I once was a writer...

If you have a half an hour to spare, stop reading and watch this video: Make Kony Famous 2012 If you don't have 30 minutes free, don't watch the video but continue reading. Do save this link, though, because you should find the 30 minutes. Really. (I am talking to you, Mami, you who are reading this and have no time for anything other than PEP and my wedding... find the time!) When we are small, young and naïve, we are taught that we can change the world. That ONE person can make a difference. That we, every single one of us, can help. But then, unfortunately, we grow up. We grow up and we start to realize that no, one voice does not count; you need a million, at least. And no, your vote does not make a difference; you need half-plus-one in order to make a difference. And unless you are a philanthropist and have millions and millions of dollars, or even better, euros, you cannot change the world. And the sad thing is that you don't only realize it, you live it, you ex...

I don't particularly care for unsolicited advice - I think no one does. I do appreciate people who care enough about me to give me such unsolicited advice anyway, but they do it in such a polite manner that I feel as if I asked them to advise me. Like my friend H, who sent me an email regarding my name , or my friend J who sends me pics of what dress I should wear. I like that. I like that because they are both just saying what they think while fully respecting whatever I choose. My friend J also happens to have the same taste in dresses as I do, so her advice is much more like SOLICITED help. But then come the people who express their opinions in ways that make you want to kill them. Seriously. I am no murderer, but sometimes I can see why murders happen. Phrases that begin with, "It is so stupid to [insert MY personal opinion about the subject at hand]" seriously bring out the worst in me. Dude, I think, if you want to persuade me to think like you and to agree with...

Dear Santa, I hate being a housewife. I do. I really, really do. And I realize how unorthodox it is to begin a "Dear Santa" letter with a statement of hatred, but I just need for you to understand how important my first world problems  are, and thus help me by sending me a maid for Christmas . If you're going to send THIS maid, make sure you let me know so that I can send Honey  far, far away from home during her working hours! Santa, I hate being a housewife. I love Honey, though he has not yet made me his wife, so maybe I am not technically a house wife - perhaps next year I will ask for a big rock on my ring finger. But look, Santa, look at how pressing this maid issue is: I need a maid more than I need to be legally married! Santa, God blessed -and simultaneously cursed- me with great attention to detail. Which means that a task (like washing dishes or folding laundry) that would take the average housewife 15 to 20 minutes, takes me 30 to 40 minutes. Becau...

On my way back home one day last week, my mom told me a very sad story: a friend of hers from highschool, one of her very best friends, was going to go through her second chemotherapy session on that very moment - breast cancer. Terrible news, and scary, too, because it could have been my mom. Or me. So I informed Honey that I would not be going home for lunch, and changed my plans and my schedule - something that the very German me does not do easily. I decided I would help her. Instead of going home, I went to the hairdresser and cut 27 cm (a little over 10 in) of hair. That was my hair. I had let it grow out for a little over a year. I cut off 27 cm! That's a little over 10 inches in American. A friend of mine had recently told me about Locks of Love , a non-profit organization that helps people with hair-situations due to chemo. I looked into a similar possibility in Germany and upon finding none, decided I would mail my hair to the LOL people. I was going to ma...