High Five for Friday*

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* Yet again, another very belated High Five for Friday…

…but this gives me the chance to include what happend last night to my list and last night is definitely the highest High for a long time and it therefore must be included. As it is such a big deal to me and nothing that happend this week could possibly match this, I will bend the rules a little and make it some sort of an one-day-High-Five (eeeer, for Saturday). I hope, you will forgive me for this and understand, as you read on (if you should decide to read on).

1) I did win a literary contest last night, with one of my very own texts. Even now, in broad daylight, this feels surreal and I still can’t quite wrap my head around it. Even typing out these words now feels unreal. I never imagined, not even for one split second, that I would have the slightest chance to win this thing. The reason I took part and went, was because the mere thought of walking up on a stage and reading one of my texts out loud in front of a crowd who then would be the jugde of me and what I just shared with them, was horrifying. Pure, sheer, blank, total, utter horror. Thinking about it made my hands sweaty (we’re talking Niagara-Falls-sweaty) and my heart racing (race-horse racing), pounding with fear. So I decided, I would have to do it. If something scares you that much, you should just do it. Overcome the fear, grow. Even if people hate the text, there’s still the victory of overcoming the fear. So I did. I did go up there and read these words that came to me, so I could type them, erase them, put them back down again, shove them around, read them back to myself, switch them up again and eventually put a full stop at the end of it all.

2) I overcame the fear. I read my text, this carefully nursed baby of mine, this vulnerable thing that makes me oh so vulnerable, too. That baby I had to give up yesterday and share with other people, no longer belonging only to me, but making it theirs, too. Whether to hate it, to ridicule it, to roll their eyes at it – or to find something, to feel something, to remember something, to relate.

3) And people didn’t boo.

4) They actually started to applaud. Loudly. And the thought, that maybe they don’t hate my story, my early morning summer story, but actually somehow might like it, entered my mind.

5) When it was all over, some of the people came up to me to talk about the text and what they enjoyed about it and this made – and makes me still – just so incredibly happy – and thankful, that I can hardly find words to describe. Each of them had a different part they related to, they actually could relate to what I thought out in that funny little brain of mine. And they came to tell me about it, to share it with me. They did find something, feel something, remember something. Undoubtedly some of them rolled their eyes, too. But learning, that the majority of those people didn’t think it was pure rubbish what I produced, that it even touched them on some level, was such an incredibly amazing experience that I still feel quite bewildered and speechless. It is something that I will not ever forget.

So thank you, Persephonyx, for this evening and for the chance and opportunity to just put ourselves out there. Put our texts out there, whether it’s lyric or prose, and to share what we made up. And thanks to everyone who was willing to share, to come with me to face the blue infiniteness of the ocean on an early summer’s morning.

Happy Sunday xxx

Linking up with The Lauren Elizabeth for #H54F


Taking Stock

Taking Stock
The latest post of this lovely Lady made me want to join in as well in order to check back in in a little while and see if and how things have changed.*

Making: a cup of tea (as it is like a hug in a cup – and a hug is something that you can’t have enough of – like, ever. There’s no such thing as too much hugging – well… that is: hugging people you actually like. Not hugging just anyone. Also, not everyone knows how to hug properly, i. e.: in a warm and welcoming, heartfelt way. It’s an art form of it’s own, hugging. But this might be a discussion worth having another time.**)

Cooking: I don’t cook. Ever. – Sorry.***

Drinking: the tea I just made.

Reading: Mrs. Dalloway. – Started about a month ago and am on page 12. No kidding.

Wanting: to take a breather.

Looking: tired and grumpy – at least, that’s what people keep telling me lately.

Playing: I’m not much of a player – in either sense of the word. But I do like a good game of Taboo every now and again.

Wasting: far too much energy by worrying about things that are out of my hands right now.

Sewing: I don’t.****

Wishing: for this green letter to arrive in my mailbox. (Should it come, it’ll probably be normal, plain white note paper, but get my metaphor here, please.)

Waiting: see above.

Enjoying: to write this post, actually.

Liking: the idea of a productive evening.

Wondering: if this letter will arrive. And be green.

Hoping: that it does.

Loving: the warmth of the sun in my face (in general, but in spring especially), the sound of the ocean and the salty breeze that usually comes with it.

Needing: a hug. Always. If in doubt, do not leave it out. I’m a hugger, what can I say.

Smelling: the rain.

Wearing: fuzzy socks. Like any respectable person.

Noticing: My ear just started „making“ a funny noise. Quite weird.

Knowing: I do not know anything, really.

Thinking: the sound in my ear might be caused by a clogged artery – I really hope that this is not what it is. I’m having a little bit of a hard time at the moment, but I kinda would like to be around to see it pass – which I hope it will.

Feeling: distracted by my weird ear (the right one).

Opening: Nothing at the moment, but I did open quite a few doors today. As well as the lid of my drinking bottle. Aaaand some bobby pins – if that counts.


* Also, I’m using this thing to actually really do a post in English.

** My rambling speech about hugging as a form of art made me think: maybe I should do a tutorial on hugging?! – Could even squeeze two out of it: a How to… and a the Do’s and Don’ts of hugging.

*** I do love baking, though. But as I do not own an oven – no room in my tiny flat – that’s not happening either any time soon.

**** The only thing I can sow, really, is a button back on…


UK 2012, 98 Minutes
Directed by: Dustin Hoffman
With: Maggie Smith, Tom Courtenay, Billy Connolly, Pauline Collins, Michael Gambon

Hoffman meets Best Exotic Marigold Hotel – not in India – but in England – and writes a bittersweet loveletter to music. And age.