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 ^^

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?
*sigh*

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?

Tumblr

Have a tumblr place now.

http://kathaeske.tumblr.com/

Careful, not really worksafe.

Good morning - The poem

 My alarm clock is laughing at me

"Congratulations!

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.

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.

Bleh.

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.

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!

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.

"Please.."