The unreliable narrator

Sometimes I just don't mean what I write. It's not that you should believe each word that I write.

I am truthful, but not in the way you think.

A little soul

I think I lack of biotin again. I’d better start eating peanuts, cashews and almonds. I guess that biotin deficiency is the reason why my skin is so messed up. Eating fruits is not enough, nothing is ever fucking enough. You can’t take care of everything all at once. I’ve never been an attention seeker and I hate those who are; whether suffering from inferiority complex or not, I don’t care. But my body is asking for attention more than ever in my entire life. All of a sudden, I don’t like coke anymore. I don’t like energy drinks anymore. I’ve become sensitive to caffeine! To be honest, caffeine never worked as an energizer and now it’s even giving me headache. The only caffeine drink I can consume is tea (green, black, anything) and a weak coffee. But from now on, no more energy drinks or coke. It’s not just the caffeine, but also the amount of sugar which is available in those drinks – tastes terrible. It’s so weird that my tongue had never noticed that in the past. I don’t even like drinks that contain sweeteners or aspartame. You can taste that unnatural stuff forever on your tongue. Again, I never noticed that in the past. Chewing gum is the same; once I’ve finished that pack, I won’t buy any new ones anymore. So many people are attracted to flavour enhancer; me too sometimes. Often when I eat out with people, they tend to say “Why does the food you eat in restaurants taste so much better than at home?” Well, isn’t it obvious?

A friend of mine has moved to Kiel to study. She doesn’t admit, but I think she’s having a tough time to adapt to her new life. That’s very cute. I think she’s not aware yet how lucky she really is. People who are ready for changes are the most courageous and most interesting people ever. I like them. At least they are not boring.

I have a little obsession with digital clocks. I can’t help adding those digits together when looking at my alarm clock. It’s freaky. Do you remember my blog from a while ago, where I multiplied all numbers with nine? There is one number I forgot to write down. Now here it is: the other day I paid attention to three cars that drove past me, one after the other. I added up their license numbers and all three of them equaled 6. There you have your triple 6. Whether you add those 6’s together or multiply them, they’ll equal 9. I know what you’re thinking: you’re thinking that I haven’t got a life. And you’re correct. Right now I really don’t.

I found my favourite song by the band Pulp. I never knew why I loved that song, but now I do. It has always reminded me of how much I don’t want to become a mother. I cannot even look after plants, you see.

A caller's kindness

I’m such a terrible friend. Do you know when you become a terrible friend? That is when you suddenly see “friendship” as “business” and not something that comes from the heart. Now may I defend myself, please, before you judge me and before you think I don’t give a shit about you?

Thank you.

Well. I’m a lot under pressure these days. Not logging in to myspace and facebook is certainly not enough. There are also real life friends. Friends that “call you up” and now we’re talking about one of my least favourite activities, which is “talking on the phone”. The moment my phone rings, I automatically start to roll my eyes. If I am busy (or at least think that I am busy), I don’t answer it. Some tend to leave a message, but if it is not that important, I don’t usually call back immediately. Now this is where it starts…If I don’t call back for about a week, I start to feel “guilty” and I HATE feeling guilty. And it’s not just guilt, but also pressure! You don’t understand it? Well you don’t have to. I am simply not somebody who likes talking regularly on the phone or even weekly. Some friends, however, expect me to call back. They take it personally if I don’t get back to them and this makes me feel terrible. I already find it tiring meeting up with a friend twice a week. I have changed a lot, you see. When I was 15, I used to meet up with friends several times a week and I liked it. (I made my first friends with 15, you remember. Those were different times.) Now, I’m slightly reversing; I’m becoming quiet again, I dislike conversations where I constantly disagree with the person and I just can’t be bothered expressing my opinions. I just don’t have as many like-minded people around me anymore as I used to. They are all different, but interesting to know. Unfortunately this doesn’t make it any easier for me.
I am forcing myself to hang in there…to call people, before they start thinking that I don’t give a shit about them. It’s such a natural thing for them to call friends up, which I fully understand. My problem is that I lack of alone time. My alone time keeps delaying and it’s pissing me off. Today I thought I should make those phone calls, in order to have them done with, so those people don’t feel forgotten. I won’t ever forget them anyway, but you know…people always need assurance. It almost feels like a complicated relationship. I tried making those calls, but none of the friends were available – now that pisses me right off.
I think I used to be a man in my past life (– a proper arsehole). This explains why I’m unable to do multi-tasking and to dress elegantly like a lady. I think I used to be a misogynist who broke many women’s hearts, which is why I have to pay for it in this life. Fair enough.

FYI I still haven’t finished reading “The catcher in the rye”, how disastrous! When I get a free minute, I just want to relax. My mind isn’t functioning well this week. Now coming back to combining “friendship” with “business”: I am almost fully booked this week thanks to work, except on Friday. Friday is my only day off this week and I am NOT willing to give it away to anyone, not even to a friend who needs help with her homework. Am I a terrible friend when I say I don’t care about that piece of homework? No I am not. My friend is expecting me to travel to hers, in order to help her with her work. It’s like thinking “Paula can travel everywhere for anyone…!”
Yeah, sure, I travel everywhere for everyone! If I am asked to help, then the person can make the bloody effort to travel to MINE, instead of having me travel 45-50min for a damn homework. She says she also wants to see me, too, but that’s not good enough. So here’s how it goes: I said I was gonna come up after work on Thursday evening. I’m ready to help on a work day. I’m not telling anyone that I am free on Friday. It’s my fucking day. Can’t go party anyway, because I got work that Saturday after.

I’ve just noticed that I hardly ever ask for help. I tend to do everything myself, because I don’t want to hassle anyone. I don’t know who is still genuinely ready to help me these days. Ok, apparently friends are there to help, am I missing out something? Why do I always feel like using people when I ask them for help? – This is the reason why I don’t like asking for any kind of support. Stupid, I know. I don’t like being indebted. Is that reason enough? Or is it too complicated? Or do you think that I’ve never really had a close friend?

God, I’m such a loner. A pissed off loner.

To conclude: I value friendship, but I’m not someone who would let you come round just because you feel bored. If that makes me a terrible friend, then so be it. I don’t find friendship as easy as you do.

Another useless blog written.
Pathetic.
Will try to avoid that before people leave my blog with a head shake. But certain explanations needed to be done. For me, not for you. Surely not for you.

The twin

She still acts very cold and distant. It doesn’t happen very often that I hope for her to say something random to me and not even that is happening. Normally she asks me about my work schedule or whether I’m going to buy bread in the morning; questions that used to piss the hell out of me. All of a sudden I feel very scared and I can’t really describe why. In our family it is not a common thing to ever say sorry after fights. It’s awkward and none of us like awkwardness. So how is it best to apologise? Well, all you need to do is: not to do anything that pisses her off. Examples: Don’t put the knife back into the drawer after cutting bread, at least wash it first. Or pick up your hair after washing. Self explanatory. But since that argument she seems to have so much more to moan about. I am not even listening anymore. I think the reason is because now she only talks to me when she’s complaining. There seem to be no questions anymore. She used to ask me questions which an ordinary friend or acquaintance would ask and it’s only her I’d yell the answer back at. You, YOU deserve being yelled at so much more. And I don’t know why I am unable to express myself to you.

“The catcher in the rye” has gotten boring. I got very bored of Holden’s tone. It’s not like reading anymore; it’s as if he’s chatting to me and he’s not always honest, either. Though, he’s very open and rather smart for his age, but men who don’t know what they want are a total turn-off.

“Hurt”, instrumental version…have you ever heard that one before? It makes you imagine yourself in a foggy area, wearing nothing but a negligee. You are on bare feet and you don’t even notice the cold as if you had an invisible shield that makes you feel absolutely nothing. Then you see an unconscious twin of yourself lying in the midst of the fog. Slowly you kneel down to touch her. She wakes up and grabs you violently by the throat.

Human kebab

I had a terrible dream and only in my dream I felt no disgust.

There is human kebab.

Impalement.

Raw.

Saw. No it was a chainsaw.

Bread and salad were missing.

Adressed to YOU

I have an announcement to make. I've come to the conclusion that I need to set myself free for a while from pressure, digital communication and other people's business.

I don't like how negative things have developed in my life and I hate the way I treat people that I love. I need more time with my head. Therefore, I want to stop talking to you for a while. I'd rather go away than pitying myself in front of you. I hate self-pity, I hate it sincerely. I'm very glad that most of you don't know the "me" from eight, nine years ago. Lucky you, eh?

Do you think my blog entries contain self pity at all? No, they are observations, secretive revelations and prejudiced opinions - all honestly told. (At least the ones from 2007 onwards.) I don't do self pity in public anymore.

I had a very long walk today. It has been a rather nice half-way sunny autumn day. I love yellow, brown leaves. I like watching them fall, because, to me, it signifies that a terrible chapter has just ended. So you live with the consequences throughout the winter, where you are going to think about what you have done. You'll have your new chances in spring. It is a melancholic thought really, but it keeps my mind working.

I had to endure a lot of pressure yesterday at work. I didn't dare to lose my temper at work, but by the time I got home, I lost it all. I tried not to speak to my mother, but she insisted on speaking to me, I couldn't stand it. I don't even want to think about the way I talked to her. Last thing she said was that the entire family is getting scared of me. Today she said nothing to me.

I constantly talk about isolation, which is an impossible thing, especially now that I have two jobs, which are keeping me deadly busy. Customers are arseholes, especially when they accuse you of stealing their money. Though, it's even worse when you've noticed their bloody ferocious facial expression before the transaction has even started. It puts pressure on me, because I get scared of doing something wrong. And according to their opinion, I did something wrong. A customer was supposed to pay 38,89Euros. That stupid old bag handed one 20Euro note and three 10Euro notes to me. I looked at the money, counted it and typed in 50Euro, which was correct. I acted out of intuition, nothing else. BUT the money was more of less still in his hands and THAT WAS when I realised that he gave me a tenner too much. I thought it was just a misunderstanding, but do you know what he thought? That fucker thought I was trying to mess around with him, that I was going to keep that extra tenner for myself, even though it was still in his goddamn hands. I was indignant and denied his accusation, but he wouldn't believe me. That ruined my day. It hurts me to know when people think that I am that bad. Luckily the day was almost over. But unfortunately before it was over, the situation escalated.
My colleagues tend to leave me alone at the till for hours. Even if it's already time for me to finish, they will take their time to displace me. For instance, when I finish at 9pm, they'll come to displace me at quarter past, which leaves me ten minutes to cash up, because my bus leaves at 9:29pm. Then I'll be under pressure, because I don't want to miss my bus. You gotta know that time puts a lot of pressure on me. I'm not easy going when it comes to time. It's an inconsiderate bitch, because it doesn't wait for you. It's a curse to think like that.

Now you might say that I should do something about it, that I should say something, so that people don't treat me like that. That's the reason why people take me for granted, because I don't say anything. If I keep doing that, I know I will lose my mind one day. But in situations like these...do you know what I really really think? I think that these people --- simply are not worth talking to; they are not worth it. They have no meaning in my life. So why the hell should I talk to them about anything?

Well let me finish this one quickly, cos it's pissing me off what I'm telling you. You remember my last "break" was sometime in April? I neither logged in on myspace nor facebook for over a week. This time it's gonna be much longer than one week.

I want to finish reading "The catcher in the rye". It can't be true that it's taking me two weeks to finish a bloody 200-page book! I can seriously slap myself in the face.

In the next few days, I will firstly respond to all your emails and I'd appreciate it, if you didn't respond straight afterwards, as I will not read them. I have to be honest: I hate finding emails which were sent to me about 3-4 months ago. It's when I start to wonder why it took me so fucking long to write back and I feel very very bad about it. (I'd be an arsehole if I blamed time. I don't do excuses anymore.)
I get guilty conscience all the time, you know..., even though I shouldn't. I used to have 15 pen friends. Yes, I wrote them hand-written letters. I responded to each single letter. And then, time after time, one by one, gave up on me. Pen friends worth keeping? I don't think so.
Today I have to say that I appreciate my digital friends, especially those I've been in touch with for over five years. You know who you are. I'd like to thank you for making the effort.

I don't feel like talking much, I don't feel like updating you with my life right now and I don't feel like bothering you with my problems. I don't mean it in a bad way.
I wish I could avoid all people for a while, but how often have I fucking said that already? This is not going to happen.

I will keep my blogs up and I will tweet. (You think I'm a hypocrite, eh? Maybe. But you gotta know that in my blog I don't talk to anyone, I talk to "my blog".) These will be the only updates...probably till the end of the year or beginning of next year.

I'll be fine for some texts, so feel lucky if you have my number :)

So long then,

p

A misogynistic blog

I have been trying to analyse my animosity against women. And I have to admit that I have been hypocritical, because deep inside I do share many opinions with Schopenhauer. Hell knows what I am still denying. There is so much spite going on which I do not dare to share with you. This is to avoid you turning your back on me.

It all started when I went to my paediatrician for the first time in my life. All those years, I had been trying to repress this memory. My first doctor ever. A woman. I remember her having very short grey hair and a facial expression of a stupid badger. She lacked a lot of patience and kindness. You really didn't have the impression that she liked children at all - a child abuser more like.

I haven't thought about that bitch for a long, long time, not until my gynaecologist (a man!) had started asking me for my vaccination records. Problem was that I have lost my vaccination certificate and therefore I'm not up to date about my past vaccinations. There had been loads of school vaccinations, which none of my doctors know of, so I didn't know who to turn to. So my gynaecologist said "Consult your paediatrician." I felt numb for a second. I suddenly remembered that grey-haired woman, who, to me, was a personified witch, a female child abuser. She was the first woman who ever tricked me into stuff - she used to divert me, in order to inject me or to insert suppositories up my arse. That, in my eyes, is child abuse. She was also the first woman who told my dad (with me present) that I had serious mental problems because I didn't speak to people. My dad believed her that was when he first felt ashamed of me.

It didn't get any better, though. I had to deal with female teachers at the kindergarden and nursery school. My first primary school teacher was female, so was the second. They all pretty much gave up on me and sent me to the school psychologist instead. (That was a woman, too.) All those bloody fucking women were cunts and hollow as their fucking hearts were. My first teacher at secondary school was a woman, too. But by the time I was at secondary school, I was more able to think for myself and began to realise what was really going on around me and so on. It was unnecessary to think that I was in need of help. The only person who was able to help me was me - me alone.

My mother used to be very detached in the past, too. I always had this feeling that she was not satisfied with her life and with the choices she had made. Therefore I don't resent her for being detached. I've always used her as the cushion to kick into. The difference between her and the other women is that she loves me.

You probably won't understand me if I say that I don't ever, ever want to become a mother myself. It's enough to just be a woman.

Thoughts and events in little pieces

It's an unpleasant thing to witness your friends change. I don't even want to go deeper into this subject.

It's my parents' 26th anniversary. I don't care about that. That always reminds me of the Bonsai plant.

It's not quite the autumn I was hoping for, but I love the melancholic atmosphere it causes, because it keeps other people inside, whilst I can be outside.

Holden Caulfield and I aren't really alike, but we have a lot in common. In contrast to me he is a liar. But his lies are somewhat forgivable. He lies to strangers, in order to avoid discussions and conversations and to avoid revealing himself to people who might do harm to him. An extraordinary observer and extremely opinionated in his head. He's just as observant as I am, he even writes about observations that I wouldn't even think of writing about.

I feel very sad since yesterday night.

Even socialising with close people has somewhat become difficult that I tend to shut up most of the time.

My former art and sports teacher came to buy food in the supermarket. I felt like a loser serving her. I knew she remembered me. Intuitively, I started a conversation and I mentioned: "I finished school in England upon which I went to university for three years..." She then asked "Why the hell are you working in the supermarket?" I liked that question.

I admit sometimes I set value on what people think about me, especially when I know they are wrong. I always need to get it straight.

I still fantasize about him.

They are breaking open a part of the moon, in order to find supplies. I hate the human nature.

Having a strong will is not enough.

Why am I so numb when being sad?

Thinking of my last decent cry on September 6th.

I don't feel like passing my experiences on to people who haven't experienced the same thing. I want them to go through it themselves and get hurt. Very hurt.

I won't tell deaf ears. I will only write for wise eyes.

I still fantasize about him.

I love and admire people who are stoical. Nothing is more attractive than this type of charisma. I only know stoicism in connection with numbness. I know there is more to it.

I plucked my eyebrows for the first time today. It hurt and my skin reddened. I don't think I will ever go as far as other women who value outer beauty so much.

Why is it so hard talking to women?

Capitalism, power, fame and recognition. Anything else nowadays people talk about? Yes.

Never pour water onto a pan which is on grease fire.

The reversal of process

The sleeping routine has changed again. Bedtime is not between 5 and 6am anymore, but between 3 and 4am. Nothing is ever regular with me. I tend to listen to my body more than ever now. I think it knows what's better for me than I do. My head and my heart seem to be over exhausted and I don't seem to hear anything from them right now. My stomach is in control and I trust it. It told me to prepare a bowl of fruits for breakfast this morning, which I did and enjoyed. My mum called me crazy for eating fruits in the morning. I simply said "Leave me alone". I feel better this way. I used to eat fruits straight after dinner, which you are not supposed to do. You'll feel more bloated and heavier and the digestion takes a lot longer. Now when eating fruits for breakfast I feel so much lighter. Imagine I explain this to them. They won't listen. They grew up differently and they attempted to pass, what they had learnt throughout their own adolescence, to me and my sister. I guess my mum knows me. She has always known that I won't ever be like her and dad. And that whatever happens I will always have my own way of deciding what's good for me.

I hate receiving help. I hate receiving help from people that I don't trust. My parents made me go to the jobcentre today to sign up for unemployment benefit, in order to finance my health insurance. I fucking HATE the jobcentre, which is full of wankers. They judge you from the start without knowing you. You can already hear how they're calling you a "loser", "good-for-nothing", "suckup" and "wreck" from the inside. They think that you do shitall to support yourself. Evil bastards. The ugly disabled advisor woman I spoke to literally said "We are going to force you to find a job!" Her eyes were glaring at me whilst she said that, as if she was about to stab me. Goddamn bitch. If it hadn't been for my parents' sake, I'd have NEVER gone there. Well, so she used the word "force" and she did mean it seriously. She is forcing me to see a career's advisor every fortnight and I'll probably have to accept any job that will be available. It's the only way so they'll agree to finance my health insurance - by putting pressure on me.

The moment I had entered Germany again in 2007, I should've known and realised that it was a mistake. If not so much shit had happened in the spring of 2007, I would have had less reason to leave England. I still remember the relief I had felt when I was on the plane back to Hamburg. I did miss it. But I didn't know that it was not going to do me any good. It had nothing to show me, except familiar scenery. I should've known that everything would go back to normal, as if I had gone back to 2001 again.

Yes, I regret for having come back. I feel similar to Lugosi who had turned down the role of playing Frankenstein. The biggest regret that he would never forget. But I don't regret for having met wonderful people in my home country in the last couple of years. And I don't regret being with my family, except that being home is doing me no good. Being home is the reversal of a process.
I know it's too late to worry about things like that. Regrets don't work. I fucking know it myself.

I am sorry, sometimes I'm so uncontrollably honest that I don't even notice that I am being very offensive. I almost wrote something very offensive and I'm glad that I'm able to shut up, otherwise the world would go down.

But this is not the time. I'm not through, yet. Some thoughts and attitudes of mine are so heinous that I do not dare to share them, not even with my black book.


Oh look who's back. Welcome head. Welcome heart. Have a good fair fight.