About Me

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I am in my 20's and a passionate student, majoring in Psychology. I was born and brought up in Germany, moved around about 4923 times and recently moved in with my lovely boyfriend Mr. Bubbles (no that is not his actual petname), who affectionately shares the space in my green Bubble.

I am a raging, almost melodramatic observant, who picks up on body language and gestures like no other. I love to spending my days out and about and observe anything that comes my way, just so I can report it to whoever is around me.

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Wednesday, December 16, 2009

The forgotten book, full of current memories.

I am torn. Something so insignificant and so trivial, but I'm torn. I think it's important to write while travelling, to process feelings, emotions and impressions of a new place.

The traditional option: A travel diary. Small, smart and handy, ready to fit into every pocket and allowed in every museum. It is likely to become my best friend. I will share the majority of my thoughts and encounters with no one else, but the little book. It will rapidly become of greate importance to me and my travel, and soon it will seem like the sole purpose of my trip was to write and process and soak up the experience like a dry sponge soaks up water, never to fully let go of the water that the sponge has once flooded. Instead, experience a change in texture with every fresh dunk. And although the water may evaporate, leaving the sponge dry as it was before, the water has altered the structure of the sponge forever.

Once back home, the little book is to be forgotten, most probably stuck in the section of a cupboard, right between old clothes - that I don't ever wear, yet don't chuck out, because I just might decide to wear them one day, and childhood stuffed toys, which are anyway too valuable to dash.

Until one fine day, probably one of the warmer days in autum 3 years from now that I open this particular cupboard. With much frustration I will search for this sweater that I have been meaning to wear for years, but I could never find. I will dig deeper and deeper, of course I would not have folded a single piece of clothing. They are not worthy of folding, because they are never to be worn again anyway. Of course, how else could it be, in place of my ancient sweater that I seem to be searching for quite intently, I will find this little book, long forgotten, dusty and yellowed pages. Memories will come flooding back, as if the trip had taken place earlier that day ... .

The neo-traditional option: Take notes and blog when I have the time. I can share almost instantly, it is not only for me to read, but obviously for everyone who reads this blog, I can share pictures and I can have people comment on it and share their ideas.

Burning question? What media do I choose?

*sigh* 20 years ago, there was only one option. Now there are at least 2?

[Tune]
The Beatles: Help!

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