Willst du mitkommen?

I could sit here and ramble on about my self but that would bore even the most forbearing of us. But allow me to bring you up to speed. I'm just starting to figure out this business most call family -In doing so I've met some pretty amazing people along the way. Come join me as I awkwardly navigate through this conundrum known as life finding family, friends, and a home while trying not to be arrested, lost, or killed in Deutschland. Still learning deutsch alongside my man Ludwig. Let's watch and see what happens -Wir wollen gehen!
Getting called a Mutt, LapDog, Menion at work
and that I’m not good enough for the job

In which the 3rd day of work I’m late
Because I couldn’t stop drawing. I gotta be 45 min away in 30 min and I’m not out of my pajamas yet
Stoli walks in
“Is zis your lunch break”
Ha haha hahahahahaha
Oh wait, you’re serious?
Had my uniform cleaned forever ago and remembered to go pick it up today
Now it’s hanging there staring at me and all I can hear is
YOU DISAPPOINT ME

[Perdon me whilst I have a girl moment]
LAAAAAASSSSSTTT DAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY
LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY! LAST DAY!
Shit it ain’t like I’m excited or anything
That moment when you realize your new pay is less than your old.
…
What kills me is I could be making 3x that much.
Oh well, off to get lost in emails.
Got bored at work….AGAIN
Scrollin’ through meaningless web pages that aren’t blocked by the county and stumble upon Zodiac pages. Zodiac amuses me, not a religious thing, but it’s interesting.
Reading up and laughing at all the Taurus crap and sitting there like “… heh, that’s true…. heh, so is that…” Which leads me from one sign to another. I start looking up people I know by their birthdays and doing more “heh, true” like comparing Ruger to the Pisces she is, and Jenny the Cancer, and how they all get along with Taurus.
Then I notice the Capricorn and I’m like “Holy shit, I need more Capricorns in my life! Awesome sign is awesome”
So I start researching the Capricorns and their birthdays. I’m really getting into it now. I’m that bored. And it hits me, right in the middle of all the radio chatter. Ludwig’s birthday is January 8th. He’s a friggin’ Capricorn.
And I just sat there, gaping at the screen. It fit him so well, down to the books. It was all so creepy. And then I just started getting so upset. It just keeps falling on me.
I lost everything I’ve ever wanted.
Over.
And
Over.
I was hit so hard I had to call a code three for radio silence. I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t think. I just shut the door and the stupid window and just sat there trying to keep it together.
I gotta find something to keep my mind off of this. For good. It’s like I’m drowning and forgot how to swim. It’s so painful and it lasts and lasts…
First day at work wasn’t so bad I guess….
Nearly rioted this morning through
- Me: (Still not understanding why we have dress uniforms and only wear them once a year) I dunno, they're both... nice?
- Ludwig: So, narrowing it down, do you prefer the black with gold trim, or the white with black trim?
- Me: Well, it depends... are we gonna be Home or Away?
So what’d you do at work today?

I fuck you not. Goosestepped around the whole damn shooting range, peaked cap and all, doing my damned best to impersonated Ludwig, which he didn’t like.
And I got shot today, rubber bullets. HURT.
OH MY FUCKING GOSH I MISS MESSING WITH HIM SOOOO WORTH IT
I’ve gone through my life thinking I was a right handed shooter
boy I was wrong.
“You’re left handed?”
“I am?… is that a problem?”
“Nien, just… odd.”
Odd? ODD? Look at that damn fine shooting! LOOK AT IT!
I am not odd, sir. JUST left handed.
Nothing’s better than coming home, bursting through the door like a drunk and bellowing:
IN THREE MONTHS, EVERYONE IN THIS HOUSE WILL BE A SERGEANT
and staggering off to collapse on the couch because you haven’t gained the function back into your legs from being petrified for four hours straight