Tag Archives: Granny

On Internet Friendships

14 May

I don’t think I’ve done a post on this subject before but I believe it’s something that comes up for every blogger/person that lives as obnoxiously online like I do; or so I believe. I don’t like making the division between IRL friends and online friends. This is partly due to the fact that I don’t advertise my online life as such. My close friends know that I blog and tweet and whatnot but they don’t care too much for it. And for all the other people I know, explaining what blogging is and that I do it and why is just way too annoying so I just refer to people I meet on the internet as my friends.

Secondly, though I also believe that it doesn’t matter if you only communicate with this person over the internet because he/she is hundreds or thousands of miles away. They can still be good friends and sometimes even better than those ‘real’ people in your life. Just a recent example, Sunday was Mother’s Day. I don’t much care for this day, never have and never will because I’m just not a fan of doing anything just because everyone else is doing it. So my Gran got flowers today and not on Sunday. Even though it’s a stupid day in my opinion, it was the first Mother’s Day without my Mom. None of my friends said anything about that but as I was going to bed I got the sweetest tweet from Nicole sending me a gigantic virtual hug to counterbalance all the Mother’s Day craziness on social media. (Twitter and Facebook really went crazy that day.) This consideration blew me away, partly because I always suspect people I find to be really cool think of me as the annoying fifth wheel.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, after I delivered my flowers to Grandma she told me about her ‘friends’ grandkid who’s 16 that did/wanted to (idk I didn’t pay close attention) meet a man she met on the internet. And then she asked me who I was meeting in Edinburgh next month even though I told her it was another exchange student I met in Sweden. I know this is a lie but my Gran has absolutely no idea how the internet works and believes that everywhere we sign up online it’s for murderers and rapists to find us. I have no intention of ever explaining blogging/Twitter/tumblr and Facebook to her because I don’t think she would understand why we do these things and that not every person you meet online is a bad guy.

I trust my judgement enough to know that Anju is not going to hack me into pieces in Edinburgh and I also don’t know why this is such a big deal when she is okay with me traveling to Sweden on my own in July. I know she is doing so out of love and because she cares for me, but what does she think is going to happen? I’m flying there (done this many, many times even on my own), we’re going to stay in a hostel for 2 nights (more people to prevent axe-murdering) and visit the city, talk, take photos and have fun. I really cannot think of what terrible thing will happen to me because I chose to meet a person I know for almost 2 years now in comparison to going alone. I could just very well be making this weekend trip on my own, but honestly, then she would go crazy for a different reason.

Maybe I am a little bit naive but I believe there to be a certain ‘codex’ between bloggers. I mean, this is not some shady ICQ chatroom. When you’re a personal blogger like me, who mainly follows personal bloggers, you get to know the people you interact with most. Of course it is only a fraction of who they are as to what they reveal on the internet but still. People in real life can be murderers too, you know?! Just last week a woman my age was murdered by her boyfriend in my town. I didn’t know her but bestfriendboy did and he said I knew her cousin so there’s that. It’s a big deal because not many people get murdered here, we don’t even have out own homicide unit, they have to come in from the next bigger city.  What I’m trying to say is, it doesn’t matter where you know the friends you know from, there’s always the possibility of them having a secret you don’t know. If I meet someone in class at the university I have no way of knowing that he is NOT the next bloody face killer who secretly skins people in his basement. I have to trust my judgement and I have to do the same with the people I meet online.

I hope this made at least some sense, I’m trying to get back into blogger-groove which may take a while. Until then, have fun with my incoherent babbling.


Sickness and Secrets

29 Jan

I’ve got the flu. I saw it going around Twitter some days ago and I can’t help but wonder if it’s possible to get infected over the internet while being on separate continents. It started out with some minor discomfort in my throat on Saturday and has turned into full blown sickness mode by Monday. YAY! I haven’t been that sick in ages but whatever. I feel like a tank has driven over me in my sleep.

Granny called me today and she was not happy with me not telling her that my flu got worse and bla, bla, blaaa. She thinks I should have told her and asked for help but I didn’t want to worry her and thought I would get by on my own. She is so very protective of me, probably because I’m like a daughter to her not only a grandchild and I’m the only one she can actually fuss about. But I’m 25, dammit, and I can handle most things on my own including sickness. She said I was so buttoned up and then sounded rather angry before she hung up the telephone. I’m not even sure what that means, only that it made me angry and I sill am even though it’s been hours since that call.

Really, grandma??

Yes, I’ve got it bad because I resolved to taking industrial strength medicine to dull my headache and other symptoms. I prefer not to take medicine for as long as I can avoid it, but I couldn’t anymore and so I bit the bullet and put my big-girl pants on. I may have cursed and whined to bestfriendboy about feeling like hell but that’ just how I roll. Nothing to worry about.

My family is very secretive, we are never told everything, there is always something someone knows but someone else doesn’t. It’s stupid. Like my uncle having diabetes. On Sunday though, my aunt let that secret accidentally slip out so now Granny knows. Not sure what happens next.

I on the other hand have not been told so many things, like reasons for hospital visits of family members even after I was old enough to take them and many other things. Over time I grew rather self-sufficient, if I was told something? – Good. If I was kept out of the loop? – Fine by me as well. It’s like we don’t trust each other completely. As I was a teenager, Granny used to interrogate me about Mom which I hated. Standing between two parties, especially when your neither good at lying nor want to do it in the first place is quite annoying. I always had to watch my words even around family which is wrong if it’s such a small family like mine.

Even if you tell them the truth, they don’t believe you. I’ve been asked so many times if I’m ok and how I’m doing and whatnot after Mom’s death it’s so annoying. Sure it was tragic, but also inevitable. If you saw the things I saw in the last year, you would be ok with your mother being relieved of her pain and suffering as well. Naturally there are days I miss her more, I think about her on a daily basis and in my dreams she is still alive which I’m not sure how that makes me feel. All in all though, I have accepted it so why does the rest of my family feels the need to keep dancing around me, trying to find things that are wrong with me when there really aren’t any?

Also, why am I supposed to share everything about myself when all my life I wasn’t granted the same rights – still am not?! Maybe I am a little buttoned up, but there is not much happening in my life lately. I get up, go to uni, go home, watch TV shows, eat, read, sleep, repeat. No big secrets there. The only thing I have really kept to myself so far is that I’m gay. I just don’t know how to bring it up.


Ugh, this little phone conversation just made me so angry. Of course I love my family, only sometimes they are difficult to get along with. Just because I didn’t come running for help, making her get me medicine and food makes me a horrible grandkid? It’s not like I accidentally amputated my arm with a chainsaw and then didn’t tell anyone about while not going to the ER but trying to stitch things up myself. IT’S THE FLUUUUU! People get it all the time and they are fine. Sure, maybe they are miserable for a couple of days but that is just how sickness goes.

And if I am indeed buttoned up, then it’s not entirely my fault.

I Wish I Had Gotten To Know You Better

3 Jan

The number 13 really runs in my family when it comes to birthdays. My Mom, oldest cousin S and myself were born on the 13th of various months. My Granny’s birthday is March 1st or 1-3 so basically a 13. Today is January 3rd which means my Grandpa would have been 91 today if he was still around. Even he has a variation of that 13 in his birth date, especially if you write the date down the American way. I just think this is really cool and I cannot remember but I believe my great-grandma was also born on the 13th of some month or was it my great-grandpa? Not sure.

Happy 91st Birthday Grandpa!

I wish he would have been around longer but sadly, he died over 20 years ago and I barely have memories of him. Granny told me a lot of stories though, some of them I’ve heard many, many times and others are new to me.

After my grandparents got married they decided to start their own company which basically meant working non-stop and being poor as hell. Soon my mom was born which was a great source of joy but times were hard -money was tight. Granny says, she sometimes wasn’t sure if she could afford to buy bread or not. They worked so hard and they made it. They stuck together and just kept going and I love this but then again, they really had no other choice. Even when Grandpa got sick they managed to get through it and come up on the other side. Things were never easy for them but they became quite wealthy for the time and place. Granny’s parents helped them though, mostly with paying for food or clothes in the early days. So when my grandparents finally were doing a bit better, Grandpa got his family-in-law a TV. Mind you, those were the late 50s or early 60s so these things were rare and fantastic and a HUGE deal. As things went back then, it was some kind of deal Grandpa made with the guy selling TVs and it was meant as a thank you for everything his in-laws had done for them. They became one of the first people in their neighbourhood with a TV!

But Grandpa was not only a hard worker, a kind and generous guy, he also had a sense of humour. When my great-grandparents first got their telephone, he pranked them. Back in the days, the telephone was a monopoly  owned and operated by the ‘Deutsche Post’ our then also monopoly postal service. So after the telephone line was installed and operational, Grandpa called his in-laws pretending he was the  Post-Minister and wanted to congratulate them on their new phone line. Needless to say, my great-grandparents were flabbergasted and taking this seriously. They were beyond excited that such a busy man took the time out of his day to phone them and do something like that, just Wow! So they giddily tell my grandparents about the call and  Grandpa cannot keep it together and tells them that it was him calling. I just love this story because it is so ridiculous and cute.

Grandpa was not perfect, nobody is. I’ve heard stories of him getting drunk at parties, being impulsive, making Granny mad or happy – sometimes both at once, showing his love and just being him.

Mom was their first-born and they were debating names. I believe they settled on Dorothee so Grandpa goes to the civil registry to get their daughter registered and he comes home to Granny later telling her that their daughter’s name was not Dorothee as they previously agreed upon but Ingeborg. BAM! So much for talking about stuff that matters. With my uncle, Granny didn’t even pretend to choose a name and let Grandpa work his magic. That’s love you guys!

I believe my ability to fix things around the house and my interest in technology must be credited to him – not that he taught me to do so by himself but that it is in my blood because of him. He was a handy man and quite the inventor in his field. Most of my family is good with numbers and technical stuff – Mom studied Business Administration and my uncle has a PhD in physics. I love math and science and technology. Need I say more?!

Even though he was already quite sick back then, I was their first grand-baby and he couldn’t get enough of me. I would have loved to grow up with him more than I did – with the actual person and not just the stories. I wish he could see how the little girl he loved so much turned out – how she shares his love for office supplies and sports and so many other things, how she shares the colour of his eyes. I really hope he is celebrating the shit out of this day with Mom in heaven!

Happy freaking Birthday, Grandpa!

I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you!

This Is It Then

1 Jan

2012 is now officially over and I’m glad. I hope you all enjoyed your final hours of the year and welcomed 2013, I know I did – ate too much, watched some fireworks and played The Hobbit board game.

Traditionally, New Years Eve is the time to make resolutions or some variation thereof but not me because the Lazy in this blog title is not there for fun. I am lazy and would forget my resolutions by January 10th at least. The only thing I plan on doing though, is write down every good thing that happened, or the moments I was really happy and put them in a jar to read at the end of this year. And no, I didn’t come up with this myself, I saw it on Tumblr and liked the idea. We will see how that goes.

As for 2012…can we please forget a huge part of that year? – Probably not but don’t blame me trying to do so. Typically, I watched much more TV than I should have, didn’t read as many books as I wished but got obsessed with unpublished writings on the internet Rizzoli and Isles fan fiction of which I read more stories than I can even remember. Juts so you know, the biggest and best of those stories, Calamity Jane meets Dr. Isles, Medicine Woman and its successor Calamity Jane 2: The Doctor and The Deputy together have already more words than the first 4 Harry Potter books combined and isn’t finished yet.  And if somebody was stupid enough to publish 50 Shades of Grey, I can only hope that one day, the Calamity Jane series will be published in print because it’s awesome. Ok, I’m done with my fangirl problems now.

I had something more to say but then Granny called to wish me a Happy New Year and that somehow disrupted my train of thought. So I’m probably done her for now but not until I do this:


P.S. Feel free to like my blog’s page on Facebook. 

Not My Place

30 Dec

Some days ago I went to visit my Mom’s grave because I haven’t been there in a while but when I finally got there, I couldn’t turn around fast enough. It’s not that I don’t miss her – because I do. Only, I felt extremely out of place. Including the funeral, I’ve been there three times now – three times in over three months.

My Grandpa died 20 years ago and I don’t have live memories of him. Everything I know is because of the stories Granny told me. There are images of their lives together in my head that I never saw but I can still see them. I remember him being sick, and then Granny wearing black clothes and skirts for a long time. I was still in kindergarten back then and I don’t remember much of that time either. I didn’t go to his funeral.

I also didn’t go when about two years later, my great-grandma died and shortly afterwards Granny’s younger brother. By then I was in primary school and I went to classes instead of the funerals. I think Mom and Granny made the right decisions there.

As I spent my time after school at Granny’s we went to the cemetery together quite a lot in order to take care of the graves. Granny always needed a moment to gather herself before leaving but it never meant that much to me. I remember it being boring and tedious unless it was fall and the leaves of the big chestnut trees were falling down, me collecting chestnuts, trying to fit as many of them into my small pockets as possible, jumping into piles of dried leaves. But the cemetery was never a place I went to when I wanted to be close to someone I lost. I never go there on birthdays or the days they died. I had other ways.

Every time I needed guidance or someone to listen but not answer or make me feel less alone I moved my gaze to the night-sky and the stars that were shining. When I wanted to tell Grandpa something, I directed it to the stars and the clouds above me. Poured my heart out to the universe. Graves don’t hold anything for me, I don’t feel closer to the deceased there than any other place except when I look into the sky on a cloudless night.

The infinity of the universe is where I believe all people go once they die. I cannot know if that is actually the case, or if Mom and Grandpa finally reunited there after Mom was called in in September. But I like to think of it that way. I like to think they can watch me and the rest of my family – keep in touch even though they cannot actually answer my questions. I know they are there, as childish as that may sound.

Standing next to their rotten corpses or burnt ashes doesn’t do anything for me. Flesh and bones are not what a person makes, it’s just a shell we need. So, no, a cemetery is not my place. I know Granny needs to go there for whatever reasons I cannot fathom, but I don’t. I have them with me everywhere I go – in my heart and the stars above me.

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