It makes me sick to sit and look upon the shit this planet cooks, the mean, destructive habit, and corruptness human beings bring.

It makes me sick to hear kids crying, caused by senseless, ceaseless hunger, amidst a civilized new century,

It makes me sick to hear the sorrows, solo thousands, loudly shout outside, but without help.

It makes me sick to see the people dying; uncontrolled hysteria of fellow humans banish souls within the ticking of a clock.

It makes me sick to see big-headed businessmen who care about less else than money they can use to waste their lives unnecessarily.

Crowds gather before the silver gate, surrounded on one side by a little jungle of bushes and a small brick wall on the other. Slowly, family progressions are lead by five, six or sometimes seven year olds to the scene; all dressed in superfine clothes, colourful or simple black-and-white. Bright faces compete with the sunshine enlightening the celebration from a cloudless sky, while eager relatives capture each moment with their flashing cameras or focus their camcorders relentlessly on the little ones.

I’m wearing beige trousers and a multicoloured shirt. Today, I got a lion-king backpack and a huge cornet of cardboard like everybody. It is bigger than I am. I am curious what I will find in there. The top shows yummy Haribos and a video. I also see a rubber and felt-tip pens, but there must be lots more hidden under that.

The day starts late, bright sunlight passing through the few clouds that floated over good old England. For five days I have been working non-stop, no wonder I slept until 3pm in the afternoon. Fortunately, I don’t have other plans this Saturday.

I slip out from under my warm blanket, feeling a slight chill on my bare legs. Luckily, a soothing stream of heat illuminated my body through the window. Outside I watch Mrs. Clarson coming out of the house, getting into her husband’s red Cadillac, and driving it into the garage. Weird, I think.

Invaders of Mind
Can’t keep mine shut.
Snakes visit nightly - but,
though far behind,
intrude, unkind,
and perforate my head.
Can one escape this thread?
Make noxious heartstrings end?

Anguish, old,
it will not cease…
Comes knocking endlessly.
But, behold,
afield is peace:
Sown seeds there thrive for me!

The sun bathes your skin in bright light. You hear the ducks quacking while you walk over the bridge that surpasses the slow stream of water. The green of the bushes and trees along the winding path have a calming impact on the mood that just starts to brighten up. Today’s work is finished, you know there is an afternoon of rest ahead of you and you eagerly look forward to it.

After a turn around the corner, following the way of the water for a few steps, enabling your eyes to catch more of the beauty that derives from Mother Nature’s child, you happen to slide your hand down to your pocket. There is no real reason to do so but, nevertheless, an ownerless force drives your hand magically. It takes four or even five seconds until you recognize, your head being occupied watching the natural movement of the ducks, then, it strikes you! There is something wrong. Your pocket is empty. You were looking for your keys, because your home is close, but they are gone.

The Lion King -- The Circle of Life (Disney), Age 8

At the age of eight so many things seemed a lot easier than today. Whenever you see one of these deeply in your mind engraved Disney films, your memory carries you back to the times when you believed that Peter Pan can really fly and Simba watches over you.

The pure fascination of the wide field with antelopes jumping across the dry grass, dancing to the voices of African singers and the lyrics of Elton John. The meaning of “the circle of life” is irrelevant, only the rhythmic pattern and the amazing pictures matter. Now years later, the meaning of the song is obvious, but visiting the musical and letting the play take you back in time, again it all becomes irrelevant, the past years seemingly wiped out. The joy is what counts; your emotions are caught in the moment of childish happiness.

The computer, with its copious gadgets, is holy, my shrine, because it incorporates my soul. I use it as a TV, a typewriter, a DVD player, a telephone, as my personal st office, alternative credit card, low price supermarket and sometimes also as a game station, just to name some of them. Thus, it is not unusual that first thing I do after getting home from the University English course is to unconsciously turn on my computer, even before throwing the backpack onto the blue sheets of my untidy bed.

While the screen shows the standard Windows booting logo, I hang my jacket over the backrest and take a seat. The smell of apples and bananas that I keep on the shelf above the desk arouses my appetite, so I take one apple out of the rustling bag. The sweet juice spreads generously inside of my mouth while chewing, sending a bright smile onto my face.

The plane has landed, I collected my luggage and now I need to find a place where I can exchange my Euros for the bus. Standing there in the big hall where the passengers claim their baggage at one of the oval band-conveyors seems unreal; then there is the rumbling of the bands, the passing-by fellow passengers and the weight of the ten kg and fifteen kg bags hanging heavily from my shoulders that slowly throw me out of the imaginary world onto the solid floor of the airport.

It is the first time I set foot on English ground, with me only a bunch of people who decided to take the cheapest flight that late at night. I head forward to leave the building, trying to find the bus station first in case the next one arrives in the next couple of minutes. Once the glass doors slide to the side a fresh breeze surrounds my face and the smell of dewy leaves crawls up my nose. It is cooler than in Berlin which suits me well as carrying the heavy bags already triggers my sweat glands.

Choosing to study in England in a small city called Leicester without ever having been to the British Isles is crazy to the core. The first day was hard, especially with the flat in Grange Court. I shared a flat with three or four Chinese students who barely managed to tell me what they were studying. Fortunately, I was able to change accommodation and move in above another German student, Hanna. From then on, everything seemed easy, happy and fun. We even persuaded another German student, Anne, to join us in Victoria Hall. Cooking and sharing brilliant recipes was one of our major doings, for the International Pre-Sessional course offered many opportunities. Thus, we met the Greek Chris, Spanish Louis, Chilean Montse and Christian, as well as others from all around the world, but mainly FIFA master students.

It took only a couple of days until we were known throughout the residence as “Hell’s Angels”. It is unbelievable how many other folks needed our help. One Japanese girl was not allowed to enter her room (some administrative issues), next we assumed to have a swine flu case in Anne and Hanna's flat, and on top of that we spend a whole night correcting an Arabian friend’s essay. It took until 4 in the morning, so I did not even bother going to bed.

The new technological diversity did not pass me by, so I will start this blog to inform everyone who is interested in the experiences and the work of a little writer, for I recognized a broad anticipation at hearing about news and my progress.
There will be regular updates of m
y creative achievements, as well as comments about the life in Britain and individual concerns that need to be stressed. Part of my course is to keep a daily journal, so I plan to include a few entries, giving a short glimpse at my thoughts.
This blog is supposed to present me as a writer and maybe even rouse interest of some similar minds. I would be pleased to receive elaborate comments, true to the bone, which enable me to enhance my skills. Every advice is highly appreciated, yes, also the devastating ones; it is after all a learning process.
Simultaneously, I am eager to answer any occurring questions or provide some background insight when desired.
My world is your world.

Every now and then some fun, more is soon to come.

For a quick laugh:

Oh Aunt Annie, where have you been?

Seriously, that's adult content on a street.

Random Facts:

On the average, 12 newborns will be given to the wrong parents daily. (Oh Mother, where art thou?)
Leonardo da Vinci could write with one hand and draw with the other at the same time. (Superpower?)
Leonardo da Vinci invented scissors. Also, it took him 10 years to paint Mona Lisa's lips.  
(Thanks for the scissors, you caused me several hand injuries.)
The original name for the butterfly was "flutterby"!  
(Whoo, I knew that already.)
Dentists recommend that a toothbrush be kept at least six feet away from a toilet to avoid airborne particles resulting from the flush. (My bathroom is not six feet wide °°)
The average person falls asleep in seven minutes.  
(I'm so not average then.)
Rubber bands last longer when refrigerated. (Jesse! Quick.)
Dreamt" is the only word in the English language that ends in "mt".
(Let's see if I can prove wrong. Maybe in a century, when language changed again.)
It's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open.
(I wish there was one of those visitor counters that adds one every time someone tries it after reading this. I think I will next time.PS: Lucky it's not considered rude to close your eyes.)
A cockroach can live for 10 days without a head.
(Urgh, that's how they survived. "Please God, never make me a cockroach.")
Brains are more active sleeping than watching TV.
(That must be wrong. It has to be.)
12. There are more chickens than people in the world.
(Thank God. We're not the only population that will go down due to excess soon.)
The average person presses the snooze button on their alarm clock three Times each
(That can't be true. My housemate just let's it go off on its own over and over again... for hours.)
The first owner of the Marlboro cigarette Company died of lung cancer. (HA, I knew smoking was bad.)
Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.  
(Is that the proof that blonds are dumb?) 
When the moon is directly overhead, you weigh slightly less.
(I wish I'd known when I had an eating disorder.)
"I am." is the shortest complete sentence in the English language. (No way!)
Right handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left handed People do.
(Now I'm worried about my Dad.)
If the population of China walked past you in single line, the line Would never end because of the rate of reproduction. (Speechless.)
According to Genesis 1:20-22, the chicken came before the egg. (Finally, an answer.)
If a statue of a person in the park on a horse has both front legs in the air, the person died in battle.
If the horse has one front leg in the air, the person died as a result of wounds received in battle.
If the horse has all four legs on the ground, the person died of natural causes.
(For all my writer friends.)
The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet.
(Maybe Hollywood isn't so wrong after all.)
23.Most lipstick contains fish scales.
(I'm sorry Susan, I had to tell you. Don't be angry, you're pretty anyway.)

More quick laughs:

Who's afraid of my Wolf?

Professor Dr. Eisenstein

Soon to come

The lucky elephant stumbled across the threshold and toppled onto his nose.

What does that mean? Where is the sense? Is there any coherence at all?

Most likely not.

Confusion, to a degree, is one of my great pleasures. I love creative writing, pretty obvious when looking at my blog. It's pure fun to play with words, to argue about the exact meaning of language, about the precise detail that a combination of words entails. The fascination of language has struck my life and now acts as a 'perpetuum mobile' of creativity and clarity.

As you see, it's not so much my fault. Writing is how I deal with things, how I calm down, how I see the world and use it for my own purposes.

Others find that quite annoying. I say things that don't make sense - for others. For me, there is always a link, a link to the whys and hows.

Enough with the psychology. Analysing myself isn't such a smart idea anyway. I'll leave that to you. My work will be full of me (uh, maybe I shouldn't admit that so publicly).

My background:
I'm German. From Berlin. Lived in Florida. Lived in Leicester, UK. Still live, but don't really know where exactly.
I'm studying creative writing and film studies.
Why film? I'm a series geek. It's as simple as that. Watching TV has pretty much been the only thing that my parents tried to forbid me. Didn't really have much impact after all. I watch about 9 series at the time, from supernatural ones to comedy up to serious drama. It's a pleasure and, sorry I'm saying this, also life. Not reality? I would argue with that. There is so much truth behind everything. I'm glad I can use that realisation for my writing now.

My social life:
This is not the right place to talk about that. Just so you know, this is public. I would never say something that private on here. (PS: It will be hidden in my stories.) [Memo to myself: stop being so damn honest]

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