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. 

I still haven't figured out how to make titles for my blog . . .  I suppose this means I'm finally getting older in this world. I remember the days of old, when I used to laugh at my teachers who couldn't read my letters to friends because they were written in shiny, bright orange gel pen. We called them old biddies and laughed at their inability to read something so amazingly clear to us.

I think the orange glaze burned out my eyes. When I was back in the States on vacation, I found said letters and tried to read them. Within 2 seconds it was painfully clear that it was going to be quite a difficult task to undertake, and I threw the letters to the side with a hearty "screw this!" Yes, I have arrived. I don't know what the letters said, but I feel certain they weren't very important, judging from the ones I did find not written in colours of the sun. 

I also used to be able to put anything together without instructions. The other day I put together a tiny waterfall that involved only 3 pieces. The base, the top, and the cord. Easy, no? I then spent two days wondering what idiot designed it that the cord was coming out of the front. "Don't they know no one wants to see the cord in front?" I pondered to no one in particular. "Even a child could see it belongs in the back!" I continued to think about this while talking with my friend Erin two days later and came to a very shocking realisation: I had put the whole thing together backwards. My only question: HOW?! It only had THREE PIECES, and somehow I put it together BACKWARDS. Yes, it was disturbing. 

I spent most of this morning doing entirely unproductive things like reading my old blog entries. Some of them were amusing; most, however, were not and made me really glad I don't act so stupid anymore. At least, not that I'm aware of. Now that I think about it, I thought the same thing about myself back then as I do now . . . hmm . . . this warrants looking in to. 

Book 1 is closer to becoming finalised, but I'm unfortunately experiencing a rather severe case of writer's block. Well, it's not writer's block per se, I can still write things, they just suck hard. So, for the moment, it's sitting to the side until I have another continuing dream or come up with better ideas. I just want it to be something to rock people's faces off and not run dry towards the end. I know I, for one, feel cheated when books do that. Only time will tell . . . 

My toilet had a hangover again on Saturday. I had enjoyed three weeks of silence and was enjoying a very tasty cup of pudding on the couch in the bedroom when I heard it:

Blerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

My first thought was, "No, it couldn't be . . . " and then, "SOMEONE IS GOING TO DIE!" as I ran into the bathroom and discovered that soap bubbles with flecks of gunk were invading my bathroom floor. At least before I had been blessed with the smell of cleanliness, even if it did come from the toilet. This time it smelled like raw sewage and immediately made me want to throw up. This problem is obviously coming from someone's pipes upstairs, as I hear a noise like water coming down the pipes, and then bam . . . party bubbles for the bathroom. Besides the obvious "why me?", my first thought was, "Why can't it do this from 9 - 5 on a Monday - Friday?" After those hours and on weekends, the hotline for calling and yelling at the people who fix everything is only for emergencies. The toilet has vomited soap bubbles everywhere six times to date. Five of those times at random hours of the night or weekend, so when I call, all I get is: "Does the toilet still work?" "Yes" "Then call us on Monday." Of course by Monday its violent hangover has stopped and all is well again in Loo-Loo Land. As my father would say: "If it ain't one thang, it's anuther."

My slats for the bed finally came. I'm not sure if I posted about this before, but I finally got the new, wonderful bed put together (all by myself, I might add. No thanks to certain others.) The giant mattress that I've had for about a month now as it waited on the bed went on, and I leapt onto it in ecstasy . . . and fell straight through. Apparently Kaltschaum mattresses and no slats don't go well together. I had to order the slats and that took 10 days 'til forever, but finally, FINALLY all is on and well in the land of Heather. Every time I lay on my bed that will now fit three people comfortably, I roll around on it and giggle like a little school girl on crack. 

The painting of the room wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, it only took 3 coats (2 of white, 1 one of peach.) and to top it all off, I didn't screw it up! Take that everyone who told me I needed a professional painter! Besides, as bad as it looked before, I'm sure they would have charged me an arm, leg, and part of a first-born. I also installed all the carpet myself, which, if I had known then how big of a job it was going to be, I really wouldn't have done it myself. When it was delivered, the guy brings in this carpet FOUR METRES WIDE and asks where he should put it. There wasn't space for anything four metres wide, so I told him just to put it straight through into the bedroom. He did, and it hung out into the hallway. "No problem,"I thought. "I'll just unroll it, set it down, and cut it. Simple." Not! Three and a half hours later, I was sitting in the middle of a pile of carpet going, "Lord, I can't do this." But, thankfully, God helped me out with it and it took an entire day, but I got that sucka down and didn't do a bad job of it. 

Now I'm in the process of getting picture frames and finalizing what i have affectionately named "The Sunset Lounge." It's very elegant, I must say. Every room in the house now has a theme, with the living room being "Gothic Romance." Though its transformation is nowhere near complete. At least most of the disgusting brown is gone from the house, and that pleases me.