Tag Archives: Just blogging

Just blogging

Compassion or self-marketing?

Yesterday, I came across a post on instagram which I found rather particular. It was a repost from a girl battling cancer, prompting others to send prayers. Seems nice, doesn’t it?

The caption said that the two had met two years earlier at an event. It didn’t make it seem like they’re close at all, or even acquainted. Besides, the girl who shot the original photo (I’ll call her Fightergirl) is not following the one who published the repost on instagram (I’ll call the latter Charity). And just another fun fact, Fightergirl – who’s of course tagged in the repost – has a community of almost 300k people, whereas the other account has just about 16k followers. So far, the repost got a little less than 350 likes and 30 comments, half of which are replies reminding people to read the caption. Because most people are just talking about Fightergirl’s outfit. (She does have great style.)

Call it cynicism, but I don’t think Charity’s repost was truly genuine. Let’s assume she did feel inspired and her only intention was to share that feeling as well as to show compassion. She could have done so by leaving a comment on Fightergirl’s page or sending her a DM. But no, she had to post it on her own page. And besides, why wait two years? It actually reminds me of the attention seeking RIP status on Facebook when someone famous dies. Sure, everyone has the right to feel how they feel, but not everything and every emotion has to be shared with everyone.

Of course I don’t know anything about Charity. For all I know she could be an activist who’s dedicating her life to support cancer patients, so I don’t want to discredit her. But it is unfortunate that on her instagram, she’s just picking one person with a large audience to show her ‘support’ to. Btw, I’d love to know what Fightergirl’s reaction was. I bet it was something like “Oh how thoughtful! This girl I saw for a second at that event is using my name and it got even two praying-hand-emojis in the comments! Now that really made my day!”

Ok, I’m done ranting now. So I let Bill sum up what I wanted to say.

Belikebill

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Just blogging

What makes a good story?

This semester, I’m taking part in a photography workshop. And even though the main focus is set on photography, obviously, we’re also doing some exercises to help us become more creative. One of these exercises is writing short stories.

The first one was pretty simple and very very short. All we had to do was sit down somewhere and describe our surroundings. Then, in a second step, we had the task to develop that description and create a short story from it.

Initially, I was super excited about that. Mostly because it gave me a good excuse to go to Starbuck’s and stuff my face with cake. But also because it sounded like a fun thing to do, especially because somehow I always have some fighting couple or gossiping teenagers sitting right next to me. It’s highly entertaining. Btw, I seem to attract crazy people in general and I think (but am not sure) that I already wrote about this a few years ago. But I’ll get back to that in a minute.

This day however, there were no gossiping teenagers and no fighting couples, just boring, normal people and a crying baby. So the transcript of my surroundings was just a bunch of onomatopoeias for the opening/closing door slamming and the coffee machine. Which was totally fine with me. I even thought it had some sort of experimental character to it. But apparently, the teachers hated it, because I didn’t get any feedback (not even bad feedback). Besides, it’s quite difficult to turn “clong” and “crshhhhh” into a short story. So the story I wrote instead was pretty shitty and didn’t have a story line at all. I basically just wrote down my thoughts but called myself Nancy. So no big literature at all.

Still, when some of the other short stories were presented in class, I was pretty underwhelmed. Or maybe our teacher praised them way too much before they were read out loud. I thought they were pretty cliché, from their story lines to expressions such as “unruly hair”, that everyone’s read at least a million times. Which made me wonder: “Am I just immune to good writing?”, and: “Is it ok to hate on detailed descriptions or am I just a moron who doesn’t have the slightest idea of art?” And anyway, “What makes a good story?”

Of course, you can look up all the technical stuff online somewhere. And of course, lots of practice makes your work better (hopefully). But besides that, I guess it’s like categorizing a joke (which is nothing but a very short story) as funny or not – purely subjective and depending on the reader’s taste.

However, since I can’t come up with fictional stories, I’ll share one of my personal life. As I mentioned, I attract lots of crazy people. Some would maybe be annoyed by that, but I find it rather funny. And it always gives me something to talk about.

Anyways, during my first two years in Paris I used to live in a chambre de bonne – a tiny studio that used to be intended for the maids back in the 19th century. My floor even had a seperate entry, so I would only cross the people living in the bougie apartments down in the hall.

One day, a couple of months after I’d moved in, a middle-aged lady who was living in the first floor approached me. She seemed nice at first, but also quite nosy. In just one second, she went from the regular small talk to rather personal questions, including for example how much rent I paid. I guess for her, the concept of boundaries just didn’t exist, as she then started to talk about how annoyed she was by her husband. I’m normally really good at getting rid of people that unnerve me, but it was different with her. Not only didn’t she notice the common signs of disinterest, but she also followed me after I told her for the umpteenth time that I had to go. This scenario kept happening everytime i ran into her, which by the way, seemed to happen more and more often and made me believe that she was waiting for me. Since her apartment was in the first floor, she was able to see the hall from her door. Besides, I found it rather awkward that I only met this person after living in that building for almost a year, but then suddenly at least once a week. One day, she even made me come see her apartment and meet her husband, just to prove me how annoying he was. The both of them then got in a fight and I quickly left. Another day, she ran into my then-boyfriend. I have no idea how she knew who he was, but judging from what he told me, it was a very weird encounter. And her telling him in her coarse cigarette-whiskey-voice that he was “very handsome” definitely added to the awkwardness.

The weirdest moment however happened one night after I came back from a night out. It wasn’t that late, but late enough to expect that the entire building was already sound asleep. But just as I reached the door to the servant’s entry, I heard the lock of Crazy Weird Lady’s apartment turn. I froze, hoping that she was just about to go outside to have a smoke. But then she started calling and so I ran. It’s not that I was afraid of her or anything, I just didn’t want to deal with her, especially not at 2am. But I heard her following me and so I continued running, all the way up to my place in the 6th floor. When I closed my door behind me I was hoping she’d given up. But then, a minute later, I heard a knock on my door. I first ignored it, but then there it was again, followed by a loud “Hello?”. I opened the door, unnerved, seriously wondering what kind of excuse she’d have to track me six floors in the middle of the night. Pause. – “Do you have a lighter?” – “No.” – “Ok, good night.”

That was the entire interaction. It also was the last time I saw the weird lady from the first floor. Maybe she was embarrassed, but I highly doubt that. Seen from a theatrical angle, it was the perfect exit. It would have been really hard to top this kind of crazy without making it totally creepy. Therefore, well done Crazy Weird Lady, well done!

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Just blogging

Finding my talent

When I got fired earlier this year, it felt like a relief at first. I wasn’t happy in my job and didn’t feel like I was using my potential. But when I started sending out application letters again, I noticed that I don’t really have any selling points. Sure, I’ve worked for two big companies, one might even say prestigious and sure, I’ve spent time abroad. But in general, I think that my CV is rather mediocre. I’ve had sooo many different jobs that had nothing to do with my studies or where I wanted to go in life. And even though some of them were great experiences, I don’t think that they necessarily make my CV look better. Which btw is a stupid way to put it, because there’s probably always something you can learn. What I mean is, my CV just isn’t as impressive as I’d like it to be.

Besides, I totally underestimated the psychological impact that getting laid off would have on me. That short moment of relief was soon replaced by feeling rather depressed and worthless. The reason behind is that I have absolutely no idea what my strengths and talents are. And so far, I haven’t found anything I truly excel in. That’s why I bought one of the books “For Dummies” that’s supposed to help me with finding and developing my strengths. (Besides, I’ve read that in order to be successful, 10% of your money should go into learning stuff and developing skills. So I thought that book would be a good start.)

Unfortunately though, I started reading the book at a time where I was a little unstable and quite moody and sensitive. That was definitely a mistake. Because the first chapter of the book concentrates on assessing your personality and there are a bunch of tests that you can take. It’s a good concept, but again, I was far from being positive and optimistic that time and took every question in the worst way possible. No surprise that the results led me to believe I’m a garbage person with no social skills or any sort of capabilities.

I stopped reading there. And as ridiculous as it sounds, I’m even a little afraid to pick the book up again just because I don’t wanna go back to feeling awful all the time. But then of course, the book isn’t the reason if I feel shitty about myself. (Which is why counselling is definitely back on the table, btw.) Anyway, I’m still trying to figure out what I wanna do next. I even do have a few ideas, I just need to learn how to make them reality. Maybe I’ll try finding a mentor or something.

In the meanwhile, I’m working on my insta game, so maybe someday I can turn that into something. And it might sound cliché, but I’m still amazed by how much positivity there is on instagram and there are days where a good or funny comment puts me in a better mood.

As for my talents, I think I’m great at faking interest, procrastinating, taking naps, getting distracted and looking at baby animals. I think that should do to get me a stellar career.

 

Update:

Writing this blog post actually helped me focusing on things I am good at, even if it’s just small stuff. For example, I realized that I became really good at giving constructive criticism. (There’s a new trainer at my EMS class and he doesn’t really know what he’s doing yet, which was really annoying tbh. But instead of being a bitch about it I gave a constructive feedback with lots of me-messages and hope that he’ll do better next time – with a different client, not me.)

I’m also polite af (when I want to) and a great conversationalist. At least for a few minutes, before it turns out that the person I’m talking to is a total bore.

I’m also interested in lots of things, I’m getting more and more into non-fiction and podcasts. (My favorite podcast is Criminal, btw.) So even if this one’s kind of a mixed blessing, because I don’t have any specialty, it helps a lot with being a great conversationalist, knowing the history behind the 420 code or at least make creepy comments.

I’m also great at finding the right gif for any situation. My former colleagues would confirm.

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Just blogging

My 16 personalities

If you’re online dating, then you may have noticed that some people add a seemingly random number of letters to their profile. Or maybe you’ve been introduced to someone who then told you, I’m an ISFP-A, what are you? If not or if you’re wondering what the deal with that is, then I’m here to enlighten you. The odd letters are referring to personality types of the 16 Personalities test, which claims to be ‘freakishly accurate’.

The first time I heard about it must’ve been in 2013, when a very good friend told me about it. Being an egocentric instagrammer/ blogger with a weakness for all kind of personality tests, there was no question – of course I had to take it! Unfortunately, I don’t remember what the result was. But since another friend mentioned the test to me last year, I’ve been taking it once again. And then again and again, until I lost count of how many times.

My first result was Commander (ENTJ, -A/-T), which is basically the psychopath among the 16 Personalities. I think my favorite parts of the introduction were ‘ruthless level of rationality’ and ‘particular skill in calling out others’ failures with a chilling degree of insensitivity’. Sorry (fellow) Commanders!

When I took the test again, the results varied A LOT. And just for fun, I also took the test in French instead of English, which again lead to a different result. This, I found particularly interesting, btw. Because it shows that language has an impact on how we interpret things. (There was a study that showed that people were more stringent with their moral judgement when different dilemmas were presented to them in their mother tongue. Though as so often, I unfortunately don’t remember where I read about it, but I’m sure you can google it if you want to.)

Besides Commander, which is part of the “Analysts”, I also got Executive (ESTJ, -A/-T) which belongs to the “Sentinels”, Entrepreneur (ESTP, -A/-T) and Entertainer (ESFP, -A/-T), both are “Explorers”. So I guess my only invariables are the -A at the end of all personality types, meaning that I’m assertive and the E, which is funny because I never thought of myself as extroverted. Also interesting is that I never got one of the “Diplomats” personalities.

So what did I learn from all this? Nothing, honestly. Except that it’s pretty much impossible to determine someone’s personality just by asking a few questions, which by the way, are pretty vague and leave much room for interpretation. At least in my opinion. My favorite question in that regard was ‘If the room is full, you stay closer to the walls, avoiding the center.’ Like a lizard crawling along the walls? Who would do that? Also, wouldn’t that depend on the room? Like if I’m at a restaurant, the odds to be seated close to the walls are imo higher than being seated in the center. Besides, the best people watching is done if you’re not in the center of a room, except if you want to be super obvious about it. And if it’s at a party and the room is crowded, I’m standing pretty much anywhere where the flow takes aka pushes me. Why can’t these questions be more specific?? Besides, I highly doubt that you could sum up the personalities of around 7 billion people and only get 16 different types as a result.

To be honest, I largely prefer to know which Disney Princess I am (Ariel) or which Disney villain (Jafar) and into which house the Sorting Hat would put me (I’d have to choose between Ravenclaw or Slytherin and go for the latter). I also think that these tests actually reveal much more about my personality. And interestingly, all the results match the characteristics of my astrological sign and my temperament (choleric) according to the Four Temperaments. Anyways, it’s all good fun and very entertaining but also not important at all. Because right now, I have to find out which Pretty Little Liars character I am.

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Just blogging, Society

Fuck feminism

Who else loves to start drunk debates about principles and personal views on stuff like politics and society? Well, I kinda do. Or at least I seem to have a talent for getting myself into heated discussions quite often. Last night’s debate was about feminism.

(Omg, I just googled “drunk debates and guess what, there are A TON of groups and websites that pop up. And this epic quote from the Westside Comedy Theater “Nothing proves your point like throwing up in your mouth.”)

It all started because I was saying that I need my sleep and then added that sleep deprivation affects women differently than men. Besides, women also need more sleep than men. Nothing of that is new, the web is full of articles about it and there are several studies as well. Nevertheless, as soon as I’d made that statement, two girls immediately started accusing me of being sexist. Their point was that women are not different to men. Yeah, sure.

I have no idea how some people came to the conclusion that gender equality means denying biological differences. In my opinion, there are three categories that need to be considered when discussing feminism: biology, seduction and politics/society. To give some examples, with biology I mean that different organisms have different ways of functioning. That’s why stroke symptoms in women are not the same as in men. That’s why women have to pee more often (and unfortunately take more time to use a restroom). Ignoring these things or saying that they’re made up is not feminist at all. On the contrary, it hurts women. Like literally, they could die. (But even the waiting lines at public restrooms are a pain I wish I didn’t have to deal with.)

As for my second category, seduction, I just don’t get why some women get offended when a man opens a door for them. Seriously, get your head out of your ass, it’s a nice gesture. I think the same is true when men invite women for dinner. Or when women dress up and want to look extra beautiful for someone they like. Nothing of that has to do with forgetting about equal rights and stuff, it’s just a game called seduction. (If anyone’s confused right now, catcalling has nothing to do with seduction.)

And then the third category, politics and society. Well, I guess it’s pretty obvious that this is the most important category. Just throwing some keywords in, like abortion rights, pay gap, yadda, yadda, yadda, you get it.

And just to be clear, I definitely am a feminist. And yes, the headline to this post is very clickbaitey. But I just hate this pseudo-feminism that’s based on hearsay and superficial knowledge. (I once had a conversation with my roommates – all female. They seriously thought that changing a light bulb or using a drilling machine would sum up what feminism is about. What the hell???)

Also, I don’t know how often I’ve already referred to my favorite podcast, but listening to Stuff Mom Never Told You is just mind-blowing, highly informative and will probably teach anyone a thing or two. I just wish everyone would love it as much as I do. But of course, you’re already well-informed, you smart reader ya!

 

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Just blogging

When time stops

Since I’m back to university, the same university I started my studies around nine years ago, it feels like nothing has really changed. My friends still live in the same town, few of them are still studying – like me. It feels like time traveling – I’ve lived abroad for 7 years and now that I’m back, things are pretty much the same. Especially this week, where we’re having a student exchange with (not only) students from Toulouse. The first time I participated in that exchange was exactly eight years ago and even though I was only 20 yo, the program was pretty tough. I mean, we were students. And so with the cultural program we’d do during the day and then the social gathering on top of it, we basically didn’t sleep at all for one week. It was pretty awesome. And still is, especially because the group dynamic this year is insane.

This weekend was the start of this year’s exchange and boy am I tired! And it’s only the start. (This is also why I’ve been running late with this blog post.) However, I’ll take it slowly this year because in contrast to my early 20s, I’m taking my studies a little more serious now and don’t want to miss classes because I can’t bring myself to get out of bed. Besides, even though I like the comfort of a little emotional throwback, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to do the same things over and over again. Of course, I’m super happy having my friends from university around, but at the same time, I almost feel like I’m back in my first semester and to me, that somewhat feels like regressing. That’s why right now, I’m planning to cram everything I still need to do to get my BA into this semester, so that I’m hopefully done by the end of the year. After that, there’ll still be time to travel and party.

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Just blogging

Gypsy life

Last week, I wrote about my time in Munich and how those first few weeks were like. True, the beginning was a little rough, but it was all worth it because what followed after was just amazing. I it wasn’t super cliché I’d even say transformative.

So after staying with my host from Couchsurfing and crushing at my colleague’s place, I moved to this hostel called The Tent. As you can guess from the name, it’s a place with tents, you can either bring your own or sleep in a group tent. It’s a little outside, maybe half an hour from the center of Munich and located in the middle of a huge park, but it actually feels more like being in the woods.

I arrived and immediately fell in love with the place. It was a nice summer evening and travelers from all over the world were sitting on the terrace, playing guitar and singing. People were chilling in hammocks and beach chairs. A little further away, there was a group playing ping pong. Right next to the terrace, the Tent crew was preparing some barbecue dinner, it smelled delicious. There were colorful chains of lights hanging in the trees, creating a warm, welcoming atmosphere. After the sun had set, a fire was lit and everyone sat around it. The campfire was a custom that was repeated every night. I never grew tired of it.

On my second day already, some other campers invited me to join them on a tour through Munich. We bought some wine and took a walk through the city before we headed to the Eisbach to watch people surf. We then sat down somewhere in the English Garden and spent the day sunbathing. Every day was more or less like that, spending every minute outside, having good conversations and cheap wine, I just loved it. We also went to the Tollwood festival which was taking place at around the same time and I almost got a tattoo there. One of my friends wanted to get one too, but didn’t go through with it after all. And since it’s no fun getting a tattoo at a festival all by myself, I didn’t get one either. Tough in retrospect, I’m pretty glad that we both kinda chickened out. We were drunk, and the tattoos would probably have turned out pretty ugly.

I don’t know exactly how to describe it, but my time at The Tent was just an incredibly freeing experience. (And I think the unreliable wifi connection added to that.) I got to know so many interesting people in such a short amount of time, everyone had a different, fascinating background.

I also learnt some stuff about myself, namely that I want to spend my life traveling. Not in fancy hotels, but in simplest way. (When I was 18, I actually wanted to life in a mobile home and travel around. I just never got a driver’s license because as it turns out, I hate driving.) I also discovered that I’m totally fine not wearing fancy outfits and that the more stuff you own, the more it slows you down.

So now the only thing I have to do is to figure out how I can be a traveling nomad but still have an income, aha. Maybe there’s a book for dummies that’ll explain it to me.

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Just blogging

When I was homeless

Almost one year ago, I got this incredible opportunity to work as an intern at Condé Nast. I applied in a moment where I had nothing figured out and I didn’t even expect anything from it. I just wanted to see what my chances were, but thought that my application would probably be rejected. I’m not  sure if I’d have applied otherwise – it was past mid-May and they needed someone who could start in June and the Condé Nast office was in Munich, around 600 km away from where I lived at that time.

To my surprise, I got a callback only two days later. And since I’d never say no to an institution like Condé Nast, I started planning my move to Munich. Everything went well, I found someone to sublet my room to as well as an apartment. Everything went really fast and it was almost miraculous how perfectly things fell into place.

I arrived in Munich late on a Sunday evening and made my way to the apartment where I was supposed to meet the landlady’s daughter, my future roommate, who would be there with the keys. But when I arrived, no one was there. Besides, I couldn’t find her name on any of the door plates. So I frantically tried to call her, which also didn’t work, because apparently, she gave me the wrong country code (she and her family were Irish). I finally got a hold of her by messaging her on Facebook. She explained that there was some sort of family emergency and that she couldn’t meet me that day. But she’d try to get there the day after. She suggested that I should stay at a hotel until then.

I was pretty broke at that time, mostly because I had just paid a month’s rent and the deposit to that reckless bitch that didn’t show up. It also was my first time in Munich, so I had no idea where to go. Besides, considering that I was carrying four huge bags that night, I was also very reluctant to start wandering around, looking for a place to stay. And if that wasn’t enough, I also couldn’t really use my phone because I had limited data transfer. Lucky for me, there was a hotel right next to the apartment and with the money I still had, I even could afford a night. And they had wifi!

I had an inkling that I wouldn’t hear from that girl anytime soon and so I spent the rest of the night and the next morning looking for a host on Couchsurfing. Again, I was super lucky, because in only one hour I found someone who was willing to host me for a week. Yet, I still didn’t know how lucky I was at that point. But that couchsurfing contact also put me in contact with a girl who sublet her room at a student’s residency where I could move in a few weeks later. In the meanwhile, I squatted at one of my new colleague’s place (she even was so ind to stay at her boyfriend’s for that time). After that, I lived at a hostel. Again, it was my CS host who gave me the address. Eventually, I also got my payments for rent and the deposit back.

So yes, in the end, everything worked in my favor. The room at the student’s residency was only half of the rent I would have paid at the other place. But most importantly, I got to meet some incredible people and I’m incredibly grateful for all the help, support and unexpected kindness I received from total strangers. Without them, my situation would have been pretty dire to say the least, especially because I didn’t feel like I really had a support system back home.

This entire experience has definitely strengthened my wishful thinking that some things happen for a reason. I mean after the troubles during the first few days/weeks, I was much better off than I’d been with the original plan. And who knows how things would have turned out with a roommate who clearly doesn’t give a shit. (Btw, I still don’t understand what her deal was. If the family issue was real, then why couldn’t she manage to send someone on her behalf to pass the keys? For a moment, I thought it was a scam, even though I had a contract and even though extensive stalking didn’t show anything suspicious. But then I got all my money back. I really don’t understand.)

Also, the time I spend at the hostel probably was the best time I ever had. But I feel like I’ll talk about that in another blogpost.

Until then, enjoy your Sunday night!

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Just blogging

Birthday week & moments of depression

Tomorrow is my birthday.

Some of my friends take their birthdays very seriously. They throw amazing parties and even dedicate the entire week to it.

To me however, my birthday has not that much importance. I played with the thought to have a huge party this year, but I don’t feel like it any more. My week has been pretty mundane so far as well.

I have no idea why I don’t care about my birthday. Maybe it’s because I think that being brought to this world involuntarily isn’t an accomplishment that deserves being celebrated. Neither is slowly approaching death.

Though I do get mad when friends or people who should remember my birthday don’t. So in some sort, I’m denying my own existence but am pissed if others don’t acknowledge it.

There was a period where my situation was a little different from now, though not too much. It w a time where I quite often had thoughts like “If I’m still around next year..” and so I felt that each year living would be something I could be proud of.

Now I’m more like “whatever”. The latent suicidal thoughts have significantly decreased, which is good, I guess, but there are still days where I feel that simply existing is just incredibly hard. And what for anyway?

“What motivates you to get up in the morning?” You’ve probably come across this question at some point in your life. Can you answer it? If yes, what would your answer be? I really thought about it many times and I still have nothing. Probably because I haven’t found anything I’m truly (or even remotely) passionate about. I thought of testing a bunch of new activities, trying something different every week. Maybe in this way, I’ll find something that I enjoy so much that it can become a passion.

Speaking of motivation, I know that I have to change my shitty mindset. So I’m currently trying meditation and I also read a bunch of articles. And no kidding, every time there’s a line like “Make a difference” or something, I’m literally thinking “What for, we’re all going to die anyways”.

Sometimes, I really admire religious people. They seem to have a reason to exist and maybe their beliefs give them some extra strength. But then, religion is such an abstract thing to me, it just wouldn’t work.

Counselling has worked for me, so that’s back on. As for my bday, I’m not really doing anything. But I know that my mom has planned something, so I’m sure that’ll be fun.

 

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