The Exploits of a TurboGeek!

It is funny, but I need to stop underestimating how well my loved ones understand me. A while back, I noted that I’m probably an extrovert, based on my week of personal observation. However, now I’m not so sure, and here is why…

I have been quiet again this week. I have been lonely and homesick, and that makes me not want to talk to anyone. I’d rather quietly retire to my apartment and rejuvenate on my own. I avoid contact with people because they ask prying questions like “How are you?” and I don’t want to lie and say “Greeeaat.” because then they’ll ask “Really?”. However, I don’t want to tell the truth because then they’ll ask “Why?”.

That isn’t entirely true. All my friends are wonderful and they know sometimes I just need someone to listen to, or someone to listen. It is nice having that network, but being far away from it just reminds me that I sort of don’t have it. What I’d really like is some quiet times with the people I love, doing something trivial. Watching a movie, or tearing down a wall or dancing. Something simple but social, to keep me from brooding. However, I don’t have that here. Here I have to draw on my own inner well of energy, and I realize that after doing so every day, I begin to fade a bit. The quiet time alone is how I rejuvenate…

I know this entry is a bit dark already, but part of the reason I am writing this is because I’m already on the upswing. Another part is because some of my mood is based upon external events that have turned around as well.

I’ll start by saying everything is okay, and my Dad is now safely home from the hospital. This way, you won’t worry My Dad did spend a very important 48 hour stretch at the local hospital earlier this week, though. Monday morning, he had a Pulmonary Embolism… Luckily he noticed that he wasn’t feeling well, and quickly went to the ER. The docs checked him out, and observed him for a while. They gave him some good medication and will monitor him for the next few months. The worst and most dangerous part is over.

Times like this, my knowledge of the human body is both a blessing and a curse. I know what an embolism is, and why they are dangerous. Statistically speaking, a Pulmonary Embolism is most common, most survivable and the least lethal embolism to have. However, they can be fatal. Additionally, while the embolism is present, it can easily break free (the clot which is clogging a blood vessel) and lodge somewhere far more devastating (such as the heart or brain). So while I console myself with the knowledge that he’s in good shape, and very likely to recover, I know that the situation is tenuous and can change very quickly. Emboli are normally a result of a clot that was formed while the patient was sedentary for a long period (such as on a plane: Deep Vein Thrombosis)… My Dad is normally very active, so this is a bit out of left field. An Embolism can strike anyone, though age is often a contributing factor.

So, at a time like this, it is hard to be far away. What I really needed was a hug, and someone to say it would be all okay. I know that doesn’t really contain a garantee, but it helps regardless. Instead, I had my mom on the phone saying “Well, this isn’t to point a finger, but that drive from California probably didn’t help.” Thanks mom… (Nota Bene: The doctors all agree, the trip from CA was almost 2 months ago, and a very unlikely culprit… However, the words can’t be unsaid.)

So, I sat quietly and fought the terror on my own. I don’t know why, but that is really the only way I know how to do it. Reflecting, I know how it bums me out when someone I love doesn’t turn to me for help. I’m here. I love you! Let me help!!! I don’t know how often I’ve had to remind people that they don’t need to go it alone. Yet, there I sat, with my own demons and no one to exorcise them but me. I feel a bit like a heel and a hypocrite.

Part of what I have to say here is “I’m sorry.” There will be lots of times when I fail to write here, or respond to an email. Most of them are forgivable, since they’re innocent reasons. I forgot, or I was busy, or I failed to actually hit “send”. I never mean to fall behind. However, I feel like I’ve somewhat insulted you by hiding my tribulations. I did the same thing I wish the people I love wouldn’t. I hid rather than asking for help.

I don’t know why I do that, but I am making a promise now to be more courageous in the future. I know you’re not going to judge or belittle me, you’re just going to try to help. That is why we’re friends, after all. I will be a better friend in the future

So that is that. This is the sort of post I’d written and deleted before posting the Tell-Tale Egg. I hope you enjoyed that story as much as I enjoyed writing it… Some folks have asked it really did happen that way. I’ll let my sister weigh in on that, since she can offer independent verification

I’m going to draw this to a close. I hope you are well, and I hope you have a wonderful day.

Hi There,

I’m not quite sure what to put here right now. I wrote an entry last night, but deleted it instead of posting. I rarely do that. Sometimes I’ll write something and hold onto it, but I normally hate discarding work. I was pleased with the entry, content wise. It was well written and all. I just didn’t want to post it. I wish I had a better explanation than that.

So, now I have an option. I will either write something meaningful, or I will write something entertaining… Well, lets be honest. I’ll try to write something that fits into either of those categories…

I think I will tell the story of the Tell-Tale Egg.

I was a mischievous lad, as a youth. Not so much as a result of a misguided or demented nature, but more so due to an exuberance of spirit and a lack of worthwhile pursuits towards which to direct my spirit. Often I would find myself adrift, wondering how to while the time away, yet other times, I’d find myself focused with the a single-minded fanatacism on a single idea or possibility. I was in the throes of the latter state when this tale begins..

The Easter Holiday was fast approaching, and the topic of eggs was foremost in everyone’s mind. While many would turn their focus to the art of coloring and decorating eggs, my attention would be undeniably drawn in a far more unnatural direction. The instructions, I had discovered, were simple. Secure an aqueous solution of 10% Acetic Acid, and place the egg within.

For days, I’d watch it. The transformation was profound. At times the solution would become to cloudy and I would not be able to detect the activity within. Donning appropriate protective gear and instruments, I’d carefully transplant my creation into a new vessel, immersing it once again in a pristine solution. I don’t recall how long the procedure took, or how many times I transferred my ever more delicate specimen to a fresh acid bath. What I do know is this; before too long, the process was complete… I had created a Rubber Egg!!!

There is a certain state of being one attains after such an intimate brush with the surreal. I can’t explain the joy I felt at my accomplishment, the marvel. It was all people could talk about. “Did you see the Rubber Egg?” or “I touched the Rubber Egg!!”. For hours, I would play with it, watching the yolk slid through my fingers as the egg’s tacky skin would cling gently to my hand. Laid flat it took on the appearance of a normal egg, dropped into a frying pan, moments before it would begin to sizzle and denature to a healthy white. On an incline, it would roll and slide, until it crashed soggily into an obstacle.

Everyone wanted to play with my egg. Poke it, prod it, squeeze it gently, half afraid that it might burst in their hands, though half afraid that it would not. Days passed quickly during this time, I lost concept of space and time. For then, there was only my rubber egg. And then it was gone…

I rebounded quickly, as only kids can. My attention drifted from project to project, and slowly the emptiness within me was forgotten. Though every year, as the Easter Holiday approached, my Rubber Egg was rehatched in the memories of all…

“What ever happened to the Rubber Egg?”, we’d ask no one in particular as we dipped our resolutely solid eggs into a dyed solution not entirely unlike the transformative elixir I’d used so many years before. “I wonder…” we’d mull. Someone would eventually malign the honor of our dear cat with: “Maybe it was the cat.” though the response was always the same… “But it was never found!!!” Surely no cat could have hidden an egg this well. Especially not so close to Easter when everyone was spending so much time looking for eggs in unlikely places.

And the years crept by…

It was a quiet pre-Easter night when it happened. “I Did IT!!!” She cried. My dear beloved sister. She could take the conjecture no more. “I can’t take it anymore!” (that is how we knew whe couldn’t take it anymore). “I was playing with the rubber egg and I broke it!!! Every year it is the same. Can none of you forget this egg? 10 years it must be, no, longer! I have borne this guilt! It was ME!!!” All eyes were on her, the whites of which mocking her with their eggy whiteness.

Forgiveness was easy. One can always forgive family, no matter how grievous the transgression. It is the basis of love. With time, everything returned to normal.

At last, the rubber egg was at peace. All was known, and my sister could finally look us all in the eye on Easter Mornings again. To this day, she still bears a scar… On the little finger of her left hand, part way between her second and third knuckle there is a small yoke-colored stain, in the shape of a beak crying out from beyond the albumin.

Hello Again,

I’ve been breaking rules again… First off, I went like a whole week without writing, but it was with some good reason. Now, I’m composing online, but also with good reason. After everyone agreed that I am, in fact, an extrovert, I decided to spend the week being an introvert. What I discovered is this… I can be an introvert, but I get bored and lonely. I also get a slew of emails asking me if I am A) Alright, B) Alive. I guess that should finalize in my head whether or not I’m an E or an I. I get bored and lonely, and everyone notices a change in my behavior. Plus, I’m happier being me…

Of course, the disclaimer is, there is nothing good or bad in either, and all people will have modes of behavior that accentuate extroverted or introverted qualities in themselves.

I’m composing online, because I have DSL!!! Haha! Woooooo. I love it. I can play games and surf to my heart’s content! Is that not awesome? Better yet, I can now run skype all the time if I want. Only I still don’t have a microphone. Best yet, my VOIP phone arrived!!! Do you remember my home phone number? Well you can call me on that here now (well, in a few days). I can make and receive calls from the US, just like I was living there! Is that not awesome? Does that not make an extrovert proud? Do not these questions asking in an unpositive way not strike your fancy?

What else… Oh, I had a good week at work, and a good time on St. Patrick’s day. I had another “meeting” with a random girl. We decided to meet at an Irish Pub, on St. Patrick’s day, which wasn’t really the best plan. We had a good time, but it wasn’t a great “get to know you” venue. Hopefully we’ll get together again soon, and have more time to actually talk and such Actually coming home from the evening, I was quite profoundly lonely. I was tempted to write an entry then, but I was also tired, and I had to work this morning, so I decided to just go to sleep. I slept great, and had a flawless day at work today!!! Except I didn’t get to play Racquet ball. So I went to the pool…

The German pool is nifty. It is always too crowded, but the design just impresses me. To get in, you go into this little stall, and when you lock the door (so you may change) it locks two doors. You exit through the other door (when done changing), use the locker (if you must) and proceed to the pool. In this way, the locker room is co-ed, since everyone has their private stall. It is a neat system.

What I don’t understand about the system is… Where do I put my towel? Do I lock it up, or bring it to the pool. To get to the pool, you must go through the shower (not co-ed, and unfortunately often too naked) and at that point, my towel may get wet. This didn’t happen last time, but I wasn’t sure if I was just lucky. This time I left my towel locked up, and after showering when finished (I just rinse there, I do my naked stuff in the privacy of my own shower). I then realized as I left a streaming trail of puddles, that the floor previously had been dry. Hence, I chose poorly.

Recognizing this, I tried to get into my stall as quickly as possible. Sure, there was a wet trail leading to the stall, but I’d leave through the other door, so few people could connect me to it. But then I made a huge mess in my stall, dripping everywhere while I dried. Also, I had to hurry, otherwise people in the neighboring stalls might see the mess, and see me exiting (Plus they had a head start, since they were likely dry when they entered their stalls!). So, I got dressed quickly, and though I noted my underwear was on backwards I just didn’t have the time to correct it. Also, one sock went on backwards… You know how it is when it gets all stretched to match your foot, then you put it on in reverse and the heel is tight but there is a bunch of material on the front of your ankle? Like that.

And speaking of underwear… I think the honeymoon with my new place is over. I’m no longer being uncharacteristically neat, and treating this place like I am a guest. I live here! I can wander about in my underwear if I want! Should the mood hit me, I can dance so attired. Believe me, the mood hits… Far too often.

Now that I’ve alienated all of my possible readers… The teaser; Good Buddy Rich alluded to a great story involving the beach, a rental vehicle and a poorly supervised driver… I’ll write that story down, and one other this week, to provide you all with something good to read, instead of my underwear chronicles.

P.S. I’m sorry if I worried anyone with my
introvert/extrovert learning experience.

I’ve been very busy. Busy, yet quiet, which is quite odd. Normally when I get busy, I want to share it with everyone, but for some reason, this week, I wasn’t in the mood to write much this week. This entry is probably going to be much shorter than it deserves to be, but that is mostly because it should be many entries. However, it will be just this one, and as long as it is, that will have to do…

To start off the week, on Sunday night, I had a coffee date. Well, it was supposed to be coffee, but by the time we got around to scheduling it, it was late enough for dinner, so we had dinner instead. It was a fun date, but nothing remarkable. What was interesting about it is, though I barely know the lass, I drove out to Wiesbaden, at night, where I’d never been before just to see her. I forgot my map at home, so all I had to go by was my memory of having looked at the map, and my wits. Oddly enough, that was sufficient.

We also had text messages, which helped immensely. Once I’d gotten to the correct area, we began texting with our location, and slowly circled into one another. We met after a short barrage of messages, and happily went into an Indian restaurant to get out of the cold. Her name is Sue, and she is quite nice. She speaks flawless English, so my broken German wasn’t too much of an obstacle. My German does continue to improve, but I’m not conversational yet. I walked her home after the date, then drove back to my apartment without any event. I haven’t heard from her since then, but that is to be expected. She is a flight attendant, and was on a 5 day tour, not expecting to return until later tonight. She may or may not call when she gets in. It is up to her, really. I did send her an email thanking her for a lovely evening, but that is all. I’ll keep you posted if anything develops there.

Next, I think my apartment is haunted. Much like my suspicion about my Persian rug, this belief is completely unfounded. However, every night when I go to bed, I keep wondering about the ghosts that might live in my place with me. Once, I was keenly aware of a noise in my room, then my bed jostled. Next, I felt pressure near my legs. Sort of the pressure one feels when a kitty cat lies down next to you. I could have a ghost of a kitty in my place, or I could have just dreamt it. Really, I just want a kitty.

The next night, I was so preoccupied about ghosts that I made myself scared before I went to bed. I wondered what sort of ghosts might I have. The screaming/shrieking kind? The blood spraying from the eyes kind? I’m not sure. In what might be a sexist revelation, I consider all of my possible ghosts to be women. I wondered also if the ghost might hurt me. Ghosts might do that. Then again, no one has ever been proven to have been harmed by a ghost. If it were possible, there would probably be evidence. Plus, why should I assume my ghost would bear me ill-will? Maybe it would be the helpful sort of ghost who turned off lights I’d accidentally left on, or made my bed for me. Suffice to say, none of those things have happened. I did focus on the topic of ghosts so much that I was afraid I might have nightmares, but I didn’t.

In other news, I have a new car. It isn’t mine, just a rental, but truly new. It is a Mercedes Benz C-180 Kompressor. It had 9km on it when I picked it up. It is much nicer than my Peugot wagon, and a bit easier to nestle into my parking space. It has also convinced me that I can honestly claim to be able to drive standard. I’m actually not even bad at it anymore. I just hopped in and drove. One of the nice features of my car is that it has controls for the dash display, radio and telephone on the steering wheel. I haven’t figured out how to enable the phone, but when I do, I’ll be stylin’.

Finally… I think I’m addicted to the internet. My DSL kit came today, and while I was setting it up, I realized that my heart was thumping and I was all nervous. I don’t know why. The short story is, I set everything up but it doesn’t work yet. It may not be activated until Monday, I don’t know. For some reason, all of the instructions are in German. I did setup enough of a connection that my laptop can talk to the DSL modem Wirelessly, so I figure that is a good start. After I eat some dinner, I am going to ask my land lords to translate the one letter that I think may shed some light on the activation time schedule.

For now, I remain on the phone, but not for long. Oh no… Sweet bits of data will flow through my walls, I swear it!

Well, snow is falling softly outside, and while I write this, bits of pictures are flying through cyberspace, on their way to this web page. I’m typing as fast as I can, but I think that they might be done uploading before I am done writing this. No matter… Without further ado, here are the pictures of my aparment….

These two photos are of my living room…

and

Next comes two photos of my dining room…

and

Now a photo of the hall:

And the Foyer:

One of the spare bedrooms:

And finally, from my bedroom, looking towards the spare:

To answer what I predict your next questions will be… I didn’t take any pictures of the first spare bedroom since it is almost completely bare, except for my luggage which I haven’t yet unpacked. No sense in taking a picture of a mess. I also didn’t take a picture of the kitchen, since it is a smallish room and didn’t lend itself to being photographed very easily. Finally, I had another picture of the Master bedroom, but it was a bit blurry so I didn’t include it. If you’d like to see more views of my home, you’ll just have to come out here and look for yourself

P.S. It is snowing