http://search.deviantart.com/?q=by:kian&section=today deviantART RSS for by:kian en-us Copyright 2009, deviantART.com Wed, 16 Dec 2009 17:04:29 PST deviantART.com http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://s.deviantart.com/minish/widgets/apple-touch-icon-precomposed.png http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/27669454/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/27669454/ Fri, 09 Oct 2009 14:11:52 PDT So, during that time I couldn't come here. And when I got my connection back, I saw how many pictures had popped up on my watchlist and fled in a panic. For a while I dreaded coming to this site because it would mean having to deal with that, so I didn't, and the list got longer and longer. Today I erased it. I feel guilty, but it was either that or leave for good.

Now I can go back to appreciating and commenting on the new stuff that comes up.

]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/18161104/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/18161104/ Sun, 04 May 2008 08:28:58 PDT When I came here after a long absence my pics got favourited more than 160 times but only got two new comments.

That's not actually what I wanted to say. I feel I have to appologize for being gone for so long. You see, I've had a terrible art-block for, well, years. Every now and then I managed to draw something but that happened more and more rarely. And so for a while I simply didn't feel like comming here.
When I came I was confronted with the ever growing list of pictures from the artists I'm watching. And if I like something I leave a comment. But I didn't feel like leaving comments, especially since my own creativity was pretty much dead. So I only ever looked at a few pic and left the rest for later. And the list grew longer and longer, making my visits to this site more and more scarce. In the end I didn't come here for weeks, dreading the long long list of unwatched pictures that awaited me.

So I've come to decide that if I ever want to return here fully I have to get rid of that list. And I will. I might leave a comment here and there but generally I will erase the pics from my watchlist uncommented. I hope you'll forgive me for that.

Lately I'm drawing again. I have mastered proportions and poses in a way I wasn't able to before and even though my colouring still sucks I have hope again. I'm not going to upload any of my new pics here, though, not even in the scraps gallery. I simply don't want to be accociated with them, not here.
Might be a while before I manage a normal picture again.

]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/13526936/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/13526936/ Thu, 28 Jun 2007 14:51:53 PDT A friend of mine, for example, lived with a charming older couple that went to hiking-tours every weekend. She usually joined them, unless we had something else planned. So one day her hostmother said something with my name in it and my friend didn't understand, but it didn't seem very importand so she just smiled and nodded. A few days later she and I went to Takarazuka, went to the theater, and when we had dinner in a restaurant afterwards, she said: "I hope you don't have any plans for this weekend. I think I accidentially invited you for a hiking-tour tomorrow."
Another day we went to Teramachi to go shopping for books and were spotted by a woman on a bicycle. The woman stopped, waited untill we were close enough and then started a conversation. A very one-sided one I have to admit. It began with the usual "Where do you come from?" "What are you doing here?" "Oh, your Japanese is really good, where did you learn it?" (Really, you don't have to understand such questions, only have the answers memorized, because it's always the same. Ever. Single. Time.) After that, I was lost. Didn't understand a single word - to this day I have no idea what she was talking about, but I got the distinct feeling, then, that she wanted us to join a cult. But she didn't seem inclined to stop anytime soon and it seemed inpolite to interrupt, so I just looked interested and concentrated, nodded every once in a while and said "Oh, really?" and "Is that so?" whenever it seemed to make sense. From time to time I glanced at my friend and was quite frustrated to see that she actually seemed to understand everything.
After a while the woman drove off and when she was gone I admitted to my friend: "You know, it's depressing how bad my Japanese is: I didn't understand a single word, but whenever I looked at you, you seemed to understand everything just fine."
And she answered: "Funny. During the conversaton I ocassionally looked at you, and I was thinking exactly the same."

]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/12966717/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/12966717/ Tue, 15 May 2007 14:50:29 PDT Anyways. I had to finally write something new, because my returning from Japan was months ago. I just never could think of anything to write. Things have been so much easier when I was still in school.
Looking back it's hard to believe I have been gone for so long. Because the moment I returned to Germany it felt like I never left. Still, the five plus month spend in Japan were an experience I wouldn't have missed for anything. And I think it really did change me in a way. Either way, I would have loved to sit down after coming home and talk about nothing else for, like, six weeks. In the end I didn't, because no-one ever asked.
For short, in case anyone had been wondering what I was doing all the time I wasn't here (not that anyone would, I suppose):
In September I left for Japan where I and fife-teen others from my university would stay until February as exchange students at Dôshisha-University in Kyôto. Our group of six arrived almost two weeks early and until we moved in with our hostfamilies we stayed in a six-bed-room in a youth-hostel. It was fun, but I discovered (lie: I knew before) that I'm not a six-bed-room-person. I and my friend Jenny usually spend the nights in the corridor where there was a couch and a small table, and tried to translate Japanese novels on our notebooks, or read manga, and drank countless tin-cocktails while we ate our late-night snack we bought at the convenient-store nearby. The others slept.
My hostfamily lived in Kameoka, which is about 30-50 Minutes from Kyôto, depending on what train one gets. They had a store across the street, selling sweets (Lucky me!), which means I even got to see my hostfather from time to time. Pretty often, in fact. We both love science fiction and had a lot to talk about. My hostmother was great too, sweet and funny and a great cook (I SO miss her okonomiyaki!), and then there was a five year old son, who was pretty cute as well, as long as he didn't drool on my bed.
Yepp, I had a real bed, which wasn't very Japanese but comfortable. Except my pillow was a sack of straw. Literally. I mean it.
My room was very large, very bright, and the upper floor was more or less mine alone. I didn't mind the train ride each day, except when I had to use the bathroom very badly. The classes where okay - how come we understood our Japanese teachers so much better in Japan than we do in Germany?
During that time Jenny introduced me to the wonderful world of Doctor Who, which we used to watch on her notebook after class. Late after class, often. Since one does not usually meet at the hostfamily’s homes and we didn't want to try their patience we sometimes met at University after dinner. Yes, another hour of train and underground train to watch TV. Now I remember what I missed about home. I used to tell my hostmother that I had to meet Jenny because we had to learn/ do some homework/ do some research etc. Sounded better than the truth.
Every Friday we cancelled dinner at home and went to an Issakaya near the Teramachi/Gion, where we ate a lot, drank a few cocktails and then we went to the park of the Yasaka-shrine, sat on our bench (until they stole it) and talked. Or watched another episode. I miss that.
We usually came home late on Friday, where I would find my hostfather asleep on the couch or under the table.
Aside from our every-day life we made a few trips with the class. One Sunday Jenny and I met to walk from my home in Kameoka to her home in Nishikyô in Kyôto, more than 30 km away. We followed the river (the Hozu-gawa) to the city and got lost in Arashiyama. Starting at 10 a.m. and arriving at 8 p.m. I was pretty beat once I got home. The next day our class climbed Mt. Hiei. At the end of that day I climbed the stairs to my room, on my hands and knees. Literaly. My hostmother nearly fell off the chair when she saw me.
Jenny was better in training, because her hostparents, a sweet old couple, took her for hiking-trips every weekend.
During winterbreak, in the week between Christmas and New Year, Jenny went to Tôkyô with seven others, where they stayed in an eight-bed-room. Which is the reason why I didn't come.
Jenny didn't return to Kyôto directly but went straight to Hiroshima after that, where we met at the station and stayed the next week at another youth-hostel. Which was a wired one, but we didn't spent much time there anyway. It was an expensive trip and a strange one, but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
During our time in Japan, we didn't learn as much Japanese as I would have liked, by the way. We spend too much time in our gr... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/11839778/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/11839778/ Fri, 16 Feb 2007 08:23:47 PST Don't want to write too much right now - 19 hours economy class do that to you, even days later. Japan was fun, hostfamily was great, still not able to speak even remotely normal Japanese.
I wrote a long, long journal about that time, but this time I'm not going to post it here - too long. Maybe one day, though, I will post the next part of my Freenet adventure, a long story about the greatest idiots in history. Though it is mostly my father's adventure this time, due to me not being here.
Glad to be back.

]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/10107800/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/10107800/ Mon, 18 Sep 2006 03:26:53 PDT The point is, in fact, that I will leave for Japan in a few hours. I'll be back in february, and since I do not know how often I will have access to the internet I will, once again, take most people off my watchlist and probably not write many, or any (Hey, it rymes! Oh, shoot me...) comments for a few months. But don't worry, I'll re-watch you all, once I come back.

So, have fun, and draw many pretty pictures while I'm away.

Bis bald. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/9865922/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/9865922/ Sat, 26 Aug 2006 19:36:44 PDT Now seriously: Most of the time our cat, that isn’t our cat at all, is playing the lovely game of “How not to be seen”. She’s brilliant when it comes to that.
You see, I know the house I live in pretty well, because I have lived here for about all my live. So I usually don’t bother turning on the lights when I run around at night. I just know where everything is. When I feel my face colliding with the floor I know something new has been added to the furniture. Now there’s the cat, that’s sometimes there and sometimes not, because it is actually our neighbours cat. Most of the time no-one knows where it is. Plus, it’s black. Our carpet is black. And kitty’s favourite place to lie around is the top of the stairs, the one place where everyone will step onto it in any case. Sometimes tough, she lies in the doorway...
As you can imagine, it happens often enough that someone - me, most of the time, because the others like light - walks up the stairs and finds themselves confronted with a piece of carpet that runs away protesting. The cat, after such incidents, is smart at least and a bit more careful in choosing her resting place.
For about three hours. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/8872171/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/8872171/ Thu, 25 May 2006 09:37:29 PDT Mirri and I played the first Silent Hill game years ago and even finished it. Yay. We also started the second one but as you can probably guess Mirri and I aren’t the most brave creatures waddling over this planet – we gave up after the first meeting with dear Mr. Triangle-man. And since we live quite far apart we never got to try again.
I wonder, by the way, why this scares us so much. We know it’s not real, but somehow the knowledge that it’s only pixels on a screen doesn’t help much. And I have a feeling that once I got the games (because they had to order them first) I’m gonna sleep with the light on every night. I feel pathetic now… ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/8240586/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/8240586/ Wed, 22 Mar 2006 19:51:55 PST
Favourite quote of the moment: Captain Laura Hayward, NYPD – “I’ve been dumped for a serial killer.” And hell, she was! Way to go, Vinnie!

Something made me sad. Voila is still alive. Yes, I’m one of those people. I don’t like her at all, but her dying would add some sympathy-points. I mean, that woman trusted not only Fosco, but also Diogenes, of all people. She though they were ‘charming’! Face it, that person has no survival instincts whatsoever! Time for her to explode in the jungle. Or get smashed by a windowpane.

I like cake. I like Death being cute. I like cute Death with cake and kitties.

I want Mephisto back. He was cool!

By the way, I think I could revive dead literal characters, given that they are not really dead nor believed to be and that someone gave me a pen.

I also think death under a burning sky would be great. Not for me, of course, nor for you. It’s actually a picture that’s never gotten quite finished. Anyway, if the sky is burning, how would it do that? Wouldn’t the fire fall down? I mean, give gravity a chance. I like gravity. I like not floating freely into space.

I did a “Which Star-Wars character are you?” test last night. Wait a minute – Sarcastic? Me?!
I don’t believe in character tests anymore.
According to another test I’m Raziel. Like him, I mean. Another failure, really. DO I LOOK DEAD TO YOU?! Do I? Do I look blue? Am I glowing in the dark?

When I played SR2 on a too dark screen I used to use the Light-Reaver for finding the way and not permanently bumping into walls.
I’m glad Raziel doesn’t have to breathe. I’m breathing.

Did I complain about Viola already? Let me complain about Kamui! Someone kill him please. I don’t care about the end of the world. I mean, what’s worse: Being dead, or living with Kamui?
I killed him once in a comic. Someone tried to kick him into orbit but failed and he fell onto Tokyo Tower and destroyed it. Then the world ended. And the kicker went for icecream. I liked that. 1:0 for gravity.

Someone is singing about Yoda right now. I like Yoda. Yoda is cool, and green. He’s a… a… What’s the English word for Flummi?
ruhrgebietsprache.de Lexikon says: „Flummi = tupfender kleiner Gummiball; Kinderspielzeug, das gegen die Wand geworfen wird; auch als Vergleich für hüpfende Bewegungen ("Wie den Berni hörte, dat Schalke ein vore Mappe gekricht hat, da isser hochgehüppt wie en Flummi.")“
Who asked them, anyway? For everyone else: a Flummi is a little thing that jumps.

I HAVE AN OBSESSION WITH DEAD WIFES!

What the hell?! I didn’t say that!

All your favourite characters of various movies, series, animes, comics and games are now up for sale on eBay. Bet they’ll be sold out in five seconds.

An old friend said, to write complete nonsense you’d have to be either high on something or me. I’m me. I don’t have to be high to be stupid, which is kind of good, because I never was high on anything but in my imagination being high equals being unable to hit the keys. All stupidity would be wasted.

8? 15? Wasn’t there something about that…? Why not 9 and 17?

They are gonna steal my teeth in a few days and I’ll let them. I’m wired. We all are. Most of us, anyway. Like, going though this world begging for pain, and paying for it.

If this goes on I’m going to develop a phobia of the word “mirror”. It’s good I don’t have a stomach. In fact, I whish I didn’t, because avoiding to get killed by useless illnesses in foreign countries is just so damn expensive!

And somewhere else a person I don’t know is dying of leukaemia and I don’t know if I can help because I don’t know my damn blood-type. Gonna ask my doctor tomorrow.

I wonder why dying people make me feel so ashamed for being alive and healthy.

Aw, crap. I need sleep. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/7655421/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/7655421/ Fri, 20 Jan 2006 07:47:42 PST An example: There is a phrase in German, saying: “Da wird ja der Hund in der Pfanne verrückt,” used whenever you see something you just can’t believe and aren’t happy about, that is the fault of somebody else. Translation: „Here the dog goes crazy in the frying pan.“ Okay, if I was a dog in a frying pan, I’d go crazy too, as the temperature rises. I just wonder – how did they think of something like that? Did they try it out? Did they someday see someone do something stupid and thought: ‘Hey, now I feel exactly like that dog must have felt when we fried him’? I can’t stand cruelty towards animals.
Another one: If a person, a parent for example, sees some kid that is behaving very well and wishes their own kids would behave like that, they tell their children: “Da solltest du dir mal eine Scheibe von abschneiden.” Translation: “You should cut a slice off that person.” Excuse me?! And I always thought that parents should teach their children not to use violence and to avoid eating people.
It would explain a lot of what is wrong with today’s society.
But even phrases much more normal sounding than that can be surprisingly wired when you look at them for a minute. There is a saying used when someone thanks you for something while at the same time he did something for you. Then you say “Ich habe zu danken.” I think it is used in English s well. “I have to thank you.” Well, then WHY THE HELL AREN’T YOU DOING IT?!?!
You see what I mean? This is one of the reasons why I love languages.
There would be more of that, oh, so much more, but for now I think it was enough to make a point. Which I managed to do even without a marker.
So right now I have to thank you for your attention (but I'm not doing it) and if you want to become a better person you should cut a slice off your neighbour and feed it to the dog in your frying pan. Have a nice day. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/7106111/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/7106111/ Mon, 21 Nov 2005 14:31:35 PST
(Warning: The following journal entry contains some language I would usually rather not use, if I wasn’t so damn pissed off right now.)

On the first day, the evil monster called Ki’s dad and asked: Hey, we have some nice DSL for you, want some? And Ki’s dad said No, but Ki might want it. So the Ki had its first encounter with its sworn enemy from ever after that day.
When Ki first spoke to Freenet it said: Send any mail before the end of September to the address of Ki’s parents, where the Ki was living at that moment, and any mail after that time to her own address, 800 kilometres to the south. Freenet then asked where it should send the required hardware and Ki said, to my parents, if it is going to be send in September. Freenet then said that, indeed, it’d be send in September, and if for some reason they could not imagine it would be send later, it would go to Ki’s address in the south. Ki didn’t suspect anything evil yet.
On the second day (which was actually quite a few weeks later), Ki called Freenet to find out why it still hadn’t gotten any mails from it, and Freenet had no idea. In fact, Freenet actually had send mail to the Ki, twice, but once to the wrong address and once to an address that doesn’t even exist. In a letter send in September they said that they could not send the hardware in time, due to not further explained problems caused by somebody else’s fault. Ki didn’t find out about that before it returned home a month later. When the Ki read the letter, and when it’s parents received another letter wandering through Germany for weeks, because Freenet had managed to mix up the addresses, it thought: Well, they are stupid, but it happens. There’s still hope. Ki was still young and naïve then.
On the third day, Ki received a letter saying: Sorry, we can not give you the connection on the required and promised date in the middle of October, because we are too damn fucking stupid and have mixed up your phone numbers. So you still have no internet. Please visit our website to correct our mistake. And the Ki thought: Well, obviously you have to be an idiot to work there, but Hey! There might still be hope. But the Ki was loosing faith.
On the fourth day Ki received a mail saying the connection would be there by the 15th of November and the hardware would be there by then. They didn’t seem to realise the difference between ‘I have to have the connection by the middle of October, IN ANY CASE!!!’-‘Yes, of course, you’ll get it!’ and ‘Be grateful, it will be there by the middle of November.’ It was the fist time it crossed the Ki’s mind that killing someone might help.
On the fifth day, Ki still didn’t have any hardware. But the Ki’s parents had. Because Freenet didn’t realise that the 17th November isn’t before the end of September. And not only did they send it to the wrong address (but with the correct PLZ, which made it a non-existent address), they also send it to the name of the Ki’s mother. Which was never mentioned to them. And the Ki though: Okay, I was wrong. They aren’t stupid – they’re doing that on purpose.
Either that, or being an idiot is in the job description.
Still on the fifth day, Ki called Freenet to see if they at least had given the connection to the right number. The ki was pissed.
When Kis are pissed at a service, they have all the tings in their heads they would like to say to them – but they never do, because they are only talking to poor and often innocent phone-service people. In this case, the Freenet service-lady made a fatal mistake: When the Ki mentioned all the time-delay and the sending of things to the wrong people, the service-lady said: That’s not our fault. We would hardly have send it there if you hadn’t told us to. And the Ki thought: Okay. Thank you for offering yourself as a sacrifice to my anger.
The Ki had developed an interesting theory during those days: There was a part of the evil being called Freenet in which dozen of people were working 24/7 on new ways of How To Annoy Our Customers. The service-lady said the theory was nonsense but the Ki didn’t believe her.
On the sixth day, Ki finally got all the required hardware send to it by its parents. Ki was happy. Ki almost thought it would finally be over. Ki was wrong.
When everything was connected, the Ki tried to get into Internet, and Internet said: Password and Pin required. And Ki thought: What password? What pin? Ki called Freenet.
Freenet said: We’ve send you a Mail with these things almost a month ago. Ki said: Whoever got that mail, it wasn’t me. Freenet said: Oops. We’ll send you a new mail. You’ll get it in a few... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/6380343/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/6380343/ Wed, 31 Aug 2005 16:38:23 PDT Of course I could have finished it by now - in fact I could have finished it two weeks before the holidays even started, provided I skipped such unimportant things like eating and sleeping.
But that wouldn't have been a good idea, because not sleeping would have kept me away from the funny, incredible and rather wired experience of my DREAMS.
Yepp, DREAMS instead of just dreams, because they deserve bold letters.
Let me just tell you in short about the last three dreams I had: four nights ago I dreamt I was sent into a mental hospital by my family (which wasn't the family I'm used to having in real life), where I started working as a psychiatrist for dead patients, because the hospital was haunted. I was being dead myself, by the way, at least for some time of the dream. At least I think I was... Here I am, not being able to remember weather I'm dead or alive.
Three nights ago I dreamt my mother was heaving an affair with the head of our government. Who was living (or a t least working) in some kind of large glass-box on a bus-stop. I'm not going into detail here because it was too wired again, but I missed a date because of them flirting. An upcoming election can do that to you. One more reason why every politician should be shot.
And this night I dreamt that the Fantastic Four were trying to kill me. Weeh. I've never read the comics, nor have I seen the movie, so WHAT THE HELL WERE THEY DOING IN MY DREAM?!?! Behaving this badly, on top of it.
The main person after me was some kind of mixture of the Thing, Human Torch and Iceman (<- how did that one get there?!) But I managed to defeat him, if not for good, by using my own wind powers (Yay. I think I was male at this part of the dream.) against him in a small alley (on a roof) and making him toast himself with his own flames. After that I did some other stuff like wall climbing where it should have been impossible. (I was female here, but not myself.) And in between I was at a family-party and my aunt made all of us eat living insects to prove we were willing to save the world (?!?). I nearly got hit by the same car at the same location for at least three times while running away from the evil FF. And before that I had another dream, which had something to do with water, ships, swimming and something out to kill me. Again. I believe there were undead too.
Undead are not unusual in my dreams. Neither is being cased by something. Those are not exactly the dreams I like, but they are the ones that stick in my memory. Politicians, thankfully, are an exception.
Do you know the saying that the first dream you have in a new home is going to come true? I heard of it shortly before I moved into my new apartment in the city of my university, and of course I had a rather vivid dream in the first night I spend there. Mankind is going to be defeated by man-eating zombies. Be prepared! ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/6036278/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/6036278/ Tue, 26 Jul 2005 04:08:19 PDT ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/5015583/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/5015583/ Wed, 06 Apr 2005 11:25:14 PDT I was hoping my internet connection had gotten better again while I was at home, but I needed half an hour to come to this site. So my presence here will be rare again. Sorry for not being able to comment (or even view) your art. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/4736476/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/4736476/ Sat, 05 Mar 2005 17:16:54 PST Today I spend the evening watching TV with my family – in fact watching a bunch of people going down an Ice-skating rink in a Chinese cocking pot. Unnecessary to mention most people who did that were male. It was fun. Watching TV with my family is always fun – at least until my father sleeps in and starts snoring. This time, my brother slept in as well, because he was so tired from sleeping – had his breakfast at 3:30 p.m. today. Ha! That’s the one complaining about me sleeping until twelve!
He’s also the one complaining about me putting my feet into the drawer of the desk our Computer stands on while sitting in front of it. I never cared – it has exactly the right high to allow a comfortable sitting position and I didn’t think the desk cared as well. Until yesterday. Stupidy, it seems, is not a characteristic reserved for men. I wasn’t thinking of the open drawer (my feet were positioned on the desk itself this time), moved without looking (quite pointless, anyway, in a dark room) and CRACK! it made. Through the waves of unfairly strong pain coming from my ankle I only thought: Great. Drawer strikes back! It still hurts. Tables shouldn’t be allowed to be made of anything harder than rubber.
Which proves: Woman can be idiots too. Rejoice, men!
As for the drawer, the fight is not over yet. It may think it has won, but I’m not giving up. There’s no way I’m gonna be defeated by a piece of furniture. After all, even though it may have a harder surface than me, and may even possess the larger amount of brain-cells (I’m not going to rule that out completely) I’m still the one able to handle a screwdriver.
So don’t despair, oh idiot-girls of the world. There’s still hope.
Though I can’t say for sure if this also applies for the boys. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/4351197/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/4351197/ Tue, 18 Jan 2005 11:53:51 PST Just to give you an idea: the text we got for this last lesson contained sentences like the following:

“Casual Implicatures: If S asserts some complex expression p which (i) contains an embedded sentence q, and (ii) p neither entail nor presupposes q and (iii) there’s an alternative expression r of roughly equal brevity which contains q such that r does entail or presuppose q; then, by asserting p rather than r, S implicates that he doesn’t know weather q is true or false, i.e. he implicates Pq & P – q.”

And all I could say was: “Where am I, and what am I doing here?” The though was shared by many.
But now semantic is finished as well (the introduction part at least) and we move on to phonetic. I don’t know what the future holds for us this time, but it can’t be worse than semantic – if it is, we’ll have to invent a new word to describe it.
Well, there’s still some translation homework waiting for me that has to be done tomorrow (not to mention the dishes), so I’ll try to get my internet-connection to work now, so I can post this text – if you read it, I succeeded, but it is actually possible that by that time, writing this lies a few weeks in the past. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/4219116/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/4219116/ Sun, 02 Jan 2005 09:14:33 PST
By the way: Happy new year, everyone! ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/3550559/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/3550559/ Sat, 09 Oct 2004 14:32:15 PDT
To all my friends here: I will probably take more of less everyone off my watchlist, since I won’t be able to watch or comment much anyway. Please don’ take this as an offence – I will roam though your galleries and comment as much as I can when I visit my parents every now and then.

Well, and that’s it. There isn’t much more to say, beside I’ll miss you, and Please don’t forget me completely, I’ll be back.

to everyone! ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2797084/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2797084/ Sat, 03 Jul 2004 18:42:33 PDT I didn’t just put away some things to make it look less messy, no, I really CLEANED it. I started on Tuesday, three days later it looked like someone might actually survive in there. The time in between was filled with a lot of dust, sweat and chaos.
While doing that I made I discovery: I am the owner of more plastic bags than any person could ever need! I don’t know where they come from. But if the world will someday depend on a large number of plastic bags just come to me, and we’ll be saved!
The same is for Handkerchiefs. I couldn’t use them all if I was sick for a year none stop.
After having done that I finally found the time to do a few things that are more fun: like finishing the art-trades I had to do. So I did, and made a discovery: A dear friend with who I currently have a trade running has updated her journal here. This is neither surprising nor unusual. But she, as many do, has the habit of listing all her running art-trades there. Now I had to see that, though we are not finished yet, she was complaining about not having any to do at the moment. But, sadly, this is neither surprising nor unusual as well – she never lists the trades she makes with me. I don’t know why – I always get the pics from her, and they are great, but beside that they don’t seem to exist.
Now I suppose that ignoring me isn’t really the purpose of her journal. It’s simply that for it I do not exist. It must be like the electronic glass doors you find in shops and everywhere else. They don’t see me as well. Either that or they simply hate me. I’m not willing to rule that out completely.
You see, often enough I walk through such a door that has just opened for someone else and while I’m still between that halves they close, either not noticing my existence or with the clear intention of making me two persons. Or, when I’m already inside, they just wont open. It happens, from time to time, that I stand behind such a door and look outside sadly while helplessly scratching the glass. With some luck either the people from the shop come to see what’s wrong with the door, forcing it to open through their mere presence, or someone else enters, so I can escape. But if you ever find the skeleton of an unknown person behind a perfectly well and operating automatic door, you know who it is and how they died.
Why I am writing this? I have no idea. I’m tired and my head hurts, and today I am getting just another year older. I think I should go sleep now, it’s 3:30 a.m. Good night.
But remember: If the world should ever be needed to get saved by plastic bags, just call me! ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2651280/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2651280/ Sun, 13 Jun 2004 14:13:29 PDT After the buffet we all started dancing, pair dance at first, and later more and more... uh, solitary dancing, for the lack of a better word. I, very much out of training and never a good dancer to begin with, danced with my father first, with my biologie teacher, a (female) friend from school and my big brother, who was great, but expecting a little too much from me... I have never learend tango! But somehow I later managed to find a step that protectet my (bare by then) feet form being crushed by his and even stopped making strange, frightened noises, whenever my hair touched the ground...
My usually annoying brother was all fun that day, any I am very thankful for that, though he (unsuccessfulle) tried to make me drunk - I had quite a few cocktails but it didn't affect me at all, which is surprising, since I usually can't stand much alcohol (because I never drink any). I hardly ever felt this brotherly-close to him before.
That friend I danced with spend most of the night with us as well, which was a lot of fun. All in all I could say that this was the most untypical day of my life: I drank alcohol and, even worse, was found on the dance-floor alone. I never did that before, it's too embarressing to even try, though I know no-one would pay attention. But yesterday I did not care, and I had a lot of fun. I somehow even managed to miss all the little shard of broken bottles lying around after I had gotten rid of my shoes, but while dancing with my teacher I managed to step onto my own toes whit my high-heels, and many other people happened to repeat that during that night. Ouch...
Came home at dawn... more like sunrise, actually. Came home with hurting feet and a bloody toenail, but somehow I didn't much care. Still don't.
It's strange. It was one of the most fun nights of my life, and yet, one day later, I already feel as if it was someone else there, not me. Or as if it was very long ago.
I also realised then that this wasn't only the last day in school, ever, but also the last time I would see most of the people there, for a long time at least. Some I will miss for sure, but the next meeting will come - in fiveteen years perhaps.
Or twenty. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2566805/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2566805/ Wed, 02 Jun 2004 14:01:13 PDT I have retuned my books, I have returned the key to my closet. And now there is nothing left to do but wait for the last festival as a celebration that it is finally over.
So many years... It sure feels strange now.
I don't even know what to write anymore... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2499648/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2499648/ Mon, 24 May 2004 16:52:34 PDT The past few days I was bust working for our Abi-magazine. I had five days to write three reports and draw the cover... Now, having done that, I can finally write something for myself again. ^^
Today (well, yesterday actually, it's past 1 a.m.) I got the marks for my written exams. Of the 100 pionts I'll have to get all together (three written exams, and the oral one I'll have to do in a week) I already have 119, so all worries have suddenly dissapeared. It isn't glamerous, but it's enough, and that's all I care about for now.

So I also used my worry-free time to surf through Japanese webrings a lot, in search for fanarts to Breath of Fire 5, which I have recerntly finished for the second time. I found more than I would have expected, though it wasn't always easy. Now there are some questions I couldn't help asking while looking at them. Like:
Why the hell does Elyon get a nosebleed in every second picture?
Why are they always trying the eat the cute nuggets?
Why ARE the nuggets so cute in the first place?
What is Lin DOING there?!?
Where did they find the fishing-pool?
16 cm? Not likely!
What kind of drugs did Ryu 1 take to get so hyper?
What did Nina I-IV do wrong all the time?
What is the secret of Bosch's closet?
How did the nugget manage to get stuck in the toilet?
Can it be that half of the cast go to the same hair-sylist?
Why was Ryu eaten by a lovesick monster?
What the hell were those ants TALKING about?!
Where did they find the bike?
Are they sure that Jeuzit is only interested in girls?
Do Elyon's alter egos help him with the housework?
Where the hell did the cat come from?
Where the hell did the COW come from?!
Do Nuggets tase like chicken?
Does Ryu taste like chicken?
And what, I wonder, is a Non-potato?

Some things, though I did understand. Like, why Bosch was jumping around in a trash-can. I did play BoF II, after all. ^^

Ah, yes, the sketches I did today... I hope I'll have time to finish them.
I did it like Mirri likes to do somethines: Listened to music and tried to draw one pic for every song. Well, my insprirarion works in a strange way, but somehow I feel like making a list now, and so I do:

1. Song: Fighter; Pic: Arkai and Loran (my own characters)
2. Elevation; Raziel (LoK)
3. Colours of the wind; Tohira (mine)
4. Pretty in scarlet; Kain and Raziel (LoK)
5. Colors; Ryu and Bosch (BoF5)
6. Like Lovers; Cassa and Taranis (Mirri's and mine)
7. One of us; Spring (mine)
8. Der Morgen danach; Enretal, Kahrn and Razikar (Mirri's and mine)

But before I can finish anything, I'll have to learn for my oral exam... I don't want to leave a too bad impression when I leave school for good... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2121892/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/2121892/ Wed, 31 Mar 2004 10:44:37 PST I noticed that because I read it again and found my last line there, about me hoping for good marks in the other exams to make up for my screwed up math exam. Well, that hope is gone so far, for some time already. Because in the first lesson after the exams my German teacher told our class that he hadn’t really read our texts yet, but from what he had read we all have more or less failed. Completely. One exam, he said, might not even get one single point at all. We need five at least to pass. Of course one bad exam isn’t that much of a problem if the others are all right, but as I said, I was have already screwed up math…
As you can guess the class wasn’t so happy to hear those words. We all, though having had a generally good feeling about this particular exam, suddenly felt very, very insecure. Because you know, with only six people in class the probability of oneself being the 0-points person is relatively high…
Well, then he holidays followed – the hopefully last school-holidays of my life – and passed, and now school started again. It’s running for three days now and already I’m so tired I could sleep in class. My natural sleeping-rhythm (from about five in the morning until noon) just doesn’t get along with the idea of standing up at six a.m.…
But that all isn’t what I want to tell you, you, whoever might be so kindly bored to read this. No, I want to tell you a cute little story that happened during the school year before this. Because school is over soon and I have to do something after that. Actually I want to go study on the closest university. Physics, which I need, because I’m a space-freak and want to study astrophysics. Sounds slightly insane to normal people, and you know what? It is! More that you could ever guess.
The reason? Well, On the school I visited first (until 10th grade) our first physics-teacher became ill soon and the classes didn’t happen for a long time. That he finally decided he would never come again and they had to looks for a new teacher to take his place. So we missed it some more. The new teacher got himself another illness and left, no physics again. And so on. And when we had it for a change I was pretty bad at it. So I hardly ever had this class on my first school, and when I had it I didn’t understand a thing. Then I changed school and was lost. I mean, I was so far behind everyone, there was hardly any hope of catching up with their knowledge. And to be honest, I never had much motivation to. I always though “Well, and after school? When will I ever again need to know how energy moves inside a falling car?” (Honestly, if I ever sit inside that falling car, physical calculations will be the last thing on my mind!) but the teacher was all right, so I somehow managed to get along. The next year we got a new teacher. Ha! It is impossible to describe him here… I will someday write another entry about him. For now, let’s just say that he is in an – unintended – way funny and hard to understand. A strange guy, to say it carefully. One of those teachers that give you the impression they’re doing that job for a bit too long already.
Anyway, my marks stayed low, but just high enough to pass. Then, when I decided to repeat the 12th grade I got another teacher who is legend in school, and not in a positive way. At first I thought I could get along with him and his lessons, but soon he gave up on me and I on him. I just didn’t understand anything anymore and couldn’t get used to his way of humiliating everyone in class if they didn’t understand everything at once.
I did get the feeling that this was just a rather twisted and cruel kind of humour and he didn’t mean it, but I was never sure about that and hated his lessons none the less. Later I found out that as one who had already did this grade before I would not have had to take this class. But I only was told that after I had ultimately failed it – pretty close to the point where I could (and WOULD!) have gotten rid of physics anyway.
Yes I’m talking too much again, but this much just for your understanding. Because one day my school-physics days here finally running out!
We were writing a test once again and this time I knew nothing of what he wanted us to write. I knew a little bit a bout the topic, but could never have worked with the tasks he gave us. So all I could do was write my name on an empty piece of paper, give it to the teacher and have a nice day as others had already done (So much for our motivated class…) or – be creative! So, for I didn’t want to leave that guy an empty paper to shake his head at and put aside to look at the next empty paper, I took my pencil and wrote a poem. I needed about half an... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1949148/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1949148/ Thu, 04 Mar 2004 04:02:58 PST It all started so good… Apart from the nightmares I used to get with the tests coming closer. First was Art. For these Abitur-tests our teachers send three different tests to the Ministerium (… No idea for English again, sorry.) and get two back. Which ones come back they don’t know any earlier that we do – the envelope with the tasks is opened right in front of us before we start. From these two chosen tests we can chose one. I’ve had some worries now, because of my art-teacher. He… sometimes chooses strange words for his tasks and I often understood little to nothing – as did we all. Now the people in the Ministerium won’t send back any test they think is too hard to understand for the poor pupils my German-teacher assured me, but personally I believe that they chose this one only because they didn’t want to admit that they didn’t understand it themselves…
Anyway, apart from that one task I didn’t even understand three hours later the test was okay, because we had the possibility to choose exactly that topic I was best prepared for. Which of course I did.
With German, which was next, is was quite the opposite. One of the topic-suggestions the German-teachers send in is always Poetry. It also always comes back and is never, ever chosen by the students. I wanted to change that. I love poetry and wanted to choose this topic. So I learned a lot for it. I looked up how to make a good interpretation (because we haven’t done that in years), I learned all those words, from Oxymeron and Katakrese to Chiasmus and even Reihung 1,2 – Asyndeton/Polysyndeton…. I don’t think I’ll need them ever again!
Well, the day of the German-test came, the envelope was opened and my classmates were very happy to hear that this was the first time in many years that they didn’t choose poetry for the exam. Unnecessary to mention that I was a bit pissed. I had to write as essay about Goethe’s “Werther” instead. I hated that book when we read it in school and never even finished reading it!
Later I asked my teacher which poems he had send it. It were two, to be compared, by Heinrich Heine. I have just recently read a poem-collection of that guy. I love his poems, and I even know enough about his life. I could have written so much there!
As I mentioned before, someone up there doesn’t like me…
And, finally, math! I had really learned for that one. I did. My teacher had given me a long list with things I had to know and I learned them all. With one single exeption, because that was something I never understood and one or two other points I couldn’t learn, because I had no material about it. Of course, off all the mathematical problems I had to solve there was none, NONE of those I was really good at and each and every of those I couldn’t do, I couldn’t, I couldn’t!!!
Now I can only hope that I gained enough points with the other tests to still pass…
It was very, very frustrating, and yet I am happy. Because it’s over and I can spend my days happily and without learning. Yay! ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1898488/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1898488/ Tue, 24 Feb 2004 13:11:59 PST I am so lost!
Beside that "LoK: Defiance" was finally released this month here in Europe. It would be a lie if I said I hadn't wasted a lot of potential lerning-time for playing this game - I have been counting the days since last November!
*sigh*
I'm so creative at the moment - I have tons and tons of ideas for stories and pics, but absolutely not patience with learning. I will regret this. I know. And I'm always so tired! That doesn't help either. If I believed in a higher power I'd be sure now that it hates me.
I wish, sometimes, that I could drink coffee, to keep me awake. I hate coffee!
Can't concentrate on anything, la la la. I had so many things I wanted to write here about, but now I have forgotten them all!And right now the neighbours cat is sleeping on my bed again. Seems like I'll have to share once again.
I love that cat. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1792723/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1792723/ Wed, 04 Feb 2004 11:19:24 PST Such days are the worst... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1695994/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1695994/ Sat, 17 Jan 2004 14:53:35 PST A few days ago I was taking a bath. I’m not very good at that, I must admit. One might wonder what the hell can be so hard at that, but I tell you, for me, it is an adventure time and time again.
You see, it’s pretty cold these days, and when I take a bath I want it to be hot. So I let water into the bathtub, and once it is full I put my foot into it and try not to scream in pain. It is like this every time, one could almost think I would have learned better by now. Like, testing the water’s temperature before stepping into it and the like. I did, when I was little. I guess the part of my brain that is reserved for ‘survival instincts’ is occupied with other thing at for time being. Or it got destroyed when my face hit that chair…
When I’m inside the tub then I try to lay down as slowly and carefully as possible, for my body to get used to the heath. But, you probably already guessed it – such a tub is a bit slippery with all the water, and it isn’t long until I lose my ground and fall into the water with a yelp of pain. And there I stay until I just have to get out, for fear that every moment someone might walk in with salt, pepper and a fork, because I have cooked just long enough to get eaten. An that’s just one of the dangers we all face every day.
Just look at the evil fiend called ‘house-keeping industry’ – or whatever. Quite some time ago – about three years, I suppose – I had to clean the cage of my hamster. Or rather, for my hamster, because I was to get it just the day after, that’s why it had to be cleaned. I used some stuff to disinfect the cage, and after that day the skin of my hands turned that dry that it broke on the knuckles every time I made a fist, until the end of winter – I cleaned that cage in summer. You see my problem?
But I suppose that could also be because my skin… well, it doesn’t like me very much. It doesn’t like anything very much, including Terpentin-Ersatz. I have to finish a project for my art-class until tuesday, so I worked on it today. I also had to paint something, put colour on wood with a large paintbrush. The paint had to be removed after, not only from the brush but also from my fingers. Because it was this evil paint you never get off anything it ever touched (and I wouldn’t be myself if I could use it without smearing it all over my hands) I had to use this strange-smelling liquid (which English name I don’t know) to get it off my hands. Well, I think it didn’t only remove the paint, but the natural colour of my skin as well, for it turned very pale wherever the stuff touched it, and I have the strange feeling the dry-hands-winter is going to repeat itself.
Liquids are basically evil anyway, as long as they are to be used in the household. When I had to clean the floor of the house some weeks ago I put some of those harmless-seeming-but-evil liquids into the water, as one usually does. The etiquette on the bottle said, among other things, that this stuff is absolutely harmless and should in any case be kept away from children, should not come in contact with eyes or tongue (who the hell would drink it anyway, besides the children you shall keep away from it and who couldn’t read the warning, even if they wanted to?), and hinted, in a way, that whoever took the risk of using it should better wear water-prove gloves, goggles and an oxygen-mask. Ah, brave new world!
Working on my art-project wasn’t the only life-threatening thing I did today, by the way. No, I also baked a cake. Or rather, I tried to. Now, as you might guess, I’m not the most safe object to be put into a kitchen, but this time, I swear, it wasn’t my fault!
I got the recipe from my biology-teacher, who made this cake for us when he passed his teacher-exam. Never eat anything made by a biology-guy, I’d say, but the cake was great, and I got on his nerves until he finally told me how to make it. Now, today, finally, I tried it. I made everything as he wrote it down, and once the basic paste was done I put it into the oven which had exactly the heath it was supposed to have. Fifteen minutes it should be in there before I could put all the other stuff onto it, but already ten minutes later it was burned and we had to dispose of it. Next try – not wanting to waste all the other stuff I had already done my mother got the idea to make the paste again, but with some other stuff instead of butter this time, for the simpl... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1551222/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1551222/ Thu, 18 Dec 2003 07:56:16 PST I just happen to notice that most of my journal entries here have something to do with school. It might, I guess – but it really isn’t any more than a guess – have something to do with the fact that this is the place where I spend most of my time.
This particular school I visit for almost five years now, but only recently I found out a funny thing about the building: It’s ugly. No, that isn’t true. Not that it’s ugly, because it is, pretty much, no, I found out WHY it is ugly! Because an architect designed it like this, and it is not allowed for so-and-so many years to change anything on it – not even the colour of the heather in the basement. If that architect should someday come into this school and see all the pictures printed onto the walls by gifted artists of simply those classes who left school and wanted to leave some sign (as it is a school-tradition), he could make us remove all that stuff and put the buildings back into it’s look from 25 years ago.
The building is designed in a style that is called “Konstruktivismus” here, “Bauhaus”, to be exact, if I’m not mixing things up again. I don’t know what’s it called in English. It doesn’t even matter, only so much – it is, in my opinion, the most boring, frustrating and un-personal style ever existing. I don’t know why anyone got the idea to try and teach people in such a building. The looks alone are the best motivation-killer I can think of.
There are only two things – apart from the walls some people dared to paint on over the years – that makes our school a bit unusual for it’s architectonic style: The fact that they made the outer walls too thin and in no way isolated, so that no warmth can be held inside the much too large rooms when it’s cold outside, and the fact that it rains through the ceiling.
But back to the strange thing that happened today. You know, I have to tell you something else first. The toilets.
We have plenty of them, at least seven rooms everywhere in the building. Compared to many other schools I know they are even more or less clean. But, just like all else, they are almost constantly devoid of toilet-paper.
Whatever paper there is in the morning, it disappears after two hours at the most. I don’t know where it goes – no, wrong again. I know where it goes: It ends up on the floor, inside the sink, in the garbage… I just don’t know why it goes there. Certainly not by free will…
Now, the really funny thing is, that the only toilet-room that always has plenty of paper is the one beside the dining-room – quite a surprise, if one considers that this is the place where hundreds of people are having their lunch every day.
I was there today. I stood in exactly that room, beside one of the walls of the cabins. Those walls don’t go up to the ceiling but leave some space that has, as far as I know, only sense for little children that have fun looking at other people while… ah, where was I?
The walls, yes. There I stood, fishing for the key of my mothers car that somehow got lost in my pocket. And while I stood there, suddenly an entire roll of toilet paper came flying over that wall, landing on the floor beside me.
I was mildly surprised, wondering if it was something I did that had made the person on the others side of the wall throw this, or if she just felt like it – I mean, we all have our days, don’t we? And while I was still wondering, another roll came flying, landing on my head with a thud. My confusion grew, but before I could say anything the third one landed beside me, this time on the other side. Apparently whoever it was throwing these things wanted to make sure that they hit at least something – no matter what. Or who.
After my sweet and concerned question for that persons mental health it stopped. I tried to imagine then: A person, female probably, due to that being the girls room, sitting on that toilet and happily throwing full rolls of toilet-paper into random directions… Not very likely. No, I think it is something else entirely: I think the toilet-paper is born there! It would make perfect sense, at least it would explain why there, of all places, never seems to be a lack of it. There, the mystery is solved! End of chapter, thank you, come again.
None the less, only seconds after the last roll landed another person entered the room and asked if there was toilet-paper anywhere. Still a bit confused I could only answer “Plenty.”
Hero of the day… ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1515400/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1515400/ Wed, 10 Dec 2003 08:35:03 PST Not true, actually I had an idea: Ask my teacher. Teacher was not in school today. Great. Won't see him again this week.
Tomorrow, at least, I'll write my (hopefully) last test before christmas: Art.
Wee, and our teacher is in hospital and wan't come back anytime soon. He was... hard to describe. Strange but nice but VERY strange... Anyway, it was absolutely impossible to fail his tests. 7 points out of 15 was the worst you could get, and he naver minded us talking during the tests and discussing our tasks. Now our not-present teacher got not only rweplaced by a female teacher that's always missing but we are akso suddenly confronted with the possibility of failing, and the need to learn for the test. Or so we thought - our new teacher will hand the tests to our old teacher who will mark them for her - he usually needs about one day. Great!
Now I can concentrate on maths again... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1480658/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1480658/ Tue, 02 Dec 2003 14:11:14 PST I have been before, of course, but it would always pass until the next day or could be ignored - had to be ignored, more exactly, because there was always something important in school I didn't want to miss. Now I'm very much down, can't breath, can't eat, can't speak, can't even sleep because of thet not breathing thing. And it it, after all, only a cold. Now very dramatic, but nasty. My head hurts, my throat hurts... all that stuff. I can't concentrate, wich is very bad, because there is another math-test knocking on my door next week. 5 hours or so, and I've got to repeat the stuff from 3 years until then. I'm doomed!
And I can't even skep school tomorrow - have to go, because one of my teachers who is usually missing herself is present for a change, and that test is coming closer as well. I can't take it! Arg!
Anyway, due to such obvious problems there is a lot of stuff I can't do at the moment. Drawing, for example. Or writing. I wanted to finally continue my LoK-fic today after school, but spend the rest of the day in bed after coming home. Life's no fun this way!
But enough complaining here! Time for some apologises: A lot of stuff will be drawn one I got better and that math-test has passed. And I will continue writing. And of course I will finally do my part of my current art-trade with Mirri, and write that story for her... once my bones stopt hurting... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1458595/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1458595/ Thu, 27 Nov 2003 12:56:59 PST ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1380868/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1380868/ Mon, 10 Nov 2003 07:51:51 PST I know how it works, generally, and still it makes me terribly nervous. I know something will go wrong!
Maths is evil! ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1365035/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1365035/ Thu, 06 Nov 2003 14:26:31 PST Actually, I feel like crying. I don’t know why though. That just happens sometimes, I guess everyone knows this feeling, and with me it isn’t even really often.
Years ago I was down almost every day, and I showed it. I had my reasons then, or thought to have them, even though looking back they seem so stupid now. Like this, of course I made being around me pretty hard, I know it is no fun being stuck with people like that. I didn’t notice then, or didn’t want to notice but now I know and am never down anymore. Actually, I’m almost constantly happy. It isn’t even fake; I’ve developed into a live-loving, positive thinking being who keeps getting on the nerves of others with none-stop talking and a rather strange sense of humour. That kinda makes it hard being around me as well, but it isn’t quite as depressing.
But right now my reserves of positive energy seem to run out. It won’t last, tomorrow it will be forgotten, I know. I usually keep these short periods to myself and let them pass in silence, but light now I feel like writing this.
My current mood is probably caused be small but repeated and constant frustrations in the last month. This has, of course, to do with my works – my pics, my stories, the fact that they are either ignored or mainly get negative reactions. Not exactly here on this site but about everywhere else. Getting ignored is worse: It’s hard enough that neither my parents nor anyone else I know personally has ever showed any remarkable interest in my works (in fact, of all my friends – not many, anyway – Mirri is the only one who has EVER read any of my stories). I love drawing pics and writing stories. I put much time and effort into them, and finding out that my work is either not liked or simply doesn’t get any attention at all always hurts. I can deal with critics, as long as they make sense. It happens often enough that some people simply look at my pics, then leave a bad mark and leave without explaining the reason. I’m probably being childish here, but a positive comments can really make up my day – especially if it is for a fanfic of mine.
I guess that was the last push for my unhappiness now: I love drawing and my pics mean a lot to me, but somehow my stories mean even more. I know I’m not perfect – I’m still so far away from the lever I desire and I know I’ll probably never reach it, but I have been told quite often that I’m quite good. Though it is seldom that I personally am satisfied with any of my stories I liked to believe that myself, after I’ve got over the thought that it would be arrogant to think so. Not perfect, but okay. Most reviews on FFN proved my right, or those people were all just trying to be nice… Now I have for the first time uploaded a fic on a site where also marks are given. The result reminded me of the fate of my pictures on a certain site: no comment, but the worst possible average mark… That kind of brought me down. Pretty much down to earth again, at least. I feel kind of stranded now and don’t know what to believe. There was one thing I thought I was good at and now it turns out to be simple bullshit!
I was listening to music earlier. “But I simply refuse to cry”, the singer said. That’s right. I do.
Bah, I feel so much better now….
I really don’t cry, I never do. The desire to do so is just a feeling from former times that comes up now and then without real meaning. Wouldn’t help anyway.
But not crying doesn’t help either. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1249893/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1249893/ Wed, 08 Oct 2003 06:15:06 PDT I've dealt with it. After all there were year and years of time in which I never drew anything on the comuter and so I decided: Back to the roots! The result were (and still are) lots and lots of pencil sketches.
Still this situation reminds me of my dear friend mirri, whose tablet doesn't wok anymore. (Or rather, whose computer doesn't accept it anymore.) Not being used to draw pics with a mouse she was left utterly unhappy with the thought of not being able to cloro her pics on PC anymore. It is a shame, indeed, for she's so good at it, much better that me, but all in all I'm not so very unhappy with it, because now she is forced to use her color-pencils again. And her non-PC colorations are so wonderful, I don't know what she always complaines about. So much better than mine - I drew a piccy yesterday and colored it and now I'm gonna re-draw it with my pencil only because it looed so crappy.
Anyway, thepoint of my rambling here is, that all this just proves again how dependant we are on such little things. I, for instance, totally deend on school - not just for learning things, but as a way to measure time. I always know what day f the week it is as long as I have to leave the house at 7:30 am, but now, in the hollydays, I'm lost.
Today is wednesday. I can tell, because my father is lying on the couch downstairs right now, instead of hangingf around at work. All the rest of the week is only measured in the distancs to the days I can tell.
Even the rigth time is facing problems here. It passes so strangely and me going to sleep at 5:00 am and wakung up at 12:00 shurely doesn't held either.

By the way, my mouse works again by now. But I think I'm gonna ignore it for a little bit longer and stay with my pencil for a while. Can't be wrong to learn dealing without the things that are so easily gone at once... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1217056/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1217056/ Mon, 29 Sep 2003 14:08:00 PDT On the entire way I noticed that the two persons in the bed below looked a bit tired this morning. I noticed it with a slight feeling of joy and satisfaction, but I kept that to myself. I don’t know if I would have survived the comments that lay on my tongue…
With the bus we drove to the airport of Shannon, back to Dublin, as one of our boys though, who was not to bring out of his believe that the airport of Dublin was the only one of all Ireland. It didn’t matter anyway, the road didn’t seem so much shorter to me.
In Shannon we waited again, a cola-bottle exploded, then they all played cards, had to remove their shoes while going through the security check, forgot to take their scissors out of their bags and one of the boys thought it to be funny to spray perfume from a duty-free shop into the face of one of the girls, so she had the smell that for the rest of the day.
We then flew to Stansted again and for some reason I was, for the first time ever, caught by an utterly irrational wave of fear of flight right before the start. When then the light all went out after half an hour of flight it Did. Not. Help! But I’m still alive, otherwise I would not write this now, and you wouldn’t read it.
In Stansted we had to wait again. Did I mention the problems with fight times we had before the journey even started in the entry about Ireland? I guess I did, and as far as I remember I did not want to explain it. Well, I still don’t, but the six hour of senselessly sitting around on the airport were the result of that. But then, finally, we could go to the gate. Again. We waited and waited and the our flight was called. Finally. There was another school-group from Germany there, among several other people wanting to get to Lü beck. Not all of them were German, but most. Oh, how easy it was to forget that we were still in England. At least until a nice woman went though the lined of people standing in front of the gate and shored them (us) by the numbers on out ticket in two different lines. After she was done a voice spoke to us and nicely asked us to move over to another gate. There the whole procedure was repeated and after another half an hour of waiting we finally saw out plane landing through the window. The same plane that was right now on it’s way back to Germany, with us on board. Or so we thought.
Well, the former passengers had to get out, their luggage had the get out, ours had to get in, that we could get in, finally. At the time we started, I guess, my father was already standing in Lübeck, waiting for me…
Two of the girls from the other school were sitting behind me in the plane and while we were above the canal one of them looked out of the window, saw something and brought the attention of her friend to it.
Girl 1: “Look at this! What might that be?”
Girl 2: “Hm… Could that be a mountain?”
Girl 1: “Yes, it looks like one.”
Me, overhearing this and not being able to keep my mough shut: “That’s a cloud.”
They didn’t hear me, apparently.
Girl 2: “It could also be a desert, what do you think?”
Me, louder: “That’s a could! How many deserts are there, between England and Germany?!?” Okay… they did hear me this time…
But I must say, the sunset above the clouds was really, really beautiful. The one good thing of the late start, But when we landed it was dark, dark night, and I suddenly noticed that I hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. For some reason I always forget eating when I travel around a lot, which is surprising, since I didn’t have much else to do then.
Anyway, one and a half hour later I was home, and I ate and talked and then I slept. Pretty much like I will do now, for tomorrow I have to be in school at 7:00 a.m. to guide little children through a sports day and after that we have our last Ireland meeting. We all shall bring the Photos we have made (I haven’t any) and, of course, any Reports we might have written. I have written one. If you are reading this, you did just read it. (The prove that my plane didn’t crash.) I don’t know for sure, if they paid me a whole lot of money I might change my mind, but unless one of that group happens to stumble over this site, it seems not very likely that they will ever get to see... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1103868/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/1103868/ Wed, 27 Aug 2003 13:08:23 PDT After a long, long time we arrived at Galway and continued our way walking, dragging and carrying our luggage to the next house we were going to live in for some days. And I must admit, when we first arrived there it seemed like a dream, compared to Dublin - Not the house but the city, and especially the street the house was located in... Though the house also was much nice than that one in Dublin in some ways. Par example the corridors were so confusing that I had trouble finding the way back to the kitchen after we moved into our rooms... And two timed the fire alarm started, when I was alone in the room.... I was not happy, the first time, anyway, because I thought it was serious. Phew...
Another fun thing were the rooms. There were three: One for the two teacher-like persons, one six bed room for the five boys and one eight bed room for eight girls. And each room had exactly one toilet!
Imagine eight girls in the morning, all waking up at the same time and wanting to shower, to use the toilet, to brush their teeth. I'm so glad I was able to wait and until the last ones had left for breakfast, because I like having the bathroom for myself. When the last ones were gone the first ones (me) were usually already done with breakfast. Some short time for myself, wee! About five minutes, or so...
I liked staying at home in the evening, when the others were visiting some clubs or so. That was my time, alone only with my books, my drawing an writing stuff and all those luggage, half eaten food and trash some of the others had left on the floor. It was, in one word, disgusting, but at least the trash didn't speak. (Before they left, they needed at least one hour for dressing and all! Made me almost go nuts sometimes...) That was my time to shower as well, because the water needed that long to get warm again...
Anyway, there weren't ever eight persons sleeping in the room, no. Lucky us. There were at least nine. Because we already had one couple in the group when we started out journey, so that makes the six beds for five boys room minus one. Why didn't they ever sleep in the boys room, dammit?!?
*sigh* It wasn't that bad, anyway. At least it wasn't that bad until that certain evening only I was in the room when said couple arrived and... Well, let's say, I thought the light of my lamp might bother them and keep them from sleeping when the girl started to hang towels around their bed... Oh, I'm so thankful for whoever invented the Walkman...
Now I wonder: Might they have gotten the message if I had went to get some popcorn?
Back to the dream of the city. It WAS a dream, after all, but a nice one. Because the street we now lived in was only for walking people (don't know the English word) and not for cars, so there was no noise, no smoke, no nothing. No supermarket as well. We somehow needed quite a long time to finally find a store that would sell us anything we could eat. Cheaper than in Dublin, but not much.
The first night proved all hopes concerning the noise to be in vain. Goodbye my sweet dreams. Nice knowing you.
The people outside, right below out window, made more noise that I ever thought to be possible, until about three our four in the morning. And at six the big car-things whose English name I currently forgot came to bring the beer for the pubs all around us. Still, it was a lot better that in Dublin. Especially the air was cleaner.
One day we made a trip to the cliffs of Moher and I almost died climbing onto a hill, because we thought that would be a nice way of killing time on a break during the trip. I almost ended up killing me instead...
Just two weeks before two persons had died at the cliffs and our teachers were not happy to see a certain person walking on the edge so carelessly with her camera, because of the strong wind and the long way down, I guess. It would have been a sad thing indeed, if the wind had been a bit stronger, but at least the night would have been quieter then.
We go a second couple during the last days, and so the number inhabitants of our room grew to ten. An I was the lucky person who had the bed right above the next two lovebirds... ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/974967/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/974967/ Tue, 22 Jul 2003 14:13:01 PDT In fact, it didn't rain the entire 10 days! A bit of wet air, okay, but nothing that would deserved being called "Rain". I must admit I was a bit dissapointed. I mean, how am I supposed to get a "British feeling" if it doesn't rain?
So we sat in the bus, driving from ariport to city on a nice sunny day, and... well, experiencing the joy of driving on the "wrong" site of the street for the first time.
By the way, somewhere along the way I saw a road sighn, saying "Queues likely ahead". That stayed in my mind too, somehow it just sounded cute to me, as a non-English speaker. There weren't any queues anyway.
Dublin was, in three words, sticky, smoky and LOUD! At night we always had to choose between not sleeping and not breathing. The other three gilrs I shared a room with didn't want to suffocate so we always slept with the window open. Or at least we treied to. The cars of the city never slept, and neither did I.
For the other girls I might not have been that bad, for they came home very late at night most of the time and then were too tired to notice the noise Or something like that. Well, when they came home the last night in Dublin they didn't seem tired at all. Nope, they were singing and yelling and producing enough noise themselfe. And: They managed to completly and utterly ignore my existance. They didn't even check if I was already sleeping or something (for once i was), no, they came and were loud and then they left to brush their teeth, leaving the light on and the door open. So I decided to move a little, namely to the door and close it, fully aware that they had probably left it open because none of them had bothered to take a keycard with them. I then turned out the light, went back to bed and more or less waited for them knocking on the door, so I could send them the friendly message: "Sleep in the corridor!"
It knocked shortly after, but it was one of the boys from the room next to ours that decidet to bother me once again after the girls had asked them if they could sleep in their room, too afarind that I would eat them if they knocked themselfes... or siply wouldnt open. And while i still considered slamming the door into his face the girls came back, running imto the room, straight through me and still magaged to ABSOLUTELY AND 100 % ignore me! They should get a price for that!
Enough of that, were was I? uh, yes, in Dublin.
As i mentioned earlyer, Dublin was expensive. For the two books I bought there I had to pay almost twice as much as i would ahve payed in Germany.
But the people I met there were nice, that is a point I can't complain about. What a pity. I like complaining. ^^
The land itself was beautyful, but we din't see much of it then. What we saw were stores and supermarkets and prices beyound our wildest imagination.
I remember me running helplessly though such a supermarket, in search for chips, because that was the only foot there I wouldn't have to cook before eating. But I found none I knew from home, absolutely NONE! (No surprise, anyway, but still. ^^) That was mean I thought, because familliar chips would have made me feel less lonly and homesick in a foregin county. Well, anyway, I wasn't homesick by the way, but if I had been they would have helped greatly. ^_^ ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/889412/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/889412/ Sun, 29 Jun 2003 11:00:30 PDT Yet I must admit I didn’t see much of London, for we only stayed at the airport to change to the plane to Dublin.
We had started out journey in Lübeck, Germany, and I won’t talk about the circumstances that made us start there now, because thinking about it always makes me feel the slight urge to send a nice packed with a ribbon around it and a bomb inside to a certain airline…
It was the first time I’ve ever seen the airport in Lübeck and there is only one word to describe it: cute! We entered the building, walked straight ahead and about twenty meters later we had passed each and every check-in and luggage control. Impressive. I was going to remember it longingly once we ran through Stansted, but of course at that point I didn’t yet know I would.
We were flying, as school groups tend to do, with a rather cheap airline and our plane… Well, let’s say, it flew and it didn’t come down early, nor did it explode, and I am eternally thankful for that.
Still, when I left it at Stansted I couldn’t exactly say I was looking forward to three more flights with the same airline…
Compared to Lübeck, Stansted was impressive. At least it was large, more like the airport of Hamburg which I knew already, which in other words means that we had to run around a lot. The way from the check-in to the gate was about as long as the way from my school to the train station. (And there is a reason why I usually take the bus to go home…) What we finally arrived at our meeting point, some of out group didn’t show up and that teacher-guy of ours had to run all the way back to find them before they missed the plane. But luckily it turned out that there was nothing to worry about: In the end the plane started one hour late. Hurray for the technique! ^^
By the way, the prizes at the airport were impressive too, but I guess you just know what I’m talking about. (There I drank the so far most expensive cola of my life, and it tasted mostly of the paper cup it was in…) And in the end, it was just a shadow of the things to come: Welcome to the extremely expensive city of Dublin! ^^
*add dramatic music here*
]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/879029/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/879029/ Thu, 26 Jun 2003 14:42:12 PDT ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/836781/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/836781/ Sun, 15 Jun 2003 12:24:57 PDT Have fun without me and be creative! I wan't so see all the great new pictures that are here hopefully when I'm back! ^^ ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/798229/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/798229/ Thu, 05 Jun 2003 11:04:58 PDT On monday i got my text back, the German-Advanced-Class-Test I was complaining about earlyer. It's not too bad. Not really good either but still the best test in class, along with another one. A nice result by the sound of it, but not too hart to reach, considering the fact that our class is so small (seven people, including the teacher) that by the rules of the school this course officially doesn't even exist. (We'd need at least sixteen students... does that mean that we don't have to come anymore? I mean, why going to non-existant lessons to talk about non-existing dramas in a non-existant class? ^^)
See? I did it again: A long sentence. That's what my teachers always complain about: My "Sentence structure is too long and complicated"! I tried to avoid that once. The outcome was the worst German test I've ever written. ^^
I also got my English test back yesterday. It was better than the German one but even here my teacher complained about the lenght of my sentences: "What use does it have if your sentences are gramatically correct if I have to read them three times to understend them?"
Okay, well, then... I'll just write three-word sentences the next time and fail miserably, okay?
Or I'll just ignore the whishes of my teachers as I usually do. Maybe I'll still fail, but then I can at least have some fun while doing so! ^^ ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/765495/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/765495/ Tue, 27 May 2003 11:46:56 PDT Imagine: A bus, so full of pubils that the doors have trouble closing (I'm not exxegerating so much here!), you in the middle of it, standing in the korrodor, surrounded by little beings that are trowing things, yelling, crawling around you od trying to provoke you into a fight, because they know you are not allowed to kill them (which, sadly, is the only way of getting them to shut up.) And the lucky ones who acually have a seat to sit on most of the time want converse (...) with some other people who are sitting just at the othr end of the bus! I suppose most of you know this situatuion...
Last week i was standing at my usual spot in the corridor, trying as usual to ignore what was going on around me, the kid to my right were fighting with the kids to my left and someone else was constantly trowing his friends at me! The cildrend just behind the bus driver obviously wanted to see how much of the bus they could destroy before the driver noticed it (he didn't!), and so on. Just a typical day!
Dan't get me wrong: I don't want to say that all children between this and that age are evil (most of them are, anyway) or generally lost to human society. I think much of the blame could be laid on the parents. At the moment many parents practice what they call "Antiautoritäre Erzieung". In other words: They let they kids do what they want because they are not willing to afford any time, effort or generally attention for them. They are lazy, and this is the result. Maybe I'm wrong here but I think that's one of the worst things parents can do to their children.
Not surprising that they tend to be a little bit insane at the moment. ]]> ~kian http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/735344/ http://kian.deviantart.com/journal/735344/ Sun, 18 May 2003 13:49:52 PDT The probleme is: they probably won't get better untill next week and I'll write a kinda importand test in school tomorrow. German advanced class, if you know what I'm talking about.
Now one could think, since I AM German it shouldn't be that hard, but if you ever, EVER had to not only read a German drama you seriously consider shoting the author merely for writing it (if they wouldn't usually be dead already) but also hadto discuss it in endless lessons about the most boring things with your teacher you know the problem! Now I don't wanna say that the dramas are bad or the authors evil in general, or just wanting to totrure poor students, and I also don't think that English students or, wherever else, aren't facing similar problems, but! reading something in school and then having to write a text about such terribly exiting things like the meaning of the word 'and' in a certain sentence can kill even the best story, and it does!
Oh, cruel world! ^^

(Please don't take this lament too seriously. I just had to read one of the lonest dramas ever written within two days and it very effectively toasted my brain! ^^)

"Geben Sie Gedanken!" ^__________^ ]]> ~kian