has been one of my main concerns for a few years. I was waiting for him to placate my fears and spoon-feed me a pat little answer. But instead he said this (among other things): "God doesn't have any grandchildren." I was paralyzed for a moment and these words are still ringing in my ears. And I need to figure this stuff out.

So I come to my final points: Why are Christians so afraid to admit they are struggling? Why has it taken me 22 years to admit it? Is it because I feel that after 2 decades of believing in something that actually LITERALLY means life and death I feel I should have at least a few things figured out? Isn't that what others would expect of me?

I may not have actually said that much in this blog. Perhaps nothing significant. But it was real. It was ME. And you wanna know how I know? Because a few minutes ago I sat down, I placed my fingers on this keyboard, and 1,341 words later, here I am.

Blaaaaaaaaaaah

Well, I was gone the past three days and now I feel like I should write something cuz it's been a while. THE PRESSURE!!!!

But there's just not much to tell. There actually isn't anything about the field trip in Schneeberg with the grade 6's that is worth writing about. They are annoying, loud, snotty (in the proverbial sense, not literal...at least usually not literal :P), ridiculously immature, and yet on some level slightly loveable. They boys made nasty pervy comments THE WHOLE TIME. Like, I mean, not ONE WORD out of their mouths was about something other than sex or girls and the like. And when they started talking about masturbation at the breakfast table, that's when I put my foot down. I just looked at Dominic with my best teacher's-no-nonsense-skin-melting glare and said "I'm eating." Oddly enough they got the point. Haha. And then I made the mistake of wearing a t-shirt with comics all over it today, which gave the boys license to stare at my chest and read the speech bubbles. Note to self: pubescent boys are nasty nasty nasty creatures. (No offense to any of my male family members that happen to be around that age...love you guys).

Anyways, I honestly think that's it. Us teachers unwound with champagne in the evenings. lol. Lifesaver, I'm telling ya! But it's fun to just chat, swap stories, and hear all about their past experiences. Good times. And there are officially only 16 more days left til I'm done here! sniff sniff.

Ya, that's all I've got. You are dismissed. See? Won't I make an EXCELLENT teacher???

brain still not functioning properly. so this is random.

For those of you without facebook, here are approximately ... half of my england pics. :)

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=120147&id=573967603&l=cbd0fb1e46


http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=120154&id=573967603&l=007bf5abbb


http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=120163&id=573967603&l=05cd6e70ae

Oh ya, my own personal stereotype of English people has officially been confirmed: they have the worst teeth of all people everywhere. WORST. Seriously, if you start paying attention, you'll realize that you can pretty much recognize if someone is from England just by getting a glimpse of their good ole dents. Awful. I can usually tell if someone's a British actor before they ever speak, just by looking at their teeth. Awful. I believe Russell Crowe said it best in "A Good Year" when, upon seeing Abbie Cornish, he quips "The only country that issues teeth like that is America." I love that movie. sigh. Also love this quote: "All he has to do is smash his teeth and stop bathing and he'll pass off as English."
So if we tally it up ... someone needs to introduce water faucets with both hot AND cold water, as well as dentistry in this country...


Next completely random point - some of my fave movies that I need to see before I shrivel up and die (aka. when I get back to Canada):


- Hackers
- Empire Records
- Fight Club
- Reservoir Dogs
- Dirty Dancing
- The Fountain
- Boondock Saints
- Wicker Park
- Proof
- The Matrix
- Snatch



Oh, two more funny british words. They always say "coach" instead of bus and their highways are called "motorways". Silly English people.

I like lists

Strangely enough, after yesterday's slightly depressing post, I had such a terrific day today! I taught a grade 5 class and then a grade 6 class and I had an absolute blast. I think that I went into today with a different attitude than the last week or so. And it made all the difference! I had so much fun. Taught the kids about cowboys in the grade 6 class. Even played a Keith Urban song. They loved it! haha. But it was definitely an encouraging day.

Now, the reason I actually wanted to blog today. I have recently started making a list that I affectionately call "The things that annoy me to no end"-list. So here goes.

1) Seeing people drop their garbage on the ground ... even though there are a minimum of 5 garbage cans located within a 10 metre radius.

2) The fact that Paris Hilton actually belongs in the category "celebrity". Someone tell me, how did she get there? After much pondering and brain-wracking I have come to the conclusion it's because she's blonde, likes to party, likes to spend lots and lots and lots of $ on shoes, and has the spoiled-brat act perfected to a tee ... wait, doesn't that describe about 70% of today's current population?

3) When white singers use the word "shorty" in their lyrics.

4) When people refuse to move their backpacks or purses from the empty seat next to them even tho the train car aisles are packed full of people that have to stand.

5) When stupid teenagers on the train play their crappy rap music on their cell phones as loud as possible, with no regard to those around them.

6) The fact that so many young people act like they're being subjected to pain worse than death because they have to be in school all day when there are kids out there who would LITERALLY give their left leg for the same opportunity.

7) People that spend all day talking about how awful everything in their lives is. People who can't ever find anything positive to say about anyone or anything. People who always have some kind of ailment or ache. People who have never learned to appreciate the bright moments in each day. I am around many of these on a daily basis and I have to constantly double-check my own attitude and make sure I don't start heading down the same path.

8) The fact that my grocery store has stopped selling the only good salad dressing they have in Germany: Thousand Island. You'd think they coulda waited 2 more months til they discontinued it...

9) The fact that nutella from a spoon tastes SO GOOD. Makes my no-chocolate-on-weekdays resolution that much more difficult to keep...

10) My bicycle. It switches gears all on its own approximately every 5 seconds. I want my car back.

Final Countdown

I was watching tv the other night before aerobics class. Music videos, to be exact. It was the top 100 Hits to come out of Scandinavian countries. (Strange, I know.)



For the first time in my life I saw Europe's music video for "Final Countdown". I had never actually heard the song with the lyrics and stuff before. Only that funny little synthesizer do-dooo....do-d-d-do-dooooo... thing (you know what I mean ... but if my doo-doooos weren't enough of a description for you 80s-ignoramuses, watch this) in movies and on tv shows...usually used to parody things, not as a serious piece of music. Well anyways, I saw the music video.



And now I feel the time has come for me to once and for all make up my mind on the age-old question that has been plaguing philosophers and academics worldwide for the past 2 decades: Were the 80s the best thing that ever happened to mankind? Or were these teased-hair, gold-spandex-encased, shoulder-padded, neon-flashing, power-ballad years a major contributor to this planet's slide into moral decline and a general state of insanity, that can be directly traced back to the Fall of Man in the garden of Eden???




So after much deliberation and fist-under-chin pensive posing the gavel has fallen. And I think most of you know my answer to this one. I'm curious to see how well you know me after 10 months of blogging so tell me in the talkbacks what you think my final decision is.



Whoever guesses correctly wins the Julia-thinks-your-cool Award. (And yes that is meant as an incentive and an honour...)

Bear with me one more time...

So here I am. Teacher's lounge. Class is long over. But it's much much much much much warmer here than my apartment. So I'm abusing the system. Well, not really, but I'm sensing a need deep within to feel rebellious today.


Um, first thing on the list. I have a project for all of you. All of you with cameras. (Shelly, I know how much you love photography...BUT THAT DOESN'T LET THE REST OF YOU OFF THE FLIPPIN' HOOK.) Anyways, one of the teachers here wants me to talk about houses. As in, appliances and rooms and just different vocab that has to do with houses. It's for a fifth grade class. And she thought it would be nice if I could talk a bit about "Canadian houses". Don't ask me what that's supposed to mean. I just nodded my head and said "sure". So anywho, now I need all of you to dust off your trusty old polaroid...wait, no, you can't upload polaroids. Ok, so dust off the digi-cam you asked for for Christmas three years ago with the best of intentions and resolutions to document your two-year old's progress ... or (for those of you without children) the growth rate of your favourite cactus, and get to work! Seriously, move it... (wait, after you've read the rest of my blog). Ok, so ya, if you could just take pics of your houses/apartments for me (inside and out) and then either post them on Facebook (and tell me that you've posted them on Facebook) or email them to me at jdhiebertAThotmailDOTcom, that would be great. Just broad shots of entire rooms and a few pics of the outside would be great. Don't worry about messy rooms or whatever. THESE ARE FIFTH GRADERS. IF THE LAYER OF DUST IS LESS THAN 12 INCHES THICK AND YOU CAN ACTUALLY SEE A SPOT OF CARPET UNDER THE HALF-FOSSILIZED LAYERS OF SMELLY SOCKS AND BABY BIBS YOU CAN CONSIDER THE ROOM CLEAN.

Ok, on to what I really wanted to blog about. German movies and tv. I know, I know, I've blogged about it so often you could practically recite it in your sleep. In German. But I just needed to get this off my chest.

1) Did you know that the Germans have a law for EVERYTHING? EVERYTHING. As in, you actually have to REGISTER your telelvisions and radios. No, I'm not kidding. Do I look like I'm laughing? Honest to goodness they have to pay a TV TAX and a RADIO TAX out here. And there are actual real human people that walk the streets and if they suspect someone is using an unregistered tv or radio they will knock on your door and try to get inside to bust you! Moral of the story is: don't let strange people into your apartment/house ... ever. ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE IN GERMANY ... AND HARBOURING A RADIO ILLEGALLY!


Seriously, the longer I'm here the more I realize how insane these people are. Which totally explains some things about me! At least now I can claim it's genetic.



2) You know what else is funny? Til Schweiger is probably the most famous German actor...writer...producer...director...and anything else that has to do with the film industry. He's basically the German Brad Pitt. And this is why:

He was married to an American supermodel for, like, 10 years. They have four kids but as far as I know they're separated now. Anywho, most of his kids have been involved in at least one of his movies at some point, too. But you know what's funny? I was checking out his career on IMDb the other day and saw that he was in the second Tomb Raider movie. So I watched the movie and looked for him. HE WAS BARELY MORE THAN A FREAKING EXTRA. He was one of the bad guy body guards with about 3 10-second appearances and maybe half a line of script dedicated to his hunky muscle-bound 'character'. (Oh ya, and most of his half a line of script and pretty boy good-looks were covered up by the loud whirring of helicopter blades and Gerard Butler's ass-kicking Irish charm...not to mention Angelina Jolie's dominatrix personality). I just found it amusing that the absolute German can't-find-a-freaking-movie-without-his-name-somewhere-in-the-credits all-star does the absolute lowest of the low scum roles in American movies. It's just funny. I mean, here's a guy who is not only an incredible piece of eye candy, but also a really decent actor. And there he is in the background of some American flick, where not a soul would ever notice him. Makes you wonder how many other really good actors out there are stuck in the crowd of extras of some Hollywood blockbuster, waiting in vain to get noticed...

3) And my last point of the day. You know, Germany turns out some INCREDIBLE films. Absolutely blows some of the American sh*** out of the water. But you know where they absolutely SUCK? SOUNDTRACKS. For some reason German tv shows and movies have the absolute worst music on the face of the blinking planet. I mean, when you watch a movie, the music should blend in. I mean, it can be noticeable in the wow-this-is-incredible-must-buy-the-soundtrack kind of way (like in Braveheart of A Good Year or Dirty Dancing or whatever). But music in German movies/tv shows never stands out in this way. It only stands out in the are-my-ears-bleeding? way. Honestly. The songs just never seem to fit the actual film. And have they never heard of that little idea called COMPOSING? As in, you can write BRAND NEW MUSIC!!! and have songs that are completely instrumental and haven't been at the top of the music charts, and hence playing on your (registered!!!) radio every two seconds, for the past 10 weeks. Seriously, they always always always choose popular radio music. It's beyond annoying. It's embarrassing! Need to invest in some serious heavy duty ear plugs and start watching German movies with captions.

pajama pants, heidi klum, and little brats

Confession: I didn't actually really journal during the second week that my mom, Andee, and Brenda were out here. I seriously had no time. We went to Berlin on Monday (got up at 4 am, got home at 10pm), Tuesday we went shopping and to see some traditional Vogtland stuff, Wednesday we went to Dresden, Thursday we went to Eilenburg and Leipzig, Friday we went shopping again and had supper with old family friends, and Saturday the three ladies had to get all their stuff packed and take a taxi to Munich for their flight the next day. We were actually gonna drive them there Sunday morning but seeing as how they managed to stuff the Manitoban winter with them in their suitcases it basically snowed for, like, 3 days straight in Ellfeld. Roads were really bad and we didn't want to chance them missing their flights Sunday morning by not getting there in time. So they left Saturday afternoon and spent the night in the Munich airport - unpleasant I'm sure, but I wasn't there.... As soon as they left I went to visit my friend Christina for a few hours and then met up with another friend Claudia after that. Busy busy. Um, on Sunday there was church and I hung out with my "brother" Sebastian (aka. part of my rental family, as mentioned in previous blog entries) and one of his friends in the evening, and then kept myself awake with the ever so lovely "Black Snake Moan" until the Oscars started at 1am. I mean, heck, I was not about to miss Hugh Jackman as the host. HELLO. LOVE OF MY SECRET HOLLYWOOD LIFE. Ahem. Anyways...I lasted until 3:30 am and then crawled into bed. Ya, that was the last week of the holidays. See, not much to report...



Ok, but now onto the list of what I wanted to write about today. Okay, let me check... (yes seriously, i have a written list. but it's short...)



1) It's 8.9 degrees celsius outside. +. +. !!! In the sun yesterday it was +20 at one point! I hung up my laundry outside in pj pants and a t-shirt. neener neener neeeeeeener!!!! (you may detect a hint of immaturity there, but I prefer to call it my personal fountain of youth. I shall never age... ???)



2) Miracle of miracle I found pajama pants in the LAND OF NO PAJAMA PANTS... aka germany. seriously, you can't find a nice pair of normal pj pants to save your skin! And while you may not be able to imagine a situation in which your life depends on the discovery of said pair of pj pants, imagine sleeping in a bedroom at 9 degrees celsius for 5 months with only itsy-bitsy teeney-weeny shorts. ya. that's right. anyways, the point of me writing extensively about one of the possiby most mundane topics on the freaking globe ... aka. pajama pants in case you hadn't caught on yet ... is the fact that I happened to glance at the tag in my pants the other day. (Does that sound dirty? I didn't mean it to...) Anywho, on the tag is printed in BOLD red letters: KEEP AWAY FROM FIRE.

Um ................. OK ..................... I mean, I had started to make a habit of roasting my pyjama pants over a bonfire like a freaking hotdog wiener, but since the all-commanding tag suggests refraining from my absolute favourite new hobby I shall abide by the scary BOLD red print. Oh no! Hand ... slowly ... subconsciously ... creeping ... toward box of matches ... Must ... stop ... myself. Must ... not ... set .... fire .... to ... PANTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew, that was a close one...



??????????



3) I am now employed at a kindergarten approximately 7km away from where I live! I think I blogged a while back about this lady who asked me to possibly come to her kindergarten once a week and play with the kids in English. Well I met with her on Thursday and I decided to do it! From 10am - 3pm every Thursday I'll be at the Tausendfuessler Kindergarten rolling in the dirt with the cutest snotty-nosed future bankers, cut-throat businessmen/women, CEOs, hairdressers, teachers, and plumbers. Sounds like a good time to me! And all I have to do is make sure I don't speak in German. At all. Ever. I think that's gonna be the hardest part for me. lol. And surprise of all surprises they're PAYING me to do this! 300 euros til the end of May, which is when I leave Eilenburg. SWEET! I totally was thinking this was a volunteer thing. lol. Woot woot.



4) So the new season of Germany's Next Top Model has started. I'm addicted and it's on my one free week-day evening, which rocks. Well, it starts after my evening English tutoring class, anyways, so I should always be able to catch it. Anyways, so Heidi Klum, Germany's most famous supermodel/wife of Seal is the host. And lately she has been sporting a very pretty but very simple hair style



I kept thinking throughout this last Thursday's entire episode: "It's not fair! Her hair looks so effortless and simple and gorgeous. I ONLY do simple things with my hair and it never looks like that! I mean, she also happens to have a perfect face to set the tone and all, but still!" Anyways, and then I happened to watch red!, Germany's version of Entertainment Tonight, where they happened to interview Heidi Klum's hair stylist. Which is where I found out that during the months of filming Germany's Next Top Model she goes to Heidi Klum's house EVERY MORNING FOR TWO HOURS to do her hair so that Heidi can be at home with the kids. Uh....huh.... Imagined scenario in my twisted mind -> Heidi: "Children whose names I can't remember because I haven't had time for you since I climbed from the hostpital bed into the makeup chair after each respective birth, go play while mommy gets turned into Barbie..." How does getting your hair done for 2 hours in the same house the size of Rhode Island that your children are somewhere also occupying qualify as quality time with your kids? And she gets GOOD press for having her stylist come to her so that she's home for her kids! Now, I'm not saying I think Heidi Klum is a bad mother. Heck, maybe she's awesome. Maybe she does spend buttloads of time with them. She always seems like a super fun grounded woman in interviews and on Germany's Next Top Model. But how can one of the most simple hairstyles on the face of god's green earth POSSIBLY require 2 hours of PROFESSIONAL hair styling??? Mirror Mirror on the wall...ANSWER ME THIS! Please...I WANT to understand. Heck, if some Hollywood guru spent that kind of time on my hair I could be a super model too. Ok, from the shoulders up...



Well, that's it. Aren't you glad my blog list for today only had 4 things on it???

That's right...

Fact: There are 57 songs by Celine Dion in my iTunes.

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And I'm not ashamed.

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I thought that was worth a blog entry.