Girl: „Why can’t you just be nice?“

Blade: „Because the world is not nice“

Pierrot the clown

this is one of the most sad songs ever. (By the way, how come that the sad songs are so much more beautiful than the happy ones?) 

pierrot the clown

 

 

Leave me dreaming on the bed…See you right back here tomorrow… for the next round…Keep this scene inside your head….As the bruises turn to yellow…The swelling goes down…And if you’re ever around….In the city or the suburbs of this town…Be sure to come around…I’ll be wallowing in sorrow….Wearing a frown…Like Pierrot the Clown…Saw you crashing round the bay…Never seen you act so shallow…Or look so brown

Remember all the things you’d say

How your promises rang hollow

As you threw me to the ground

And if you’re ever around ( repeat)…

When I dream

I dream of your lips

When I dream I dream of your kiss

When I dream I dream of your fists

Your fists…

Your fists

Leave me bleeding on the bed

See you right back here tomorrow

for the next round

Keep this scene inside your head

As the bruises turn to yellow

The swelling goes down

And if you’re ever around….In the city or the suburbs of this town…Be sure to come around…I’ll be wallowing in sorrow…And wearing a frown…Like Pierrot the Clown…Like Pierrot the Clown…Like Pierrot the Clown….Like Pierrot the Clown

Like Pierrot the Clown 

 

Wer nicht aufhören kann, muss weitermachen. 

the funny kids and their attacks

Sparring with the kids is really funny, like a comic strip.

I tell them-tell them – tell them: „Keep your hands up, in front of your face“ and they do it with a most sincere nod for the next 30 seconds. Then they forget about it. … I asked one of them why, do they not remember to keep their hands in front of their face? „Well, of course I remember! But there’s no need to protect my face, you don’t hit me anyway.“ This notion of not defending yourself as you trust the stronger one’s good-heartedness, vvvvvery intelligent. (I know this too well from myself)“And you think if you ever get into a fight, you’ll  know how to block if you don’t practise here and now?“ „Well… You’ll be there to protect me for certain“ (With a most charming boyish grin) 

… and the youngest kids, d’oh, they try attacks by which they outknock  themselves as they can’t keep the balance. So usually when they attack instead of defending myself I end up protecting them from themselves because even with me standing there motionless and uncovered they would hurt themselves. They are funny, like little animals. They don’t think about the consequences, they jump and kick and then they fall (or rather don’t fall as I catch them).  

…..I took this from McC. It’s a funny quiz about what time of the day (like morning-or night-person) you are. This is my result.

… by the way 06:49 is really when I usually get up. I’m surprised.

my red right hand

The story of my hands getting bloody red after boxing without gloves is true but it was not as bad as it may have sounded in the German entry, so no need to worry about me and my hands. It was just a tiny little „accident“ (too strong a word) that happened when we first trained kicks with the hands (where I wore gloves), than kicks with the feets (where I didn’t) and then two people attacking the evil sand-sack together, which is a „training method“ developed by me and N. , a funny (though not very professional) way to train.  And as I had undressed the boxing-gloves for the foot-kicks, and the attacking of the evil sandsack took all my concentration, I did not realize that I had forgotten about the gloves, and when I realized, I thought they were useless anyway. 

Well, afterwards I realized they were not.

Yet I think my posting with „red“ was a little misleading…. My hands were not running with blood (I am not so tough not to realize that), the knuckles just got bruised and for some strange reason the bruises are red instead of greenish-blue. 

boxing-gloves

Wie sinnvoll Boxhandschuhe sind, weißt du erst dann, wenn du es mal ohne probierst. Es tut nicht weh, deshalb kommst du erst zu spät drauf.

Ich dachte zuerst, der dumme rote Sandsack hätte abgefärbt *räusper* 

 

C.

Sie hat einen Satz gesagt. Einen Satz! A fragte sie :“C, magst  du mit mir raufgehen“Und C sagte:  “Nein, ich mag bei Mami bleiben“ 

machma dich 14, Baby

121 Seiten. …  jetzt simma fertich mid schreibarei.Was noch wartet: Korrekturen, Formatieren, Leseliste und Überarbeiten (teils widersprechen sich noch Kap. III und IV) . Abba so genarel: fertich. Ich rede meiner Diplomarbeit in krasses Deutsch. Wegen mangelnder Sozialkontakte, Übermüdung und genereller Genervtheit. Und ich rede WIRKLICH mit ihr. Unser Lieblingsthema ist die Formatierung: „machma dich 14, Baby“ und „voll krasse 10 für Fußnote“. 

Bologna hates me

I’m not really used to not making my own deadlines but this time I simply didn’t. New questions arise and the thesis just is not finished.  I worked every free minute I had but they just were not so many and I am simply to tired to go on working after midnight as I get up at 6 and work exhausting, bodily stuff  daily. … story just is: If I don’t finish thesis, no money. In fact, Mr. Hahn re-claiming money. And if I don’t finish thesis until easter, no ph.d for me as then the possibility to make a ph.d. for average-poor-sucker-students like me stops because of the ingenious bologna-plan.