Backwards Or Forwards In Time?

Although I have borrowed this post's title from my latest time-travelling obsession, it isn't going to be a post about Doctor Who. It is just another of those introspections of which my life seems to consist of, these days. So, if you find them boring, don't bother to read any further.

Ever since I moved - or rather ever since I knew I wanted to move - I feel at a crossroads, having to decide if I want to live my life backwards or forwards.

During the last decade or so, I was reluctant to change much, and as a result my life became increasingly stagnant. To get moving again, forwards in time, I now have to let go. Let go of things and possessions, but also of illusions, old habits, obsolete ideas. They all became dead weight, a ton of baggage that is slowing me down, binding me to my past, not belonging to my presence. And certainly not to my future, whatever that may bring.

Many are just jetsam and easy to get rid of, but others were dear to me, once precious assets and memories. To let those go is the most difficult and most liberating experience of all. Once I gather the strength to let them go, there's suddenly no more need to romanticise memories as of a love essentially based on emotional blackmail, or of past relationships mired in guilt.

So I am sorting through possessions, giving some things away, selling others. Furniture, bags full of clothes, boxes full of books, every one of them laden with memories. Although a lot is already gone, there's still too much left: Letters and diaries, photos and videotapes - countless parts of the person I was, no longer belonging to the person I am.

Jobs, anyone?

More than a month since my last post. Sorry, Jackie (guess you're still the only reader of this blog).
But there isn't much to write about. I've been writing proposals and exposés for TV documentaries, and pitching them to producers - without any success. So, if anyone out there has a job for a German writer/journalist/translator/documentary filmmaker, please let me know!
No, I am not desperate.
Umm. Not yet. That's still a matter of a few months.

Oh well. As antidepressants, I'm still decorating and furnishing my new flat - which is fun - and lately, I delved into the (new) Doctor Who universe.

All my life (at least since my teenage days) I liked watching and reading Science Fiction, but (since the series never made it onto German TV, probably because of the rather incompatible sense of humour) this whole concept was new for me, and I love it. Loved it enough to order and watch three seasons of the series in as many weeks.
Although it's meant to be a program for children, it captivated me with its fantasy and broad-mindedness. Wonderful stories. And great, great performances. In my opinion, Christopher Eccleston was even more convincing as enigmatic, arrogant, powerful, emotionally clueless and unwittingly charming alien than David Tennant, although both are equally irresistible.

Next week, I'll get a new satellite dish. Not for the incredibly repetitive, predictable, uninventive and plainly boring German TV, which by now I simply despair of; but for BBC and other British channels.
And if I'll have enough money left by the end of this month (when the last payments are due for my new flat), I really want to plan a trip to Britain. England, Wales, Scotland; wherever. English isn't my native language, and Britain isn't my country, but I still miss that language, humour and culture in my everyday life.
Oh, and since life is just nature's way of keeping meat fresh, as I learned lately, I really should make the most of my share of it - before this meat starts to rot...

Between the Rains

Spring is late in coming this year, in spite of the birds that flew north a month ago. After a few nice and sunny days, we're again sandwiched between low pressure systems and their various cold fronts, with showers of sleet, rain and slushy snow.

Between two showers, I took this picture from my kitchen window. I love that window. Many years ago, when I visited friends in Scotland, I was very impressed by the huge window just above their kitchen sink, overlooking a beautiful wide valley. I always had sinks and stoves where I had to face a boring wall when I was cooking. Now in my new kitchen, the sink has a window, too, so I can watch people and birds and clouds from there, enjoy the view of those century-old houses in the foreground, and the hills in the background.

I'm looking forward to a time when the trees and hills are green. Tenacious as this winter is, that might still take some weeks.

New View

The view from my new study window. My desk is in front of it, so I see those houses while I'm writing this.
The big one on the left (in the background) is an elementary school. I can watch the children play during breaks. Happy and peaceful scenes, mostly.

Blogging and Twittering

Two weeks ago, I signed up on Twitter. It's rather addictive to log in and stalk people there, especially since some of the guys I found here are on Twitter, and I don't give up hope to connect somehow (as unlikely as it is, across vast divides of oceans and insignificance).

It also has that appeal of accepting only 140 characters per message. It allows no rambling, no digression, no circumscription. A great training to be succinct and precise in a foreign language.

Still, I like to ramble and digress from time to time. So, this blog will continue.

Regarding my new home, there's little news. One by one, I tackle the many boxes and furniture parts; I drill, plug and bolt, fix lamps, mirrors and shelves, find new places for all those books and DVDs, but there's still an almost endless list of things to do.

Settling in

All week I spent unpacking boxes, drilling holes into walls, building shelves and wardrobes, cleaning drawers, putting away stuff, moving furniture around (and back again) because it still doesn't have the 'right' place, and cursing my squirrel nature that lets me keep too many things I don't really need. If anything, the chaos seemed to get worse.

And I caught a cold.

And another of my documentary film ideas just was rejected by the TV channel I offered it to.
All in all, this week was not very nice.

Enough whining. It will get better soon. My new home is going to be habitable in a few days, and beautiful in a few weeks. Spring is coming. Soon I will sit on my new terrace, sip latte (or white wine), chat with friends, or use my laptop to stalk people on twitter, and feel thoroughly decadent.

Can't wait.

New Shell

After three days of moving stuff around and down and up all those stairs (giving me the worst backache I ever had), and two nights spent in my mother's house (because neither kitchen nor bedroom were usable in my new home), this is the first night I spend here.
At home, in my new 'hermit crab shell'.

It still feels strange, as if I broke into someone else's house, or as if I am a visitor while the real owners are on holiday. It's not yet mine.

But it will be. Soon.

Hermit Crab

Three more nights in my old home, then I will be gone.

It is strange to leave a house after more than 12 years. It has grown on me like a second skin. I look out of the windows and know the neighbours and their habits. There is a Lutheran pastor living opposite of me, who often works at his computer till midnight. His son learns to play the trumpet since three years (without much success, as my tortured ears can testify to). In the next house, two women share a flat on the top floor. One of them always stays up until at least 3 o'clock every night, watching TV in a room that is painted a bright turquoise and stuffed with brightly coloured furniture, so that it looks like a fishbowl from the outside. In yet another house, an Italian woman lives on the ground floor. She always dyes her short, bristly hair in a curious coppery purple shade, and she likes to sit by the window and watch people in the street.

The inside of my old house is so familiar to me, I can (and do) navigate it blindly. Some nights I get up from my sofa or desk, switch the upstairs lights off, and walk down the stairs and into the bathroom or the bedroom in darkness.
I am like a hermit crab, comfortable in its old shell, even if it is slightly too small by now.

It will take years to get as comfortable in the new place. It will be a challenge, but like the hermit crab that has to find a bigger shell every couple of years, I now need the space to grow.

Boxing

After some weeks spent in lazy limbo, suddenly everything seems to be happening at once. My new home awaits me, all dressed up in a new coat of paint, the kitchen will be installed on Thursday, and on Saturday morning a lorry plus some strong men will arrive to move my furniture and stuff.

Last time I moved, 12 years ago, all the moving and carrying was done by friends. But this time I decided to get professional help. During the last decade, I have accumulated so many things (especially books), I will move from 3rd floor to 3rd floor (and both houses are old, so they don't have a lift) - and I would really like to keep my friends!

And now, I'll have to stop blogging for a week or two, and start packing all those boxes. Dozens of them. Why would anyone buy so many books?

Irreversible

It is done. The contract is signed, the flat is going to be mine in a few weeks - in exchange for practically all my savings. Suddenly, I was no longer sure if this was a wise thing to do. It made me feel strangely vulnerable, no longer having a financial buffer to fall back on. Especially now, at a time when it becomes more difficult to find jobs.

But then I went there. I started planning the kitchen, decided on some changes that will need to be done before I move in, and then I visited my soon-to-be next door neighbours. They made me feel truly welcome and spontaneously opened a bottle of champagne to toast our new neighbourship.

A perfect start for the move to my new home. I don't feel poor and vulnerable anymore, but rich and vital, and full of energy.
I only hope that this is not just the effect of the champagne.

On Top

Earlier today I wrote a lot about writing, but nothing about moving. This is a picture of the view (well, part of the view) from the place that will soon be mine. Yay!

(Please click on it if you want to see the real thing.)

Time flies...

God, it's been months since I felt like writing anything here.

It's not exactly an exciting life I am leading these days, and I long for a chance - any chance - to make films again. But even documentaries cost money, and finding someone willing to pay for a docu seems to get more difficult all the time.
So I am mostly earning my money by writing now. Ghostwriting even. Some people have to write books or articles without having enough time (or skill *g*) for that task, so they pay someone else to write their stuff for them.

That's what I do (in my own language of course, not in English), and it's slowly driving me nuts. Not the writing as such - I love writing - but the fact that it's such a lonely profession. I really, really miss the travelling and the teamwork, the thrill and the stress of making films.

But I found a new apartment, to which I will move in a month or so. It is bigger than my current one, with more space for guests, and with a rooftop terrace overlooking most of the city I live in. A whole landscape of roofs, spires and faraway hills will be surrounding me there.

Now I dread the packing and moving, but I am already looking forward to spring, sunshine and dinners with friends on my new roof. It will be perfect (I hope).

Lets see what else this year will bring...