The lyf so short

They are currently celebrating the 100th anniversary of the scouting movement.

I am no longer in the scouts, but they were a huge and important part of my life for ten years, so naturally all this celebrating - and it has to be a lot if even the German newspapers manage to mention it - makes me turn a little wistful. (It was, after all, not the scouting movement that made me leave, it was just that I was growing ever more incompatible with our local group).

Now those familiar with scouting anywhere in the world but unfamiliar with scouting in Germany need, I suppose, a brief explanation.
In Germany, the scouts are not patriotic. I mean, I don't know whether they are patriotic everywhere else - but with the French (... well, duh), American, Canadian, South African or Swedish scouts I met along the line, patriotism was always part of the game. In the German scouts, it is not. The reason can be found in the years between 1933 and 1945, like anyone's going to be surprised now; after that, anything that looked as though it intended to educate young people towards patriotism was highly suspicious. (The German scouting movement as such was forbidden in 1938, and was re-established in 1946).
German scouts are, instead, religious. They're really rather like the YMCA, just with neckerchiefs and funny hats. (Except the YMCA in, say, America, doesn't seem to have much to do with its name either, so the comparison may not work.) They're church-run and church-supported. That isn't as bad as you may imagine now; they were really rather tolerant about the whole thing. I was in a catholic scout movement even though I'm protestant, and we had unconfessional and pagan kids in our group which wasn't a problem either. Being church-run really only meant that there was always some kind of service before any kind of celebration. It also meant that the parish priest would drop by on camp Sundays (if it wasn't too far; otherwise one of the leaders got to do the service). He was okay, too. Due to a certain resemblance to the old Sir Alec Guiness he was nick-named Obi-wan, because that was what he looked like in his tunicle.

Being rather like the YMCA, group meetings generally meant playing dodgeball or Brennball or hide-and-seek (when we were younger) or sitting around chatting (when we were older). Sometimes our leaders could be motivated to organise something more interesting, like first aid or pushcart-building, but generally the whole thing wasn't overly exciting. I used to fantasize about scouting life in other countries where (so I imagined; I have no idea whether it's true) being in the scouts meant having adventures every other day, with motivated, creative group leaders, well-organised troops and - badges. God, how I envied those foreign scouts for the badges they could make! I mean, like, fulfilling tasks in order to gain a badge for stuff like pioneering, hiking and so on! (When I was on vacation with my parents, I'd usually force them to visit a local scout shop if there was one, so I could get some memorabilia and books (the latter only if the language of the country was English; in France I only took comic books. >_>)) There were no badges in our scouting organisation. Too military. German scouting has been - for the reasons mentioned above, and also for post-modern rationals - de-militarised as much as possible. You only wear the uniform for high feasts, so to say, or in camp. It all makes sense to 24-year old Lyra, but the problem is that most kids love the military stuff, and it seemed terribly unfair that if I ran around in scouting uniform I got strange looks whereas kids who ran around in the Young Fire-fighters uniform were coooool. Kids in general tend to be more savage and warrior-fannish than most idealists seem to realise, but that's a different topic altogether.

I had joined the scouts hoping for high adventure. Oh, I got it sometimes: Camping in torrential rain, learning climbing and abseiling, canoeing, sailing (yes, I know the Ijsselmeer doesn't exactly qualify for "high adventure" - but the illusion works!), and there were evenings spent singing around the campfire. Once a year there was some kind of regional jamboree on St. George's Day (St. George is the patron saint of boy scouts; I don't know whether this is known in countries where the scouts are not church-run?), and once a year there was Stammestag when all the different age groups of the local branch got together and did a ralley. But these events were fairly rare and far between, and between the last and the next there was: dodgeball, Brennball, hide-and-seek. I was there for the adventure, and I tried to get our group to do more adventurous things: In those days I was still bossy and not afraid to try and get people to do what I wanted. I think I annoyed everybody very much. :D

Although there was little hope of me ever being able to use all that stuff, I turned to the noble theory of adventure, reading Rüdiger Nehberg, or the scouting handbook (despite everything else said about the German scouts, that handbook is actually quite excellent with a lot of really random knowledge) and, later, handbooks. I was the Hermione Granger of scouting. I knew all sorts of random things - what knot to use what for (useful), what kind of barks best to use for tinder (useful), how to make an emergency shelter (useless unless in ralley situations), how to behave in case of an avalanche (I have yet to encounter an avalanche closer than 300 meters away. ... or not.), how to build camp-towers (useless because nobody allows a fifteen-year old girl to try that, phooey). I practiced pitching a tent with only one hand (just in case anyone ever wants to write a fanfic in which post-Thangorodrim Maedhros puts up a tent: messy but possible), building bridges from ropes and logs and all that jazz. Sometimes it got in handy, in which case most of the kids in our group decided that I was an insufferable know-it-all, and most of the time it was just useless. But I really, really enjoyed it. And I always hoped I'd be able to use it some day. I always wanted to be some kind of last action hero. *coughs*

Aside from the adventure-thirst, what fascinated me about scouting was the internationality. Our local branch had contacts with a group in our town's French sister city, and with a Swedish group in Eskilstuna; in 1998, we visited the latter and took part in a big Swedish scouting event, the DUST camp, where I had the time of my life (also, where I fell in love for the first time. I mean, with a real, non-fictional person). In 1999 the Swedes and the French group came to visit us to celebrate our branch's 50th anniversary, and in 2000 we took part in the Nationale Jamboree in Heerlen (that is in the Netherlands), and I loved these meetings (they were the only parties I went to in my innocent youth, really) and the masses of people getting together because they shared a hobby. (I admit it, I love being part of a crowd of like-minded people. I'm a herd animal. It's what I love about gasshuku (which is like a jamboree for karateka, really :D) and about LARP events and about the Japan Day and all).

In the end I decided that I was tired of having to put up with snide co-scouts in my local group; I was tired of being thought silly because, while they had interests suitable for 17-year olds, I was still a romantic with a hunger for the clichéd adventures; I was tired of the mobbing and the cliques; and I was in my last year in high school and used the graduation preparations as an excuse of having no more time. I didn't regret leaving the group; except for two or three people, I hadn't really been friends with anyone. I did regret leaving scouting, because of the things I loved about the movement. I suppose I should have tried finding a new group, but chances of finding one that suited me were slim, and so I turned my attention to jûdô and karate, where we at least didn't play dodgeball. I went canoeing with some people from school, and to Prague with some other people, and to jûdô camp with the club of the guy I had just fallen in love with*; and we've all moved on. But sometimes - when there is a jamboree, or when there are celebrations like there are now - I miss being a member of the scouts.

I suppose I'll look into it again. When I have kids in scouting age, for example. Then I'll be one of the group leaders and I'll teach them all sorts of useless knowledge, go on adventurous trips, and teach them that it's perfectly fine to prefer rainy Pentecoste camps to Spice Girls concerts and to find How to tie what knot to what purpose (... not like that, you pervs!) way more interesting than Bravo.

And now you may laugh.


*Incidentally, that happens to be the guy who is my boyfriend now, but it took three years to come to that.

One of the bosses at the company has a motivational postcard in his office. It says, "Wennze Mittwoch überlebt hast... isses Donnerstag" which means "When you survived Wednesday... it's Thursday."
That's a bit what this day feels like.
As I mentioned a while ago, my brain still has that strange fixed idea that if only I get to the end of the year, all will be well again. The workload will be gone, I will have money for the stuff I want and time to do the stuff I want, and all the things that went wrong this year will surely go right. As if the purely calendary back-setting of the date would reset the rest of the world, or of life.
The fact of the matter is that the new year will be no less stressful than this one was. Right from the beginning. I'll have to go back to work on January 2nd, I'll have to prepare the next presentations and term papers, I'll eventually have to face the fact that I'll have to do my exam at some point (though, hopefully, not this coming year). And then there's the big question of The House.
In other words, there's no guarantee that the new year will be that much better than, or even all that different from, the old. Perhaps it will be. Perhaps it won't. At any rate, when you survived 2006 ... it's 2007. Nothing more.
But nothing less, either.

My best New Year's party ever, as I like to recount, was the one that went from 2002 into 2003. Actually, I didn't have anything planned till the 29th of December or so, when Katha asked me in chat whether I'd like to go and visit Elbereth, Cye and Enux up in the Wild South for Silvester. (I am obviously using their nicknames from chat, just in case anyone wondered about the weird names.) I said yes, so early on the 31st, we got into my racing guinea-pig (that is, my car) and drove to Freiburg/Breisgau (as opposed to Freiburg in Switzerland for those unfamiliar with European geography). We cooked together (Ratatouille and roasted beef in a salt crust (which remained after, solid and salty, and was named Mount Doom) and blew up enormous amounts of fireworks (very bad from an environmental point of view, I know, but SO MUCH FUN). Then we did the traditional lead-pouring thing and talked and had some wine, and then it was 2 am and Cye suggested playing a round of DSA (which is kind of like D&D, but with a fixed world). So we sat till 6 am and created our characters, and then we played a beginners' adventure till 10 am when the adventure was through and went to bed and had breakfast while the sun was setting outside. Katha and I stayed for a few days more, time enough to explore the castle and watch Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade for the umpteenth time and The Emperor's New Groove. Cye had returned home to Lörrach, and we drove up there to visit him on the 3rd and took a wrong turn and suddenly found ourselves in France (but we found Lörrach later on). We celebrated Tolkien's eleventy-first birthday anniversary together, and then we returned home. And that was that. I guess it doesn't sound all that great, but it was if you were there. Perhaps it makes more sense when you know that all New Year parties before that were either spent with my parents and neighbours, or loyally boring myself to death at the Dôjô party?
And the run-on sentences are intentional for stylistic reasons.
Now 2003 was in general the best year of my life so far. I have no idea whether that has to do with the New Year party, but if it does, 2007 can only be excellent, for we are going to have an in-character Traïdis* party. A year that begins with LARP cannot be a bad year!
I hope.

I somehow have woken up with the desire to have a Calendar Girls-style calendar with nekkid Finwëans and the occasional Vala/ex-Vala. Not photoshopped, because most nekkid photoshopped Elves I've seen so far look synthetic, ugly or both, but drawn the traditional way. *sighs* If only I were better at anatomy, or black-and-white.