I sit here now at 9:36 AM on a Monday morning and have been awake for nearly 24 hours. I realised several things last night. Several things that both disturbed and excited me all at the same time. But one thing I know for sure: this is only the beginning, and everything as I know it has officially changed. 

So I'm going to write a new blog right now while I'm on the radio simply because I can. Not too much has been new with me, I'm afraid, but I'll try my best to keep you entertained, anyhow. 

Do any of you truly understand how thrilling it is to be allowed to finally work in a country that is not your own after such a long, difficult struggle? Sure, it's easy to say, "Oh, I know how hard that must be," because several people have said it to me. Yet, when they get here and realise that it's much more difficult than it sounds, they're less than enthused. It's still amazing to me that I actually got it, but anyway, I'll move on before I bore you to death with that theme. 

There's a friend of mine who's moved here recently and had to go to the foreign office to get work papers in order, though her struggle would be much easier than mind since she had a company willing to say she worked for them. Apparently, the foreign office has been on strike since 29 September, and well, that's not fun. We went up there at 6:30 AM to be greeted by a line all the way out the door. They weren't serving anyone, and they weren't giving out appointments; they did mention, however, that they were serving the first 25 people, but we'd never manage it because people were showing up at 3 AM and waiting until they opened at 7. Shannon, being the New Yorker that she is, decided to go at 10 PM (!!!) and wait for NINE hours to get in. I went to wait with her, and I have to tell you, I have never been so cold in my life. It was fine for the first hour or two, but since the foreign office is very, very close to the river, the temperature dropped precipitously very fast. 

There was a nice cop who kept coming by every two hours to check on us and make sure we hadn't been murdered; I felt kinda bad for him, though. The first time he came by, it was only Shannon. The second time it was both of us. The third it was us and some African dude. All I could hear him thinking was that line from South Park where Cartman says, "They are increasing at a rate of seven hippies per hour. At this rate, they will take over the world in only three days." 

He eventually didn't come by anymore after we started multiplying ridiculously and when they finally opened the gates, we were first in line . . . only to find out we had waited nine hours for nothing. The first 25 people being served were only students. It would have been nice if they would have, oh, I don't know, TOLD US THAT!!!! 

Outside of that, my friend Erin is moving here in exactly three days. I still can't believe how fast time has passed; it seems like yesterday it was the end of June and she was telling me how she wanted to move here. Back then, the months passed by incredibly slowly, and I wondered if I would ever see the day get here. Now, as I sit admist a thousand boxes that have to go down to the basement to make room for her, it's slowly starting to sink in. And you know what, I think it's awesome. Life isn't easy, but we were never promised that, anyway. Besides, no one ever wants to read a life story about someone who had it easy. 

October 2nd, 2008. It was a day I thought I would never see and was beginning to still wonder it as I waited outside the door to room 328 of the Ausländerbehörde. I had been there roughly five minutes late due to several annoying goings-on that slowed me down. When I knocked on the door and went in, a very ancient looking lady glared at me accusingly and said, "Who are you?!?!?!" as if I walked in there with a gun and told her to get her hands up. I told her just who I was, to which she responded, "Well, go outside and wait! I'm not ready for you!"

     I waited outside . . . and waited  . . . and waited. Forty-five minutes I waited. Finally, she came outside and said, "Who are you?!?!?!" in the same condescending tone. I told her again who I was. "You're 50 minutes late!" she yelled in my face. "That's cause I've been standing outside for 45 of those minutes where you TOLD ME TO!" I yelled back. I was done taking her crap, and I just wanted to get my permit and get out of there. She gave me over to someone else who was very nice and handed me my shiny new work permit. 

     I still don't think it's sunk in even though I stare at it regularly. I have actually attained work rights in Germany after two long years of struggle. Two long years of running, of fearing that the next month would be my last in the country I love. But it was not to be so. Even when everyone else told me it was impossible, God said, "Just sit back and watch this . . ."

     Some of you make think, "So what? It's a work permit. And you're American. They have to give you one." Well, no, they didn't. I had skills, sure, but they were in so many different areas, they looked at me as fickle. My degree is impressive, sure, but only 2 years and not in a profession that warrants the freelance visa I was requesting. I had no job offers . . . I had nothing waiting on me that guaranteed I wouldn't be a burden on their economy. There were so many different reasons besides the ones I've mentioned that they could have said no . . . but they didn't. And I don't care what you want to call it or what you think about it, it was simply one of those God things. 

     While I won't rant about politics and who's better than the other, I'm getting increasingly annoyed by those of you who do. I always encourage people to dig deep in their search for information for any presidential candidate. I want them to make an educated, informed decision with the ability to stand up for their decision if need be. With that said, I'm entirely sick of people with their underwear in a bunch over this. Yes, economies all over the world are in a crisis, times are tought, blah blah blah. Some want change, some want more of the same. But if I see one more anti-so and so group on facebook on either side, I think I'm gonna barf. If you think someone is a better candidate, argue the position respectably. You calling me an idiot because I'm not voting for your candidate is not going to make me change my mind. If you want to do that, you have to make a good point . . .and you thinking I'm an idiot is not making a very good one. I'm also sick of people telling me who to vote for. "Vote for so-and-so!" they scream on both sides of the spectrum. As most of you know, I'm a moderate and have been switching back and forth in undecidedness for quite some time. The reason for this is because I find BOTH candidates inadequate and severely lacking. Yet, I'm bombarded by, "Vote for *insert name here*!" Why? Because you say so? Because he wants change? Because he wants more of the same? Give me a reason! And frankly, I don't like you pushing your political opinion on me. This is getting way out of hand. The same goes by people who act so shocked and appalled by politics, yet are the regular finger pointing name callers acting like blood thirsty vampires on a feeding frenzy. Calm down! Take some tranquilizers and just chill . . . please . . . for the love of all that is holy it is no reason to have a freakout session and hold a rally just because someone is one percentage point ahead!

     Outside of that, things are going better here. I've got several jobs to last me for the moment, and most of you have seen my numerous broadcasting posts. It's one of the most rewarding jobs, I think, but unfortunately the only one that doesn't pay, which is quite annoying. Party934.com is actually hosted on a couple of terrestrial stations around the New York, one in Miami I think, and the other in the Hudson valley in NY (you can check the website for more specific details.) It's great, and I love getting music out around the world (and me having my voice heard isn't that bad, either.) 

     I'm also finally close to finishing the book . . . the final version. After more re-writes than I can count, it's finally getting where I want it. The finally page count I'm estimating somewhere around 350 pages, and that's just book one. Yes, it's a mutha of a book. I can't wait for all of you to read it!

     I'm sure there's more I wanted to say here, but frankly, I'm quite bored and have the pressing urge to finish this book. Quite sleepy, too . . . 

It took 2 years, but it was well worth the wait . . . 

I've had a very long time to be paranoid, worried, sick, and just about everything else under the sun. Virtually ever since I arrived in Germany, my status here has been under severe questioning. I've almost been kicked out, been put under intense scrutiny, and had a 5 month waiting period on a permit that should have only taken two weeks. The thing that plagued me most during these two years has been, you guessed it, worry. Of course, it changes nothing, but that doesn't stop one from doing it. I knew God was going to take care of it, as he had miraculously done countless times. I virtually had nothing of worth to offer the government, and they were under no requirements to allow me to stay there, much less give me the work rights I so desperately desired. But the longer time went on, the more worried I got. What was taking them so long and what were they doing? I began to imagine them contacting the CIA about me and other various things. They wouldn't find anything because there's nothing there to find, but I thought maybe the CIA would answer with, "Well, her credit in the States is a little less than average," and that would be all the worker would need to hear before slamming a giant stamp down on my paper with a foreboding thud as it read "DENIED". Yes, of course that sounds stupid, but you try waiting two years for work rights and see what thoughts start swimming around in your head. 

I went to the government yesterday and waited in line for two hours. The line wasn't that long, but things seemed to be moving slower than normal. The last time I had been there was a month ago where a case worker had angrily assured me, "I'm going to deal with this myself! You've been waiting so long, and it's ridiculous to make someone wait like this; it's unacceptable!" I readily agreed, and he assured me that I would have my answer back in two weeks. I waited two weeks without a word and then began calling their offices (as I didn't want to go wait in line for 2 -3, though sometimes as long as 5, hours.) but no one picked up. For two weeks. And I assure you, I called quite often. So, yesterday, I decided I would go down there before my job interview at a cafe near a friend's house. The woman told me my files weren't back yet and told me to, you guessed it, wait. I waited some more while they tried to figure out just what was taking so long. Well, apparently, my files got lost in transition somehow and no one could find them, at which point the woman took down my e-mail address and said she would e-mail me tomorrow morning after trying to locate them. Apparently, she must have been successful because they were transferred to another Berlin office to undergo a final examination. Most people wouldn't be worried by this, but I began to be afraid that they would scrutinize everything and find things that weren't there . . . I just knew I was going to get some e-mail that began with "Leider . . ." (which means "unfortunately" for those of you readers who are non-German speakers. It's usually the first word in a typical German rejection letter.) 

I rarely try to use the phrase "it was like I heard this voice in my head saying . . . " because that makes me sound, well, crazy. So let me try to rephrase . . . I got a feeling in my heart that God was saying, "Don't worry about it. Just sit back and watch this . . . you've been waiting for two years, and it's time for me to do my thing." I went to my phone and checked to see if I had any messages, and there was one from the Senatsverwaltung, the people who now had my life in their hands, so to speak. They said they wanted to talk to me and ask me a couple of questions, and fear gripped me all over again. "They're going to arrest me and beat me for something!" my mind screamed, but still, I called them back.

"I just wanted to know if the people who were interested in you when you sent this to us still want to work with you?" The lady asked me into the phone.

"Yes," I timidly responded. "Most of them. Some of them said they couldn't wait any longer." 

"Okay, well, I have about 400 different jobs here that you're apparently qualified to do, so . . . "

"Yes, I just wanted to show that people were interested in me because I really, REALLY want you to say yes because I love Berlin, and I want to live here until I die," I sniffed, as if it would really make a difference one way or the other.

"That's very sweet, and you don't have to worry about it. Can you tell me what all you'll be doing so I can write it down in the allowance?" 

So I told her, and she responded, "Great. Well, we're going to approve this and send it back to the Foreign Office. You should have it by Monday, okay?"

It took a few minutes for it to actually register what she had said. It was approved. As in, the opposite of denied. The biggest feeling of relief rushed over me, and I very nearly cried from sheer joy. For two long years I have fought with everything I had in me and was so utterly broken it was pitiful. I had people all over the world praying, begging for this. The world said it was impossible, that I had nothing to offer. God said those were the conditions He works best in. So here I am with nothing to offer, yet approved nonetheless.

There were other things I wanted to say in this blog, various rants about other things, but right now I think it's best to let it be, to enjoy the fruits of the labor, and to be still. 

"Surely there is a future and your hope will not be cut off." - Proverbs 23:18

How to Tell if You're Completely Paranoid: 

If you visit the above link, yahoo.com will inform you how to tell if your guy is cheating. Now, I'm sure this is true for a few guys out there, but I think this will ultimately end up causing more trouble than good. Just from reading number one, I knew it was going to be a bumpy ride. And, of course, it appears to be written by a woman with a "we must share everything or you are a bad man" attitude. Let me tell you all the ways this is full of crap:

1. He's superprotective of his gadgets. "The main way that trysts are found out is through the discovery of incriminating e-mails, IM chats, cell phone texts or bills," says Belisa Vranich, PsyD, a clinical psychologist in New York City. So if he's being unfaithful, he may guard his gadgets or act really defensive when you innocently touch his phone or computer. It should be a giant red flag if he readily gave you passwords in the past, and now he's more evasive.

When I read this, my first thought was, "If someone touches my computer or phone, they're gonna die." and it's true. I'm not cheating on anyone; it's just, to me, a sign of mistrust and utter annoyance if I catch you blatantly looking through my phone or computer (which has happened before). There won't be anything there because if I was cheating, I would be smart enough to erase everything right afterwards. Shouldn't there be a curtain of privacy somewhere? I mean, I love my significant other to death and would never hide anything from him, but my phone is off limits. There is absolutely no reason for you to pick up my phone and go through it because it just signifies that you don't trust me . . . which is utterly annoying and will probably lead to you getting the phone thrown at your head. Or maybe I'm just abnormal? 

2. He steps up the grooming. This is so obvious, but it's a sign many women miss: "If your man starts grooming more without you requesting it, that could be an indication that he's getting intimate with someone else," says Vranich. You can actually thank modern mass media for this tipoff. Guys today are used to viewing manscaped dudes onscreen, so if he has another chick to impress with his appearance, he may emulate those ultra-trimmed guys. Another clue: He's spending more time at the gym.

So, let me get this straight: A man can't decide that he wants to better himself without you nagging at him without cheating? He can't go to the gym to get in shape without cheating? He can't decide he's a pathetic slob and decide to change without cheating? Are you seriously kidding me?

3. He smells different. "When he comes home, if he doesn't smell the same as he did in the morning, and it isn't the scent of soap in the gym or at your home, it may be because he's showered at her place," offers Vranich. So pay attention, because in this case, that old saying "the nose knows" might very well be true.

This is one of the rare ones that's true . . . and it's so obvious I'm filing it under D for DUH.

4. Nothing fazes him anymore. "If he was short-tempered before, a combination of added intimacy and attention could be making him way more relaxed, even downright giddy," Vranich says. Adds Mira Kirshenbaum, author of "When Good People Have Affairs: Inside the Hearts and Minds of People in Two Relationships": "If your guy is suddenly going around all happy and whistling, then you need to find out why."

Or maybe he was just having problems at work that have now been taken care of. Maybe he just got a promotion, finished a big project, got a new car . . . or . . . or . . . maybe YOU decided to stop being a fat slob and go to the gym and he's happy over your new found hygiene improvement. Maybe that means you're cheating on each other . . . 

5. He becomes suspicious of you. "If he's normally a mellow type, all of a sudden he may want to know where you are all the time and with whom," says Vranich. "It's the result of him realizing that if he's cheating and it's not that hard, you might also be getting away with it." Also, beware of extremely detailed responses to even your most innocent "How was work today?" queries. He may be preparing epic answers because he's terrified of getting caught.

Either that or he is just a detailed person. Or maybe he suspects you of cheating on him and that's why he's so suspicious of you. Is that not possible? 

Now before a thousand feminists jump down my throat and I have to fend for my life, I will say that some of these signs can mean this . . . but these are also signs of obvious behaviour that can change for completely normal reasons. Articles like this serve to make people more paranoid, and I say this that some people, like me, would click on the article out of boredom, but most others will click on it either because they already suspect someone of cheating or because they want to know how to spot it if it happens. You're going to start picking up on things that were probably already there and not realise it. For instance, let's say your significant other pays a large amount of attention to detail, but you don't give it a second thought. You read this, ask how their day was, and they tell you in large detail. "YOU'RE HAVING AN AFFAIR?!?!" your mind starts to scream when, in fact, you just didn't notice that they were already like that. I've seen things like this destroy relationships, and the person's reason for cutting off the relationship was, "I read this thing online that says you're cheating if you do this, so you must be!" 

Unfortunately not. I'll tell you how it really works; if you really suspect someone of cheating, ask them. If they say no and you have reason to believe otherwise, well, don't snoop around in front of their face! That has to be the most asinine thing you can do; it just serves as a warning to them that you're checking up on them. Idiot. 

And a lot of things vary from person to person. I'm no relationship expert, but I know body language. But some people are wired differently, and you know what, the best thing to do is just trust that it's not true until you know otherwise. And if it is true, react accordingly. You will never find a set "cheaters rule book" that applies to everyone. Even in the case of coming home smelling like perfume/cologne. Yeah, sure, 90% of the time this means that someone is cheating. But I really don't enjoy fighting for my life with someone and the close contact makes me smell like them, only to have my significant other accuse me of cheating. It's annoying. Please, people. If you can't trust them, don't date them. End of story. 

That is all . . .

There's a song back in the day with lyrics such as "Nobody knows the trouble I've seen." And while millions of people all over the world think this truly applies to them, I realise that there are plenty of people who have it much, much worse than me, but we all have a day where we just want to complain. For me, that day is today. 

If you've been reading my other blogs, and somehow I doubt you have, you'll know that I've been having a somewhat severe problem with my toilet. Every weekend (and the occasional Wednesday) the toilet gets some sort of severe hangover or becomes demon possessed or what have you and will vomit soap bubbles violently out of the bowl. These aren't squeaky clean soap bubbles as you might imagine, they're dirty, filled with crap (literally), and smells like the worst stench of sewage you can possibly imagine. After it doing that approximately 9 - 10 times, the people that own the apartment complex have finally sprung to have the whole toilet refitted, the drain re-routed, and what have you to alleviate my problems. They had left a message on my voicemail telling me they had an appointment open on the 3rd of September but didn't leave the time. I called them back and it just went to voicemail, so I told them that the 3rd would be fine and to call me back with the time. They never did, but I was expecting them as early as 9 AM, since that's generally when most businesses open. Wrong. At 7:30 AM, I was rudely awakened by the buzzing of the door and phone calls that simply would not stop. True to form (and some of you that have awakened me will attest to this), I was VERY cranky and asked them just what they thought they were doing at my house at such an ungodly hour. Being typical Germans (which is one of the things I love about them), they replied they were here to fix my toilet and pushed past me. 

Now, as I'm sure 99.9% of the population has to do, when I woke up, I generally had to go to the bathroom. But now there were Germans digging up my toilet and pipes, so that idea was out. I was deathly tired after working 'til 4 AM and then not managing to get to sleep until 5. All I wanted to do (besides go to the bathroom, but that was out), was go to sleep. I shut my eyes and tried to sink back into a deep sleep, but soon the loud noise of some machine boring out my floor brought me back to the present. 

I had nothing else to do, so I started working on my book. I got quite a bit done; however, there's only so much you can write when you're exhausted. About 12:30, the people who owe me over 800 euros called and said they can't pay the bill until I give them a tax number, which the government hasn't given me. I don't really know what to say to that, except that really, really annoys me. I tried to call the government right after that for the next 3 hours because I need to know exactly what is up with my work permit and when I can get a tax number. Of course, no one will answer the phone who knows about my case; those whom I could get to answer, knew nothing about it and couldn't tell me anything else. Now I sit here wondering what next: the same seems to never change. Where is my work permit and where is my money . . . the same two things play over and over again in my head like a sick joke. 

The clock on the wall that was very difficult to get there was ripped out by the lovely toilet fixers for no apparent reason. I imagine it was slightly in their way, but you would think they would at least have asked me before putting two giant holes in my wall that will probably prevent me from successfully getting the clock back into it. 

So, to make a long story short, towday has been quite annoying. I couldn't get to the bank to get my money back from other people who owe me money due to having to wait on those people to get out of my house. At least I finally got to use the bathroom AFTER 9 HOURS. Now, let's hope the toilet has sworn off the alcohol and demon possession. It would have also been nice if they would have put everything back like they found it. A giant (not to mention heavy) cabinet is not easily moved back by one person. 

*sigh* Such is life. 

I miss all the late, great shows of the 90s. There was The Pretender, The Profiler, Boy Meets World, Full House was good on occasion, and, best of all, Family Matters. Back when TGIF meant more than just elation from being out of school for a whole two days: it also meant that you could sit in front of the telly from about 3:30 - 11 PM and enjoy the longest stretch of good TV you'd ever seen in your life. I have to say, though, that out of all the so-called "Family Shows", my favourite by far was definitely "Family Matters", which, for some reason, has yet to see a DVD re-release, which makes me incredibly sad. It did have a recurring event, though, that was shared by almost every other "family show" out there. At pivotal moments in the show, usually towards the end, the family bonds would be strengthened through meaningful, life-inspired conversations. The conversations itself weren't the bad part, it was the bland string/piano music that floated into the background. I remember hating that even as a child. The music seemed to say, "We want you to reflect on this moment. Look at what a strong, loving family we are. Now, sit back and say, 'Awwwww.'" I didn't see these moments as anything that warranted music wafting into my ears. But it could be just me, as I also didn't enjoy either the sound of a laugh track or the audience laughing along at moments that were supposed to be funny. Even if it was, it was as if the sound was telling me, "This is funny! Laugh." and then glared at me accordingly. But I digress . . . 

I've decided to go back and get my Baccalaureate. All online courses, of course, as I don't really have time to do it otherwise, and I have to say, just looking at all the CRMJ courses makes my mouth water. I can't wait to re-immerse myself in the world of Criminal Justice! Maybe then I'lll actually feel like I have a purpose in life instead of just existing. Oh, yes. 

Outside of that, not much else is going on in my life, unfortunately. I wish I had more to say, but frankly, my life at this point is just not that interesting. I look forward to the day I can actually have something decent to say besides rambling on and on while simultaneously watching television and getting increasingly distracted. C'est la vie . . . 

My blogging today is preceded by a long, customary sigh. Why I feel the need in particular to do this, I don't know, but it feels good, so I do. 

Last night I was determined I was going to get up on time for Church today. The problem is, the church I generally consider myself a member of is a good one, but it's an hour's train ride away and, for someone who isn't a morning person, making the effort is quite difficult. But still, I just need to suck it up and do it. I went ahead and took a shower the night before so I'd get out of the way, but as I tried to blow out the tea lights lighting the living room, the glass covering them was so hot, I couldn't remove it. I considered just going to bed anyway, but I started having this morbid fear of the walls catching fire and burning me to death whilst I slept. So, there I sat . . . waiting . . . waiting . . . and waiting some more. I went back in the bathroom to get something and noticed a large trail of blood on the floor. Confused and knowing it couldn't be mine, I turned all the lights on, only to see the trail go all the way to where I'd been sitting on the couch and creating a very large stain on the rug. I looked all around thinking I must be dying or something, to find two cuts on my foot. One on the underside of my big toe, the other on the top of the toe next to it. Where they came from, I have no idea because I didn't hit it on anything, and I didn't even feel it oozing all the blood that it did. By the time I cleaned all that up, it was nearing 2 A.M., so I just took my chance with the lights and went on to bed, having very weird dreams involving college plays and very large bathrooms. 

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately as I try and get more work. Things that you know are in the works, that are going to happen, but you don't know how. But, as I realised, "how" isn't really important, is it? I mean, if you know it's going to happen . . . just so long as it does, how it takes shape and plays out takes the back burner to everything else. You'll know when you're supposed to know. Yeah, I know that doesn't sound too deep, but it makes me feel better . . . 

I also wish people would stop inviting themselves over to my house to live with me. I'm not counting Erin, because I want her here and I offered her the place so that's entirely different. I'm talking about others who just say, "You know what, my life here is bad, so I'm going to come to Germany and live with you?" I tried to just ignore them and change the subject until I realised they were completely serious and taking the necessary steps to do such a thing. Even after I informed them  that they can't stay here, they continue to talk as if they can. Unfortunately, they know my address. Which means, when and if they manage to find my house, I will refuse to open the door. They'll probably camp outside the front door, but you know what, I'll just always go out the back. 

Hello again, and welcome to another episode of Heather's toilet has exploded with soap bubbles and no one apparently gives a crap. Oh, well, such is life, I suppose. But you know what? I'm tired of blogging about that, so, you know what? I won't. There. 

I was contacted about 8:30 Friday night by a woman from a very prestigious translation agency who shocked me by telling me they would pay me one Euro a LINE if I could do an emergency translation of a 19 page document to be finished by Monday. She sent me the document to take a look at, at which point I realise a very severe problem: it's a law document on corporate taxation and amendments. To top it off, it's all written in Hochdeutsch. For those of you who don't know, Hochdeutsch literally means "high German" and is basically what it says. Fancy words so normal people don't understand. It'd be the same for people who try to do their own taxes and read about taxes with an IQ of about 90. Yes . . . hochdeutsch is very hard. I could understand the general gist of the document, but gists aren't good enough. It had to be right, and it had to sound just as official in English. While the latter part wasn't a problem, it wasn't written in English to begin with, so that, in effect, made it even more difficult. You know what . . . I'm going to give you an example of Hochdeutsch in English so I don't have to keep attempting to explain this. Here you go: 

According to sec. 8 UmwG, a necessary detailed merger report of both companies must contain, among other things, information about the exchange ratio (sec. 122e UmwG). Futhermore, the severance offer (sec. 122i UmwG) for shareholders objecting to the merger decision must be outlined (sec. 122e clause 1 UmwG). In the case of a 100% subsidiary, this can subsequently be waived. The report further clarifies the repercussions of employees and creditors among other shareholders (sec. 122e clause 1 UmwG). It must be submitted at the one month before the assemblance of stockholders at the latest. 

Unlike with interstate mergers (sec. 8 par. 3 UmwG), the merger report cannot be waived (sec. 122e clause 3 UmwG). Whether there is a possible exception to this if the corporation has no employees is controversial (Semler/Stengel, UmwG, 2nd Edition, sec. 122e par. 13). Therefore, we cannot recommend a waiver.

Because I'm lazy, that is my own translation from the actual document because I didn't feel like looking up actual tax laws. So yes, it was difficult. I estimated that I would go VERY slowly as I know German, but words such as "subsidiary" "interstate mergers" etc. did not occur to me as necessary words in my vocabulary and put the translation time at roughly 48 hours (meaning virtually staying up that long as I only had 3 days). I was close. The actual translation time took 45 hours, which, for those of you who are about to do the math, means that I translated at a rate of roughly 2 1/2 hours per page. Yes, that's exactly what I said. Don't laugh . . . it wasn't easy nor could you have done any better, I'm sure. The actual translation time took less than that. Everything was translated into English by about 10 PM Sunday evening, but it was translated into horrible English. I had been up so long and working on it so hard, everything was starting to blur into one and translation was becoming so difficult after sitting and working on it 22 hours, I just started translating words and leaving the sentences in German format, i.e. "For this subidiaries for a waiver can we recommend not." Which means that, by the time I started over and attempted to make everything make sense after 30 some odd hours with no sleep . . . none of it made sense. Now after a good night's sleep, I could re-format the sentence with ease, but then, it might've well have been written in Chinese. But it was good money, and there was potential for me to work with this company again so I had to finish, and I had to do it right. I wanted to break down and start crying. I feared I wouldn't finish, and I was so exhausted I kept translating it so horribly it didn't make any sense, even to people who had had sleep. My mom rounded up all her friends and had them pray for me constantly, and I'm sure that was the only thing that got me through. It got to the point that I went into a trance, and I honestly couldn't tell you what I said or if it even made sense. And when I say I went into a trance, I mean that quite literally. The last page I remember being on was 11 . . . next thing I know, at 3:14 PM, I was done. I saved the document and realised I had 46 minutes to check and make sure everything made sense. Well, the program froze and refused to reopen. I tried everything, but it wouldn't work. Finally, there was no time left, and I had to cross my fingers that it didn't suck and sent it in. I was so sure it was horrible that I turned my phone off, refused to check my email, and hid out of fear that they were going to say, "WHAT IS THIS?!?!" and wish they'd never asked me to do it. I even had nightmares about it when I finally did get to sleep. In the dream, they would call me and tell me it was so horrible they had to have someone re-translate it and therefore were only going to pay me half the amount we had originally agreed on, and I was devastated. I finally mustered up the strength today to actually read what I had written, and to my obvious surprise, it was good! I think God just decided to write it Himself so I wouldn't screw it up. As a read everything, the pages I feared were a pile of mush were coherent and compiled just as they were supposed to be, with the jargon adding up to one complete process. I've slept 15 hours today in an effort to catch up from sleep I missed, and I'm still exhausted. Doing anything seems to require more energy than I have, and today has been promptly wasted, but I don't care. God came through for me, and that's all that matters. 

I picked up the concert tickets yesterday for Oomph, and immediately went giddy with excitement upon receiving them. The woman clearly thought something was wrong with my mental condition, but you know what, after translating that document for 45 hours, something probably was. I went into the Alexanderplatz station and tried to get everything I needed there so I wouldn't have to change trains so often to go home. I went in a drug store and asked the woman if they sold needles and syringes (as some idiot has had the bright idea that they should only be sold separately in Germany making me constantly fearful that I'm going to die from an air bubble somehow). She said yes, but only in packs of 100. I started to tell her to forget it, because every time I went to the drug stores on Schönhauser Allee, they would charge me 5 euro for 10 syringes and another 5 for the same amount of needles. I didn't really feel like spending 100 euros for that, but I asked anyway how much they cost, and she said "10.50 all together." I suddenly felt violently cheated by the drug stores on Schönhauser Allee. Needless to say, I bought everything from this lady with glee and now have enough needles/syringes to last me for quite some time. Good things to my face. . . 

Speaking of good things: I went to Kaufhof to celebrate. And by celebrate, I mean buy things I really don't need . . . like 7 euros worth of chocolate almonds. As I tried to figure out what I wanted for dinner, I passed the greatest thing I'd seen in quite some time: an American food section. Now, there's not much I miss about American food, but every now and then, I wants me some edible, processed crap with virtually no nutritional value whatsoever. As I scanned the contents, I saw the greatest thing in the world. I had been looking for cookie mix for weeks without success, and when I spotted Betty Crocker cookie mix, I squealed with glee. Sure, it was 6 euros, and I know you can get it in the States for probably 2, but I don't care because you can't find that here. I held the box close to my chest as if I was afraid someone was going to mug me of my treasure and kept looking at the wonderfulness of the American food. I also picked up a box of Easy Mac and then spotted Newman's Salad dressing. I determined to myself that, "Should I find Ranch dressing, I am going to scream. Have a heart attack. Die." 

For those of you who are in the US, finding Ranch dressing isn't that big of a deal. For me, it most certainly is. I haven't had it in 2 years, and the closest thing one can come to in Germany is some random yoghurty dressing that tastes like barf on a stick. I spotted some and squealed in excitement . . . obviously didn't have a heart attack and die, though. The woman I pushed over to get the bottle thought I was crazy, but that's no different than usual, so I don't care. All in all, I ended up spending about 40 euro on about 5 things . . . fun, imported things to my face. 

And you know what . . . I think I shall celebrate by going back to bed. Oh, yes. 

Let me first say that I think it would be awesome if I got paid for blogging. Oh wait, I do in the sports realm. I just haven't done it in a while. I also wish this headache and nausea I've had for over a week would go away. And please, don't ask me if I'm pregnant, or I will have to hurt you. 

There a couple of disturbing things I've noticed as of late. The main one being that, I'm sure every woman dreams of her future children at some point, whether she wants them or not (the latter being my case). So I was talking to a friend of mine the other day and she made the statement: "Have you ever noticed your son looks a whole lot like Richard?" 

Now for those of you who don't know, Richard is like my dad, but not biologically. He is, however, incredibly hot and incredibly dad-like to me, and I love the father-daughter relationship we have. So, of course I make the statement that maybe he just like his grandfather, only to come to the realisation that we're not biologically related. Erin then makes the statement, "Hey! Maybe you'll marry Richard instead!!" . . . That sound you hear is me screaming "NO!"

I've also been listening to the new Oomph song "Beim Ersten Mal Tut's Immer Weh" (It Always Hurts the First Time) on repeat because it's such an amazing song. In the beginning, though, there's a creepy guy asking this girl on Skype how old she is, and she says she's 15. His response? "Das gefällt mir" So whenever I see the beginning (which isn't often because I don't really watch the video) and it gets to that part, I just hear my old boss with a lisp that Dan and I used to make fun of saying, "DATH GEFÄLLT MIR!" Which, of course, is then followed by "DATH GEFÄLLT MIR THO GUT!!" Oh, yeah . . . 

I've been thinking a lot lately about the future and how good it's going to be. When I read back in my old blogs, and I just kept saying, "I know I'm supposed to be in Berlin, I just don't know how or when." There were so many days when it felt so far away, like I would just never get there. And then, when it finally happened, I think I spent the first year in shock. It wasn't until the second year that everything really started to pick up. I've spent so much time lately saying, "I always knew I was supposed to be in Berlin, but I still don't know why nearly 10 years later." That was when several friends took me aside and were like, "Heather, you know why. Stop pretending that isn't an issue." So I guess I really do know, I was just afraid that being here on a purpose for people instead of career was an avenue I didn't really want to follow. Now I see that it's one I must, which is a pretty terrifying thought. There are still many things I don't know, but I do know one thing: God has made it painfully clear on multiple occasions that this is where I'm supposed to be. But everyday I wonder why he keeps giving me chances because I keep messing it up. Then, I hear the gentle voice saying, "Until you get it right. Just do it again." I'm hoping I get it right one day soon because it's driving me crazy. 

There are things shaping up for change, but change in a very wonderful way, and I find myself more often than not caught up in the thought of them and smiling. Of course, when they start happening, you'll be the first to hear of them, but for now they remain silent. The first one should be happening in a couple of months, and I, for one, cannot wait. 

I've also discovered I have a lot more of my biological father's thought processes that I originally thought and that is very disturbing. They're not things I act on, but it doesn't change the fact that they're there. It's weird because my father and mother are such opposites, and I do have some of her ideals and whatnot, too, so I've always got this clash going on for dominance, plus another personality that's a mixture of the two, which is a lot of the problem in why I keep messing things up. Now I'm making myself sound psycho . . . and I'm sure Freud would tell me this all stems from the fact I wish I had a penis. I'm sure I would if I were a guy, but barring that little detail . . . 

On a less serious note, could someone explain to me why Germany has not had the brilliant idea of plexiglass poster frames? Any glass frame above 50x70 is going to have a high tendency to break . . . as I have found out. This makes thirty euro I've spent on two frames because I think just putting posters up looks tacky and like a college dorm. I bought this beautiful poster of Castle Neuschwanstein in the winter at sunset (or sunrise, whichever) and wanted to put it in a frame and hang it over the bed as it goes perfectly with the "sunset lounge" theme. Well, I got everything put together and was very careful with it as the last one broke and . . . this one snapped in half. Cheap glass!!!! Cheap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Anyway, I spent so long ranting and raving about it, my mother ordered me to get another one and she would pay shipping because that alone was 11 euro. It's going to take 6-10 work days before they even SEND it, which means I probably won't get it until the end of August. *sigh* I'm starting to wonder if the sunset lounge will EVER be finished. 

I really need another hobby besides working on my house as I'm starting to have nightmares about it. I dreamed the other day that my house burnt down, and I had to start all over. Several people offered to help me, and I was so grateful until I realised that they were redoing everything in hot pink! And they were decorating all the walls in this white wallpaper with hot pink hearts all over the place. I was not impressed. 

I suppose I'm out of things to say, but I will add that I rather enjoy spewing out my thoughts for all to read, even though they're generally not coherent in any way. If anyone still reads this, I feel for you.