The Sickbay Logs

My Internet is crappy, so I'll keep myself short. Since yesterday I'm back in the residential home of my school after too short two weeks of vacation / holidays, located uphill on the top of something I have secretly renamed Mount Seleya already. As someone who grew up frequently visiting the Alpes, I refuse to actually call it a mountain (although roughly translated it would be called the Monks Mountain, for there's a monastery there,) yet it also is more than a hill. Actually it is non, I believe, for it only exists because the city is located near a river and thus in a valley, so maybe it's an anti valley? Or a mirror valley?
However I named it Mount Seleya when I was walking home from shopping groceries (uphill as you might imagine) at some point in the winter and as I had been watching / reading the Star Trek movies / their novelizations at that point I couldn't get out of my mind a Vulcan voice continually telling me to "climb the steps of Mount Seleya", hence the nickname. But I'm getting off topic.
The first thing I did yesterday was opening the window, as it gets very warm inside my room over the day, and then, when I was going into the kitchen, my door fell shut with an ear-hurting thud, which brought to my attention that all of my fellow classmates who are also residing on my floor were back already, too. Since then I have dreaded today and the lessons, but it wasn't that bad actually.
My fellow classmates, or at least those I have tried to avoid prior, seem to have some strange sense of respect towards me ever since our little episode in town. I cannot honestly tell if that is a good or a bad thing, but I has made the lessons a little less dreadful to me. Also German lesson didn't take place today, instead we had something nearly worse, nursing-theories, but at least we seem to have a rather good teacher there who actually manages to make her lessons interesting and even can explain abstract things in a way one might understand them without having us act out some abstruse play, as our former teacher in that subject did.
However I'm not sure if I should be dreading or looking forward to the time I am back in practical. My next stop there will be the mothers ward and I'm just not good with children. I can get around with them as soon as they are past kindergarden age, but before that I just don't know what to do with them and fear I'll break them if I do something wrong.
What I do know is that I want to get out of here, meaning out of this residential home. Living right above the school can be quite nice, yes, but still it's already getting on my nerves to always have to share your shower and kitchen with other folks. I don't have anything against that, I just don't need to see all the people I already see in class every day in my freetime, too. Not that kind of people anyway. I already know that I'll need someone I can get around with as a flat mate, but I think I'll manage. After all, if everything goes right, in August it will be my flat and then it'll will be my choice whom to live with there.
(Also if you should be female, a trekkie, gatie, warsian or other kind of sci-fi or other nerd, living around Würzburg and looking for a flat for the next winter semester, it's only a small, two-room flat, but it has it's own bathroom and kitchen and is located nearly around the corner from the central train station.)

When speaking to friends I really have to watch my wording by now, because most don't tend to understand me, when I start speaking of my Admiral, shuttles, decks or redshirts. And sometimes I can feel the weird looks others give me, when I sit around laughing about my book. But I think it's worth it.
No one else thinks about being followed by MiB when spotting a black car behind them that stays there for more than one motorway-exit. And lasertag get's so much better when thinking about it as Redshirts vs Borg.
And then of course there was this hillarious day, the first of April, when after a stormy night I was woken by the sun shining into my room (as much as the sun can shine through a westward window in the morning) and my first thought was "Sulu, look, the sun's come out!", after which I ventured into the kitchen to have a breakfast of bread with cold meat to the sounds of "Spring" from Vivaldis Four Seasons.
And surely not many can grasp the full impact of my finding those two awsome hair products called "Style Warp" and "Transformer", or why my WiFi-Hotspot is called "USS Relient" and has the Passkey 16309 (while my PCs are USS Enterprise and USS Hood, the latter because it has the NCC 1703 - which happens to be my birthday).
Honestly, life is so much more fun being a nerd.

I believe I know why James T. Kirk likes freeclimbing so much, because I've found that I actually pretty much like it myself. Given, I don't need a sleek rock wall for it, I prefer trees. And that is somethig my mum doesn't understand, for she allways tries to make me use a ladder when, for example, I go picking cherries. But what she doesn't seem to comprehend: A ladder can fall, trees usually don't.
However my mum seems to be a little fond of climbing herself, when once a year (or so) she comes up with the idea of either keeping the ivy growing up our housfront from covering our windows or cutting back one of our trees. The first usually results in a lot of sneezing for all involved (ivy is after all a medical plant used against cold), and the second in cutting off my climbing routes on one of the three climbable trees in our garden.
This has caused me to continually find another way onto the walnut tree when I was little, and also because of this I most likely won't be able to pick any cherries this year, for since her last cutting attack the lowest branches are hanging higher than I am tall. But today our subject of interest was the apple tree.
Other than the two afore mentioned subjects, which are growing further back in the garden, the apple tree is near the street, at the corner our yard forms with this just-wide-enough-for-one-car piece of pavement. It was once surrounded by a hazel and a thorn-bush, although both of those had in the last years grown tall enough to earn the title "tree" themselves. As they had not only grown tall, but also wide and considerably far into the street, my mum cut down both of them radically and so the apple tree is for now the only thing remaining in the gap between the corner and the other shrubbery, starting with a pretty large elder bush (tree?) a little further up the street.
And today we cut the apple tree, before it got too large to cut back, too. That is, my mum cut it, and I was holding the ladder, trying not to get hit by anything that might fall down and fixing her tools, such as putting the chain back on her chainsaw-on-a-stick-thing which I secretly by now have nicknamed her staff-weapon.
The only thing that is different today is that now, because we have cut back the tree, I can, for the first time ever, really climb on our apple tree. Before I had always either been to small to get onto the first branches or grown so tall that once I had gotten up there, I constantly had to watch out not to bump my head. And tell me, what better place is there to read a book on a sunny day than in the top of a tree?

Hosted by Blogger.de - - Powered by