the wild horse

about a year ago i went to a volleyball team with the girls that used to make up my team. it was a wonderfull weekend, full of volleyball, games with other teams (grownups, so they really were a blast). and a snivelly nose because of a cold.

we got to know each other better, and developed a team spirit that is an absolute necessity in volleyball games. without a team spirit you dont play together, if you dont play together you dont play at all. if you dont like and know your team, you dont "feel" if your neighbour is going to get the ball or if its your tur, you dont know when to push the motivation button, or take measures to raise team morale, games even against easy teams are lost more quickly than you can blink.

so one dark and cold evening we came up with the glorious idea to give each other nicknames in form of animals that "fit". beate, the middlefielder got the name squirrel because shes fast, never tired and can run for hours over hours. there also was the seal, frog? and i dont remember the rest. I got associated with the wild horse.

Im sporty and have endurance, im stubborn and i never give up (almost never). It is a fitting metaphor. just like cat in breakfast at tiffany's I seem to be a wild thing, i dont belong to anybody and nobody belongs to me, apart form the people i choose to share my life with. just like the romantic picture of the wild horse i need my liberty and freedom to do my thing, to stumble over my stepping stones and to go the way im supposed to go. Im weird in my way, but dont we all have something that defines us form the masses? I need people, but i sometimes need a little room to be on my own. nevertheless what i hate most is to be restricted in what i want to do and to achieve by other people, especially if i know that i can do it. maybe thats why Im a troublesome girlfriend to have.

my team has summed up what I see myself as, better than anybody else yet. due to dancing and me being born a year too early i cannot play with the girls this year, but that does not mean i have forgotten the great past seasons and experiences.

the studio

The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when
the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden,
there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or
the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn.

From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags
on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom,
innumerable cigarettes,
The Lord could just catch the gleam
of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured blossoms of a laburnum,
whose tremulous branches seemed hardly able to bear
the burden of a beauty so flamelike as theirs;

and now and then the fantastic shadows of birds in flight
flitted across the long tussore-silk curtains
that were stretched in front of the huge window,
producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect,
and making him think of those pallid,
jade-faced painters of Tokyo
who, through the medium of an art
that is necessarily immobile, seek
to convey the sense of swiftness and motion.

The sullen murmur of the bees
shouldering their way through the long unmown grass,
or circling with monotonous insistence
round the dusty gilt horns of the straggling woodbine,
seemed to make the stillness more oppressive.

The dim roar of London
was like the bourdon note of a distant organ.

In the centre of the room,
clamped to an upright easel,
stood the full-length portrait of a young man
of extraordinary personal beauty,
and in front of it, some little distance away,
was sitting the artist himself, whose sudden disappearance
some years ago caused, at the time, such public excitement
gave rise to so many strange conjectures.

if you havent recognised it, this is the begining of one of my favourite novels, the picture of dorian grey, put into poetry form. this is what we did the past two or so english lessons, along with a nice and fluffy interpretation, all along the lines of homosexuality, drug abuse and victorian society.
Im noticing that my interpretation skills arent what they used to be. i dont seem to be able to dive into a text and pick up on everything noteworthy. but i listen and hopefully learn. all i can do is try, and ill do lots of that...

my first german interpretation essay gave me my worst grade so far. a 5. pretty much the same with history, if not worse. probably my bio lab im supposed to write right now is going to follow the pattern.

never gone

dedicated to all the victims of the delhi blasts that occured today

one moment it's here,
the other, it's gone!
you think you saw it there,
but then you're all alone.

living life for today,
round the corner with happiness
the jade bird flies away
feeling no more but no less.

Wonder where the mirror is?
Will it show dark or light
or will it rain all the time?
or reflect the stars tonight?

the sunshine blithe on my face
the dewdrops twinkle on the lawn
the warm glow of paradise
maybe, it's the start of a new dawn...

schoolsickness

what is it with school and being sick?!

all through last winter ive been snivelling my way through corridors, choking my raw voice by trying to produce the answer to the teacher's question, and treating myself with chocolate, tea, and chinese healthy stuff, as well as acupuncture, if annoyance levels rise to the maximum.

nevertheless, colds usually have their season around november, where winter really comes and surprizes you with its icy touch as you wait for your ubahn half asleep in the morning, or in february, when you think its warm, and all hyped up for summer, just to find out you have made a grave misjudgement.

but what have i done wrong. its barely below 20°C, as usual, and im sitting here stuck at home (with no homework, cuz i did that in my freeperiod) not able to go to my dance training becuase of my pathetic throat and nose and giant headache (which i strongly urge not to be fever). it must be school sickness...it must! i have no other explainiation. i got out of school monday (third day of school), with a nose like a tap. I went home, did my pile of homework diligently, went to bed... and couldnt sleep the third night in a row. (ok maybe that was it).
tuesday: i was so happy i could go home at 1240, which i happily did after a rather pathetic day, where i had to go into full concentration mode to realise i had a lesson going that i probably needed to remember in a year and a halfs time. My brain fealt like wrapped in a rather large and lumpy piece of felt, my nose was a continuous tap (even worse than on monday) and i had an essay test and maths test (81%, better than some people in the higher class, im taking SL, but FULL of stupid stupid stupid mistakes!!). I schlepped myself home. I slept. I woke up, and saw CSI (coincidental, but better than schlager music or whatever else was on) and went back to sleep.

wednesday i felt better, today even better, but its so annoying! im happy i didnt already start my record of missed days, which would rather limit me (mun etc), still this cold thing is worrysome. I dont already want to begin my this years bacteria and virus marathon in september.