Subterranean Beefworks

Да гори оно всё синим пламенем

"Yes burn it all a dark blue flame," so says the electronic translator. It refers to the caption of this picture that I found here. Impressive if for it's uncanny mixed message. The rest of "MetroDream's" livejournal has some really interesting images, many of which are from zones of the Moscow subway system under construction.

I just finished moving for my friend's mom, so I am really tired. I hope to write more later.

A pressing issue

A very topical question was raised in the last entry's comments: Why do I want to go back to Germany?

In the absence of religious or political persecution, and without any pressing concerns about ethnic cleansing, famine, or fledgling authoritarianism, one might question why I would be so keen to ditch the country of my birth. Indeed, my difficulty in articulating just why I want to leave makes the whole deal seem like nothing but a poorly-planned ambition, doomed to the same fate as all those kids' dreams to become astronauts, kids who are now content to push paper and wear itchy twill suits to work. This is an attempt to finally clear the air, for you as well as for me.

My return from Germany forced me to confront for the first time a lack of structure. Up until now, I had the good fortune to be able to do all the things I set out to do. I decided to go to RIT for my undergraduate education, and was admitted. When I felt I had grown out of the black hole of mindless coding and dispassionate involvement in studies I no longer identified with, I decided to leave RIT for Lehigh in pursuit of a German degree. I was again admitted and completed the bachelor's degree in 2 years. Graduation presented the problem of what to do next, and so I applied to a scholarship program that would facilitate a year in the country that I had spent two years intensively studying. Fortune smiled, and I was again allowed to pursue my whims. The binding thread of these last 3 "epochs" is that they all let me assume that I would be situated someplace for a long time, following a relatively linear path, with generally everybody cheering me on.

But with the end of Germany came the end of this structured lifestyle. No curriculum to continue, no scholarship to give my hands something to do, and nobody to stand behind me with fists of cash to throw at my next inclination. I came back to a blank slate and more than $23,000 in student loans to repay.

But Germany, and the people I met there, taught me--perhaps just awakened in me--what my experiences at University could not, which is the great beauty in choosing one's own destiny. As tacky as that sounds. And for the first time, I saw a destiny that I could truly invest myself in. I fell in love with the country, and became thoroughly enthusiastic about the life I could live there. I know Germany as a place of mentalities with which I am not familiar, and find this constant barrage of social diversity to be really cool. It's not just Germans bickering about tax law or why all Americans love Bush. It's the presence of all European cultures in such close proximity to one another. It's some French girl in the nearby apartment who is self-conscious about how much she likes to talk about biology; or, it's some jerk from Basque Country who offers nothing but short-sighted incendiary anti-Americanism in conversations.

Above all, it's the thoroughly enriching status of being a cultural minority, something that an American, by definition, can't truly know in America.

Upon my return to the States, I was firmly set in my goal to go back to Germany as soon as possible. Remaining here for an extended period stood in such conflict with my ambitions that I could get defensive when criticized about my plan. "Why do you want to go back? It's going to be really hard to get back and support yourself under these conditions. Wait till you have the resources." Such questions fell on deaf ears. I knew what I wanted, and felt I should be able to achieve that. "Waiting till one has the resources," is the very thing that makes paper-pushers out of potential astronauts.

However, a great deal of thinking and constructive discussion has brought some new things to light. I want to live in Germany; that much is true. But I also want to live the life I envision for myself, which is not the life of a paper-pusher. I want to be an expert in my field, not a Sachbearbeiter. Rushing back to Germany to fill any position that comes down the pike would be folly.

And so my plan has evolved slightly, taking into consideration financial truths and the truth inked onto my CV. I am going to use my time in the US to generate resources. I will seek out positions that provide enough capital to set sums of money aside. As I work, I will go through the process of applying to German universities and seeking out scholarship opportunities to support my further studies. Once the "nest-egg" is big enough and I have the blessing of an institution over-seas, I will depart.

Only gross misfortune can keep me from fulfilling this ambition. It was harder than I thought it would be, but I like where this is heading. Now we just wait and see how fate decides to fuck with me.

October Sundown at the English Garden.

Walk

I went for a walk today.

In fact, I did a lot more than the usual game of "how long can you sit at the computer before your blood starts to clot." As a 24 year-old bachelor reduced to living at home for the time being, the problem of sedentariness has gotten so disconcertingly chronic, that even my chair seems to breathe a sigh of relief when I finally stand up (or is it sighs of pity?). It's a regrettable state to be in, but with so little to do or see in my area, I have taken to viewing the world through 19 inches' worth of burning phosphors, that is, reading news from places I am not near, or reading articles about things that don't pertain to me. If I'm not reading, I am looking at pictures of places I want to be near, or looking for pictures of things I was, at one point, near.

Today I had to find a change of scenery. I took a long, brisk walk into and around town to do some non-essential errands, coming home after some time with two library books and some satisfyingly sore feet. To be honest, there was nothing remarkable about my little voyage, but for the sake of breathing fresh air and moving again, it was everything it needed to be. It also made me realize that suburban towns are not intended for any kind of pedestrian traffic. Signals and zebra crossings come in great plenty, but frankly, drivers just do not know how to react to people on foot. They don't expect it, and when someone comes along all peripatetic, drivers seem to freeze up, spending precious decision-making time considering whether or not they are allowed to hit you for being in the way. I was crossing the street in front of the library when a fuck-all huge pick-up truck lunged around the corner, accelerating. It continued to accelerate long after it had spotted me and only by bounding across the lane was I able to make it to the otherside. The incident turned comical after the passenger, a grotesque woman of seemingly purposeful middle-aged ugliness, screetched something obscene at me out the window. I needed only to catch a glimpse of the tarry pubic mess of hair on her head before my own defiant sneer faded into acceptance of the hobunk people that drive these roads. Fucking hick bastards. The truck had one of those damn monsterous pipe bumpers too. I would not even have scratched his paint job.

The past week or so has sucked in some important ways. I am searching for a job overseas, in Germany. And to this point it has been slow going. It is to the point where I am considering a plan B...that is, going over there before having a plan A, sort of like my great grandfather. If an entire generation of immigrants can make it in America, I think one little American can find a foothold in Germany. Still a lot of thinking remains. All I know is that it can't can on like this.

To close, here are some pictures from Deutschland regarding the importance of branding.