Muder the dead

I have taken a break from school; well, I have done with the private school because financially it became heavy, and I feel at some point, I'd need more intensive German writing sections in order to improve my German more efficiently, which means university (and I miss being an official student), for I can't learn it alone -- it is a question of discipline, or well... actually the question of the lack of self-discipline. 4 minutes after sending the application, I realized that I made a few mistakes on my application: I forget to check the options, which would show what paper I sent; I spent an afternoon translating 4 years worth of transcript and then found out I didn't need to because they are in English, and I forgot to send a copy of my ID and other optional applications. It has only been a year since my last university application hassle, why everything seems so distanced and unnatural now? So I have been trying to call the school, the receptionist directed me to the head of the department, whose phone line was busy for 2 days. I am convinced that the person was having phone sex. Then, no one ever picked up the phone. Thus I will try to go there in person tomorrow ( the office is about 15 Kilometer from the flat) because the deadline for Summer semester application is in less than 48 hours.

Not only because I miss university life dearly, another more practical reason is : ALL of my job applications have been refused. I've been trying to get a position as an Intern in various newspapers and magazines. If they replied my email delivering the same the message: Thanks for your interest at the position, but your writing shows that your German level is not high enough ( no, literally they wrote that) for us, therefore we cannot grant you the position. Good luck in the future.

But I have to start somewhere!

The reason why I am comfortable writing in English was because most of my papers (academic or not) are (were) written in English. They were corrected, harshly red-marked, and I had to rewrite, rewrite, rewrite, above all, I was speaking the language 24/7, here, besides 3 hours of private class (from April to December), I hardly use it, in a professional level anyway, left me feeling not making any progress, as if my German had already been already fossilized and I can't let it happen.

"But German is hard, half of the immigrants speak less well than you do." I was told. But I am not that half of them, language wise we might have different goals, I can garantee you that not many of these "half" are working (or trying to work ) in German Press. My certificate is only good enough for the entry of university (if I ever get accepted somewhere), but for the professional writing, I still have a long way to go.

But I have to start somewhere.

Cross your finger for me, despite my mistakes in the application, I will still be accepted for a M.A. in the university here. The result is going to be revealed at the end of May or the beginning of June.

All of those, for that one day, I can work as a journalist. A friend of mine told me that it was a great choice, because I would be able to "Speak up for those who can't speak for themselves"-- ideology of journalism, but some of those people don't want to be spoken up to. Case in point: my mother is letting the Predator moving into her apartment, it is illogical and sickening. I am troubled by some gruesome dreams since the day she shared the news with me. But they are not my dreams, they are my wishes. My mother wanted to speak to the Predator about consciousness but why? You can't talk about consciousness to someone who doesn't know what that is. Just like I wouldn't speak French to her because she doesn't speak French. It is a simple question of the capacity to communicate, and neither of them has any!

It is a lot more comfortable to remain as a victim, so all the rights of complain are reserved to them, it takes mental and physical effort to get out of victim costume, she is not willing to make an effort. She is ignoring all the human rights worker have been working for. As the Predator comes and goes, "Relax," says she standing at the door, "we are programmed to receive, you can check in and out anytime you like, and you will never get locked out."

Bravo.

There is one adjective in my mind: Sick.

As I lay in bed having another sleepless night, --- I am Picasso in Jeanette Winterson's "Art & Lies",I vividly plan out the killing process, but It is impossible to murder the dead.