Answers I actually want to give during the Holidays.

Every year comes the point in December where you just end up in a loop of the same conversations as you make your way through the Holiday parties, last minute meet ups with friends, and the grande finale with your family members for Christmas dinner. By then all the questions that have been asked in your December holiday tornado each have their own perfected answer. I’m sure we all have our own rehearsed scripts, matched with the internal monologue of what we actually want to say while we down our glasses of wine. So take my blog URL literally, below is my inner thought process.

“How is work going?”

What I say: Pretty good. Busy. Looking forward to having a few days off.

What I want to say: I fucking hate everyone right now, and I’m pretty sure a new level of stupidity has been created that we’ve all graduated to. If someone threw us into the Hunger Games we would all collectively die in the first 5 minutes. When my alarm clock goes off a montage of possible excuses as to why I can’t come to work play in my head while I watch the fucking crows outside my window judge me for being a lazy asshole.

“Are you still working in television?”

What I say: Yup.

What I want to say: I have a Quebec high school diploma and went to Vancouver Film School, where else am I supposed to be working?

“Are you dating anyone?”

What I say: Not really, haven’t met anyone I’ve really connected with lately.

What I want to say: If by dating you mean ignoring the calls from my one legitimate suitor that I drunkenly met at a bar, trying to figure out how I can seduce older richer men without completely losing my soul, getting constantly hit on by men in serious relationships, and of course devising a plan on how to properly string together a sentence to the men I actually do like, than I am DEFINITELY dating.

“Any plans for next year?”

What I say: Just finishing this work contract, and a Euro vacation in the summer with Franz.

What I want to say: Continue giving pieces of my sanity to television until I am in Europe where drinking every day for no reason whatsoever is socially acceptable.

“Hey you still planning on going to L.A.?”

What I say: It’s been really hard getting this dual citizenship and the VISA I want to apply for. So at this point I don’t know, I have to think it over.

What I want to say: Please don’t ask me about this, I currently feel like a failure and I need to figure out what the next step of my life is, and it’s giving me anxiety attacks because I know I need a huge change and I haven’t figured out what or where I want it to be omgherecomesanotherpanicattack.

“So did you have a good 2012?”

What I say: Um, it had it’s ups and down. It was really nice to have the summer off.

What I want to say: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ugh I’m a mess.

“Did you want another drink?”

What I say: Yes please, thank you.

What I want to say: Point me to the bottle.

Being German in Canada

So Venture Village posted a hilariously accurate guide to being German which I throughly enjoyed. I am guilty of 80% of the things on the list as soon as I’m back in Berlin for a visit.

My friend Alexis realized the first time she came with me for a visit that all the things my friends viewed as weird Julia-isms were in fact just things Germans do. I don’t even realize how much of my German tendencies I try to keep at a minimum living in North America, but once awhile they do come out.

Here are the top ten things I, as a German, am guilty of doing in Canada.

1- Recoil in disgust at the sight of beans drenched in maple syrup. My best friend Pat back in Gatineau tried to make me eat these the day before I moved to Los Angeles after having successfully avoided it for 10 years, but alas I made it two bites in and gave up. In fact, I hate maple syrup. There, I said it. Sorry Canada.

2- Leave bottles of soda water on the kitchen counter. Sometimes chug them in one go. Franz used to think this was a strange habit but I think I’ve seen him sneak a sip of lukewarm semi flat carbonated water as well. Or I could be imagining it.

3- Eat toast loaded with cheese, tomatoes and cold cuts before 9:30 am. When people in the office see me make this breakfast they all just wonder if I’m secretly hungover or on a diet where this is the only food I allow myself all day. Nope. This is breakfast.

4- Casually strut around in my underwear. Franz is so used to my minimal clothing he barely registers it anymore and usually joins me in his underwear. I once took an ex-boyfriend to Berlin and he uncomfortably sat while myself, my sister and my brother-in-law all walked around the apartment in our underwear the entire morning. Clothes suck. Last year I spent New Years in Tofino with 8 of my closest friends here in Vancouver, it took all my focus to not leave my room only semi dressed. I managed to put on a sweater and shorts.

I also have no shame if a boob falls out in public, or I flash my underwear by accident. It’s really NOT a big deal.

5- I German dance. Germans love dancing. And I don’t know how to describe how we dance. It must be seen, to understand. For years I have gone to clubs with friends and ended up in my own private dance circle busting out some questionable moves as if there was no one in the room. Alexis has witnessed me standing in front of a fan in the corner of the bar dancing alone for a solid 2 hours. I also manage to bust out the German special which involves a strange gyration of the hips with minimal upper body movement in public areas at all times for no reason. Once again, my friends thought this was a Julia trait, until Sean and Alexis were with me in Berlin last summer and witnessed about 10 burly German man all dancing to U2 at a party. It was like they had seen God. “We understand now”, was all they said after. Germans don’t dance to attract a mate, they dance to have a good fucking time to good fucking tunes. Any song, we can dance to it. At any time.

 

6- I can go from fun loving co-worker to scary German in 0.5 seconds flat. If bullshit starts stirring at work, I have absolutely no time for it. I do not send out passive aggressive emails and start a CC chain, I will march directly to the person in question and push some old efficiency on them so the matter is cleared before it becomes a matter. This is the only area of my life where my German efficiency has followed me, anywhere else I’m lazy as fuck.

7- I drink my beer at room temperature. And I prefer it that way. I’m not saying EVERY German likes their beer at room temperature, some like to have it in the fridge a bit to bring it slightly up from room temperature, but no one likes it ice cold like Canadians do. I tend to wince as I take my first sip of ice beer at bars while my friends roll their eyes at me. How the fuck am I supposed to enjoy the taste of the actual beer if all I’m getting is the sensation of fizz up my nose? Fuck that noise. So in odd situations where everyone groans when the beer isn’t cold, I jump with glee and grab the first can/bottle.

8- I substitute ketchup for spaghetti sauce. I have tried to stop doing this if Franz is in the house cause the smell of warmed up ketchup makes him gag, but sometimes I cave. This is not food on a budget for me, I grew up with ketchup and spaghetti. Then again I was also born in the 80’s in East Berlin… It’s comfort food for me. Till this day my Oma will still put a pot of buttered noodles and a bottle of ketchup on the lunch table, and my entire family accepts it like we are having a 5 course meal.

9- I flip out when Die Mannschaft, aka The German National Football team (yes, soccer) is playing. I basically have a heart attack if I’m watching at a bar and then either celebrate or cry with the few other Germans I’ve managed to find at the establishment. I feel like soccer is the only thing Germans are okay to be openly proud about. It’s the only way we will show pride for our country. Which brings me to my last point…

10- I go absolutely quiet if anyone starts talking about World War II, the Holocaust, or Germans still being portrayed as the villains in Hollywood. I remember once being at a dinner party where the topic of the Second World War came on and it was heatedly discussed for over an hour. Finally someone turned to me to ask my opinion and I just quietly mumbled “I am German” and everyone tensed up and changed the subject. The German guilt of past events keeps us quiet on these topics. There is obviously a lot more to this subject, and it’s for another blog post, at another time!