I’ve been rather unable to write of my exploits of late. I feel like that’s a good thing, though. You know? I used to use this blog as some sort of cathartic vacuum, that I was allowed to yell into and vent all of my frustrations concerning the world, and my own dissatisfaction with how I interact with it. I don’t anymore, though.
I always reference my happiness. Or, I guess referencing earlier, my lack thereof. Why does my happiness matter? Well, it doesn’t. But the point being, no one writes a story about being perfectly happy. Something always comes up. Shit always hits the fan. The best laid plans are torn asunder. And so on, and so forth.
But not anymore. I am going to write now, because I want to. I kept on putting this off, because I thought I had to have some sort of witty, idiosyncratic, and clever take on German society. It was either that, or wallow in self pity. And because both were out of reach, I put this off. But I’m done.
I’m going to Berlin this coming weekend. And I plan on taking it all in. I don’t even know where I’m supposed to go, but I know I will. Sabine will no doubt have some sort of suggestions.
I wrote too often, and I wrote too much when I first got here. For whatever reasons, that’s true. But as things started to get better, I stopped. And I DO have an experiential learning requirement to fulfill. So I’ll try to write a good few more times before I leave. I know I have a few weeks to make up for.
I can’t help but look outside at the surrounding buildings and think, “Why the fuck was I so pissed at how adorable all of the buildings are?”