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[myhandstands]

Thoughts on Happiness

It was a Friday noon, the sacred “Pub Lunch” ritual time invented and internalised by the Anglo-Saxon professionals who had been surrounding me for almost three years at that point. 

I had just joined a development team at my company and thought this is it, this is finally the point I grow into a mature, accomplished, visionary and happy person. I recreated Steve Jobs famous pose in order to get ready for all those future magazine shoots, I learned how to suppress any laughter and smile in order to be taken serious as the legend I was going to be. Just to be sure. Just to be ready. 

If you laugh at this, you should see the current version of this legend, who, as Android team lead, prints out memes to glue to team members’ screens in order to annoy them when they come in on Monday. That’s called building team identity, don’t you dare question it.

Back to that ominous Friday noon and the famous British pub lunch - a tradition so appalling and pitiful to this German heart trained to rejoice only at efficiency that I couldn’t help but join this tradition straight away. My long-term relationship had just ended, I had been running around depressed and angry for a month. So I thought it might be a good idea to listen to some colleagues talk about the latest Android trends instead of reciting Bukowski’s depressing quotes all over in my head. 

What I got instead was a car ride along the English countryside, windows down, with heavy metal blasting at the highest volume and a heavy heart getting lighter at every head banging of a Black Sabbath’s obsessed colleague. 

I also got a granny evening with a new flat mate during which we were telling each other how wild we were at heart while falling asleep in the living room at 9pm on a Friday night. I also got the moment where my best friend and I were in Paris on my birthday, high on sugar, taking a nap for three hours and hysterically laughing for another hour about 9Gag videos we would show each other instead of going out for drinks. I also got an API call working perfectly the first time I tried it. I also got this very evening with Jazz music, a comfortably sofa and a beautiful black kitten. In this legend’s humble opinion, happiness is great friendships and precious moments.

[myhandstands]

Becoming Donald Trump

“Only think of the positives.”, my coach advised us after a double in which I dedicated every sliced backhand to every person on the kill list of my very own version of Westeros. It seemed to improve my weak shots. 

After an hour of cursing, screaming, yelling while playing with three friends who didn’t know whether they wanted to slap or hug me, I was asking myself, was this the wrong approach to improving my skills? Was I being too competitive? Was I being too tyrannical? Was I turning into Donald Trump? 

I won’t get into the detail of why I love Roger Federer. Apart from his superhuman, beautifully executed, impossible way of playing tennis, he is one of the few players who seem to be both humble and approachable. 

Why am I talking about these traits? Because as can be seen from my playing doubles, I don’t master them. And if I say I don’t master them, I mean I’m not exactly good at internalising them. And if I say I’m not exactly good at internalising these traits, I mean they don’t exist in my life. I don’t know them. They’ve never been in Paris. Claudia Schiffer also doesn’t know what they are.

Let’s take my job as an example. Every time I complete a project successfully,  I scream it from the rooftops of my office. The rooftop is on the 7th floor. It has a very nice view of London in the distance. Every time I get good praise, everyone around me needs to know  - For some reason my landlord did not understand the grandiosity of delivering a race livestream when he was asking about the origin of our clogged sink. There goes humble.

And how approachable can one appear with a jawline of the gods - if you were a man - and a look that says “I’ve got tweezers in my bag and I can think of 12 different ways of using them to your disadvantage if you come too close”? I honestly wouldn’t know because I have a fine face and am known for smiling at everyone at any given time. I only get upset when someone walks slowly in public. Or breathes loudly. Or exists. So all in all very rarely. 

It all comes down to a personal choice. In sports and in profession, do I choose to be an angelic Roger Federer or its diabolic counterpart?

If you were hoping this to be a very self-critical, life-changing article, I apologise. I’d choose The White Kanye any time with all his principled opposition to forgiveness, self-aggrandisement and loudmouthedness. Only I use these characteristics to improve my tennis technique and my excellent, outstanding, admirable delivery of projects. I don’t use it to ruin the whole working and middle class of my country. So I think that’s acceptable.

The world could potentially introduce another one thousand inconvenient people into my life. If that means another one thousand fast and flat backhand slices, bring it on.

[myhandstands]

Umbrella Wars

It can only get better, I said to myself having walked back from my first room viewing with a pocket knife in my jacket, the screwdriver, magnifying glass and knife bits out.

I didn't want to hurt anyone but this was a matter of safety and I was more than ready to poke someone's eyes, set someone on fire or actually stab someone. It's good I am not a US citizen yet. I've always been shocked by how easily you can get guns in the States but that was before I walked through East Ham in the darkness. Apart from fearing for my life, the room viewing itself was rather unpleasant, displaying happy huge bug families in each rum and having an appropriate room temperature of about 60° C. And those were only features accompanying a 7m² room.

So it could only get better. At least that's what I thought until the next day on which I stood in a warzone like house - cables dangling from ceilings, a "newly fitted" carpet only covering 2/3 of the floor and a landlady who asked me to move in in two days and pay £800 for the remains of what once must have been a room. Then she asked me about my religion and went on about the positive effects of a coexistence of abundant religions on the cultural development of a society. I found that very nice of her to say and felt a bit bad that I had to disappoint her with my godlessness. If anyone needs inspiration for a horror movie script, I strongly advise that person to indulge in the fair and affordable housing market that is London.

Of course, I knew of the mission impossible I was facing in moving here and having to find a place. There were other things I didn't know: Although, the English had decided to drive on the left side of the road and normally don't go about changing sides randomly, this does not apply to pedestrians. Good luck finding structure where there is none, just accept anarchy when you walk somewhere. Another interesting thing to go through have been umbrella wars which seem to be a normal method to establish dominance between one Englishman and the other. I always find the next appropriate step would be for the combattants to fold their umbrellas and use them for a round of fencing. Furthermore, there seems to be no escaping the rush hour, so be prepared for a group hug every day on train, tube or bus no matter how early you get up to avoid human physical contact.

Finally, I also learnt that the universe knows no limit when it comes to the ways I can embarrass myself. I thought I had gotten better. Then I got stuck in a revolving door when meeting someone. Then I mistook that someone's Ford car for a BMW. I work for Ford. The person was my boss. I win at life. It can only get better, right?

[myhandstands]

Anticipated Torture

"Sitting there coding, I considered suicide, but I felt a strange fondness for my body, my life. Scarred as they were, they were mine.", said Bukowski back when he was coding his dissertation. More than ever, I could identify with him. 

Unfortunately, sitting in front of a screen all day does not only make various body parts very numb but it also makes you cover it in the most atrocious clothes. Something that might make you feel even more connected to our all-time favourite writer. No matter the code despair and homeless looks, after one year of computer labs I needed to do something dramatically physical to fully appreciate this body of mine again. I had to get away from all these screens. Since my laptop also decided he wanted to be a cigarette instead and emit smoke everytime I turned it on, I knew it was time to bid my adieu to the civilised, digitised world for a bit. So I did what had to be done and signed up for the next hiking trip. After all the "Hell yeah, that will be epic!" reaction, I stopped and asked myself "What have you done?".

Not only could I not focus on my thesis anymore, because looking up mountain gear, trail blogs, weather forecasts and mountain pictures suddenly made so much more sense than Java.

I also realised that hiking is anything but fun. No matter the retrospective romantisation of walking up and down mountains for days and days, it is torture after all. I will have two weeks to hike about 300km. That averages to about 22km per day. Now that doesn't sound too bad, does it? It's like walking to that "beach town" from my old hometown. It might be the distance you can drive in twenty minutes. Or it's what VERY enthusiastic people run every other day hahahahahahaha...not me. It would be doable if it wasn't for regular altitude changes of about 2000m. I would like to convince myself I can totally pull that off, after all I did the Tasmania hike without any trainin, right? RIIIIGHT??

Nice try, brain, the highest peak in remote Tassie was 1600m. That's about 1/4 of the highest peak of the booked hike, #lolmylife. And other than the Tasmanian hike being the most breathtaking and beautiful thing I have done in my life, I also hated myself every single day for signing up for it, discovered new levels and scents of sweat and, you know, the whole spider and bug situation. I was craving Coke and pizza so much everyday, I wondered if I will ever love someone as much as  I did these beautiful American and Italian inventions. I was fantasising about a proper bed, a proper shower and a proper whatsapp chat. I remember "doing the turtle", as I liked to call it,  before every ascent: Crouching down and letting the backpack lie on my back for some minutes so you don't feel the weight anymore. That probably doesn't sound very interesting to anyone but I loved doing the turtle, it was as if magically the 20kg on my back had vanished, the turtle was my best friend.

I also remember falling down one time and laughing at myself for a long time. But there was no one there to laugh at and with me, so if a Samira falls in the forest and no one is around, does she make a sound? Had I really laughed? Those were the thoughts occupying me. So I was sure my upcoming hike was going to make for some more philosophical thoughts.

Then there is altitude sickness. Having read up on it now, I only just realised that I suffered from altitude sickness during my last hiking trip. Back then, being the cautious, self-caring person I am, I just kept walking all day without questionning why I had beautified that epic mountain top panorama with my vomit. But you know what they say "Success is falling nine times and getting up ten.". No seriously, if you ever get it, get off the fucking mountain to lower altitudes and don't risk making it any worse. After all, you'll need your body more than ever to get you through that national park.  

But while I will be cursing and self-pitying and hating, the mountain views will make up for all the torture. They always do.

[myhandstands]

Requiem for a Dream

It's a reason to get up in the morning. It's a reason to walk to uni, to drink the black coffee. It's a reason to smile. It makes tomorrow alright.

It's also a reason to start the dissertation you have to work on for the next 2 1/2 months, it's what makes you start writing, type down the literature review, code away the programme. Up until the first two lines that is. When the caffeine makes you think your productivity is at 100%. You lean back, look at the few letters you were able to string together and proudly tell yourself "Ahhhh yeah, well done, one day I'll rule the world with this work ethos". While working on your actual task you realise that you should also start writing a book, do 100 pushups and sign up for the next Ironman.

At this point I would like to express my deep gratitude to goats: The effect caffeine has on the body has first been discovered by Ethiopian shepherds watching goats starting to dance after having eaten coffee berries. This was even before this precious species became popular for making Taylor Swift's "Trouble" perfect. Drugged dancing goats though, my life is complete.

Fast forward to when you haven't pursued any of the future world leader activities and the coffeine is slowly leaving your body. You have now told every passer-by about your dissertation, you randomly openend and closed 20 new tabs, walked to the restrooms to get away from your work and spotified the shit out of "concentration" playlists. But your heart rate is still up and before you completely lose this drug's effects, you better use these lasts moments of efficient work. So you get back to the desktop window designated to your dissertation, stare at it for about ten minutes while your brain is singing the lyrics to California Dreamin' in canon. For the next hour, you complain about how tough this task, Java and your life in general is.

Then, you actually start working, creating more you ever would have with all the caffeine of the world in your blood (you would probably be dead in that case, but you would be a very megalomaniac dead) - only without the ubermensch confidence.

At some point, you realise you are quite tired. So you take that useless 3 pm -coffee which ruins your taste, heart rate and rather than boost your creativity and productivity makes you more tired than before while depriving you from the ability to sleep until 4 am. But since that song is already stuck in your head, that leaves you with plenty of time to sing California Dreamin' about 100 more times. And even if you'll only sleep 3 hours, that black coffee gives you a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to smile. It makes tomorrow alright.

[myhandstands]

Darling!

At some point this Master's program in England will be over. The question then will be to stay here or go back to the motherland. Or wouldn't that be the perfect moment to finally become a cabin architect in Alaska?

Now that my north German homebase has vanished and I have gotten used to clogged toilets and to being undeniably close to Greenland, I could as well stay in the UK for a bit. This country where you contemplate stabbing yourself in order to be considered for a proper medical exam while NHS is covering you in all antibiotics the world has to offer. A country where the healthcare system seems to be that broken that you want to throw chocolate, icecream and all the sad lovesongs at it. With the new government it is certainly going to improve. HHAHAHAHAHhahahahHA...Ha....ha *Coughs from laughing*, *Dies, because getting antibiotics when needing kiss of life*. But this is only the exaggerated view of a spoiled person from Germany, where seeing a specialist doesn't require a referral, your birth certificate, a gunshot wound, three goats as a gift and the promise of a unicorn in heaven. 

On the other hand, coming from Germany you can only be amazed by how nice people here in the North are. And you do not only realize that when you see the elderly smiling and not attempting to run you over with their walking frame. You realize it when at the check-out cashiers say hello and call you darling and you cannot help but feel like a princess with your sweatpeants on, greasy hair and snot running down your face.

Then again I had my big coming out here in Durham. I had trouble admitting it not so much to others but to myself. While I had always tried to tell myself the opposite, it was here that I came clear with myself: I like summer. There, I admitted it again. While I do appreciate the more romantic cold snowy christmas days, waking up to a snowstorm in May seems a bit excessive. As does dressing in clothes that can best be described as non-existent once it hits 10°C. But what can I say, in the end I am just jealous of the thicker Northern skin which I watch in amazement as I try to rap along the beat my teeth make quivering. These people have deserved their image as tough folk, there must be a reason a pub called "Fighting Cocks" can be as popular.

Which leads to the next point: Drinking culture. No matter where you are, two things is certain: Germans are there. These Germans will arrogantly and without being asked tell you about the supremacy of German beer. Undoubtedly, beer from the motherland is better than anything produced here but who can even tell the difference after the third beer? The amount of drinks consumed here does not fall short of that in Germany. And just like in Germany, when drunk, people here suddenly become graceful dancers, best friends, revolution leaders or crying emos.

I really like this place. In the end it comes down to the question what to do with my future: Being a sweatpant wearing, greasy hear having, snod running down my face looking student for a bit longer, realize my childhood dream and become a famous wrestler or founding my own religion. Whatever it is going to be, from now on I will call everyone I meet darling. Just to make them feel special, too. 

[myhandstands]

Rectangles and Flowers

So my Easter had come to this. My friends were gone over the break, my family gathered in Germany. I was sitting in an empty lab, slowly adapting to the cozy 8°C the AC is generously giving those rooms. 

There have been endless complaints about these arctic temperatures from all levels. Temperatures that apparently no one in the school could get under control, no one in the SCHOOL OF ENGINEERING and Computer Science. But that's none of my business, I did not come here to feel warm, I came here to despair over code, to worry about Eclipse error warnings, I came here to cry. Furthermore I had packed my winter boots, two sweatshirts and contact sensitive gloves so I could still type without having to watch my fingers change from beige to blue. 

I raised my hand in triumph when I successfully changed the colour of a rectangle from green to red. So these were my battles now. I was so bored by myself, I had to make a handstand against the wall with the piece of paper that informed students the labs would be opened 24/7 over the break. I had to make that handstand to feel special again, to feel rebellious. And it helped. As did walking around the PCs in socks. And taking selfies with computers, the blooming flowers in the background outside the windows so far no matter how close. 

I broke up with the lab seven hours later and walked back, still bored by my life. Of course it was not really that, it was more the feeling of being treated unfairly, of having to do the dishes when the other kids are playing outside. Only in this case I grounded myself, I could have started way earlier. But watching Keeping up with the Kardashians seasons 6-10 was more important. 

As my uncle said when I complained about feeling stuck: “You are a nomad, you are one of us now.”. At least that gave me an excuse for the standard statement "I HAVE to travel!" and it also made me realize it's not going to go away. So how about doing something about that attitude, spoiled child?, I said to myself while mechanically browsing skyscanner.de. 

How about you talk to that inspiring friend who is going places both geographically and professionally, who talks about her hiking trips, her journey to Dubai and Oman as if you were part of it. Listen to that amazing friend who is leaving a voice message saying how much she is looking forward to seeing you. Talk to your sisters and brother who are sending pictures from a stupid funny talk show they are all watching together, the one with the host who is cleary on drugs. Look at cat gifs, puppy pictures and a Kimye face swap. 

Laugh at yourself for mistaking the spring birds singing for being whistled at and preparing an angry reply, laught at your sister at her first attempts of speaking English telling our parents' friends they had a 'pig' house, laugh at that New Year's Eve your brother was knocking at a closed Penny supermarket, giving his best impression of Sheldon Cooper.

Look at you, you've just travelled four countries, two decades and the web space.

[myhandstands]

The Unexpected Virtue of Procrastination

I have always found it exciting how in times of study you become an expert in everything but the assessment's field.

I now know the prices for last-minute flights to Antarctica, Patagonia, Moscow, Algeria and Iceland by heart. 

I also know that for the perfect scrambled eggs you should never ever add milk and whip the liquid until you pour it into the pan. I equally learned why the plague might have been spread by not rats but gerbils. I read up on those cute and falsely demonised creatures because they thought my house to be particularly interesting and  found it a good idea to run around at night, making squeaky sounds and making me feel especially comfortable at  home.

Apart from the rat facts you might also find interesting that thinking in a foreign language can alter your personality. I know that because, after having downloaded Eclipse and having told myself that that was enough effort for the day, I have read all Psychology Today articles up to the topic "Procrastrination" which I thought smart to avoid. All the possible analyses for Birdman's ending found a place in my memory as well as the family tree of the Kardashians (don't feel sorry for me, I have chosen this life). Furthermore I studied counting in Turkish,  that is until I discovered YouTube videos about dogs being rescued from waste pipes in Los Angeles - days on this doomed platform started passing like hours. Days I could have used to become proficient in Java and instead used to become proficient in cleaning the kitchen, living room, garden, neighbours' gardens, neighbours' houses, neighbours' pets. To avoid working on your actual tasks, I would also like to recommend handstands, they are fun, train your arm muscles and they make the blood go to your brain which feels funny and empties it from all sorts of responsibility thoughts.

There will come the moment again where I am back in panic mode, running against doors, thinking in objects, laughing hysterically,  praising my laptop for staying alive, writing blog posts instead of studying  (oh crap). But just like humans sometimes appreciate their closest only when they are not around as much anymore, or people on the toilet learn to appreciate toilet tissue only when it's gone or sick persons appreciate clear noses only when theirs are blocked, I only appreciate time when I have none left.

At least now I am an expert in animals' rights, scrambled egg cooking, the level of rats' intelligence, my neighbours' houses' architecture, doing handstands and most of all in taking in as much random information as possible except for the one necessary for accomplishing my duties.

Bill Gates once said “I choose a lazy person to do a hard job. Because a lazy person will find an easy way to do it.” Bill, if you read this: I know you don't work for Microsoft anymore but you can possibly pull some strings. Thanks. Goodbye.

[myhandstands]

Becoming Jack

First defeat of the day: You walk up one of those stupidly steep hills of Durham, you are so proud of yourself that it doesn't kill you as much as it did at the beginning when you moved there. Then a fat ugly piece of shit guy tells you in an almost unrecognizable because lazy slang English to walk faster, "for fuck's sake". 

My hand formed a fist and as I turned around I saw the guy disappearing into the pub I had just passed. Deciding I liked it here way too much to risk being thrown out of the country for starting a fight, I walked on, full-on aggression mode.

Second defeat of the day: My most loyal friend who has always proudly been by my side no matter how bullied by other ignorant people - my phone - died. With the ability to install up to two apps and taking very pixelated pictures, he was everything I could ask for. The alarm going on at the same time I listened to a song was fatal to him. Goodbye, my small, beloved companion.

Last defeat: It's a night out and you are surrounded by people having their more or less pretty visages constantly well-lit by their phone screens which awakens your fanatically-touching-friends'-phones reflex, hoping you crash whatever app they're using. 

No, in that moment we are not friends, you are my enemy now. I did not come out to talk about Maupassant's recurrent naval theme with the salt shaker. While some constantly complain about the choice of venue, others ignore their bill-paying responsibility as if this was a game of Monopoly or a particular country's additional payment refusal to the EU, leaving you to the joy of being the German you are and paying whatever has to be paid additionally. 

It is now evening and I just sit there amazed at the lack of other humans' manners and wonder if I have gone through the army version of moral education or if others have been raised by sociopaths. Another option, of course, is - due to a fat ugly piece of shit guy telling you to walk faster, a not working Java method earlier the day and the loss of your beloved Sony Ericsson - that you are slightly overreacting. But you are still sitting there, close to signing up to a next best Guerilla group and instead grinning frantically. In a moment of clarity I thought about the absurdity of my reaction when I realized I probably looked like what could best be described as The Shining's main character.

What is the alternative anyway? Running through life with a big middle finger look on your face and ignore all traces of compassion. Instead you should continue tolerating other persons' educations, throwing smiles to your right, winking at people to your left, hugging your dearest, touching everyone's iPhones and Samsungs and what-nots and giving up on the ideal that we should all be considerate and look after each other. This concept has probably been developped by some give-and-take hippies in a time where terms like sociopathy and narcissism were still in their making.

And if ever the amazing lack of manners should overcome my own sound military principles, I have mastered the middle finger look and I am not scared of using it to the disadvantage of whatever beauty is left in my Jack Nicholson face.

[myhandstands]

Applications, Admirations, Accusations

"You're gone, gone, gone away I watched you disappear All that's left is the ghost of you."

I sang when I sent out my 10th application, barely remembering what I wrote and whom I applied to. On to the next one. Although I do enjoy writing applications and tell my future employers "I am amazing.", being able to make handstands and cartwheels, confidently showing off with the oldest electronic devices out there and instantly being liked by babies and dogs are apparently not appropriate things to mention in a 150 word piece about your amazingness. 

And that's only the part about your talents. Followed by your achievements, team-work and leadership capabilities. I thought about how friends had perceived me so far and how I could use that for those mini-essays. But all I could think of was the past weekend when two friends told me I was a dictator (there go the team-work skills) and how I am a scary person (could account for leadership skills). My best friend admitting recently I was socially challenged because I never tell people anything about me wasn't exactly helpful either.

Those compliments took me further to my Sydney days where I had to look over my boss' house with not more than three responsibilities: keep the dogs alive, keep the pool clean, drive the Mercedes with great care. One night I had to drive the dogs to a hospital across the city because they had eaten chocolate, the pool turned green and the car started making strange Pimp-My-Ride noises at the end of my stay. I would have liked to take this event as my biggest accomplishment. While my boss was not too upset with me, I forbade myself getting children or even dogs for at least another three decades.

Instead of being inspired by my friends' compliments and past events, I wrote about how I was a conflict mediator in 7th grade, about my athletic hobbies (Hahahahahahaha *bites into a chocolate bar*), how I can shut people up by awkwardly staring at them and why Pipo, the latest family cat, was my role model (I am not sorry to admit, I actually and successfully used this for my college application). This is how amazing I am.

[myhandstands]

Dr. Jekyll and Jabba The Hut

All of this would not pose a problem if my other half had not made the biggest to-do list mankind had seen for the holidays. Not only did I want to write applications for at least four different countries, a dozen universities, start working on my dissertation and get some advanced Java skills, but I also wanted to figure out what I actually wanted to do with my life.

While I was rather looking forward to accomplishing some of these things back in Durham, something in me started asking for some rest. And not just some rest. An only-watching-TV-and-eating-and-sleeping-and-eating-again-and-watching-TV-while-eating-everything-you-can-find-in-the-house rest. The Mr. Hyde to my Dr. Jekyll wasn't an evil alter ego but a human version of Jabba the Hut screaming #YOLO every tragic-comical moment I thought back to that list. 

I should have philosophised about what software could help medical emergency management, however I was thinking about the dream I had the previous night and what James McAvoy sleeping in my bed and my friend wanting to be called Santa Claus could signify with regards to events my brain had to process. Jabba was not happy about responsibility and every task that had to be done was either repelled or executed with the utmost disgust - be it going to the bank, calling friends or tying shoelaces. Now, this Kafkaesque transformation to not a bug but a Star Wars character is nothing new. It happens every year for the christmas holiday. Only this time I might have made quite a list with dimensions indicating a distinctive sadistic streak. Reading those lines leads to the conlusion that my hard-working ambitious part is actually Mr. Hyde. And he wants to kill Jabba. What and epiphany! Jabba shall live for another day, then it's time to get back to Durham and get rid of Dr. Jekyll.