No, I am not about to rant about city dwellers, I just happened to notice that apparently behaving like people in the city means disrespecting rules.
Honestly, think of TV shows, books, etc, in which a country bumpkin visits the big city and is laughed at by the townies for not bringing food in the tube, saying Hello to everyone and waiting at the traffic lights for the light to go green, before crossing. I myself could be described as a country girl. Most of my life I lived on a farm and the biggest city around me was Innsbruck, which I would not consider to be a metropolis or very urban. Generally, I am very respectful and polite - even for countryside. I don't put my feet on the bus seat (and not because manners forbid it but because I actually care about the person sitting there at some point). I only eat on trains or tubes when I am really hungry because it is really annoying when I reek of McDonald's just because the person next to me has a horrible sense of organisation and has to eat their Big Mac on the bus. So are townies more impolite? Probably not. Probably they just feel less observed in such a big area that they can be quite sure that whoever witnesses their inappropriate behaviour will never see them again. Probably it has nothing to do with city or country and it is just about me respecting other people more than most (she said in all humbleness). But I cannot deny that the city has changed me. I now also sometimes put my feet on the seat (partly because the English trains leave so little space for your legs that your knees are up to your chin if you don't stretch out to the next seat). Sometimes I even cross the street when it's red (which is stupid because you spend two minutes looking stressed from right to left to cross the road, wishing there was a system telling you when to go - oh, there is - before two scenarios happen: either you are so busy looking for cars right and left that you actually miss the traffic light jumping to green and end up being the last person crossing the road; or you take a chance, a car comes right the second you put your foot on the street and you have to jump back and endure the smirks of the other people waiting - so lose/lose, right?). Anyway, I do think the anonymity in a city gives you freedom for bending the rules, so townies, don't be mean to us country bumpkins for following the rules - you shouldn't be laughed at for that.
3 Comments
The expectations for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child were, of course, huge and many fans required different components included or excluded from the plot.
I, however, do not feel like dictating Jo Rowling what she should write or not write, and to be honest, I didn't have specific expectations - I was just exhilarated that something else would come and expand the Potter Universe. I have already written about the script and that I wasn't sure whether I truly like it - now I can say I like it much better having watched the play. I don't think the book alone will do, as the script-written form is quite spartanic and the playfulness of Jo's writing is sorely missed; however, when you watch the play on stage, you can find these words brought to life in different ways and create magic - because it is truly magical. I have to admit I didn't feel exhilarated when I put down the book but I really enjoyed the play; although I still feel some plot developments are weird. However, I think it is a different medium of entertainment - theatre as opposed to a book, and naturally different devices are used to create atmosphere, tension and magic - devices which cannot come across in the written script as on stage. Fans have written Jo Rowling owed them a book and that some of them will not be able to see the play. First and foremost, Jo Rowling always made clear it would be a script and she wanted to make a play out of the story, so it is not her fault if some people cannot watch the intended medium of story-telling. Furthermore, I doubt that fans who really want to see the play cannot do so. I met people from all over the world at the theatre and I am also sure the play will run for years and will also come to Broadway - so calm down, people. After having been slightly disappointed by the book, I was really looking forward to the play and I can only say I enjoyed it beyond words, it was absolutely fantastic and I have never ever seen anything comparable in my life so far! Apart from the great actors and actresses and the fact that it was about Harry Potter, the stage effects were absolutely incredible! People transformed into other people in front of our eyes, Dementors flew through the audience and paper piled itself up. It was truly magical! Also the story worked much better as play and I am happy I could see it, even though I still don't like the plot twist that Voldemort had a daughter - it is just too far from what we've learnt in the seven Harry Potter books where Voldemort is repeatedly displayed as someone not even remotely interested in inter-human relationships of any sort. In my opinion, it would have sufficed to make Delphi (his daughter) simply a Voldemort-obsessed person who wanted the world to be purged of mudbloods - would have worked as well. Also, the Time-Turners were quite a convenient plot device, but, I mean, why not? The story is fast-paced, you hold your breath and the characters are credible - especially Ron, he was my absolute favourite! So funny and, well, Ron. But not only the play, also the people were great. I met two nice Americans who sat next to me and we also went together to the stage door and met the entire cast, got autographs and pics with them - which was amazing! The cast was so nice, took their time and we hugged, laughed and joked together. All in all, I loved the past Harry Potter weeks, although I am so exhausted and actually for me it was rather Harry Potter and the Eternal Queuing as in total, I queued about twenty hours when waiting for return tickets, waiting at the red carpet, waiting for the book, waiting to get in Part 1, waiting to get in Part 2, waiting for the cast to come out, etc, etc, etc... I think you should read it but you have to get tickets and go and watch it because it is beyond amazing and your mind will be blown that. That is not an assumption, but a promise. From 642 Tiny Things to Write About
Today's weather forecast, if the television station fired the current talking head and hired a poet. A gust... The wind is stroking your cheeks, softly So Softly. The rays of sunlight slowly greet the fog so shy they are...timid really, but a smile is spreading out... In the north where the cold-bloods dwell... rain, heavy, is pouring on their forlorn shoulders, The sun is fighting a lost battle - forlorn, lost, a memory... The sea...rough, strong...a further gust, the clouds are wandering aimlessly, their souls restless, the wind their carrying mother...on, on...a further gust As people already following this blog will know, I went to see Harry Potter and the Cursed Child yesterday and you will get a full report on how great it was tomorrow (careful, spoiler alert), but for tonight, I want to talk about something that actually bugged me on my theatre trip.
Theatre-going has apparently descended to the levels of cinemas. Yesterday the audience was admitted to one of the most anticipated plays ever in a beautiful, old theatre and people still showed up in jeans and chucks. I don't understand that - in our lives we get so little chances to dress up anyway, wouldn't you at least do that when you go to the theatre? I mean, you don't have to wear a prom dress, but make some effort, honestly. Behind me sat people from Iceland, or some country which had a similar-sounding language (I actually don't want to dwell on the fact where they came from or I will be considered racist for saying they were idiots - for the records, they weren't idiots because they came from [Please Insert Country] but because they were simply idiots). They were Harry Potter fans, no doubt, but they had no idea of etiquette, manners or respect. When the seats in front of them were not yet occupied, they parked their chucks and vans on them, which I find outrageous enough in the bus, but in the theatre it is unacceptable. Furthermore, they talked regularly during the show (actually reacting like four-year-olds, sucking air in literally when something exciting happened) and they wore ripped shirts and jeans. Seriously, some effort, please. Also, some people ate terribly loudly during the show, which is annoying enough in the cinema, but in the theatre it's just rude, so I am calling for a theatre revolution where you are not admitted at all, if you turn up like this - or to rephrase Sheldon Cooper's words from the Big Bang Theory "I won't say that all citizens who don't know how to behave in and dress for theatre should be publicly flogged. But, if we made an example of one or two it might give the others incentive to try harder." The next day, it didn't rain anymore and Drawde almost felt like in sunny London. She inhaled the sun deeply and also didn’t slip when she went to her car.
Whistling, she drove to school and when she heard the song Tell him what you think she decided on whim to take Alleb to task today and ask what his problem was. Probably he was simply in love with her and could only show her this way. That was another one of Drawde’s problems. All the boys who fell in love with her could only show her through aggression - such a shame. Drawde was very indignant when she went to biology class and Alleb wasn’t there. Far too late, she realised that she would only have biology in the fourth period and that this class wasn’t even hers. She blamed the teacher for not having informed her thusly and marched out, her nose in the air. Impatiently, she waited until the fourth period and entertained herself with taming rain worms. Mostly, they obeyed only when she accidentally strangled them to death or stepped on them. Eventually, the fourth period arrived. “Drawde, where have you been?” the girl asked, whom Drawde realised, was Erica. “I tamed rain worms”, she declared proudly and showed her the dead worm. “That one was naughty”, Drawde informed Erica quickly. “You missed class, Drawde.” Drawde shook her head vigorously. “Not true, didn’t you know that we only have biology in the fourth period and I was sitting in there with complete strangers.” “Drawde, first we had other classes. You missed four tests and an assignment.” “Ayayaya”, Drawde shouted out dramatically. “And it is all his fault.” “Whose fault?” Erica asked. Drawde sighed deeply. “Alleb’s. We wanted to meet in biology.” Erica raised one of her eyebrows curiously, Drawde wanted to be able to that, too. She tried for a minute but made a complete fool out of herself. “You wanted to meet?” Erica asked and interrupted Drawde’s deplorable eyebrow-lift-attempts. Drawde nodded promisingly and skipped the part in which only she wanted to meet him. Her prospects to be the coolest chick in the school were not going according to plan but meeting a pale, possibly anorexic, perfectly walking to the beat of Chariots of Fire, biology coming, hanging out with weird people, Alleb-called, possibly not anorexic but still not eating boy increased her chances deliberately, Drawde thought confidently. She always considered the glass to be half full, except if there was strawberry juice in said glass, which she didn’t like and was happy when it was finally half empty. Either way, Drawe was happy when biology class commenced, but this rush of happiness didn’t linger, as Alleb seemed to be gone without a trace. So Drawde sat in biology, boiling with anger and thought about what Alleb would have to do to make up for it. Then she remembered that this had not even been a real date and Alleb probably was just ill, but it was an impertinence nevertheless. An Alleb-less day went past and when Drawde drove home with the junker her father had given her, she couldn’t see the road being blinded by tears - some more monkeys killed, why were there so many monkeys around? She wondered. And they drove cars, too - irresponsible. The next days, Alleb stayed absent and Drawde assumed it had something to do with the mysteriously good weather. Why it had to be sunny when she wanted to talk to a pale boy, she didn’t understand and wrote a hate letter to Mother Nature. Now she had to hang around with the uncool people like Erica or Jessy. Their pathetic group had been enlarged by the boys Maik, Taylor and Angelo. They sat together in the cafeteria. “Oh, Drawde”, Maik was purring at the moment. “Although you look like someone who is only into mysterious men, I wonder whether you could condescend to handing over the milk.” Drawde only turned away contemptuously and left drooling Jessy to hand him the milk. Drawde was neither impressed nor flattered by the boys’ flirtatious behaviour as she knew she was a ten or more. Angelo and Taylor were also looking at her yearningly although Drawde demonstratively turned away and showed them the back of her hair. Suddenly, Taylor drew away Angelo’s chair without any obvious reason and the latter slumped on the floor. Taylor ran away as if stung by an adder and cackled endlessly. Such an idiot, Drawde thought as he - after completing this idiotic act - had said “my precious” and pointed at me - like in Lord of the Rings. Again, Drawde cursed the fact to be forced to hang out with such idiots and scanned the room, bored. She missed Alleb. Suddenly she realised that the other four people of the weird family were sitting at their table. Why hadn’t she noticed earlier? Well, whatever, they looked as if they were dating anyway, somehow like that, although they were siblings but Jessy most certainly had only mixed that up and the truth was that the only thirty year old Dr Fallen (the profession was chosen at random) had adopted them and they weren’t even related - there were things beyond weirdness. When Drawde was sitting in biology class a couple of days later, she was more than puzzled to find Alleb sitting next to her. Totally surprised, she turned to him and thereby threw her long hair over her shoulder. Unfortunately, she flung her hair ends into Alleb’s eyes, who screamed in pain. For a nanosecond, Drawde considered apologising, but that was beneath her, so she simply giggled. Alleb looked at her, annoyed, and then looked out of the window. Drawde beamed as she was sitting next to such a mysterious boy. “Do you like the rain?” Alleb then asked out of nowhere. Drawde blinked a couple of times too often, as she hadn’t been prepared for the question. “Er, no, I don’t like the wet and cold”, she read the sentence the teacher was writing on the blackboard. Better than no answer. Alleb smirked and Drawde nearly keeled over. Alleb had leant forward and pushed her and Drawde could only just so keep on to her chucks. “If you hate rain so much, why did you move to the place with the highest rainfall rate?” Alleb continued to interrogate her and had put on his nerd glasses for that reason. “WHAT?” Drawde shrieked. “This is the place with the highest rainfall rate. I need to leave.” Screaming, she hurled out of the classroom, but as the bell was ringing, no one noticed. The students of Spoons Highschool had got used to Drawde’s theatrical outbursts. In hindsight, Drawde wondered whether her reaction had been a teensy weensy over the top and swore to not shout out loud during classes henceforth (which was very hard for her - in English, she couldn’t avert it three times, but the teacher had ceased to wonder). So now Drawde was standing on the parking space and mulling over how to get closer to Alleb, when she heard tyres screeching and then a couple of things happened the same time:
“Oh my god, Oh my god”, she yelled. “You may call me Alleb”, he responded and she nodded reverently. “How did you do that”, she whispered breathlessly. “Do you have potential superpowers?” Alleb looked from right to left - very slowly. “Er, no, why would you think that?” “You just saved me.” “Shit happens, I will see you tomorrow.” He left. “I love rain”, she shouted after him and then remembered her vow to stop shouting about, but then she also remembered that that was only true for the classroom and so she screamed a couple of other things, too, like: Alleb is the greatest, in the name of Alleb’s father, Alleb’s son and the allebstish spirit, Jessy is a skank and Oh my dear, look at her coming out of the rabbit hole. At some point, she decided to go to the hospital at last, only to seem even more pathetic and helpless. “Say goodbye to your driving licence”, Charlie screamed to no one particular and sat down with Drawde, “You could have been dead”, he said and looked at his finger nails. Drawde bit her lip, as her father had just said the ominous sentence she had wanted to say. So she simply nodded and they drove home. It is a common question...probably one of the most profound after all, to ask whether someone is a Cat or a Dog Person.
I remember I was confused when people in films or books asked that question, as I considered both of them cute and good pets; however, now that I have lived with a cat in a house for a while, I can say without any doubt, that I am definitely a Dog Person. Don't get me wrong, I do not mind cats but compared to dogs I find them slightly arrogant, passive, boring and I hate their claws. All my jeans have been destroyed and that was when the cat wanted to be tender. Anyhow, we had cats when I was a child and then swapped to dogs when I was about six or seven. Timmy was our first dog and he was simply adorable. As everything my family does, we decided for the tough option - we didn't get a little puppy from a well-bred background without any terrible traumas involved, but went to the animal shelter and got Timmy (formerly known as Axel), who had been hit by his previous owner. He was still very young, but sometimes reacted aggressively when we cornered him (even if we only wanted to stroke him). When my hamster died, I got a pup (I know, I am good at making deals, I should do it professionally). She is Lilly and simply beyond amazing. She was the cutest puppy ever seen and I loved her fluffy ears and her little Mohawk on the back of her neck. But enough of rambling about how awesome my dogs are (we got Sofy after Timmy died and she is so cute, too) and let's move on to a revelation I had recently. The family I work for have a cat and although the cat surely has some nice attributes, I must say it's shaped my attitude towards cats quite, well, not so great. Anyhow, it is true, I must say, that there is such a thing as Cat and Dog People. Dog people are really like dogs - open, a bit goofy, extroverted, like to be around people, like having fun and care generally less about what other people think. I am not saying that everyone's the same and there are shy Dog People, but there are also shy dogs, but generally from their attitude to life, they are happier, bouncier and clumsier. Cat People, like cats, are more introverted, uptight, harder to access (and I mean emotionally, no dirty thoughts please), and generally more of loners, as I feel. I also bond quicker with Dog People, because they are just easier to get to. It's similar to instruments. Sometimes you meet a person and you know it's a Violin Person or a Guitar Person, you just know. You don't know why you know, but you're not surprised if they tell you they do. So, if you want, share on Facebook or here whether you're a Dog or Cat Person (no grudges) or whether you disagree with my theory. The weekend of the 30th to the 31st July was the ultimate Harry Potter weekend. The last Potter book being published in 2007, the release and premiere of Harry Potter and the Cursed Child was the most exciting event for Potter fans in years.
There was no official announcement whether there would be a gala event or red carpet for the premiere, but Saturday the 30th July found me travelling up to London in the early morning to wait around the Palace Theatre and secure the best spot for seeing what was going on. After two hours of circling the threatre like a lunatic stalker, about 250 wristbands were released for fans to watch the red carpet and I was Nr. 46 to get in! There, it was more waiting and I must say the red carpet disappointed me. We saw the mayor of London and MinaLima - the graphic designers behind Harry Potter - and there was this Andrew Scott guy who plays Jim Moriarty in the BBC Sherlock series, but apart from that there were no stars. We had all hoped to see some of the original HP cast, but they didn't show up. JK Rowling, however, did! I saw my biggest idol and role model, walking mere metres in front of me! I didn't get an autograph, which sucked, but as hardly anyone did, I can live with it. Here I have to say how important a good event manager is because whoever managed that event, was doing a poor job. Jo came far too late to sign anything because the stupid people beforehand took far too long, taking selfies and what. Jo had to be rushed through and left her dear fans sorely disappointed behind. Then, after the second part, we were promised she would come again and even new people were let into the area, but she didn't show up anymore and we all had waited four hours for nothing. I have to say, I don't know how much is whose fault, but from the PR manager to the security staff, no one had a clue what was going on and regarding this was such a huge and important event, things like these shouldn't happen. But still, I saw her and my pic sucks, but I was busy watching her in real life, so my view was much better than the photo indicates. After having waited hours in front of the theatre, I headed off to Putney for the book release. I didn't get tickets for the Waterstones in London, but in hindsight I liked that I went to Putney. In Waterstones Putney were about fifty people and the whole affair was not big, loud or atmospheric in a hysterical sense, but it was cosy, family-like and internal. They sorted us into houses and then we had four different classes: Quidditch (where we had to throw balls through a hoop - I sucked at this); DADA (where we had to answer trivia about Harry Potter - I was by far the best at this); Divination (where we played Pictionary - by far the best); and Herbology (where we decorated cupcakes - N was by far the best). The funny thing was that there were only children participating in the activities, and me and N, and we were still the most popular Gryffindors after five minutes, although being technically adults. Gryffindor comprised us, a sweet girl and some loud but sweet boys who asked me about football, why I know so much and were already insulting me after ten minutes (and I mean that as a good sign, when young teenagers insult you (which is the teenage version of a joke), you really have made the gang). In Herbology, N and I sat in the front row - all nerdy - and the girl and another boy sat down with the words: can we sit with you, we want to sit at the intelligent table. The activities were really well done and they had a cafeteria with HP-themed snacks, so all in all really sweet. The actual book release was a bit lame, no countdown or anything, but ultimately I held the book in my hands, went home and read until four in the morning. The next section contains spoilers for Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. DO NOT READ ON if you don't want to be spoilt!! Now, to the book - or play, I should rather say. Just to update you, HPCC (as I shall from here on refer to Harry Potter and the Cursed Child) was not written by JK Rowling. It is a play based on an original story by Rowling, but written by Jack Thorne (whose autograph, by the way, I got). It is also no prose, but drama. When I opened the book and saw it was catching up with the last scene of HP and the Deathly Hallows it nearly made me cry with happiness. I have to be honest, I haven't completely made up my mind yet whether I like the book or not - I will have to wait until I have seen the play and also find it difficult to criticise anything JK Rowling had anything to do with; however, I must admit the story was profoundly different from what I had expected. I thought it would display Harry's normal life as a father and Albus's normal teenage struggles as the son of one of the most famous wizards. It was, however, a real adventurous plot in which Voldemort nearly comes back and Albus and Draco's son, Scorpius, travel back in time. I also must admit that some of the story twists seemed quite far-fetched. For instance, Voldemort apparently has a daughter with Bellatrix Lestrange shortly before the big battle of Hogwarts - which I just cannot picture. Yes, there was devotion from Bellatrix toward Voldemort, but not really the other way around and, also, can you picture Voldemort having sex? (Don't, I did and it's been haunting me ever since). I just think that after all the adventures and horrors of Harry's journey, it would have been nice to just learn about his normal life and normal struggles, but that doesn't mean I cannot grow to love the plot. If you have been keeping up with Pottermore, you probably have read Jo's writing as Rita Skeeter where she reports from the Quidditch World Cup, and I had hoped the book would be like that. Glimpses into the world of the characters, now that the war is over. Also, the book concentrates mainly on Albus and his not really well-founded hatred for his famous father and I would just have loved to read more about other family members, like George, Bill and Fleur, Mr and Mrs Weasley and so on... Well, anyway, it tells us about the world, so I still have to love it, but I wanted to re-read it and must say, I just don't like reading plays, so I am currently wasting my time with re-writing the play into my version of the book. Should you read it and encounter you would prefer an actual book, too, just ask me and I can send you my version (as soon as it's finished). A couple of entries previously, I wrote about me not feeling like a proper adult. This has not changed ever since, but as I am working as a nanny at the moment, I have realised that I do not feel like an adult because I am actually still a child. There are many patterns in my behaviour which indicate I have apparently never fully grown up. Do not get me wrong, I am physically an adult and enjoy the benefits of adulthood (if you have dirty thoughts, you had them first), but there are some distinctly child-like features in my behavioural patterns and I collected the most prominent here:
1) I like repetition. I watch the same movies and read the same books hundreds of times instead of moving on to something else. At the moment, I have the full programme of Netflix available, but only watch Gilmore Girls and The Big Bang Theory for, like, the thousandths time. I also have read my favourite books so often I know them by heart and feel slightly opposed to the idea of reading an entirely new book or watch an entirely new movie - unless it is pretty much the same as something I already know. 2) I have a taste range of a seven year old. I could eat spaghetti three times a week and wouldn't mind. I still detest broccoli and although I have grown to like salad, carrots and some other veggies, I still am a sweet tooth and would eat chocolate all day long, if I could (ironically, as a child, my parents prevented that and now as I am grown up my own body does...) My favourite dishes are fish fingers, spaghetti, pancakes, pizza and burgers and I hate olives, seafood, capers, asparagus, and am not a big fan of alcohol. Coffee makes me sick and my favourite hot drink is still hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows. 3) I hate change. Well, I would assume that most people do not like change too much, but I react to it like children do. I bitch and whine and have literal outbreaks of tears when something changes (I am ok with change if I bring on myself - like moving to the UK - but not change I cannot influence or control, which probably does not make me a child, but a control freak...well, one or the other). 4) I still feel intimidated when proper adults are in the room and when some problem occurs, I am the first to shout out "it wasn't me" (which is always an indicator that it actually was me). 5) Leading on from point 4, I am a pathological liar. So, I am not insinuating that all children are pathological liars, but for self-protection or denial they often avoid claiming responsibility for what they have done and concoct bizarre stories to get themselves out of the gunfire. I am the same. Once, when I was fed up with school and wanted to play truant, I pretended my phone rang, went outside and when I came back, I claimed my aunt had had a terrible accident while climbing a ladder and that I needed to visit her in the hospital (during school hours, obviously). I once stole of my friend and denied it, even though it was found, incriminating me, in my cupboard (I was actually a friend back then). My technique with lying is to always stick to it and tell the lie so often that you actually start believing it yourself - that makes a good liar. 6) I spend many hours a day pretending to be someone else or wishing for the world to be, well, more. My imagination is under full control and sometimes overtakes a bit too much. When I am alone, I pretend people are interviewing me or that I am someone else on a mission, etc. This child trait, I like most and would never want it to go away (even though it makes me a bit of a lunatic) as it is the source of my imagination and stories. To conclude, I don't mind these traits (even though I might not have any friends left after publishing it, but it is time to tell the truth - for once) as they make me who I am - a person I am slowly growing to like. If you want to tell me some of your character traits you have withheld from the public so far, share them here or on my Facebook page. As promised, an original piece I wrote when I was a teenager on a well-known piece of literature.
I must warn you hereby: this is not high literature (as is the book it is based on) and if you seek good writing, DO NOT READ IT. However, if you like cheap jokes and make sun of retarded literature, read and have said laugh...but in between it is really cringe-worthy (as is the original). This is the first part. Soon, more will be released. PART 1: Drawde was a genuinely usual girl. She had brown, slightly wavy hair and nearly everyone assumed she curled it artificially, but she didn’t. Drawde had moved from sunny London to the rain-swept town of Spoons, high up in the north of Scotland. Her parents had separated quite while ago and it was thanks to their divorce that a tattoo featuring an angel saying‘God fucks my parents’ tattoo was embellishing Drawde’s butt. However, Drawde had lived with her mother up to this point, but she had found love again and so Drawde found herself forced to live with her father, Charlie. Charlie was a man of few words and Drawde was glad about that. Sie didn’t fancy discussing the unpleasantness of intimate hair removal with him and so they sat silently in the car after Charlie had picked her up from the station in the further away and bigger city, Citizen. Charlie only snorted when a red Ferrari raced over the road with 100 km/h which only allowed 30. He was the chief of police in Spoons, but could actually not care less about the people’s safety. They sauntered on and Drawde was glad when they finally reached the house. It was made out of wood and pretty rustic. Drawde would have preferred a city flat with a view on the Trafalgar Square, but she would have to live with these circumstances here. She only nearly had to scream when she realised that Charlie had decorated her entire room in screeching pink. “That is amazing, dad”, she managed to stumble before he could read her expression (the corners of her mouth were dragged down and her eyes opened wide in disgust). Charlie snorted again and went to watch television. The television was strictly spoken the reason for her parents’ divorce. Until this day, Drawde’s mother, Renee (whose own mother had had a terrible sense for naming), called the television “terrible spouse breaker”. Drawde sighed and unpacked the few belongings she had brought here. Her attire was not adequate for the volatile weather. The only thing you could rely on in Spoons was that it almost always rained. After Drawde had unpacked, she made dinner and went straight to bed. Tomorrow she would go to a new high school. Spoons High School consisted of 365 ½ students and Drawde already knew they would throw weird looks at her and she didn’t like the prospect. Shortly after her parents had divorced, Drawde had developed the annoying habit of terrible clumsiness to compensate her anger and arise pity. Unfortunately, this habit became uncontrollable and now Drawde was compelled to stumble various times a day and run against things (today she had run against the train door which had born the sign “Caution” and had hurt her foot when climbing into the car. Additionally, she had injured her eye when trying to flirt with the conductor and had thrown her own hair ends in her face). Anyhow, Drawde was not eager to be mocked by all her school mates. When Drawde got into the car her father had given her, she hit her head on the door frame. “Be careful”, Charlie shouted at her through the window. “Of course”, Drawde responded, but her head hurt nevertheless. She drove to school as careful as possible but still managed to kill off two squirrels, a cat and (she hoped) a monkey. Relieved, she arrived at the parking space and got out. The other students examined her and one approached her. She was wearing a dress and, to Drawde’s surprise, wore makeup. “Hello, Drawde Duck”, she said celebratorily and Drawde wondered why she knew her name already. “Hi, er…” “Erica”, she said and laughed (it was most likely supposed to sound girly, but it just sounded retarded). Drawde nodded and moved on. “I am the all-knowing being of this school”, Erice blabbed on although Drawde to show her with all means that she was annoying her (she turned her face away and put on her I-am-annoyed-look). “So, if you want to talk about anything or anything else, ask Erica, alright?” Drawde nodded again, hoping to get rid of Erica soon. She entered the biology lab and Mr Montrose welcomed her by screwing up his nose. In this moment, Drawde saw him the first time. He sat there and glared at her (if looks could kill, Drawde would have lain in twisted ways on the floor, her eyes gazing in the air asymmetrically). She pursed her lips and went to him as gracefully as she could. Unfortunately, her aggression brought round her proclivity for clumsiness and she fell in front of his eyes. He laughed but when the wind tousled her hair, he held his nose. What was wrong with him? Drawde had only stepped into a dunghill once today and Erica didn’t seem to mind. Drawde sat down next to him. “Today”, Mr Montrose said with a piqued voice, “we are going to allocate mitoses to their respective phases. Please start.” The boy pushed the first small plate to her and she put it under the microscope. She looked at it for a long time until the boy yanked the microscope out of her grip impatiently and pulled it to himself. “Anaphase”, he thundered annoyed. “I would have got that”, Drawde hissed. The boy looked at her in a most unfriendly way and screwed up his nose. His eyes were black - why Drawde noticed that first, she didn’t know, but she always looked first at the eyes. Offended, she took the second small plate and shoved it over to him. “Do it better”, she yelled and the class turned to them. The boy rolled his eyes and protected his nose with his sleeve. Such a jerk. Drawde was happy when biology class was finally over and she didn’t have to see the arrogant boy anymore, although she couldn’t help realising - after having stared bewildered into his eyes for forty-five minutes - that he was quite handsome. Like an angel he looked - an angel with black eyes, didn’t they normally have golden eyes? Whatever, he had made her feel as if she stank and just because about twenty students had already avoided her for the smell, did not justify his behaviour. With a sigh, she went to the canteen and sat down to a random group of people. “Howdy, people, what’s up?” she said, hoping they would all think she had been attending this school the past years. One of the girls looked remotely familiar, as she had known her in another life. “Who is that, Erica?” another girl asked the girl which Drawde tried to remember. Exactly, Erica was her name. “This is Drawde Duck”, Erica presented Drawde. The longer Drawde looked at her, the more details came back to her memories. Had her hair been this long when they met first or had they grown? Whatever, Drawde smiled at the other girl whose name she figured out by listening attentively, was Jessy. “Hi, Jessy”, she said proudly and held out her hand. “I am sure you wonder how I know your name”, Drawde continued, proud to present her detective expertise. Jessy looked at her, confounded. “I have just told you my name”, she then said and in this moment, Drawde knew she couldn’t stand her. She looked like she would found an Anti-Drawde-Fraction at some point, anyway. So, Drawde turned away demonstratively and observed how some shadows formed in front of the canteen door. That was not entirely true, but Drawde loved horror movies and therefore always conjured up vampires and shadows in her mind, although nothing like that existed - obviously. Behind the door some teenagers were standing who were frantically trying to look stern and afflicted. At some point, the door opened and Chariots of Fire came out of nowhere. Drawde watched the most impressive entry she had ever seen. First came a tall, young man who looked as if he could wrestle Arnold Schwarzenegger down. Next to him floated the probably most beautiful woman of the world with long, blond hair (so she had to be beautiful). Behind them was a blond boy with a slim, short-haired beside him and she looked like, and Drawde didn’t know why it popped into her head, a fairy - or a vampire. They all managed to walk with the tune and Drawde admired that they didn’t keel over or stumble despite the fact that they were walking in slow motion. Behind them there was biology class boy - hey, probably the longest compound, Drawde pondered, but whatever. He managed to walk even slower and straighter than the others and his hair whipped with every step. He looked around smiling as if he knew what everyone was thinking - how absurd. He walked across the room and arrived the table the second Chariots of Fire ended. Fleet-footed, he sat down and looked at his food with distinct concentration which he - like all the others - didn’t eat. That had to be it, Drawde thought, he was anorexic and she had smelled of her new chocolate body lotion, which smell he had to despise. Content with this new realisation, she nodded towards him but he only looked at her as if he needed a toilet or was trying to read her mind - on or the other. “That is Alleb Fallen”, the girl whose name had slipped Drawde’s mind again informed her. “Allen Fallen?” Drawde asked. “Is he anorexic?” The stranger looked at her quizzically. “No, or maybe yes, actually no one knows. He and the others are kind of weird.” “Yes, they never eat”, the girl named Jessy interjected. To demonstrate her dislike for her even further, Drawde turned away from her. “You don’t eat when you’re anorexic”, she remarked coolly but then she realised that this comment rather offended the other girl. “Then they would be thinner”, Jessy retaliated. Such a stupid cow. “Are the others his siblings?” Drawde investigated further although she could tell with one look that they didn’t look alike at all. “Yes, of course, after all, they look identical”, Jessy responded and Drawde turned her head away again. “The Arnold Schwarzenegger rip-off is called Meme.” Drawde looked at Jessy enraged, as she had had the Schwarzenegger thought first. “And the blond’s name is Lose”, Jessy continued regardless Drawde’s respectable disrespect with which she respected Jessy. “The blond guy who looks kind of manipulative is Leicester”, the stranger continued - what had been her name? “And the little, weird one is Alice.” Drawde nearly choked on her bun. “Like Alice in Wonderland?” Jessy and the other one nodded in unison. “That is ace, I wish I was like Alice - a bit naive, permanently conjure up stories in my head, attracted to danger and weird characters…” Drawde inhaled deeply. Jessy and the other one nodded knowingly. “And the boy, what’s his name?” Drawde couldn’t remember his name if it was for her life, even though it had been mentioned some mere minutes ago. For her he would always be biology class guy. “You mean Alleb?” Drawde nodded. “The one with the beetle black eyes.” “He is good-looking”, Jessy said. “But he never went out with any of us, such a retard, as if there were better girls in the world.” Jessy seemed resentful and Drawde was so exhilarated by this that she sang in her head: Haha, Jessy got turned down. Haha, Jessy got turned down. Jessy got turned down… At some point she realised, clued by Jessy’s and the other girl’s dumbfounded expressions, that she had, indeed, been singing the song out loud. Embarrassed, she shoveled in her apple and stood up quickly. Thank god this day was soon over... Growing into an adult and actually becoming one are two profoundly different things.
Although I have completed the physical development of my body in terms of leaving childhood behind me, I cannot help feeling like a fraud whenever I am among adults. I don't know whether you have similar experiences, but I could assume a lot of people my age feel "just not right there yet". However, I wonder whether I will ever truly feel like an adult and, more importantly, whether I actually want to feel like an adult. Let's be honest, being an adult sucks most of the time. You cannot wander around in Frozen dresses without causing public attention (and I am talking negative attention here), have to pay everything yourself, have to worry about endless lists of things and generally are required to deal with life on your own. How I wish back the times where my parents had to buy all my shit, including bus tickets, entry or plane tickets. Gone the days where I ran around in Harry Potter cloaks through Innsbruck with my Time-Turner around the neck. Anyway, as you might know from previous entries, I am doing an internship at Haymarket at the moment and realise how unadult-ish I feel. There is another woman in my team who is not just stunningly gorgeous, slim and tall (as if that wasn't intimidating enough), but also only two years older than I am. I mean, I knew she wasn't old, and when she told me she was twenty-six, it seemed to fit. It is rather the problem that twenty-four doesn't seem to fit me. I am just not adult enough. I still browse the teenager book section in book stores because I can identify more with sixteen year old girls than grown women; I am moderately happy if someone gives me a Jojo Moyes book for Christmas, but exhilarated over the top when someone gives me some Harry Potter merchandise; I still giggle about penis or vagina allusions and have inappropriate thoughts whenever applicable; etc, etc, etc. Whenever people talk to me as if I was an adult (because physically I am), I feel like a fraud. It reminds me of the good old days when I was sixteen and went to a liquor shop buying alcohol and praying no one would ask for my ID. Now it is the same. I anticipate that any minute someone will stand up and shout: "You are an impostor and have tricked us long enough, leave the building - and sorry to be so rude" (after all we're still in Britain). So, to get back to the title of this entry, here are some sentences I don't say because only true adults say them:
And I guess there are many more, share the sentences you never say here or click here to get to Facebook and share your comments there (any languages welcome). |
AuthorIn September 2015 I started a new chapter of my life by moving (temporarily or permanently, not yet decided) to England where I work and socialise now. Archives
December 2017
Categories |