The Truth

This is the truth

if you turn things upside down

You cannot hope for your life to change

I would be lying t you if I said

That you have a great future ahead

That you can recover from your past mistakes

That your life could be filled with Joy

That your children could be safe and healthy

More than anything you must know

Human beings cannot accomplish these thisng

And I am convinced of this because

I know you

(And) all that you are capable of is failure

You have made a complete mess of your life

And I refuse to believe that under any cicumstances

that you can turn things round in the coming years

You may think your life is bad now

But there is more to come

You have only one destiny

And whether you like it or not

This is what is real

I am the Lord your God

You should know I believe exactly the opposite!

Now read it starting from the bottom line, working your way to the top. This was given out at some sunbury court weekend a few month ago by Ira, from http://www.sermonspice.com/

That's all. Except that after the death of Rich's blog there was space for a new one on my V.I.P list, so now there's Andy. Good, innit?

A little Homage

This one is for people who will probably never read this – they probably wouldn’t know what a Blog is if it hit them over the head. Still, I think they are great and nobody ever tells them.

Every Sunday morning Andy picks me up with the Corps Minibus and we go on our little tour to pick up those who are not able to make their way to the meeting without help. Our little group is amazing.

There is for example Mary. After having broken her hipbone, a bone splitter got stuck in some nerves and she can’t walk. Will never be able to walk again. Now her head is very quick and agile and she’s such a loving person. As she is the first one we pick up on our round she has to wait while Andy gets out of the car to help other people to the car. While he is out I sit in the back with her and we chat a little. She tells me every week that unfortunately this week the staff in the care home didn’t have time to take her out, but maybe next week her son will come to visit, and he will take her out, or maybe next week the weather will be nice and she can sit in the garden or maybe, maybe next week… I never once heard her complain.

Then there’s Frank. Now Frank is such a charmer. He refers to Tracy as “Andy’s lovely wife” and tells me every Sunday morning that I look “lovely” – in my “lovely” uniform. But he doesn’t only charm the younger ones, far from it: Oh, my dear, what a lovely dress (hat, coat, or handbag) it comes from the back of the bus every time one of the ladies gets on. Frank will be moving soon, leaving behind the flat he has lived in for many years and his wife, whose Alzheimer’s disease is so bad she can’t remember that she has a husband. He visits her every week, not knowing whether she knows that he’s there or who he is.

Then we pick up Audrey. Audrey is a very smart woman, always dressed for church and I’m pretty sure that she invests at least the double amount of time in her short white curls than I do with my red frizzy mess. And I spend hours trying to make something out of all that hair. Unfortunately Audrey has a problem with her hands and she can’t put on her seatbelt herself. When I try to help her she always tries to be very helpful by holding the belt and trying it herself, which I used to find quite a pain as it makes the whole thing so much more complicated. But then I realised how much I hate it when people do things for me that I think I should be capable of doing myself (try and carry my instrument!) and how hard it must be on her to not being able to do such a basic thing like putting on a seatbelt. And whilst carrying my instrument only proves a problem because I don’t want anyone to think that I’m week and need their help, putting on a seatbelt means that Andy or I have to be really close to her, invading her space.

And then there are all the others, Betty who is trying to see the good side of leaving behind your house and with it your independence, your memories, your garden to move into a home, flirting with Andy about meeting him in her yellow swimsuit (which she can’t wear now because it has got a whole). How awful did we feel when she moved the date or her Birthday celebrations to be able to bring her tins of beans to the hall, thinking it was harvest when it fact harvest had been the week before. And Joan, at 86 not having much time for nonsense, calling her friends in the morning to make sure they get up in time. And Fred, almost jumping on the bus with his long legs, telling me off on the rare occasions where I didn’t go on the bus. None of them get out often, or have a great social life or expect anything extraordinary. Just expecting that on Sunday morning around 10am the blue bus stops in front of their house where they all are invariably ready to go, the brave ones waiting on their drives, the others looking out the open front doors, wearing shoes and coats to avoid delays.

Fact is, when I started to go on the bus it was for mere convenience. Because I could get a free ride and give Andy a little hand with opening doors etc. I always figured that the age group I want to work with are the teenagers – I still think that is what I’m good at – but I have never expected to receive so much by giving so little.

So when my bus people say thank you for offering my arm to help them get on or off the bus, hold their bag, fasten their seatbelt or walk them to their seats in the hall I really think that I’m the one who should be thanking the for trying to take part in my life… (How is the flat? Have you seen the Air show? And the new job?) and for letting me see a little bit of their life’s (my son came, I’ll be having lunch with my brother, when I move I’ll show you what I’ll be leaving behind and you can have what you need).

If you are wondering what the point is on this blog, there isn’t any. I just have been thinking about them a lot lately and didn’t know whom to talk about because it’s not a talk-aboutish topic. So I figred that it wont hurt anyone if I write it on here :-)

...still walking...

I am sure that after my last post a few people tought: Why is she posting THAT? Well, the answer to that is quite straight forward. I noticed that I can KNOW what would be the right thing to do in theory but still not do it for absoluetly ages. Maybe because otherwise I mights have to goive up the comfort zone or maybe because I'm just lazy or because sometimes the right thing to do is so awfully hard and difficult and it could go wrong (wrong as in "not fulfil my expectations). Anyway, after bloging about my dad I had to take action because otherwise I would be hypocritical which is quite a bad thing to be. So I texted my brother, who has made up with my dad long ago and said: Can you arrange a meeting? And he did. So I when I went to Zurich with my younger sister and brother to meet my dad and his new wife. Of course it was awkward etc but all in all it went well and I'm glad i did it.

I really wanted to say thanks to some of the people who have not only encouraged me to go but also have shared their experiences.

Of course seing my dad was not the onlything I did with my holiday. I went to see Astrid who has turned from

into

and the best Baby who has grown from a yawning Baby

into a happy little Anna (Im the tired looking one)

I had a great time cooking with Isa, seing some of my old classmates, going out with Clicko, admiring my sisters new flat and catching up with all my people. Again I got applauded when I went to the Army meeting and I had to explain where I worked etc.

With Tracy coming to pick me up from the airport the coming back wasnt too bad and it was great catching up with all the gossip :-)

On another note I went to the Fish & Chips Harvest Dinner. It all started off great and our team didn't do too badly at the quizes until Danny and Sam felt they had to go home. Which left, well, not much:

We fought really really hard but unfortunately I didnt know in which year the railways came to southend. We also kind of didn't know which language is spoken in Turkey (who would have thought it might be turkish?).

So that was my holdiay. Maybe I should now get some work done to deserve my next holidays soon.

about long roads and first steps

I am not a good preacher. That's why I try not to preach. But i do strongly believe that we need each other's testemony because we all have good days and bad days in our everyday lives as much as in our realtion with Jesus. And when we have a down day we need something to bring us back up on track - and testemony of others who are going trough similar things can help us with that. Those of you who read my blog (yes, you!) know that I hardly ever post anything serious. I just never have any deep thought that seem to be worth sharing with others. But I had one now (yay!)

Yesterday in our meeting we were talking about the 5th commandement of honoring our parents. Now for most of you that is probably just a given. For me it's... well, it's an area where growth is still possible. When people ask me if my parents miss me when I am over here I usually say in a quick sentence that I don't have parents and then draw attention to how much I miss my younger siblings. I do miss them a lot. People usually assume that my parents have died and, altough I don't confirm, I don't do anything clarify the situation.

My mum died when i was 12, but my Dad is still alive. I was 13 when I last had a decent conversation with him, 15 when I last spoke to him at all. When I was 19 I had to go to court for financial support, the judge decided that trying to save our family would be a waste of time and since then we had been able to finish our studies only thanks to funds and people helping us. That was the last time I saw my Dad. In my teenage years some pretty ugly stuff happened that is not really worth sharing here and I blamed my Dad for most of it. Looking back now I see things maybe a little differently and there are some situations where I know I acted stupidly, or where I can now see where he was coming from when making decisions. Still, things went badly wrong. After the day in court I wrote my dad a letter. I then saw it as giving him the opportunity to explain himself, but looking back - awwww, it didn't make the situation any better. It was a list of accusations and of telling him how much he was to blame for every unperfect moment in my life. Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about him giving me a bit less pocket money than my friends used to get, things were really bad. But still, how would you have reacted to a letter that was so full of hate and anger from your daughter whom you haven't delt with for about 5 years?

Then I went to an arts camp and attended the drama course. One evening we had a pause for thought led by the group leader of the improvising drama group, a real fun guy, all proper mad professor with curly mad hair and withe socks and sandals. He talked about how people hold on to old grudges and how that keeps them from moving on and how often he speaks to really talented people and they say: I can't do this or that because of my parents, they never supported me etc. I was so angry with that guy, how dare he standing up there saying that we can't blame our parents for all that goes wrong in our lives??? He doesn't know how hard it is to look after yourself because nobody cares, he doesn't know that Dads are supposed to carry you until your old enough to walk yourself and if they drop you too early, well, then they are just not worth the air the breathe. I stormed out and later the guy came to find me and I yelled all that rubbish I was carrying at him, didn't even give him time to answer...I friend said afterwards that I was a lovely sight, all my makeup running down my face. Oh well. He just sat there and took it all in and then he said that I was behaving like a stupid spoilt little girl. He wasn't angry or anything, just calm and it really left me speechless. He sent me away and told me to think about exactly how long I want to be a failure in life just so I could blame my Dad. Exactly how log did I plan not to be the best I could just to nurrish my anger. How long did I intend to go to church sunday after sunday while bearing all that load and not giving it to Jesus.

I went home and sent my dad another letter. I told him I had friends and that I went to that dramacoure. That I shared a flat with my sister who works hard for school. That I am trying and that I wish him well. I got an answer back from his lawyer, asking me why I wrote this letter. And I said, well, I'm a leader in a youth group, I sing in a worshipgroup, I go to church - what kind of example am I setting? To that I got an answer from my dad... It's not all good now, don't get me wrong. It hurt me sometimes when John sais: I'll ask my dad this and that. When I graduated my sister and my brother and a bunch of friends came and Jasmin even did the standing ovation thing for me... but it hurt when some Dads jumped up and and applaused being proud of their kids. There are things that are not good. But these are the things that can still get better. We Email each other on Christmas and Birthdays. I wrote him about my new job and he replied. We are very polite (which is against my nature in the first place) but we are talking. Yesterday after the meeting I went home and sent him a text. The first one that was absolutely random. No Birthday, no other event to justify a text. And he replied. That was good.

As I say, it's along road, and maybe we never quite make it to the all happy family. But I will do my best to get as close as I can. Now I am not writing this to make you feel sorry or anything. Those of you who know me well will know that I am not sorry - I've grown. I am 25 and I am working in London (check me out!), have my own flat and I am happy. I am writing this to encourage those of you who should maybe write a letter/text/email, or pick up the phone. I know that it is usualy the one who was wrong who should appologize. So if you are wrong, go and appologize. But if you are the "victim", don't expect people to say that they are sorry. Just forgive anyway. It's hard, and it's probably a try and error thing, there will be days when it's easy to love the whole world and there will be days when it hits you badly. But trough it all, it's you who can decide exactly how long you wanna hold on to old grudges.

I feel a bit like writing "AMEN" now, but that would be odd in a blog.

fakebook

Having not much to do at the moment, I have taken the time to do all the facebook quizzes I have been sent. Considering that my name starts with "A" I am usually on top of all the friends lists...which means that I get sent a lot of invites. Within the last week I had 68. Is that something to boast about?

After the excitment of seeing that a friend of mine has become a fan of the "Kung Fu Pandas" and learning that Katie "loves Chicken Katsu Curry at Wagamama" I nosed my way into a deep converstaion between Tracy and Stephen regarding Andy and his love for Hooters. It was a deeply touching moment when I realised that I could share all my problems and thoughts with - eeerm, the whole world.

In the last few hours I have learned that learning to play the cornet and dreaming of one day being allowed to play the trombone was a complete waste of time. According to "which musical instrument are you (the best version)" I should be playing the french horn (more to this at the end of the post). I am now considering leaving the Band Sections and take some time off to evaluate wether its worth to keep on playing the wrong instrument.

To get myself back out of that emotional low I tried to find out "which celebrity husband is for you?". Apparently I would be a perfect match for Jesse Metcalf. He looks nice enough, and altough I have never heard of him before it seems that we would be great for each other, mainly because he is quite a romantic guy. Good for him.

Feeling more confident now I dared to find out "which fairy tale" I am. Whilst dreaming about dancing like Cinderella or swimming with Ariel i clicked on "submit", chose my 3 "best friends" (all beginning mit A for I can't be bothered to do the whole "who might acctually want to be invited to take this test" thing) and, tada: I am Beauty and the Beast. Not: Belle in the Beauty and the Beast. No: Beauty from Beauty and the Beast. No. It clearly states: You are Beauty and the Beast.

After that I fled back into the safety of the obvious, thinking that in "What kind of Brit are you" the only possible answer in my case would be "None". How wrong can you be? No, apparently I am: The lovable Brit (With a picture of Hugh Grant - after recently being confronted with Memories of Bridget Jones I am not sure if he is the right person to illustarte "lovable").

Finally I came to the one that made most sense: Which Jane Austen Heroine are you? I am glad that at last one of all these quizes could understand my innermost being: I am Elisabeth Bennet.

"You are memorable, lovely and clever, the life of the party... you always have the perfect thing to say in every situation. Your honesty, virtue, and lively wit enable you to rise above the nonsense and bad behavior that pervade your money-seeking and often spiteful society". I knew it. I do always have the perfect thing to say! And I am so above all that bad behavior! Truth to be told, I only copy/pasted in the nice part of the result (the rest was absolutely untrue!)

This is the reasoning behind the french horn:
You are very sassy! You have a high IQ and are not affraid to let people know it. You like to be different and have a few strange 'quirks' here and there, but are an all around good person. you can come of brash and blunt and sometimes people don't know how to handle your honesty. Try taking people's feelings into consideration more often. you will learn to live better with them if you think about what you say before you say it; like horn calls, Horn players have a natural tendancy to blurt out whatever is on their mind. They don't like to party but they do like small get together. You'd much rather have lunch with a close friend or two than to go to an extravagent party. You enjoy lavash things, and really love to help people and animals

(PS: Mainly animals. I am famous for helping animals. In Switzerland they acctually call me animanna!)

Rain at Lunchtime

It has been mentioned that I have not blogged in a while. The main reason for that is that, at the moment (and for many moments to come, unless one of you knows someone who is selling one real cheap???), I dont have a computer. What I do have is my very own Tracy who lets me sometimes use hers in order to upload pics n facebook. And i have lunchbreaks at work, and for the time being, that will have to do.

Since I last blogged I staretd a new job with SAGIC (or, according to Rich, TRAGIC) (Which is not true)(The Tragic bit I mean, it is true that i started a new job). I still find it exciting to get off the train in the morning with all them loads and loads of people rushing to work, all the posh ladies with posh high heels, clip clap, clip clap... and men with pink ties and people giving you things for free and people yelling into a mobile and, well, loads of rain. I have already developed the "I'm a very important person i a rush so dont you dare crossing my way" look, as well as the "I'm a young Business person comuting to London so dont you dare siting next to me in the train" look. And obviously the abillity to read my London Lite while trying to fall over in the tube. I even managed to win a tube race against time (and all other odds, considering my very poor sense of direction) going to trade in my lunch hour with Emma. We did have to call the office on the way there because we managed to get lost somewhere between Elephant & Castle Station and Trade.

Now those of you who read Katies blog will have read about my swiss friends coming to Hadleigh and all the fun we had finding a place to get a drink. I was so happy to see them again and thought that they felt the same because, when I entered Hadleigh Temple, some of them started clapping - later on it turned out that they didn't clap for me specifically, it was more an expression of their relief to see someone under the age of 178 entering the hall. Oh well. Anyway, i think some of the were a bit happy to see me too. I hope.

In the pic you can see Katie (the non-swiss one on the left) CJACK (standing), with whom I had to share a house when I was 19. The next one is Nath (who is quite handsome, still single and as of lately Katies friend on Facebook -> watch this space). And Boni. I just know him by name. But I'm sure he's nice.

Last week I had some more visitors from home, first my sister with her friend Doro

(This is a very very old picture but due to lack that will have to be enough). On their last evening in England Katie and Ben came over to watch PS I love you. They brought a DVD player but not the right cable, so Katie and I had to go to a friends house to ask if we could borrow his. He wasn't in but his french flatmate was. He tried to give us jumpleads, but we agreed that, at that very moment, that wouldn't have helped a lot. But Francois was lovely and kept looking for something more suitable (Read with french accent: It could be we 'ev uonn over 'eer....nono...I quite laik se idea of saatt! you can take se hol dvd player - 'ee wont notice until next 'eeer...).

Sadly enough my Sister and Doro had to go home but the same day Jasi arrived.

We had a great time together, mainly watching Sister Act and singing along and now they are all gone. How sad. But she will come back soon, so thats OK.

Anyway, my rainy lunchhour is over -> let me get back to safe the world (or at least insure those whom i fail to safe).

Stop the world, I wanna get off!

Last sunday my good friend Tracy gave me this really good advice: Anna, dont be hasty. I have to admit that I havent got a clue what hasty means. But according to her I didnt take her advice... She might be right, I dont usually listen to her :-)

Knowing that I was going to start a new job next week, I started looking for flats (because people with proper jobs dont live at home). We were invited to view a flat in Westcliff, between the *train station* and the seafront. When we got into the communal area (thats what posh people call the stairs I was told) we were slightly shocked... it was rather unnice there and I thought I dont even want to go all the way up to the flat. But I decided turning around and running away wouldnt cause a very good impression, so I climbed up the stairs to the 3rd floor and viewed the flat - which was rather nice.

What happened after that I dont quite remember, I just know that my bankaccount has gone from bad to dead and i'll be moving in next friday. As in the day after tomorrow. Which is not to bad because I dont have much to move. I wont even have a bed to move. Good, it will save me from having to carry it up the stairs. And who needs a bed anyway. On the other hand I was able to get hoover, telephone, iron,crockery, cuttlerie, microwave (green, stacey) TV, towles, glasses, tv chair and purple plastic flowers (nothing makes a home like flowers) within the last 3 days for next to nothing. Which is good.

But at the moment I cant really focus on the moving bit because I just had my goodbye party in the shop. Which was quite nice, mainly the part where people who have not liked me for the last year or so gave me cards thanking me for being an amazing friend (which I am). I know I have moaned and groaned about my job but i think i will miss it a bit. Mainly my best friend Truder (as in the male form of Trudy)... The good thing about Truder was that he never complained and nover objected to anything I said.

Seriously, i have to say that some of the Volies grew really close to me and im sure Im going to miss them loads. Mainly my John.

But as I say, I dont really have time to contemplain my love for humanity, as I should be packing now!

*train station*: If the Bangla Town thingy gets accepted in London than I will insist that Westcliff station gets renamed to swiss main rail!