California Blue Fox

I got myself a Google Wave invite. :D Unfortunately I don't know anyone else who is at all excited about it. I have high hopes for the technology, although it has a way to go, but I can't even begin to critique it at this early stage, because I'm not having any luck getting conversations started. I think that's more my problem than Google's, though. :P

http://www.mcnaughtonart.com/artwork/view_zoom/?artpiece_id=353#


You can hover over various parts of the image to see the symbolism. I particularly like the immigrant.

Alright, everything went okay at the bank, except that apparently today is not one of those days where I should try to communicate with people or even step outside. I ended up owing about 185 Euros and some cents, so I handed the teller a 100, a 50, and a 20. After that it took two minutes of stunted conversation and confusion before I realized that he wasn't asking me for exact change. I was so busy trying to speak in German that I forgot about maths.

After that I wandered around the city for a while, and did some shopping. I finally remembered to get some snacks for the flight, and although I couldn't find any string cheese, I did pick up some peanut butter Cheetos. I just discovered those yesterday... so bizarre... and so addicting...
Predictably enough, I didn't really feel anything while walking around the city. I could have almost forgotten that I would be here less than 24 hours more. An absence of emotion. But when I got back to the dorm, and holed myself up in my room for a little while, that absence of emotion started to turn into a really pleasant feeling. I'm getting this warm, thoroughly contented feeling simply from the thought that tomorrow I'll be living anywhere but here. It's a really good way to round off the trip. Not worth what brought it on, but welcome now that it's here.

I believe I've already gone on at sufficient length about this dormitory I'm staying in, and how glad I am to leave, so I won't rehash that. But if I restate the obvious, it's because some things can't be said enough. In this case, the wisdom is this: A bad situation is always going to try to take a bite out of you as you're walking out the door. Fortunately there hasn't been any huge problem, but I definitely haven't changed my mind about this place. There were two things, and they both happened yesterday, as I was packing and cleaning.
The first was pretty shocking. I got a telephone call from my bank, saying that the account I had closed two days before now had a negative balance. It turns out the last half-month's rent had been withdrawn automatically (they don't let you pay in cash) yesterday, two days before I leave the country and two days after I had closed my bank account. It gave me quite a scare, but it looks like everything is going to work out--the rent was paid, and the bank people were very helpful and kind about it--I'll be heading down there today to give them back some of the money I withdrew on Friday. If it doesn't go so well, then... you'll hear about it soon enough. But it definitely could have been worse. Let me count the ways.
The most probable situation, I thought, would have been the same thing that happened when the rent was paid the first time after I got here, before I got my stipend. It was not paid, that is, and I received a letter from the bank and from the dorm saying that no money had changed hands and I had better have enough in the bank next month for two month's rent. Which was okay at the time, but if it had happened now I don't know what I would have done. I might have been able to pay in cash, but otherwise I would be up a creek with no bank account, and leaving the country in two days. And if they simply sent me a letter instead of calling, I might have never received the letter.
Another possibility is that I could have wired the money to my Bank of America account when I closed the account, instead of withdrawing it in cash. In that case there would have definitely been no way of getting the money back in two days, so I think my only recourse would be to transfer some back, and communicate by email with everyone involved, trying to get the money where it belonged. Not fun--and I don't even know if the bank tellers have my email address.
In either of these cases, I should note, my phone could very well not have worked at all. I have less than one Euro of credit on my phone, and a few stray text messages could have emptied that completely, and I might not have heard from the bank at all. As I said I don't know if they have my email address, and I don't think this dorm is going to be forwarding my mail, so as soon as I left I would be completely off the radar. Not scot free, I should add--they do have my passport number. I wonder what would have happened then...
Anyway, it should work out fine. I'd better be getting over to the bank pretty soon. But there was a second thing. I actually wasn't going to mention it, at first, because it could have been just me interpreting ambiguous stimuli in weird ways. But... it wasn't. :(
As I was doing my laundry yesterday, I had to keep walking up and down the four flights of stairs to the laundry room. I must have gone up and down six times (the dryer took way too long to finish, and didn't have any indications about the time, so I had to keep guessing). And each time, there was a janitor somewhere on the stairwell (the same janitor), and he would say hello every time, and stare at me without smiling, with his mouth open just a little bit. I took this as creepy, and questioned his mental faculties (not out loud), but as I said, I wasn't going to mention it, because this sentence on its own just makes me sound intolerant. But... then on the way up the stairs today, he said something more than hello. I'm not sure what he said, entirely, but one thing was unmistakable. "I won't bite." And then he finally smiled.

I think if I didn't have to get to the bank today, I would just stay in my room. But as it is I'm going to wait a little longer, and hopefully he won't be there cleaning the stairs when I go down. :(

I'm not going to get all sweetly sentimental about it... frankly I'm glad to leave. Three months was enough time to get a lot of work done, and do a fair amount of traveling, but not nearly enough to feel as if I really live here. I get the feeling (contrary to what I felt last time) that I could live here, if only I had time enough to actually integrate myself, know the place, and maybe meet some people. But if I'm going to be here for a short time, three months is better than five. And yet somehow I feel as if I've learned more in this three months than I did in last year's five.

This has been a wholly unexpected and educational trip. Half of what I did was completely unexpected, and the half that I expected didn't turn out like I thought. But... it's not all bad. I'm lucky enough to be able to learn from the unexpected things, while still being able to enjoy them. And there were very few unqualified failures. Even my living situation here isn't absolutely terrible. At least the kitchen ended up cleaned while I was gone. And as an extra bonus, every place I visit, whether I stay in a hotel, a hostel, or on someone's couch, is nicer than where I live. That's... actually, that's more depressing than anything.
I guess I could be less vague about things. Here's a short summary.

• The work I did here was largely based on hardware, instead of anything resembling artificial intelligence. I ended up designing the majority of the robot's physical layout, and even found myself in the workshop for a few days sawing, filing, and drilling some aluminum brackets.  Definitely not what I had expected, but so far outside my range of expertise as to be a very educational experience.
• My visit to Amsterdam was wonderful and crazy, but even just a few weeks before I left I had no idea that it was going to happen.
• I ended up visiting Bremen, as I had wanted to, but I was only there for half a day, and I didn't see a single person I met last year. It was bittersweet.
• I still feel very conflicted about my visit to Vienna. Things didn't go how I thought they would, and it was... complicated... but I don't regret it. I still had some good times, but I think the last day sort of colored the whole experience. And when I returned, it was with less than two weeks remaining in Germany... so it may have colored my entire summer.

Sometimes it feels like my life is just a series of things that happen to me. I think if I learned anything from this summer, it's... something about making plans. I know it's impossible to be prepared for anything, but being completely unprepared is no picnic either. I'd like things to go the way I want them to a little more often than random chance.
At least I think that's it. I'm still trying to invent the moral to fit this story. I'll keep you posted.

And there I go, right after I said I wouldn't get sentimental. Damn.

The state of the kitchen has blown right past "dirty" and I feel it now qualifies for the term "rancid". The entirety of the counter space has been covered in dishes for a few days (thankfully one side of the sink is yet holding ground), it has been molding for about a day or two, and it has now begun to stink. I would be disappointed, if I was ever appointed to begin with, but frankly I'm not all that upset. There's a simple reason, though--I'm leaving tomorrow night, and I won't be back until Tuesday. The fact that a stench has appeared means that (and I really shouldn't be so confident here...) by the time I get back it will have long since become unbearable, and one way or another it would be cleaned.
Regardless, I'll be leaving Germany in less than two weeks. I've been quite satisfied with this summer, with the exception of the lodging, and yet I'll also be happy to be home. It's a nice equilibrium, and I hope it lasts. Fortunately I'll be moving from the So-Cal area back up to Humboldt about a week or two after returning, so that should provide an additional boost... I might be at peace like this for the next month! Good times...

Wow, I've been lazy about blogging lately. I've still been doing things, though, and I have more things yet to do in the short time left before I leave. I'd better clear out some backlog before it piles up over my head.
It's almost 1 am, though, so I'll keep it short. Here are some photos I promised you regarding the previous few posts. A lot of the photos could use some explanation, but that'll have to wait until I find a better way to share photos.
EDIT: I'm trying out Flickr. I detest Yahoo, for no good reason, but so far Flickr looks like a good option. Links will be changed as I can upload and tag the photos.

Christopher Street Day
Amsterdam
Heidelberg

So much has happened in the past week that I feel hardly even capable of documenting it. It's pretty cluttered in my mind, but hopefully the process of describing it can unclutter it. To that end, I'm cutting it up into a few different posts, with this one to centralize it.

Christopher Street Day in Cologne
Seeing Crosby, Stills and Nash in Amsterdam
RISE Meeting in Heidelberg

To finish off the week, I had a three-day trip to Heidelberg that was actually planned from the start (the other two trips just happened to be on the same week, and it's a good thing they didn't overlap). This was the great big meeting of all the RISE students in Germany, and after being the only American in town for two months, being surrounded by 300 of them (students, no less) was a little overwhelming. It also didn't help that most of them seemed to be younger than me, something I was not really prepared for. It wasn't a big difference, really, just a year or two... but it happened to matter quite a bit, when I realized that most of them were probably less than 21, and in Germany for the first time. You might think that I wouldn't make much of that, since last year I was in Germany for the first time, and just barely 21... but I think it's already been established that it's a mistake to consider me representative of my age group (or, I would say, of humanity in general... but that's a different matter). So I was actually surprised at the way they acted. I'm sure you can guess what I'm talking about, but I'll lay it out for you--they really enjoyed alcohol. Not merely as a drink, or even as an activity--as a state of being. It was all they were interested in doing, and all they had to talk about. They talked about how drunk they were last night, how hungover they are this morning, how drunk they're going to get tonight, where they can get drunk for the least amount of money, where everyone else is drunk, and how hungover they're going to be the next morning. On Thursday, just as a short example, we had a reception and talks from representatives of various universities, which lasted until about 8:30 pm. The next day we were to visit various companies in neighboring towns, for which we had to wake up around 6 am. On the bus back to the hostel, I was thinking about whether it would be possible to get a full night's rest, and maybe also get some dinner and/or wake up in time for breakfast. Everyone else in the bus was talking about where the bars were, and where all the rest of the students would be going to drink. Needless to say I was quite surprised when all but a single member of our group (only about 30 students, but the earliest group to leave) showed up on time the next morning (and the group leader promptly went off to wake up the last guy and bring him along).
But I'm getting distracted. Despite all of the other students, I did my best to pay attention and get the most I could out of the experience. Day one was interesting, and I got a lot of useful information about scholarship programs. The end of day one was also very relaxing. I wasn't terribly hungry, but dinner had been small, and I knew that waking up at 6 am the next day might make breakfast an impossibility. So, in the interests of getting to sleep easier and getting some calories in me before bed, I ordered a beer and sat in the bistro for a while with my laptop, drinking and chatting with friends online. Very pleasant.
I didn't know what to expect at first, so I can't say I was disappointed, but I did end up awfully bored on days two and three. Day two was taken up entirely by the company visits. As a "software engineer", a rare sight in this program, I was lumped in with the engineers and we went to visit Bosch and the Porsche museum. The engineers seemed to be enjoying themselves, but I was extremely bored. It seemed like this was going to be a stereotype-filled three days, because the way the other students talked about cars was just so masculine I could hardly breathe. "Yeah, how 'bout those... cars?"
The third day ended with a whimper... there wasn't much planned, just a city tour and a group photo. The "city tour" ended up being a tour of the castle overlooking Heidelberg, which basically meant it was two hours of standing still and listening to a history lesson punctuated by a few seconds of walking every 15 minutes. It managed, somehow, to be even more boring than the second day. After that, the group photo took a surprisingly short time. Perhaps this was a direct result of the number of people--normally photos with several people take a long time to organize and get "just right", but maybe with 300 students the expectations are lowered significantly, so it's enough that everyone is in the frame. So after two hours of touring, two minutes of herding, and a short burst of applause, it was suddenly over, and 300 students dispersed into the city like rock candy into rye whiskey (but with less class).
I wandered around for a while with the other students, but my heart wasn't in it. I decided to head off on my own and visit the zoo, which was right next to the youth hostel. It was pretty nice, and I'll probably post some pictures soon... but it wasn't long before I felt entirely ready to leave. After a week of vacation, I was ready to get home and rest. The journey back to Koblenz was a somber one, and it was very nice to be alone again.

Just a few weeks ago, I got an email from someone who reads my blog anonymously. (And to keep it that way, let's just call him "Hal".) It was surprising enough to me that someone actually reads this, but not as unbelievable as what was in the email. He said that he had notice I was in Germany, and that I enjoyed the music of Crosby, Stills, and Nash. He just happened to be traveling through Europe with them, he said, being an old friend of theirs, and would I like to come see a concert in Amsterdam?
That about says it all, and you can imagine what my reaction must have been like. But to make a long story short, and to heap one more surprise onto the already-mountainous pile, he turned out to be legitimate.
So after a bit of trepidation, I went to Amsterdam, and had a blast. When I first arrived it was hustling and bustling like Cancun, and had about the same amount of sleazy tourist material for sleazy tourists. The only difference was that in Amsterdam, every other street was a canal, and you couldn't look up without seeing some great old stone building (all of which lent a certain classy air to the city). I deliberately held off on the judgements, which turned out to be a good thing, as I turned out to have wandered straight into the red light district on my way to the hotel.
We met at the hotel and went out for some lunch. On the way to the cafe, we passed by the hotel where CSN were staying, and they happened to still be there having breakfast, instead of packed up already. So we stopped in and said 'hi'. Now... I've never actually met anyone I've heard of, if you understand what I mean, so I really wasn't sure what I should do or say. But as it turned out, I did have something to say, and that was the biggest surprise of all. I was introduced as an exchange intern in Germany who was "working with robots". Evidently David Crosby is an avid futurist, because we got into a long discussion on the future of humanity, Ray Kurzweil, science fiction, and good novels. It was quite fun, and he recommended a few good books which I will have to look up once I'm back in California (as there isn't a whole lot of science fiction in Germany, for some reason).
After that Hal and I got some lunch, and walked and talked for several hours, as well as taking a canal tour of the city. We stopped and laughed at many of the sights (a shop selling psychedelic mushrooms, with descriptions in the store window that read like ad copy from the Martha Stewart catalogue; an "American-style" hamburger featuring gouda, chives, and a fried egg; a panhandler in the park playing Stairway to Heaven... rather well, actually), and had a grand old time just being American tourists. I even found a shop selling root beer, which I bought in order to force the deliciousness of root beer floats onto the stubborn German palates of my friends.
What's more, after just a few hours I realized what it was that Hal saw in me, and why he felt it would be a good idea to approach me out of the blue with such an outlandish offer. I'm going to sound sentimental here, and it's always possible that this feeling was just a side effect of the whole "out-of-body experience" of the whole trip... but this is how it seems to me even now, looking back on it. When we talked, we were able to just talk. We often agreed, but it wasn't just that--it was the feeling of being on the same wavelength, to the extent that we would occasionally complete each other's sentences. It was almost like talking with my brother, and I didn't realize until then what a rare thing that was to find. It was like meeting a dear old friend for the first time. And if that sentence doesn't make a lot of sense to you, then you'll have some inkling of what it was like for me to try to understand it.
The concert, by the way, was quite fun. I really enjoyed myself, although the Dutch were quite reserved that evening, which evidently didn't please the band. Afterwards Crosby invited me to come see a "good" show when I was back in California, presumably with all the other rambunctious Americans. I only mention this because of the feeling I got from it--not just me, but many of the people meeting the band. It felt like we were meeting royalty. I mean, it wasn't a stuffy affair, and they weren't acting particularly pompous... but we, the fans, were acting like... well, subjects. It was a very odd experience, and I wonder if anyone else noticed it, or if they simply felt at home in the roles they occupied. Not to say that I felt out of place, either. I do enjoy a nice pat on the head every now and then. :P

And that's the story. I had to tell it, even if I don't quite know what to make of it myself. But it was definitely an experience. It's very rare when you can see one coming, even before it hits--and I suspect it'll be a long time yet before it fades.

And here are some pictures.

Before I left for Germany, I did the same thing I did last year: looked for furries. I didn't end up finding many, or meeting any at all, for two reasons. For the first, I'd already "been there" and "done that", and I didn't have the same enthusiasm for it. For the second, there simply aren't that many furries in Koblenz. The only ones I found were merely in the general area, which stretches halfway to Cologne and Frankfurt.
As well as looking for new furries, I also looked for the furries I met last year, with about the same success. That had a little bit more success, although I still haven't visited any of them so far. One of them suggested that I stop by the Christopher Street Day celebrations in Cologne, which is one of the largest gay pride parades in Europe, and goes on around the beginning of July. I had every reason to go: it was only an hour away by train, I had a five-day German rail pass, and I had never been to a pride parade before. So I went.
Unfortunately I don't have a whole lot to report, other than that it was exactly what I expected. There was a whole lot of flamboyance going on, including but not limited to oily sailors, bearded queens, and every now and then a female. It was very sunny that day, and I my entire forehead was pink or peeling for the rest of the week. I don't regret that (as far as sunburns go, I've had much worse), but I do somewhat regret that in my desperation, I (along with the rest of the crowd) would beg passing strangers on floats to squirt us in the face with their Super Soakers.
...
I think I'll end on that note. Here's some pictures, by the way.

I'm not sure where to begin. I talked a week ago about the flexibility of memory, and the way it can synchronize with external and internal sources. What I neglected to mention, because it didn't even occur to me, was the fact that it can be contradictory as well as complementary. I have about three gigabytes of photos from the last two days, and I finally sat down (for what seems like the first time today) and took a look at my snapshots from such a short time ago. What was instantly apparent to me was that this morning, less than 10 hours ago, I was in a completely different place. Naturally I'm not talking about my physical location, but my mental state. This visit to Amsterdam has been such a complete trip that I'm not exaggerating in the slightest by saying that smoking weed in a Dutch "coffee shop" at midnight was probably the most sane and sober episode of the entire journey. I'm not quite ready to process it all right now, so hopefully this will later be followed by a structured, relatively thorough, and maybe even comprehensible rundown of the experience. But for now I need time, and at the very least I need sleep. Right now it's only coming as fragments, which could just as well have been isolated experiences, separated by years and each one kept as a treasured memory. On the train here, my first half-hour in Amsterdam, discussing futurism with David Crosby, experiencing a concert from both before and behind the stage, walking alone in the rain in Amsterdam, visiting the Anne Frank house, wandering through the stores, streets, and parks of the city, visiting the Van Gogh museum, and finally sitting down to rest on the train back. And being guided through most of it by a complete stranger who wound up as a friend--and more than that, someone with whom I could just talk. It was thoroughly wonderful, and I can't recall another time when I left an experience without a single regret... but right now it's still just flashes. Even the photographs are more continuous.

After all this time studying psychology, you wouldn't think I could still be surprised by how human memory works. (Actually, I retain the right to be surprised and amused by anything, including but not limited to human behavior, English etymology, shapes, and tiny bugs. Is this what it means to still be "young at heart"?) But today, after recovering a bit of information that I foolishly didn't write down and predictably forgot entirely, I am once again fascinated by human psychology, the new "external memory" paradigm you may have already heard about, and the interconnectedness of things.
This isn't just a straightforward account of my own shoddy memory surprising me, as it did last time I was in Germany. No, this is something much more interesting. This morning I was listening to a Pretenders album on my iPod--"The Singles", actually which isn't technically an album I guess. Anyhow, a particular line from one of the songs struck me as meaningful, and I decided to stick it up in my blog for posterity. You will find it listed above, if you care to look--and I should comment, before you say anything, that I am aware that it's not an original line... but I'm only very recenly aware of this, and I was quite surprised when I found out that Oscar Wilde came up with it first. (In fact I had a similar experience reading Longfellow, after having listened to Queen for my entire life--which of course includes the song "Rain Must Fall". This is a great way to either identify truly good rock music, or to pretend you read the classics.)
Anyway, I decided to remember this line long enough to write it down somewhere, ideally on the internet. But of course I did not. In fact I only remembered this intention late this evening, by which time the line itself was long gone. What I did remember was a brief visual snapshot of a moment shortly after. I remember walking up to the university building, from the bus stop, and making note of the song that was playing, which is one of my particular favorites: Back on the Chain Gang. I know this song very well, and I was able to recall the lyrics directly, but I didn't recognize anything in particular. That was only a few moments after getting off the bus, and I remembered that I had the intention to remember the particular line sometime between sitting on the bus, where I had access to a pen and paper, and sitting at my desk, where I had access to the internet direct. So just a few minutes ago, before it left my mind, I opened up my laptop and found where the album was sitting on my hard drive. A quick Google search led me to the lyrics for the song before it, and I easily recognized the line I was searching for.
So now I've spent 30 minutes blogging when I should be showering and getting to bed. I'll wrap this up quickly--just one moral this time. It seems that the type of memory which I am sorely lacking is memorization, and simple recall of facts. I know that I'm very capable of recalling places, paths, and all sorts of spatial information. I'm also very good at processing procedural information, such as how things work, which I think includes song lyrics (provided I can keep the thread of the tune going without breaking). This gives me a bit of hope, because it seems the area where my brain fails me is the area in which computers are particularly apt. The interfaces are still pretty clumsy, at this point, but even now my "external memory devices" are serving me well. The moral? As the world is gradually taken over by machines, my obsolescence will come slightly later than others'. :D

P.S: For those of you reading this in the archives, after my journal tagline has changed... let's see if you can figure out which line I'm talking about. :P

I can't believe it took me this long to find out/realize that Danny Elfman did the voice of Jack the Pumpkin King--and in fact did the music for almost every Tim Burton movie. It's pretty obvious in retrospect. Here: think of this next time you're watching Nightmare Before Christmas.

Okay, the quality of that video is pretty low. (I was actually hoping to find a music video, but no dice.) Here's a link to the song.

I think I'm catching up on 20 years of not knowing about Oingo Boingo in a very short period of time. It's a lot to pick up at once--for the last three or four days I've been listening to Only a Lad almost nonstop. And I've had their last album, "Boingo", stuck in my head since at least January.

P.S: If I ever write a book about nuns--and at this point I'm pretty tempted to do so--I'm going to title it "Nasty Habits".

http://www.guardian.co.uk/technology/gamesblog/2009/apr/14/nintendo-wii

There are a few things worth mentioning about this article.

1. This article reads like a satire piece. Basically everything the author says is the exact opposite of... reality. People enjoy failing, then blaming the controller for it? No. People do it, but never as a source of enjoyment, and half the time it really is the controller's fault. Horoscopes, weather forecasts, satellite TV listings? The extent to which we enjoy these things is the extent to which they are accurate (that is--not much, in either case).  Mario Kart games break the rules to artificially level the playing field? Well that's actually true, but it's one of the biggest complaints directed towards Mario Kart. It's not just gaming that this guy doesn't get--it's life.
2. This article actually gives an interesting insight into democracy, although not the one that the author intended. He says that "inaccuracy is democratic", and I think he's really got something there. The trouble is that he makes the assumption that democracy is good, and thus inaccuracy must be good. But the boldfaced wrongheadedness of the rest of the article makes one question that link--and thus, provides a rare opportunity for an American to ask for a brief moment the question "Is democracy really all that great?" I say American because it's a very rare thing for an American to think, even briefly. (It may be true about people in other parts of the world, but I can't speak to that from personal experience.) The main flaw in democracy is the same thing that makes "accessible to everyone" gameplay such a bore--when the process treats everyone equally, the result approaches the lowest common denominator.

I'll take more precision in games, thank you. And if there was a way to fairly determine merit when contributing to national policy, why I think I'd support that, too.

We were waiting at the bus stop when I noticed that she was holding an English/Deutsch dictionary, so I decided to introduce myself. I was somewhat surprised when she didn't understand me, and replied in German. It turns out that she was in fact an exchange student, but not from any English-speaking country--she is from the Czech Republic, and is trying to learn English. We were able to communicate pretty well in German. In fact, I think I found it easier to communicate with her than with most native speakers. I don't think this is the first time I've noticed that trend, either... it's not surprising that the pace, vocabulary, and patience of two foreign speakers would be better aligned than between a foreign and a native speaker. But what does that say about my prospects for learning the language, or more generally about life itself? Will I ever be truly fluent in German? Would it be better to learn from someone just moderately above my level of competence, or from an expert? Maybe the key isn't competence, but patience. Unfortunately this usually means patience on the part of others, and I don't really have a say in that...

Now I know why I've been having so much trouble getting to bed when I should. It's not just that I don't have a real clock, although that might help... it's 10:30 now and the sun's barely gone down. The sky isn't even dark. It's not enough to read by, but I can see fine. And it does make it a little weird trying to sleep.
Of course that doesn't explain why I spend my every daylight hour online, putting hardly any effort into the upkeep of my real life. That's another issue, and one that will hopefully be easier to change than the sundown and sunup hours. It's been a pretty consistent pattern these last few years, though... I don't think it'll go down without a fight. Well, I've got two and a half months left to struggle.

EDIT: And the sun rises at 4:35 am. I can tell because that's when the birds outside my window start to go off. I know the days are supposed to be shorter during the summer, but this is ridiculous.

This isn't the first time I've gotten this response, but I think this was the most pronounced. I expected it, of course. When you're visiting a foreign country, you can expect people to ask you where you're from. And when you're from California, USA, you can expect them to know where that is, and even what it's like there. You can expect them to convey this information by mentioning pretty girls, Beach Boys lyrics, surfing, or even pantomiming the surfing act. If you're lucky you can get all four at once. This happened just a short while ago, and in response I just smiled and nodded, and replied: "Yes. It is exactly like that, all of the time."
And it is, isn't it? :D

It's strange--after two days of hardly leaving my room, I thought getting out a bit would be the best thing for me. Maybe I'll look both ways this time.
It's not that I'm too tired (although I am), or suicidally depressed (I don't *think* I am, anyhow...). I thought it was a one-way street. Which it was. It just happens that I  looked the wrong way. When I was starting to cross, I saw a van turn into the street that I was crossing, then stop. I figured that he was backing up because he couldn't make the turn, so I started to cross. Then, halfway across the street, I looked the other way to find a car stopped a few feet from me, and I realized that the van had been backing up because he was turning the wrong way into a one-way street. As I was walking away I saw some passersby shake their heads at me. If I had been asked to explain myself, though, I wouldn't have been able to explain the situation in German. I don't know that an excuse is really helpful in the situation, but... I feel almost betrayed by my own senses. It's clear that my powers of observation and inference were insufficient, in the situation (but hey, who's perfect?)... what I'm wondering now is if it was nevertheless a correct inference. I mean, from the information I had, it seemed natural to assume that if a car was turning in a direction, that direction would indicate the flow of traffic. Does that mean that it was worth the few seconds of time I saved by not bothering to check the other direction first? I probably should have been more cautious... but even if I had checked, unless I actually saw another car driving through, I probably would not have spotted how traffic was supposed to flow. The "Einbahnstraße" sign was kind of hard to find, as well.
Oh fuck. Now there's a van driving across that very same street on the *crosswalk*! That settles it, I'm blaming the crazy German traffic system. Ordnung my ass. :P

So yesterday my next-room neighbor started playing his music loud at 10 pm. This sentence is not accurate, because the use of the word "loud" does not convey the proper meaning. It gives the mistaken impression that the problem was sound, while the problem was actually vibration. There was sound produced. And it was loud. But in addition to the sound, there was also produced a physical vibration in my desk, chair, and laptop (which also in turn produced a buzzing sound). The impression you would also get from this is that I was mad as a result--this is not true either. The disturbance was so thorough as to render me incapable of anger, and push me all the way over into incomprehensible amusement. I hardly even considered going out there to tell him to turn it down, because it could not be possible that he could think it was not disturbing. There must be another explanation, although I had no idea what it was--it must be a joke, or perhaps there are other extenuating circumstances. Perhaps he is trying to scare away the dragons.
After the first song was over, and a second one followed, I decided to do something about it. As I opened my door I saw another student knocking on his door, so I figured I was in good company. The look on my face was one of complete incomprehensible amusement, and I didn't really have anything planned to say... I didn't have anything I could say. But when he opened the door, he looked genuinely confused at the concept that it might be disturbing, and he immediately turned it down. The other student, by the way, was not there to complain--they were just hanging out. So I muttered "danke" and went back into my room.
A day later I'm still confused by it, but now I feel kind of bad that I gave him the crazy-eye. I've only been here four days and the first impression I've given people is probably that I can't party (they were having a party the night I arrived, but I was far too jetlagged and went to bed at 8 pm), hardly ever leave my room, and am crazy. Hmm... :(