Mittwoch, 28. Juli 2010

The happy nerd!

It´s official!
There are normal people and there is me.

When I started this apprenticeship, my boss told me, I in no way had a chance to get an A.
After all, I had to cut the first of three years.

See this boss? Straight A! All around!

Best of class and best of departement.

Suck it up! I did it!


Now I need a good job and then I´m an overall happy content little Fluff.

Freitag, 23. Juli 2010

The Guardian

Did a new pic... Had the idea I could post it here as well. Ain´t I just so clever!

Mittwoch, 21. Juli 2010

The difference between fiction and reality - truth and the press

The difference between fiction and reality is: fiction has to make sense.

On the 12th of September 2009 Dominik Brunner died after being beaten for about one minute by two 17 and 18 year old youths on a city rail platform near Munich.

That´s a fact.

Beforehand, in the train, he had stopped the youth´s in their attempt to extort 15 € from a group of four other youths ages 15-16.

That´s a fact as well.

After his death, Dominik Brunner has been hailed as a hero for his moral courage and yes, for his death while defending four children, by the German press.

That is a fact also. He got the Bundesverdienstkreuz posthumus. There is a foundation in his name.
In the two boys, who killed him, where without any doubt, murderers.

On July 14th the court hearing started.  Accusation: Murder with base motives. They´re said to have killed the victim as revenge for his earlier defence of the group of youths.

Both boys, the elder of whom is officially not able to testify because of physical reasons and psychological trauma, admitted to beating Dominic Brunner, but denied emphatically to have wished for his death.

The younger of the two, who is not even 5'7 and weights around 100 pounds, testified that Brunner got out of the city rail car two doors down. Dropped his bag and jacket and then rushed towards them and hit his friend square in the face. They defended and his friend went into a blind rage.

Headlines in German Newspapers: Killers blame victim.

Two days later, the authopsie paper cleared up the cause of death: Dominik Brunner had a heart condition and due to his agitated state of mind, had a heart attack. He didn´t have any broken bones, or a broken skull, as it was originally stated by police.

Which goes conform with several witness accounts, that state, the victim stood after the attack and then fell again.

The prosecuter´s office keeps up the murder charges.

Headlines in German Newspapers: That changes nothing!

Somewhere in between a young French native witness (16), and her 13 year old brother, detail how she heard "I will kill you" from one of the defendants, but then is not even able to tell, what the word "blindlings" meant (in blind Rage), that appears in her police statement. The questioning was conducted without a translater. A police officer, who had French in school assisted. His French is said to be not very good.

Another witness, a minor as well and his friend, who had claimed to have seen it all and then performed CPR, were shown to have lied. Nobody performed CPR until the EMTs arrived.
Another Witness was discredited by his OWN MOTHER after he gave his statement to police as a pathological liar.

On July 20th, the driver of the city rail  train states, he clearly saw, while checking before starting the train again, how the group of four youths and Dominic Brunner left the train, and two doors farther back, the defendants left the train. The defendants headed for the exit. He didn´t see any sign of trouble, until Dominic Brunner dropped his bag, his jacket, walked up to the two youths, dancing in front of them with boxing moves, taunting them and then hit one of them square in the face. Blood flowed.
Then he yelled "And now we will get the police" which the driver took for a sign, the situation was cleared, since the attacker himself had stated to want to get the police.

He started the train, but notified the station master, to call the police.
A testimony, that is backed by one of the  originally threatened youths, two further witnesses and corresponds with the defendant´s statements.
(to those, not from Germany - German Railway and City Rail Routes are really as good as their reputation and run on a very tight schedule)

Except one German news magazine, that brought a rather interesting article about witnesses, and their unreliability, German Newspapers stayed silent.

The defendants are still murderers to the news magazines and the general public and Dominic Brunner still is a morally couragous hero.

What strikes me now as so wondrous, is the simple fact, what if Dominik Brunner had been a 17year old with a totally broken family, a drug problem, living in a city run youth home, and the two boys had been managers from a wealthy family?

Who is the attacker then?

Is Dominic Brunner still couragous? Yes.
But he also might still have attacked two boys, one of whom is a head smaller than him, without them threatening him in that situation.

Did the boys still kill him? Yes, most likely their actions killed him.
Though... if they didn´t start the fight, and Dominic Brunner did not die of those injuries he sustained, but of a heart condition he had.....
Who is responsible for the heart attack?

And why - and THAT is the question, the German press should be asking - where none of those facts given,  right after the attack, although the prosecuter´s office clearly knew about them two days after?
Why did the prosecuter´s office hand out a version to the public, where Dominic Brunner is a shining hero without any flaw, that was attacked from behing and two sides by blood thirsty monsters, both taller and stronger than him, who murdered him in cold blood.

One of the defendants, who confirmed to be a habitual drinker, said he had two beers and a few glasses of vodka before the attack. But all police say, is, he didn´t appear to be drunk.
Habitual drinker, guys.  Why hasn´t there been a blood test?

During the trial, one of the Police officers was asked, if he saw any injuries on the face of the defendant who was alledgedly beaten by Brunner. His answer? I don´t know, he looked down all the time.
Both young men have very short hair.

There are some serious questions, the German press should be asking right now. About premediated convictions made by the public, clearly spurned on by the prosecuters.
About their own role. Their missing critizism.
About justice.
About flawed heros.
About prejudices and truth.

Yes, Dominik Brunner still died on that platform, after aiding a group of four teenagers. And those two youths still beat him.

Yes, Dominik Brunner was a succesful manager and lawyer from a very wealthy family.
And those youths are still flawed failures of society.

But other than that?
Reality doesn´t have to make sense.

Truth is a very fascinating  construction.

Happy Birthday

Woke up this morning to coffee and cake.

Love my man!

Montag, 12. Juli 2010

Daily author depression

When you write a book, as with all things, you create, you want people to like it.

Authors, due to some evil little thing called reviews, seem to be especially prone to something, I call spontaneous authors depression.

It just happened to me.

I know, Diamond Wolf is an either love it or hate it book.

I know that. I wrote it.

The way I see it, it´s pretty lyrical. A poem drawn out over 20+ pages.

A walk through a werewolfs inner nightmare. A little Goethe like... I Hate Goethe!!

Thank god, that thought came to me only after it was published.

But I still think, it´s a good book. It has it´s weaknesses. Being too short one of them. Contests with a 12k word count barrier suck.

I haven´t even had that OMG what was I thinking moment yet.

And then there are people who just write: couldn´t finish the book.

It´s only 20 pages.

How... HOW can it be so terrible, people can´t finish it?
What the heck did I do wrong, that people will do that?

Ugh! That hurt. That really hurt.

I´m going to curl up with a good cup of Latte Macchiato with caramel flavor now and cry over the injustice of the world. No in fact I´m going to do the laundry.

Console my shredded little heart with the mutilation of helpless socks.

Samstag, 10. Juli 2010

HALLELUJAH! I´m going to get cut open!

Praise the lord, I finally blackmailed, cried, begged and whimpered a surgeon into the ardeous, his skill absolutely unworthy task of cutting open the base joint of my right big toe and to remove the bursitis.

Only took 7 years. ("It´s not that big, it´s only the position that hurts so much" Thanks alot, idiots)

So, on Wednesday morning, I´ll get up, be a happy, giddy girl and hope uh... I´ll sleep through surgery.
Not like last time in January.

Did I mention? When they removed the nails and wires from my previously broken ellbow (double olecranon fracture July 17th last year)... I woke up. In the middle of surgery....

In hind sight funny as hell. I scared some surgeons to death. Hehe

Wasn´t that funny, when it happened.
Tthough, thanks to my really fucked up relation to pain, I just did, what there is to do, when you have a big cut and hole in your arm. Screamed.

Let it come. Open your arms. Say hello and scream.
Nothing like it.

Oh yeah, it hurt like hell, but there is nothing as powerful as true pain. At least, when you know, it´s going to end at some point.

When you don´t, it´s just grating on your nerves and you´re willing to do everything to stop it. Everything

At some point, death will always become and option.

Anyways. This pain will end on Wednesday.
The anesthesiologist, had this twitch of panic in his eyes, when he checked my file. Same hospital as in January.
 He paled. Then he had this very careful smile. Which turned even more careful, when I smiled back.

This kind of smile, you use with dangerous animals, kids and madmen.

I think I will sleep through this time. You´ll be the first to know on the net ;)

PS: Am I the only one who thinks, my keyboard battery is about to die. Somehow I´m missing one third of letters ^^

Dienstag, 6. Juli 2010

The Good, the bad and the nerves

Oh yes, nerves...

I haz them!

Tomorrow morning at 8:45 I´ll be starting the last 45 minutes of my apprenticeship.

Oral exam.

DO you know this mix of jitterish, but it still doesn´t feel real?
Yeah? I hate it!

Tried to distract myself, by checking through some old writings.
I have a full book sitting on my external and two 30k pieces.
Chose the sequel to Diamond Wolf. OMG!
How can possibly be that bad a writer?

I mean c´mon... ugh. Complete rework please, and fast.
How the heck did I manage to write two pansy, fancy girlies?

So much for that.

On a good note, my lawyer just wrote an email to tell me, I´ll be getting some more money from the insurance of that poor driver who´s car door plucked me of my bike last year. HEHE.

Since it´s BMW company car insurance, no pity.

I had no idea, how much money a multiple fractured olecranon can bring.
But it´s highly welcome.
Had to go to the hair dresser on Saturday to look all pretty and shiny for the exam.
100 €!

Holy COW!
OK, I look totally great. They even managed to correct some bad errors the last hair dresser did, but... meep?

Thought about manicure... let it drop. Another 40 € just aren´t in the budget.

I should go on, learning my presentation by heart.
But I want to write. Can someone please clone me?

Samstag, 3. Juli 2010


Have a tumblr place now.

Careful, not really worksafe.

Freitag, 2. Juli 2010

Good morning - The poem

 My alarm clock is laughing at me
It´s 7:30 am.
You just missed the start 
of your classes."
"Don´t matter", I say,
"Isn´t the first time",
turn around
and go on sleeping.

Back in school, I had a huge problem to be punctual.
So huge, in fact, that my math teacher once asked me, what the heck I´m was in class already, when the alarm hadn´t sounded yet.

Everybody knew it and at some point, nobody cared anymore. They just sighed and ignored me, as I crept in one or two minutes late.

In 11th grade, we had a project week and I was part of the poetry project.
Which included the composition of a poem and a reading in front of the whole school. (oh, and a little book of our collected works. My first time being published ;))
I´ve never seen my teachers laugh louder or longer, than that day, when I recited this poem to them.

Mittwoch, 30. Juni 2010

Bored and hyped up

Yeah.. does that work together?

Obviously it does.

I have my final exam next Wednesday and my brain just wont shut off.

Especially, since 3 different stories are taking up room in my mind.

Life sucks.

I can´t relax and can´t get myself to write either.


Still not having a job.

I want to run around screaming (hellooooooooooooo Amora... you´re contagious!)

And at the same time I want to curl up and cry.

Life sucks.

Can someone please turn my creative side to >write< and the rest off?

I need to get it out of my system.

Sonntag, 27. Juni 2010

Short and narrow

"Soccer is a game for 22 people that run around, play the ball, and one referee who makes a slew of mistakes, and in the end Germany always wins." Gary Lineker

4:1 against England... holy soccer ball, that was huge!

Montag, 21. Juni 2010

Random scribblings

Finished Project today, sat down and started to write. Hell, does it feel good ;)

Hurts.. body hurts, soul hurts.
The torture, the betrayal.
He wanted to scream, but the only sound was a gurgled breathe.
"Please" barely audible.
He was beyond pride.
They had sold him. His comrades, his commander.. they had sold him to the worst enemy imaginable.
Chary'ak.. living dead. The Nekromancers.
Why? Because he was a half blood, because he was the one, they wouldn´t feel bad about, after they had made him their toll, to pass through the Kyin mountains.
They had deemed him less worthy and that had been the first tear in his mental armor.
Before him in the dim dungeon cell stood a man as scary and as cold, as any.
The one man, Jaimé had learned to fear.
This man had seen all of him, the strength, the courage, the rage, the pain, the fear.
Jaimé´s body and soul bared to him.
And now he was smiling.
"Fear not, you will not suffer for longer."
Jaimé did´t have anything left in him to suffer. All he wanted to do was die.
Just, please, die. Relief him from this agony.  Kill the memories of his wife and child. Kill his sense of duty, his oaths, everything he believed in.
Go and fade and be no more.
He couldn´t stand one ore day when the skin pulled from his body, when cold unfeeling hands touched him, whispered soothing words, that made him sick. Not one more night of fever, when his body tried to battle the inevitable.

The man, Orthen, knelt before him, the slim, perfectly crafted ritual sword in hand, Jaimé sobbed from happiness.
"Wont you thank me, young one, for the privilege I am granting you?"
Pride? Which pride? There was nothing left, to be proud. Nothing, that kept him from demurely lowering his head and whispering.

Samstag, 12. Juni 2010

All hail the king!

I´m a monarchist... I admit it.
And my king´s name is ... football (or soccer, for the US citizens among us)
and all of those belonging to this strange nation are celebratin their national holiday now!
For one month the world is a ball, a game lasts for 90 minutes.

We laugh, we cry and cheer for heros and warriors fighting nerve wrecking battles in an arena spanning the whole world.

Nerve wrecking battles? Fighting? Hold on for a sec? What is she talking about?

I´m talking about tall, muscular guys sweating, bleeding, falling, getting up again and whole countries falling or rising.

Don´t be mistaken, soccer is an exceedingly violent sport. ( And I will stick to soccer know, everybody knows, what it means, no matter if they´re soccerites or footballites)

Bruises, strained muscles, ripped tendons, fractures. You have it all.

And it can be very elegant and beautiful. There is not many things as awe inspiring as 11 people moving in perfect harmony, each knowing where the other is.. without looking.
Though that perfection is rare. Most of the time it´s just fighting spirit, stamina and pure will.
But that has it´s very own beauty.

On a soccer field heros are made... as shown very clearly today in the US´ first game at the worldcup.

Keeper Tim Howard got kicked in the ribs by an English forward and let me tell, that looked painful.
Bruised ribs always are just ouch!
But after treatment on the sidelines, he got back into the game and held everything shot at him with absolute world class.
He was injured and it´s not clear, if he will be able to play in the next game, but I bet he will try.

And isn´t that all a girl can ask for. Modern gladiators fighting in the worlds biggest tournament?

Soccer is just sexy!

Freitag, 11. Juni 2010

More Layout and random ramblings

Fiddling with the layout again, not happy though, it makes the blog awefully slow.

Weather here is beeeeeeeee-uuuuuuuuuuuuuh-teeeeee-ful! Absolutely. I hate it, when it´s too hot and too bright, but today it´s just perfect.

Got a call yesterday, a big e-trader wanted to do some follow up on my application. Heck, I could have gotten the job, but I´m not available until August. Bugger. But they want to keep me in the files for the next time.

I seriously need surgery, my right foot is killing me. Thanks to my rheumathoid arthritis is got bursitis under the toes of my right foot and the one under the big toe is growing again. Why now, after 6 years?
Hurts like a bitch and the fact that my toe starts to twitch randomly doesn´t help.

Am on facebook. Tried it already a while back, was so boring, that I quit. Now the totally funny Amora asked me to come over and I gave it another try.

Still didn´t finish with writing my project.

My brain is buzzing with ideas. Spend the whole of yesterday listening to Lili Marleen. That song is so extremely sugary it makes my toes curl, but you just can´t forget it. I want to put blame on Alexandr Voinov, since my man swears he is innocent ( I don´t believe him, no worries)

Have had a book in the works for the last two years.. so basically since before RL threw my life upside down.
Angels, Demons and bad guys.
Have to finish it at some point. Needs alot of works, but I just like the main character, oh and his lover... and their girl... and the mains brother...

That brother is one reason my head is so messed up right now, he just wont stay quiet.

Then I had some glimpse of some kind of Cyberpunk/Paranormal setting in my head.

Have a scifi waiting to happen.... already wrote it, but I´m so not happy with the love story. It works, the hero and his girl are cut off, before they can really start, but I need to go on, next book, sell the first one, but how can I sell it, if I don´t know if I can pull off the sequel.
I know what will happen, I just have to make it.


I need... an end to all exams. Heh.

Then I perhaps will find some calm.
Three weeks and one project to go.

*off to actually do some work*

"2 AM and I'm still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it's no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to"

Breathe - Anna Nalick 

Montag, 7. Juni 2010

A WWII Love story

This .html reminded me of a story I have longed to tell for ages...
A beautiful love story and the kind of background that tells so much about my country and about the things, people went through in and after WWII.

Before you scream bloody murder... I know I know... but there always are victims on every side.

I still remember how my Grandmother told me... I was 13 and staying at her house during summer, while my mother prepared to move us in with her new man.
It was actually the evening of my birthday and a huge thunderstorm rode the village. This village you see, was in a valley, surrounded, at least back then, by monstrous mountains of uranium mining waste.
THe thunderstorm would sink down over the valley, effetively engulfing the lower parts of the village in horrendous village, and stay there, until it lost its power because it was caged by those "mountains".

My grandmother and I sat by candlelight, out of fear of lightning strikes and she told me, how she had gotten a new father at the age of nine. I asked, what had happened to her father and she began to tell me, with a silent, yet strong voice about the winter of 1944, when at night the Gestapo came to raid their house again, forcing her, four years old, to stand outside in the snow for hours staring into the muzzle of a gun.
Her father not only was communist, his father had also been a jew.

And while we were sitting, by candle light, while outside the thunderstorm raged, she told me, how she had met my grandfather.
You should know, my grandfather was the bastard son of the highest Nazi official in Pommerania and his housemaid. He went to the Nazi elite school, the Napola, and frankly was the poster boy of a young, striking, very blonde, very arian man.
But the war came and went and he and his mother were driven from their home in Stettin, to live in the northeast of what would become the GDR. Their living circumstances were not truly good and his mother didn´t take well to being driven from her home and being a fugitive.

The GDR government wanted him to study, after all he had received the best education, there was, even if it hadn´t been conform to their ideologies. And he refused.
My grandfather was very stubborn, very proud and pretty passionate in his beliefs. And they were that he didn´t want to leave his mother alone.

So they made him work in a fish processing plant. There are several kinds of torture and he couldn´t stand the smell of raw fish to the end of his life. My strong grandfather would just turn green, then a little greener and would rush for the toilet. And he never... NEVER lived it down.

One summer he was a "volunteer" in a summer camp by the eastern German youth organization (Free German Youth - you may laugh now. participation was anyting but free) and my grandmother had been sent there, I don´t remember for which reason... good grades, or recreation...

My grandmother came from the south of the GDR, about as far from where he was living with his mother, as it got.
It was a typical summer romance, she was 17 or 18, he was 25 and between them lay the whole of their country.
Theirs was an almost impossible match, even with the uniformity, the communists proclaimed, their mothers very well remembered, who their fathers had been.

But, what can I say, sometimes, it just takes the right motivation. Did I mention, my grandfather could be very single minded?
In October that year, my grandfather stood at my grandmothers door and told her, he was studying at the university closest to her now.
It was 60 kilometers (for the Americans: 38 miles) away from her village. And he had decided to pay her a visit... by bicycle.
They married a year later. And as long as he was studying there, he did the ride every weekend, until it got too snowy for it.

I have never in my whole life seen a couple as much in love as them.
Whenever he came home from work, he would first of all things, seek out my grandmother and give a big, loud kiss and hug her and don´t get me started on him coming back from his travels around the world. He lavished on her present from China and India and Russia. (I must say, after he had finally relented and studied, as they wanted him to do, he was just as good as everybody expected of him, Pphysics and economy and he mastered both)

Or as she told me, years after he had died: I have never loved a man, but your grandfather and I never will.

None of them ever truly talked about their time in the war. I am most likely the only one, my grandmother told about her childhood experiences and not even to her did my grandfather really talk about his father, or his time in the Napola school, but he never took well to the thought of anyone driven out of their homes, no matter by whom. You could see it in his face, how it had always bothered him. I know, he left Pomerania on foot with his mother and 5 younger siblings, the youngest of which was just a baby, and they walked, several hundred kilometers, driven by the red army through a destroyed country. I don´t know, what he had seen, but I know it had been bad.
 He was just old enough to be drafted as the "last line of defence" during the last months of the war, being elite Hitler youth and all. But as I said, he never talked about it.
On the other hand, he was just the kind of driven hero, you´ll find in a romance novel. Did I mention he pushed his step-father down a flight of stairs, when that man had beaten his mother, as a boy of no more than 10?

Between them, they had a life time of bad memories, yet managed to built a life of happiness together and , that´s just all, we can ask for isn´t it?
It surely wasn´t all leisure. After his mother died young, they took in his younger siblings and raised them, in the same house, he shared with his mother and father in law, but they managed together.

And they surely didn´t care, who their fathers were.

I guess, the next story will be about the other set of grandparents and how my grandmother insisted to marry in a black dress ( and she did! and looked stunning). Oh, the scandal!

Mittwoch, 2. Juni 2010


Played with the layout a litte, added pictures.
Looks ok, better than before, but I still want to know, how Amora did her place, because it´s awesome!

And no jokes about IT guys please, at least I can tell the difference between NAS and SAN!

Funny - If you know what a C64 is

As I´m writing this, an intellligent, well muscled, darkly good looking man with the most beautiful eyes, I´ve ever seen, sits next to me and installs some 15 year old games on his high end Windows Vista PC via DOS console.
Which is funny enough.

The total breakdown though, came, when the words "Fast! Unzipping Utility" appeared on the screen and you could watch every byte being extracted.... every single byte.

I´m an IT-Girl, I see a lot of funny things, but this just made my day....

Alright, alright, I might admit, the rest of the world my find it less funny, but hey...

Embrace your inner Guybrush!

Post Scriptum: Yes, he still knows the complete intro of Ultima Underworld by heart ...

No comment, no explanation, just raw opinion

Dienstag, 1. Juni 2010

Germany minus a head of state.

Ok, everybody, now it gets political. And German. German-political. Feel warned. 

The reasons for Germany´s engagement in Afghanistan are manifold.
There is a commitment to the Nato. A mutual commitment of "I help you and you help me", which of course means, even a country as conflict-phobic as Germany cannot always avoid being drawn into international politics.
It was either Iraq or Afghanistan and since it had been impossible to justify the participation in an attack on Iraq in the light of the German constitution, or against the rejection of the German people, Afghanistan it was.

Yet still, Germany is Germany and it was hard enough to make anybody admit, that this was not just a humanitarian effort, but that our soldiers were dying in a war. It only took them what? Six years?

And then there is our Head of state, or, the President, who is not, as I might remind you Angela Merkel. The Chancelor is the leader of the Parliament.
A division that dates back to the Weimar Republic.
The post is mostly ceremonial, only weilding real power, when the chancelor wants to step down and when he signs laws, the Bundestag has passed, to make them official.

Now, what´s the problem and why are we all of the sudden without a president.
Well, it seems, he didn´t like some things that were said about him after he uttered those words in a radio interview:

for an export-orientated country like Germany, it was sometimes necessary to deploy troops "to protect our interests... for example free trade routes".

Indignation in Germany was huge, I can tell you, at least, with those, who cared.
Mind you, we just won the Eurovision song contest for the second time since it exists, and most people didn´t quite give a damn about Afghanistan.
I even daresay, Germans are just overwhelmed by the whole thing, war, dying German soldiers, whatever.

But of course, even hinting at things that are un-constitutional in a public interview, when you are the German president, is a no go.
And he went there.  (And I wont say, he was wrong, but that´s a totally different matter and has alot to do with how Germany treats its soldiers)

Now, let´s take a look at Afghanistan and what economical interest Germany might hold in a place that´s as desolace, backward and barren as they come...
There is oil in Afghanistan, there is copper, iron, coal, Lapislazuli and all of that might be enough to at least finance the country, but not enough to justify the costs of several years of war.
And there is TAP - Turmenistan-Afghanistan-Pakistan Pipeline, which would connect the Turkmenian oilfields to the Indian ocean... wait, that´s the Indian ocean.
India and Pakistan would be delighted.

And that is that, Afghanistan isn´t Iraq... while there may be a lot to be gained there, a strategic point with connection to Iran, Pakistan and China, there is  no real money.
There ARE private companies who run mines in Afghanistan, but the only guys crazy enought to try this, are the Chinese, which isn´t exactly what aides Germans economical interests.

Now why am I doing this funny little excourse about Afghanistan?

It might be my wacked sense of humour, but somehow, I can´t help but find it very funny, that the German president stumbles over a comment about war for economical reasons in an interview about Afghanistan.
Especially, when he actually was talking about fighting off piracy in international waters.

The truth rarely is pretty and many of us like to believe our boys and girls are dying for something important. We need to believe this.
We don´t want to know, that the evil dictator we are throwing down, to free his people, just had power over way too many oil wells for our liking.
We don´t believe, that hundreds of people died, just because this one street/pass/bridge shortens the route to the harbor/trading partner/airport by two or three dozen miles.
But that´s how it is. That´s why young men die and children are killed.
And yes, even Germany might have to deal with it one day, no matter how much they try to make the evil w-word go away, by ignoring it.

That he brought it up in a public interview... I like that.
That he tried to justify it... was wrong.
But that he now, with stepping down, creates a public discussion about his words, and this very subject, is just very very right.
I like my country, as war weary and conflict shy as it is and I´d like to keep it that way.

We are at war in some godforsaken, barren place with totally insufferable weather and way too much sand and it costs us.
Do we have way less dead than the US or GB, yes. And who wants to go to the mother, who lost her son and tell her that?
(I deleted a huge part here, even if it burns holes in my soul, I can´t write it, because it will get someone in trouble, but believe me, the subject of war and when it´s justified to destroy people, by making them kill others, is one that´s very close to my heart.)

In the end, it´s the people who decide for their country, if they dare to do it. Take the responsibility and do some good long thinking, if all the money our companies could be making is worth the life of one German soldier.
Letting the government decide is the coward´s way, the way, that lets us all say in the end "we didn´t know about it" and we had that one already, didn´t we?

So, if out president stepping down is starting a discussion about the costs and the gains of war and what´s worth fighting for and what´s not, then, thank you Mr. Köhler for serving your country well for 6 years and for publicly opening your mouth without thinking.

Freitag, 28. Mai 2010

A clear case of: Oh my god, that´s scary....

.... can I please hear it again?

Eurovision song contest. Serbia´s entry.

Not sure if it´s good, or I´m plain strange


Just a quick info.

Lyrical Press has an aniversary sale til the end of may.

So, Diamond Wolf can be had for 25 % off 


Mortal enemies, immortal souls and an impossible love.

Werewolf Kieran McManus is living the high life until his play-boy ways get him captured by Sir Edward Lawrence, the most sadistic and cruel of all vampires. Kieran is tortured to the brink of death and insanity, saved only by his ability to leave his body. 

Unable to break him, Sir Edward calls in another weapon. The new male vamp is as beautiful as he is cold. With his dubious gifts, he could break the captive with ease if he chose. When he doesn't, Kieran and his unlikely savior must battle their own worlds and themselves to survive.

Warning, hot man love, dubious consent, violence 

And just for the fun of it, an excerpt. I love this part. Someone told me once, it´s pure magic. And basically, me being the one who wrote it and knowing the state of my mind, when I wrote it... yes, it absolutely is.

It was night.
I soon found out, when the fucking Brit came in. I, in shackles in the middle of the room, tried not to feel my wrists burn.
And with him was someone else. Someone different.
The man was odd, off, and simply different and fucking-as-hell beautiful.
Six-foot-two or -three, but not as heavily muscled as I am. His skin was marble perfect, a touch of gold, with pale lips and white-gold eyes, platinum eyes. Yes, fucking platinum-colored, like finest Glenlivet whiskey. His hair was so pale, I thought it was gray, but as he stepped into the light it turned out to be such a pale shade of blond that it was almost silver. It hung down to his arse, flowing like silk in some non-existent breeze.
Can you hear the angels singing?
By the way, I’m South-American-highway straight, just for the record. I don’t do guys, because they do nothing for me. And this guy was cold as a diamond.
Not as ice, no; no shards of ice could ever achieve the sharp perfection of his face, the finely cut angles of those cheekbones, the exotic tilt of his eyes, or the sharp borders of his lips that were so perfectly pulled into a sardonic smirk.
Nothing. Ever. Could.
Only diamonds were so cruelly perfect, as rock-steady, uncaringly beautiful as he was.
Up until then, everything Edward had done had happened above the waist. Which, I’ll be honest, was a surprise, given his reputation for pretty men and a firm young arse.
Time was, obviously, up. Diamond shrugged out of his velvet tunic the moment he stepped into the room, and revealed a body as perfect as his face. Slender, sleek, sexy, silken. He had those well-toned muscles, not heavy, just Greek-godlike. And pierced nipples. Platinum hoops, go figure.
I was in a panic, but then I calmed myself. Whatever they did, I could leave, and I would leave, never to come back. There was always a last retreat, one that was so deep within they couldn’t block it.
After I don’t know how many days, this guy taking off his shirt in front of me did it.
I was ready to die.
I looked into his eyes and, shit, this is one of those things you can’t describe to anybody who’s never stood on a mountain top in the Highlands. The wild parts, without the roads or cabins the humans seem to build with alarming frequency. No, the pure, untouched Highlands, where the wind sings to you, caressing your face, like a beloved long-lost brother, who is gentle and caring and, at the same time, sharp, cutting under your skin the way only someone so close to your heart can.
You can’t understand what his eyes were like if you’ve never crouched next to a mountain rivulet, almost dying of thirst and watched the crystal clear beauty run over your hands, knowing the first sip will make your head explode with pain and, at the same time, resurrect you with its innate essence.

Donnerstag, 27. Mai 2010

Research - How normal can an author be

Researching the psychological basics of torture right now. Why? Well, one day I might need it.
Doesn´t that sound really sick?

Got there by "subject-hopping". Starting one place and ending up somewhere else.
Started with longterm effects of trauma, especially PTSD (not that I would really need to research THAT. Believe me, I know more about PTSD than I ever wanted to know, but I wanted the "official", psychological side again), yeah and ended up right there.

Being an acheologist you automatically learn and understand a lot about culture and socio-psychological inter-relations, about "us" and "them" and in the end effectively the dehumanization of others - at least you should-, but there are things, that even old, cynical me will perhaps never be able to grasp on more than an intelectual level.
I understand the why and how, that doesn´t stop me on the emotional level to just want to twist a few necks here and there and remind myself over and over again, that sometimes the most important word in your vocabulary is "NO!"

(German only, sorry)

All others can go here:

Dienstag, 25. Mai 2010

Life and work and writing

I started with the sequel to Diamond Wolf yesterday and wanted to spend today, which promised to become a very quiet work day, adding a few words here and there to the 3000 I´ve written so far.
Or do a nice little Blog post about Diamond Wolf... or read up on the Romance world in general.

Instead I´m going to spend my day calling aprox. 60 people and do some marketing follow-up.


So, if I´m not totally dead, by the time, I get home, more on DW later :)

Montag, 24. Mai 2010

Diamond Wolf

Diamond Wolf, my baby. We have such a rollercoaster history....

It all started, when a friend of mine pointed out, Dark Eden Press was holding a contest to find new author.
I had been doing some cover art for them for a while already and only needed this little push to finally get my courage and actually submit something.

And so I did.
Diamond Wolf, or at least it´s raw draft, was written in some tiny cocktail bar in Hoyerswerda.
10k words in little more than 5 hours.
I love that meditative state, when the words are just flowing and you just KNOW they´re good....
Or at least you think, they are.

12500 words was the max, I stopped at 12347.

And then the wait started. First I believed in it... then I didn´t.. then I read it and was convinced again.

Funny sidenote: I started writing Romance, after buying a book from a pretty big publisher and it was so bad in story and language, I just thought "I can do better at 3am after two bottles of vodka" (Kids, don´t try this, I can keep up with polish construction workers, when it comes to drinking vodka)

And finally the results where in... I made second, which meant a nice little price and a contract.
Yay, me!

I put in the row for publishing, and that´s when the problems started.
Debra, whom I still admire very much, owner of Dark Eden Press had a recurrence of cancer and we all were destroyed, absolutely destroyed.

And there went the contract, understandibly, she folded Dark Eden Press to concentrate on her health.

But then Renee Rocco stepped in, with her project, A publisher that was opening in the summer of 2008.
And I had a new contract.I admit, I wasn´t convinced, brandnew publisher and all.
This might have been my first book to be published, but I had been around the business for a while already.
Yet, Debra trusted her, with her contracted authors, so... I gave it a try.

And never had any second thoughts. Renee and Frank pulled off the business with such professionalism and simple friendliness and great work ethic that I have felt welcome and at home ever since.

And as soon as the contract was signed, I got a friendly email from a very nice lady, telling me "I am your editor, lets get to work"
And man, did she make me work!

You see, I am German. I have never lived in any English speaking country, except for a combined 5 weeks of visiting the US, what I know about English I learned in school and while studying English Literature as minor subject (which basically boils down to "I hate ditransitive verbs") and from reading, reading, reading and writing.

How good my English truly is, depends on a) how many books have I read in that particular week/month and b) my daily form

The problem wasn´t gramatical errors... those I had beta-read out of it already, but a certain tune of the German language, that is quite unique and (at least, I´ve been told) makes my writing unique.
In German you can drag a sentence over several pages... with sub-sentences, side-sentences, semicolons and what not.

If you managed to get that far in this post, you´ll understand.
Even my German teacher in 12th grade chided me for giving her headaches.

So, I spent my time, picking apart sentences.

Oh, and did you know, that Open Office doesn´t show MS Word comments?
I found out, after my editor asked me, why I never reacted on the comments, only on the underlines.
That´s how I got to own MS Office, btw.

But I loved it.

And on the day, Diamond Wolf was finally published... I can´t describe those feelings.
I had just started job training one month prior and was still on probation with the company and I mustn´t mustn´t MUStN´T check onto my publishers website from work.
The disadvantages of IT...  the company is swarming with people, knowing how to check your online history.

And then, the first royalties.. and wonders and more wonders... someone was buying it.
Even some of those people I recommended it to ;)
And some even told me, they liked it.
Especially some reviewers. Google Alert is your friend.
Oh my gosh, I´m so vain ;)

There are still people buying the book, even though I had to stop writing for a while, due to RL and a broken elbow, and the "publicity" as little as it was, vanished into the nothingness of the internet.

Lately a good friend asked me, if I couldn´t write a fling with the boys, clear up some of the things, that remained unsolved in Diamond Wolf and yes.,.. the words are flowing again.

Actually they should be flowing into my final project for my job exam, but heck... if the question is: to write about to hot guys or VoIP telephone systems... what would Angela do?
Alright, Angela Merkel would sit and wait it out.
But I think I might just be a little more driven... and not towards VoIP.

Sonntag, 23. Mai 2010

I have NO idea!

A picture my mother in law took today.
Regensburg harbor.
Heck if I knew what that telephone booth is doing there.


OCD much?

I tend to believe I´m a mentally healthy person... that was, until my primary care physician pointed out to me, chewing on your nails and fingers until you bleed is most likely an OCD related disorder.

Wait, did he say OCD?! What the heck.

So, I have this uncontrollable urge to nibble, chew and pick on the skin of my fingernails, granted, it bleeds now and then, and usually my fingernails and the surrounding skin look more like the battlefield of Verdun... after the battle, but hell.... OCD sounds serious, behavioural therapy and all.

I´ve been doing this since I was a child and YES I understand, after some soul searching, where the OCD part comes from. It´s soothing. It´s centering. It helps concentration. And no, I can´t stand having even the tiniest bit of skin not in order on my fingers.

So, OCD, here we go.

But before I go down the road with psychotherapy and what not, I´ll try the self help approach, which brings me to this post.
A good friend lately dragged me into a nail studio. Me...

And, for totally impressive 5 weeks now, I am the proud owner of fake fingernails. (and still trying to learn to type with those)
And the first thing I noticed, was how freaking hard it is to pick on the skin around your nails with those... claws!
And since it was so conveniently impossible, I decided to try and break the habbit.

5 weeks later. I still pick, at least I try.
I´m a little stressed out, because I can´t calm myself with pulling the skin of my fingers and the absolutely rewarding feeling of nail biting is out too. Damn!

On the plus side... I suddenly am the owner of ten not bleeding, not open, not reddened, infected or hurting fingers.

I like how they look, but honestly, right now I´m dying to dig my teeth into the skin and rip it off until I can taste blood.

Isn´t some soul searching just a beautiful thing?

What can I say... OCD much?

I´ll keep you updated

And now I´m going to file my fingernails.
How´s that for compensation ;)

Samstag, 22. Mai 2010


Fußball, Soccer, Football... whatever you call. The perfect mix between ballet and war, as my granfather used to call it.
I remember standing next to the sideline with him in some tiny town watching our equally tiny town´s team loose in the rain. But nobody tried to get shelter, because getting to a dry place meant to miss the game. They just cheered, cursed and yelled them on.
I knew what offside is, befor I could really read.
Ah, the beauty of childhood memories.
Back then all I wanted was to play, but it was still a man´s world back then.
I few years later though, my grandfather complained, that his team members reached the age gape between child and youth and he was about to loose his two best players... the girls in the team.
I still relish that thought.

Tonight is different though, no small town teams, no youth teams, tonight Germany is red. As in Bavarian Red.

FC Bavaria Munich vs. Inter Milan. Champions League.
All of Germany is glued in front of their TVs tonight, wanting to see if Munich can do the hattrick.
German Masters. Check
The German Football association´s Prize. Check
And now Champions League Final.

There are times, when living in Bavaria is fun. Not exactly safe, but fun as hell.
I don´t think I´ll leave the house tonight.
But I think I´ll go downstairs right now, join the people in the pub I live above and have a good glas of wheat beer. All the while I´ll watch the Bavarians get their asses kicked.
Honestly? I´m Thuringian and aside from the Franks (namely Nuremberg) losing a game, for I still carry a grudge, because they killed our king back in 534, there nothing as funny as seeing the team with the most money in Germany losing.

I´m such a bitch ;)
And should they indeed win... well, there are worse reasons for party, aren´t there?

Donnerstag, 20. Mai 2010

An introduction instead of a praise of myself

Now I did it... created a blog.

Took me only 15 or so years.

But then, I´m a social networking idiot. Never really understood what good it should be to hang around on Facebook or Myspace, when I can have all the important people in my messengers.

Some of you may know me, others don´t.
Then it came to my mind, instead of sending out 20 ICQ/Skype/Yahoo messages... I could just blog it.
I´m such a genius!

My name is Kat (which is a pseudonym, but close enough to my real name, to count ;)) nicknamed Fluff.

I´m 30 years old, German, sub, more or less bi-sexual and I write.
As in books, shortstories and alot of other things, that will never get published. I´ve been told I´m quite good, though the last published story was in 2008.
Had to take a break due to two years of job training, which I´m about to finish in a month. And, how convenient, my muse is rearing his head again and people who don´t exist, until I bring them to life and reality are stalking to talk to me again.

Thank Heavens! I´m back.

Some more or less interesting side information: I like philosophy about pain. Which is only half as sick as it sounds, I got two nasty little roommates in my body, one is called Ehlers-Danlos-Syndrom, the other Rheumathoid Arthritis. Both hurt.
But pain is an interesting little thing, there are so many forms, so many ....
alright, I´ll keep that though for later.

I write Romance, gay, straight, menage and everything in between. And I like it bloody, painfully emotional, with a hint of brutal. And of course a good amount of sweet.

My characters tend to bleed, cry, break down and now and then, just face the odds and barrel through.
At least in the first version, after it hit the beta readers and editors, quite a bit of all those beautifully terrible things I do to my people tends to be softened. Which, in my opinion is a shame, but then... I´m a freak.

But THAT, being a freak and trying to fit into normal society is an entirely different story.

Have a nice day