Isthi Thraseia.

(Admittedly, I am completely biased as far as Editors & The Maccabees go)

There‘s almost nothing more unpleasant than arriving in time for a concert (despite annoying traffic and parking lot issues), only to find out the schedule for the night has been revised and that the first band has already taken the stage.

While we did only catch the two last songs of Wintersleep‘s set, it‘s probably safe to say that we didn‘t miss out on anything all too surprising. The sound of guitars and their singer‘s voice sure fit the bill for the night remarkably well.

Being used to attending shows at which the audience hardly brushes the age of being old enough to conduct a car, it was nice for a change to be put in a crowd with mid-twenties and nearly fifties alike. Latter had probably hardly heard about the second band playing up that night, The Maccabees.

Now, having been privileged enough to actually go out clubbing regularly in London, I was fairly familiar with the sound of The Maccabees and their general awesomeness. Sadly though, they did not play my all-time favorite of theirs, Precious Time. However, the set made up of their newer songs was fabulous and fair enough, they had people cheering along by the end of their set.

Having previously experienced Editors (I‘ll have you know it‘s plain and simple ,Editors‘, not THE Editors) at Hurricane Festival in June of this year, I had somewhat high expectations to the band this time around. Spending the first three songs at the front of the crowd in the pit, I quickly noticed that the following 90 minutes would definitely turn out to be magical.

The audience chimed in with singer Tom Smith from the first word on and the band teased the finest sounded out of their instruments. For added effect to the already impression LED light show at the back of the stage, smoke blew around the band, reflecting the colourful lights to bathe them in a warm glow for the softer songs or an icy shine for the faster ones. The set was a marvellous mix of really old hits and new songs of Editors‘ recently released album ,In This Light and On This Evening‘.

Sadly, the sparks only flew as far as the first couple of rows of people and didn‘t reach the back of the hall. While we were stuck in the hardcore fan corner, most people around us could hardly be bothered to nod along or get their hands up to give the band a hand after each song. It wasn‘t that people were particularly bored or as if they didn‘t like the set, it almost felt as if they‘d been in a bit of a trance (another reason why I love going to shows with a younger audience - they‘re so enthusiastic).

By the time the band exited the stage for the first time, people were at least pumped enough to ask for an encore which they promptly got. Once more, I didn‘t get lucky as the band didn‘t play ,Weight of the World‘, one of my favorite songs.

Still, all in all, it was a fun night for everyone involved and it ended with a relaxed ride home that was filled with relationship talks and giggles.

Setlist - Editors

In this light and on this evening
An end has a start
Bullets
You don't know love
Bones
The racing rats
The boxer
All sparks
Escape the nest
Like treasure
The big exit
Eat raw meat = blood drool
Open your arms
You are fading
Smokers outside the hospital doors
Bricks and mortar

Walk the fleet road
Munich
Papillon
Fingers in the factory

The photos I took for the lovely folks of buzznet.com can be found here >>>.

It turns out that going back to the start of a course isn't really a bad thing. I've written an article about Second Chances here. I am still enthusiatic and very happy when it comes to my classes and even getting up at quarter to five in the morning on Thursdays and Mondays doesn't seem all that bad. I only have 15 hours of lessons a week, 6 hours of those are spent on Ancient Greek and the rest on four different classes - for dogmatics, church history, new testament studies and one is more or less a creative/scientific writing class.

And: Tuesdays are my days off. Ha.

 

Other than at uni, I've spent my days organizing my blog/website livelifedeeply.net. It had to be taken down earlier this year and now I'm working on getting to a regular blogging schedule in between classes and work and, well, life.

Also, I've been at work a couple of times, though I had to miss out on my shift yesterday as these past few days I've been feeling really, really poorly. But alas, I already feel better today which is great because tomorrow is, you guessed it, one of my before five wake up calls.

The year has come and gone so fast and even now, in the middle of October, I can say that it was truly, truly an exciting, life-changing one. The next few weeks will go by in a blur. Halloween is coming so soon and then it's only November til Advent starts and then it's Christmas and we already have 2010... WOW.

 

Have any of you ever been in a situation that seemed rather like a dead end that had only one solution: To quit and restart.

I've kind of come to that end with my studies. While I love training to be a teacher and the English language, I have, ever since I went to London and worked in a church, been wanting to quit English and start training for ordination. As it is, that's a rather unusual decision for a mid-twenty chick who rather attends rock shows than church services.

Still, ever since I came back in March 2008, I have thought about changing my course, although I'm 8 semesters into my Bachelor's degree and have only two more to finish. The thought never went away and with the new semester starting up soon, I've felt less and less motivated to look into my English studies and rather inclined to do Religious studies.

Everything about church, charity work and working with the congregation intrigues me so much and I really want to explore that road.

The negative aspect about it? I have to restart. I#ll be a fresher, pretty much, and by the end of my studies I will be 30 - which surely isn't old but not really young either. Still. I want to do that.

The past few days must have been the most horrible of my life. In fact, the entire last week has been pretty horrible: 

The boy has decided to leave and this whole exam thing has been asking a lot of off me. Also, my mother is undergoing major surgery over the next weekend and preparations for that are as much scary as exhausting... And then I've had to mull over my decision and I cried about it a lot and I cursed and I weighed the options...

I cannot finish studies that my heart just isn't in anymore. Over the last two days a lot of things have been hinting at it being the right decision though. I wasn't looking for signs but I'm glad I spotted them along the way.

 

Have you ever had to make such life-altering decisions? I'd love to hear what obstacles you had to overcome and whether or not it was for the better or worse.

 

Love, xA.

 

"Fuck, no. It‘s definitely not going to be our last time visiting Germany,“ is what Alex Gaskarth left the audience with at the Luxor in Cologne. All Time Low then launched into their second encore, a powerful rendition of their ever famous tune "Dear Maria (Count Me In)“ that had everyone singing and dancing along.

Before All Time Low took the stage by storm (sorry for the pun but it was just there for grabbing!) though, the crowd received support band The Audition at the fully sold out and packed venue.

450 people - and to my surprise female and male attendees to equal parts - formed a mosh pit on what is usually the dancefloor of a drum‘n‘bass night club and had the temperature rise to unbearable degrees and the A/C failing.

The Audition played a solid set composed of their more well-known songs, asking everyone to just dance and download their music anyway the audience could. It didn‘t feel like they were ,only‘ the support to heat up the masses for All Time Low. Everyone knew the lyrics to "My Temperature Rising“ and "Warm Me Up“ as well as "Los Angeles“ which calmed the crowd down some and gave everyone a moment to breathe.

As soon as The Audition exited the stage and Rian Dawson‘s drum kit was revealed, focus shifted back to whom everyone had really come out for.

Thankfully, by then security (who‘d been not so awesome about press and photographers) had sorted out the pit and who didn‘t really belong in there, so I was able to snap some pictures of the band giving their all for Germany.

 

The set was short (ATL played ten songs plus two for the encore) but really sweet and a lot exhausting for everyone on stage, as there was a lot of kicking, jumping and dancing was going, as well as off stage, where the mob danced, screamed and sung their hearts out.

(Halfway through their second song, Six Feet Under The Stars, Jack took a seat at the edge of the stage, giving me the perfect opportunity to shoot a couple of close ups but alas! My camera failed me. Or rather: I failed because I didn‘t know what he eff was suddenly happening.)

Old and new songs blended in perfectly. There was a time to dance and a time to just sway along when Alex played "Remembering Sunday“. Also, there seemed to be a competition going on as to who could spew more curses and dirty words, it seemed.

At one point, Alex discussed the matter of not fitting his manhood into the pretty panties someone had thrown on stage (really, how mature was the audience?) and really, no manorexic man could have fit into them.

But all joking aside, musically the set was flawless, voices and instruments never failed the guys and everyone had a good time (and wow, does it sound like I‘m praising them ever so highly? Really, I don‘t, although I‘d have every reason to be biased!).

As mentioned, the night concluded with All Time Low playing two songs for the encore, "Damned if I do ya“ and "Dear Maria (Count Me In)“. The former had even the bar staff and the venue techs pumping their fists in the air for each "Go“.

 

Everyone got to express their amazement to the band personally (minus Rian) after the show when they all came out to meet the fans who‘d stuck around by the bus and venue.

It was an all-around good night and I got to hang out with some of my favorite people (junegloom and friends!) and had some delicious subs at Subway after (with All Time Low nonetheless! Well, something like that).

Yours truly, A.

Dear Buzznet friends -

I haven't been exactly around much. I did upload the occasional picture but I've mostly been spending time on twitter or - shock, gasp - at work. Yes, really!

I'm still working the same job as last year - being a part-time waitress - and everything has developed amazingly well; so much so that I was promoted to being shift manager in December.

Apart from being at work, I've been to shows (less and less to clubs really) - one of them being a festival where Katy Perry and Kings of Leon played -, hung out with my few friends or co-workers and spend some time working on my blog/wesbite before it got accidentally deleted from the server. Oh, also, I spent a week in London in April and a weekend in France just recently, but apart from that I haven't had any real holidays.

I've been pretty upset by the whole split thing involving Panic(!) at the Disco, but yeah. I guess I'm over it.

There's been a lot going on in my life that I don't see fit to discuss on here - I wish I could - but life is good to me, really brilliantly good :)

Hey there everyone,

I haven't updated in a while I guess... but I've been superbusy. Well - not that busy but work is draining. Yes, really, waiting on people 8 hours a day, sometimes into the depth of the night is awfully draining especially when people have all kinds of special wishes and you have to run back and forth between the kitchen and the outside area and to the bar and... well, running around a lot is what I do, plus getting bitched at by people who are so so condescending because they think the only reason why I do this job is because I failed at life, when in fact, it's only a temporary solution to pay my way to college.

But that's a rant I didn't want to get into.

As it is, I have to head into work in a little under an hour, as well as tomorrow morning and Sunday noon and the plan for next week shall be interesting as well...

My new phone, I opted for the Samsung f480, if anyone is interested, still hasn't arrived and so I'm gonna be paying for my monthly plan soon without actually having used the phone. Sucks? Yeah. Totally. I think if it's not in by Tuesday next week (a day I should have off), then I'm gonna go and ask whether I can get another phone. I really desperately want it until Oct 4th, since I'm gonna go and see the Wombats with a couple of my co-workers and I thought it would be fun to send pics from that to buzznet straight to my account. Plus, I'm gonna go see Fall Out Boy soon and yeah... I wanna photoblogg!!!

All plans to go back to London have been post-poned to the weekend before Christmas. Meh. But that's the only way it'll work.

Else than that - things are good.

Many times people have said that acoustically the Rex theatre in Wuppertal is an amazing place but that sadly, it’s lacking in the atmosphere department: An old movie theatre turned into a concert venue, complete with fixed lines of seating and bad lightning. How can bands pull that off if they’re not able to deliver a flawless show?

Well, whatever atmosphere was supposed to be missing (none of which my friend or I noticed), Panic at the Disco definitely brought the place alive.

Storming on stage in sunglasses, the band launched into their first song, We’re So Starving, full of enthusiasm. Being on two tours since the beginning of 2008, first in Europe and then headlining the Honda Civic Tour in the United States, did not show in exhaustion on stage but through perfect harmony in their performance as well as skilled handling of their instruments.

As time for the performance was limited to an hour of live broadcasting on the radio, the band repeatedly excused for the lack of interaction with the audience, an unnecessary act of politeness really, because singer Brendon Urie did his fair amount of joking with the mainly female, and quite young, audience. And sometimes even a bit of stage banter between the band could be heard, about winning competitions of all sorts and mysteriously losing clothes.

Brendon concluded quite rightly so that the audience were ‘all winners’, because tickets to the show could only be won through the radio station, a long forgotten MySpace competition hosted by Warner Music Germany and a last minute ticket giveaway via the band’s MySpace profile. But even more so everyone could count themselves lucky because Panic at the Disco offered a splendid, fun mix of their new songs from their record ‘Pretty. Odd.’ (out since the end of March) as well as their old songs in refreshing new arrangements.

Despite the small set-up and tiny stage, guitarist Ryan, singer Brendon and bassist Jon didn’t hesitate to bring as much gear as possible, switching between instruments countless times, with one technician constantly adjusting their gear (and happily singing along).

Against my very own expectations that the band would probably only promote their fairly new material, they surprised me with a well-chosen set that continued with their second single of ‘A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out’, ‘But It’s Better If You Do’, right after their new show opener.

Since the audience proved that they could sing together during the first three songs, Ryan Ross encouraged everyone to dance along to ‘Camisado’ with them, while Brendon couldn’t help but show off with his knowledge of German by chipping in ‘Ich tanze’, before starting off with the song.

Halfway through their set, Ryan ‘decided’ to give Mister Urie a break from singing and stepped up to the microphone himself, proving that in their stage absence the band not only wrote songs but worked on their musical improvement as well. He presented the audience with a near flawless rendition of  ‘Behind The Sea’, one of their new songs, before passing the singer’s duties back to Brendon for ‘Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off’.

The night was a constant change of swaying along to new tunes and rocking out to Panic at the Disco classics which ended with the performance of ‘Mad As Rabbits’ for which the band reunited on stage once more after Brendon played an acoustic version of ‘Time To Dance’.

The band left the stage with smiled plastered to their faces, just like the audience left the theatre a few minutes after ten o’clock.

A short time after, Spencer Smith and Ryan Ross could be spotted exiting the venue to climb on the orange tourbus, joking and laughing, without being harassed by the fans that were still around.

The bus, conveniently parked in front of the theatre due to the little space available in the side-road, wasn’t exactly blocked by the fan masses and could easily leave after all members of crew and band –even a half-dressed Brendon Urie who came out wearing his tiny jeans and a towel casually thrown over his naked shoulder – had packed up.

Huge smiles splitting our faces almost in two, my friend Jessica and I left the premises as well, and made our way home on the motorway.

Fifteen minutes into our ride, however, we spotted the tour bus right in front of us, and I couldn’t help but roll the window down and wave and shout frantically at the thing.

As always, Jessica and I ended up at the local McDonald’s branch for a recap in which she confessed to have seen Brendon rush back and forth between venue and bus before the show. Zack joking around with the masses must have kept everyone’s attention on him.

It’s safe to say that winning tickets to this particular show was probably the best prize I could win in a competition!

Setlist

We’re So Starving
Nine In The Afternoon
But It’s Better If You Do
Camisado
She’s A Handsome Woman
The Only Difference Between…
Pas De Cheval
Behind The Sea
Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have
That Green Gentleman
I Write Sins Not Tragedies
Northern Downpour
Time To Dance
Mad As Rabbits/Hey Jude

Photos to go with the review can be found here, in my Panic at the Disco album.

but never ever anywhere long enough to put together a proper post...

It's kind of sick how I am busy all the time but somehow am totally not.
You wouldn't believe just how many afternoons I spend talking to people on MySpace and later on, head out with friends to go and watch the next soccer match in public...

I can't really stand to be at home at the moment but that's another story and not to tell in a public place...

I'm sorry if I seem neglectful or anything...
I'm just having a bit of a weird time - as always.

I'll reply to notes and comments though, so leave me some love, I really kind of need it right now.

It’s nights like this that you’ve come to love:

Clear, starry skies, a cool breath grazing your cheeks that are already frozen from the coldest night air and nothing planned for hours. You escaped the crowds at the cathedral, hurried out the front doors to take a deep breath – breathe in the London air that has filled your lungs for month now.

No one will notice your absence, which is just fine with you. Granted, you once wanted to be part of it all, the fine social construct of the place, and you managed to get a foot in the door. But never further. Ad even that was fine with you.

Your temper, your quirks, habits, likes are after all probably too much to take for them and that’s cool because you get along. You just wish it would last for a little while longer.

You leave the road behind, pass the glass palace to your left and walk out onto the bridge.

On there, the wind is so much stronger and it stings in your eyes, tears dwelling up, rolling down your cheeks and maybe, just maybe, you let go. You let go of the anger, hurt and fear that is slowly boiling up inside you.

Trembling lops and blotted cheeks, your hands curl into fists, so hard that fingernails dig into the flesh of your palms. Maybe the skin breaks but you don’t mind at all because you don’t feel anything but the cold.

The cold leaves your body in a pleasant state of numbness. As long as you’re numb, you don’t feel hollow, don’t feel the scary emptiness that’s filling you up when you think of going home.

Pacing up and down the bridge, from one end to the other, you let the music in your headphones wash over you and take in the sight. The City of London on one side, Tower Bridge standing out proudly in the dark, the Cathedral lit up for the weekend’s festivities and almost endless darkness on the other shore; the sight will be etched on your memory and heart for all eternity, because this, this is home.

It is true, you’ve never felt more alone, but you’ve never felt so much in place like now: In the big city, beneath the pale moon, surrounded by strangers.

Everyone that walks past gives you a funny stare and you briefly wonder what all of them think – not that you care, no.

They probably think you just lost someone to death, had an argument or were dumped by your sweetheart – when it’s so much more than that. Strangers will never know and you can’t help but smile at the thought. They’ll never know how good your life has been.

you love those lonely night in London because they give you time to step back from your life and reflect upon it. Wandering the streets aimlessly, never getting lost but losing yourself in thought is exactly what you need after a busy weekend, busy nights at the clubs, busy days at work.

And no matter how different your route, the conclusion at the end will probably always be that there’s no answer as to why you have this, this life that is so different from all that you’ve known before. 

And maybe you think too much about it. But there’s the fear that if you don’t you’ll forget all the details – forget names, places, then faces.

That late night at the end of March you only turn your back on London’s illuminated skyline because you can hardly feel your toes anymore. Without any feel in your limbs it’s so hard to walk home – and you have no intention of going there yet – but you start anyway.

There’s hardly anyone out in the streets and it’s just as well because you couldn’t stand meeting the guy of your dreams so few days before your departure, and when you look a right mess. Then again, it’s your life and you wouldn’t be surprised if it actually happened.

 

After the Panic, a friend asked me whether there’d be a life after that day, and I said ‘Yeah, sure. Watch me move on.’ because I know myself. One day, I’m utterly in love with one thing and the next day I drop it. That’s how hysteria works for me.

What I’ve figured out for myself just recently is that whenever I get into a ‘phase’, it’s usually to cover up the hurt that someone, something else has caused me.

My obsessions with constantly dying my hair is one of those distraction techniques.

I don’t just change the colour because I’m bored with it – I also do it to start fresh.

So my falling in love with Panic at the Disco was a phase to cover up my hurt after Samuel broke up with me. The Panic guys were there, pretty boys with pretty make up serving me with spiteful lyrics screaming for love and truth and a bit of affection. In that moment, they worked perfectly for me and when I discovered their ‘new image’, so much more mature and down to earth, tangible, I clung onto it. And look where it got me:  New friends, and memories to last me a lifetime.

Still, after all my phases, there’s always a different life left for me.

The question should then have been: Will there ever be a life after London?

London was never a phase to me. London turned from a wicked idea to a goal in life to reality before it became my life and I got completely tangled up in it. It wasn’t hard to integrate into the new life because I’d wanted the change so badly. But it was almost unbearable to let go of it in the end.

There are still moments now in which I look back and could cry because I know the difference between being okay and being utterly fucking happy, so happy that your smile splits your face in half and you spill your guts to everyone who’ll listen.

And I’ll tell you stories gladly, if you promise to stay around for a while afterwards.

As happy as re-living the memories makes me, as badly hurting it leaves me afterwards. It’s maybe a bit like a hangover after a drunken night out – the difference being that you can take a pill or two against the headache.

Heartache knows no cure other than love.

I realised the other day that I've actually never posted a real blog to talk about me. Okay, I talk about me in my blogs alright, but what I mean is that I never did an introductory post that gives you an idea of who I am, what I am about and whether you could actually like me.

I know for a fact that people hardly make an effort to check out the 'profile' bit of this page and really, why would they? A lot of people can't even be bothered to write anything in there.

So here goes nothing, here's who I am.

My name in real life is Anisha, and as far as I know, it's Indian and means 'surpreme'. It could be wrong though but I did live with someone of Indian origin for a little while and his uncle said that it could be very well true.
As of February 8th, 2008, I am 22 years of age.
I've been born and raised in a fairly small town of 66 000 inhabitants in Western Germany, and except for my short six months stint in London, England, I've never lived away from home; which is to say that, yeah, I still live with my parents for no other reason than it costs less and that I can't afford a place on my own.

Why? Do you have no job?
That's right. I don't have a job at the moment, except for the 'job of being a student'.

After high school graduation in 2005, I decided to go to University in Bochum and do Anglistics/English studies as well as Religious Studies/Protestant Theology in order to become a teacher for kids aged 12 to 18.

Bochum is what one would call a 'university for the masses'. Currently, there are about 33 000 students on campus. If you wonder how we fit them into one place, look at that:

I know it isn't pretty, I never claimed it was. In fact: I hate it a bit. The different skyscrapers house the different branches: The blue houses at the back are the engineers, the green ones the science, the yellow ones the humanities, which is where you find me most of the time. The huge, round white building is the 'Audimax'.

Well, yeah, a lot of time during the week is spend there; however, I don't have classes on Friday. That's my day off.

You wonder on how I chose my subjects?
Well, I always loved English in high school and I didn't want to lose it by picking up a plain job. I thought there was so much more vocabulary for me to learn and so many books to read that I desperately wanted to continue English at uni.
As it is, we have to choose a second subject to go along with it, and at first, I did go for Latin because I kind of like that in school as well. It turned out that Latin at uni is nothing like Latin in school, so after my first semester, I switched subjects and ended up taking classes in Theology because I heard that in a couple of years schools will be in dire need of R.E. teachers and because it actually did interest me a tiny bit at the time. My interest in Theology was just recently fueled by my stay in London as I worked for an Anglican church and actually had the opportunity to see Theology put to practice.

I know that over in the States, people move out of their parents' and tend to go to college in states half across the continent, but over here, people generally go to university around where they live. That said, I can call myself lucky because most of my friends stayed around and I still see the people I met 12 years back almost every day; and truth be told: I wouldn't change that for anything.

My best friend, however, is my godfather's daughter and one could say that we were 'made to be friends' the day that I was born. We've been friends forever, and I hope it'll never, never change.

In my free time I used to do ballroom dancing for a couple of years but my friends dropped out and then I had to concentrate on uni some more, so I stopped taking classes which is a shame really because I loved it quite a lot.

If I could, I'd spent my entire free time going to concerts. But alas, due to lack of job = money, that's not possible. Still I try to go to live shows as often as possible. Music is such an enormous part of my day: The minute I get up I switch on some music and I never leave the house without my dearly loved iPod (which was, by the way, a farewell gift from the people I worked for in London :) ). Still, I don't play any instrument on my own. I wish I could; I really wanted to learn how to play the guitar but my parents always thought it was just a phase I went through when I was 11. So they wouldn't let me.
One day I will take lessons though!

Due to my studies, I happen to spend a lot of time on reading as well.
For Theology, there are many theoretical texts to be read but since I'm taking classes for Modern English Literature and American Literature, I do get to read a good deal of fictional stuff as well.
So far, I can say that I loved my class on Truman Capote the most. His writing is plain incredible, especially his short story 'Hand-carved coffins'. I could go on and on about that one half-sentence in there which broke my heart.
Other authors I adore are Paul Auster and Oscar Wilde, especially Wilde. I love all his poems and plays that I read so far and 'The Picture of Dorian Grey' was the first novel I read in English.

Thanks to my great affinity to the English language, I spent a good deal of the day online, talking to friends all across the world. It's fun to exchange thoughts and ideas and to share your life.
And yeah, I guess that's why I've always loved to travel: To make new friends everywhere and to just see the world.

That I'd fall desperately in love with one place and just that one I didn't expect.
I went to London for the first time in 2005 and heck, if that city isn't a place that everyone wants to live in than I don't know...

After those few days I spent there and after many other weekends I knew that I'd want to live there one day.
In October 2007, I finally got the chance. Required for my studies is a stay abroad for a couple of weeks and I decided to make that time worthwhile and combine my fields of studies, so I ended up working in an Anglican church in London, as already mentioned.

Those six months I spent there have, so far, been the best six months of my life as I didn't only learn so so much about 'the English culture' but about myself: I know now that I can definitely get by on my own, that people actually value my work and it helped me to figure out what I want to do in life. It definitely helped to see what one can do after they get their degree in Theology and showed me different options for my future.

Besides that, I met some of the most amazing people and I wouldn't change one single second of the time.

I probably got by in London so well because I tend to be so open-minded about everything: Everyone gets an equal chance when we first meet and I don't think much of prejudices. Over the last three or four years, since I graduated, I changed my attitude towards people a lot. Actually, I think I've become much more outgoing than I used to be five years back. I have no problem asking random people for help or just walking up to people in a queue when I know no one - how else are you supposed to meet possible new friends?

That said, I don't think I need to point out that my tolerance for homophobia and racism equals zero and there isn't a lot else that will make me jump to action and make me angry.

Well, that's about it for now, I think. If there's anything else you wanna know - just go ahead and ask!!!

I swear, I love those dudes.
Just when I thought I'd have to wait until next year to see them live, they come here and put out a couple of tour dates...
Argh.

I just ordered my ticket, I'm so ridiculously happy, I could hug the fucking world. So feel hugged!

Well, I can well and truly say: I'm so so so happy it's the weeked now, for me anyway.

Thursday is my last day of classes for the week and Friday is my day off, of everything really.
So, after two hours filled with Grammar and its funny phenomenons and two hours of Communications and the six colourful thinking hats, I finally made my way home, where I am right now but not for much longer.

Tonight, or rather this afternoon, Germany is playing against Croatia and my friends and I will, of course, watch the game together again. This time without the shots though; I'd like to see the end of the game for once.

Tomorrow, I do have to do a bit of shopping for my mom's birthday on Saturday. She turning *whispers* 50 and she hates it. Still, all her friends will be over for a surprise party in the evening which she doesn't know of yet as she thinks we'll be spendning the entire day out and about, hehe. The party wasn't my dad's or my idea though; 'twas her cousin's, so at least we can't be blamed if she hates it.

Well, then, cross your fingers and have a good evening...

Is anyone watching?
Who are your favorites? Who's quite a disappointment so far? Who do YOU want to win?
Tell me, tell me!

I am, of course, for Germany. Favorites might be Spain and Portugal, of course.
France and Italy did a bad, bad job; obviously.

I feel bad for Switzerland already being kicked out. It was a fantastic game tonight and with Turkey's victory, it's highly likely that they might end up playing against us in the next round, which I'd not want to happen - which is why out of Group A, I'm in favor of the Czechs.

London was what I called 'my aim in life'. It was that one thing I wanted with all my heart and soul and mind (and I still can't believe I got it), that one big wish that some people never have granted.

Already when I was in London, one afternoon walking the streets with Ann, I told her that it was about time to find a new aim because without something to focus and work on my life felt out of balance.
Well, she made my new aim to work on staying in London, at least for a little while and oh wonder, we even managed that.

After that, I lost sight of my aims and what I want out of life and focused a bit more on my well-being. I took whatever life decided to offer me, always thankful and happy, but often not caring about the people around me anymore.

And now that I've got my life under control again and can say that I am actually happy, it's about time I devote some time to making the world a better place again. I never lost my opinions and views out of sight, they never changed. I'm still tolerant and open-minded (really, even if I point with the finger and make fun of people), I've just developed a new level of self-confidence that I'm still testing out.
You either like what I have to say, or you don't. If you don't speak up for yourself, you'll never get where you wanna go. So what if I've become a bit crueler, a little less meek? I'm still the same person who'll offer comfort to friends and an open ear and who'd give an arm and a leg for anyone that matters to me.

But enough about who I am. I'd much rather talk about what I wanna do.
My new aim is - and I know that it might sound a little corny - to get at least one kid, later on when I teach or even earlier at cram school, to learn something from me; and I'm not talking about the contents in class. I want one of my future students to develop an undying love for literature, I want one of them to be able to say 'If I learned something in class then it has to be the love for books'. I know it sounds silly, and a lot of kids read, but I don't think a lot of them give thought to it.

When I read, let's take Paul Auster's New York Trilogy, I get caught up in the book, so much that by the end of it I'm yearning for more so badly that it's irritating and hurts. I want them to marvel at the combination of words, I want them to appreciate the people who form and shape fantasy worlds for us to feel better.

And I want to teach them to believe.
You might think 'Yeah, of course you do, what with your studies' but it's not about religion. I don't want to teach children to become good Christians, I don't want to teach them how to pray and go to church and believe in God - I want them to realise that as long as they believe in something, of whatever shape or form, they're never lost.

I, for myself, can say that I believe in God. I believe that there is something that makes the world happen, someone who knows all the reasons as to why there is so much misery and death and crime and hate in the world and I believe that we're in no position to question any of it. I really do believe that everything happens for a reason and that we have to learn from our afflictions, no matter how hard they are, and that alone makes me a better person.

Right, that's maybe a concept that seems pretty far out there to a lot of people and it sounds a lot like I'm saying that believing in God makes me a better person, but that's not the point at all.

Ever since I started consciously believing in something I feel much more content, I don't feel like I have to constantly justify my actions because I did what I had to do for a reason. I once had a conversation about God's plans being laid out already and that whenever we make a decision we never really make one because it all happens 'as planned'. It was a very enlightening conversation I have to say and only adds up to my new-found self-confidence because I feel like I am 'doing what is right'.

And I really want to help someone else to experience the same.
As a teacher, I am in no position to turn kids into religious fanatics, and I am in no position to turn them against religion, even if my approach to that matter seems to be a lot anti-religious. I don't believe in forcing people into a belief - what good is it if it is half-hearted?
I want them to find something that they can hold onto in the hardest of their moments, something they can look up to and say 'This is something they can't take away from me.' If that happens to be God then, cool. If not, cool.

All I really want is to have a positive influence on one single life.

Sweltering hot summer days have long passed but it’s still warm enough for everyone to wear t-shirts and shorts. It’s late August, early September maybe and in mere days, you are going to enter a new phase of your life. But you are at the young age of six and you don’t care about the future at this point.

No, right now all that matters is that searing hot pain is spreading from your wrist to your fingers and up into your arm and you hold it away from your body and cry. Heads turned as you whipped away your arm from the fluffy brown cat you’d been petting and now, everyone is all over you, curious to find out what has happened.

The mystery is easily solved because the small black and yellow body of the evil wasp is still hanging off your wrist, stinger still buried under your skin, next to your pulse point. You can feel the faint buzz of the insect against your skin and then it’s gone. You don’t know what happened because your eyes have been squeezed shut in pain, tears streaming down your red, hot face.

It all had started off seemingly okay: You and your mom had taken a trip to a nearby farm, aiming to buy home-grown fruit when you’d been distracted by the kittens strolling over the farmyard and in your childish demeanor you had rushed after them. A girl much older than you caught one of them and held the tiny ball of fur on her arms and you petted it contentedly until the very moment the pain set in.

Someone produced ice from somewhere and with the plastic bag full of frozen water your mom had put you in the car again before leaving you behind to go and find the friend and her son you’d taken with you.

It feels like hours later when it’s maybe half of one until you get out of the car. The ice has long melted but you still hold onto the bag and watch your mother unload the trunk of the car. Music is coming from the car and your mom stills for a moment until she casts a look over at her friend, “I remember that day like it was yesterday.”

You’re confused, mainly because you hadn’t noticed there was a conversation going on, too caught up in the stinging sensation in your arm.

The other lady nods, a sad sigh escaping her lips.

It’s 16 years later on a slow Friday night that you here the song, a classic, they call it, and memory bubbles to the surface. You’ve heard it time and time again on the radio, on TV, but it never triggered the memory then. You’re still clueless why it does now but you trail of thought gets lost when you dig into your father’s music collection. You surface with Queen’s Greatest Hits minutes later, a small, sad smile on your lips.

Musically, I’d be the love child of Bon Jovi and Prince, if there ever was one. Or make that Credence Clearwater Revival and Tina Turner. Or… I could go on and on with a list of artists that my parents listened to while I was growing up. What’s quite obvious is that my mom has always been more on the pop side while my dad preferred guitars and drums.

My dad’s collection of vinyls comprises a good 10 records by the Rolling Stones, some Beatles ones as well and a lot of compilations featuring artists that are talked about again these days. Most of the CDs in the living room chest are my dad’s, and most of them are by Bryan Adams or Bon Jovi and once again a lot of compilations.

I remember garden parties back then when I was young at which my parents’ friends would rock out to Genesis and ZZ Top, or German artists like Westernhagen and Nina Hagen.

I guess it’s no wonder that these days, I tend to find rock music more attractive. I grew up to the sound of guitars and if my parents had let me, I’d have taken lessons and learned to play myself.

While my mom sometimes likes few of the songs I’m listening to these days, my dad seems to love them. Just the other day we were in the car when Maximo Park came up on the radio and not only did he know the band’s name all by himself, he even knew they are from England and he’d long noticed Paul Smith’s accent.

Still, I don’t think Maximo Park, Panic at the Disco or Editors will be bands anyone will talk about in 40 years. No offense here, I think all three of them are incredibly talented, awesome bands, but when it comes down to proper good rock music, people will always refer to the Stones, Jimi Hendrix or Queen.

There’s just something that is lacking in those bands – it surely isn’t talent or ideas, passion for music or devotion. I’m not even sure whether it’s something that the bands have influence on because maybe it the media’s fault by over-saturating the market with what they think is ‘the next best thing’ and dropping the good bands from their lists far too early.

But that’s just my humble take on it.

Else than that:
Wow, what a boring weekend. Well,  I talked to Samuel, good thing? Yes, no?

 
So: What is your earliest memory of music in your life? What is your earliest childhood memory anyway? What music did you grow up to and did it influence your taste in music today?

Or: Why putting yourself through insomnia is sometimes the better deal.

In the semi-consciousness of inbetween wide awake and fast asleep the fuzzy feeling in your stomach spreads like hot liquid through your veins and into your limbs, filling you with sleepy happiness that you can never grasp throughout the day.

You fight a losing battle against sleep, and you know it, wanting to dwell on that funny feeling just a little longer but your eyes fall shut in a matter of minutes and you pass over into the world of dreams.

And thought they're dreams you always find a reflection of reality in them. The harsh truth and all your woes you find in your dreams lately.

Sometimes, problems are solved in such an easy fashion that when you wake up you feel like you already accomplished your aim in reality as well - only to have realisation crush onto you. You're still stuck.

On other nights everything goes absolutely wrong even in the phantasy world of your sleeping hours and you fight with the last resort of strength which you can muster up. You jolt awake with a start, your legs twitching, your eyes flying open and your breath coming short. Sometimes, you're drenched in sweat and you realise that maybe reality isn't half a sbad. You avoid falling asleep for the next three nights.

There are the good ones as well; dreams about everything you desperately hang onto, memories of the past. All falls in place rightly so and you try to hand on just a little longer to once more re-live the situation that was so memorable that even subconsciously you're smiling about it.

Those dreams often leave you confused when you wake up, even more so than the bad ones. You blink your eyes open because boy - where exactly are you? Sometimes you had those dreams when you were away: All day you'd feel a little homesick and in the evening you curled up in a ball and hid from your current life. It only lasted a day though because something else would eventually happen and cheer you up.

And sometimes, you still wake up, your mind still in the happy place there, and you'd blink furiously and wonder where exactly you are only to remember how your life had taken a turn again; that this is it, now.

So everyday you try to exhaust your mind so violently that you'll get the few moments of rest between real life and dream life.

What is your bedtime ritual? What do you do if you can't sleep? Do you dream a lot and are those good or bad dreams (if you can remember them at all)?

Well, to start this journal off, let me tell you that one of my several obsessions is music.

I spend a good part of my day listening to it (starting with the three hours I listen to my ipod on my way to and fro uni and then some) and reading blogs and articles on various websites.

Ever since I've been to London, I've become quite an XFM junkie and lucky me that they broadcast over the internet as well because otherwise, I'd have to listen to the crappy German stations which play the horrible music that goes around here (although they play the Ting Tings and Newton Faulkner as well).

Well, I've heard this and that about Franz Ferdinand putting out a new CD this year, but this bit of news made me laugh and then frown:

(from xfm's website)

"My favourite part is the human bones percussion", he [Nick McCarthy] revealed, "It sounds like a dead man dancing - because it is."

Not quite sure what to think of instruments made from human bones (and not just because I'm a theologian, kthanx.).

Else than that - if anyone wants to listen to another interpretation of 'Beat it' that is not FOB's, find it on there as well.

What a slow day... off to listen to the Zutons now and have another cuppa.