Escapism

I wrecked my car and although it's a wonderful thing nothing happened to me and it's repairable and all I'm still going to suffer from it - my mother will never let me hear the end of it, and it's going to cost a lot of money.
Yesterday evening, after visiting Jörg's mother and Jörg's mother's friend with the computer problems, I was bone tired but had to learn Kanji for the test today. And it came over me like a wave of despair.
And all I wanted to do was get away. No matter where to, just get away. Get to "a life where I can watch the sun set", to speak with Dido, where I don't have to worry about cars or Kanji or exams or my family, where I can draw and paint and write all day and burn the results up in a bonfire in the evening, where I can sleep as long as I want, where there are mountains and oceans and no obligations and no consequences. Away.
And I couldn't.

Jörg suggested that we watch the Fellowship of the Ring Special Extended Edition then, so we just snuggled together in bed and watched the movie. By the point of Bilbo leaving Bag End, I was able to take care of the Kanji again.
And today I had the wondrous experience to actually know every kanji in the test. Every. Fucking. One. I won't get all the points because I screwed up with the sentences (kyômi ga aru or kyômi o motsu. NOT kyômi ga motsu. *headdesk*), but still!
So thank you, my love :)

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( Realitätsflucht )

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It never rains but it pours.

Ochi-sensei, the German chief trainer of the JKA, once said that "Happiness comes in waves, and you die a thousand deaths between each one."
The waves are coming in quickly right now, and they're not the waves of happiness.
Today Jörg and I brought Stummel, the epileptic cat, to the vet because he has been losing weight rapidly the last weeks, has most of the time forgotten how to use the litter pan and peed on the floor instead, stumbled around awkwardly and lost orientation and strength. The vet says it's probably kidney insuffiency or kidney failure, and it's unlikely he'll make it more than four weeks now.
Everything now gains new meaning. Whenever I pet him, it feels like a bit of farewell. Feeding him, praising him for finding the litter pan, helping him to find his basket: It's all a sort of Dead Cat Walking thing.
The vet injected him with sodium-chloride solution to make up for the ullage, and right now he's walking around pretty much like he always did, drinking properly, eating a bit, and I'm inclined to hope that he'll actually get better.
But down in my heart? I'm afraid he'll not see Christmas.

Oh, and now Colin Powell retires? Great. Just great. It never rains indeed.

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( Ein Unglück kommt selten allein )

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