?

So... long time no posting, huh? Not that I'm that much of a regular poster, but the last couple of weeks have been weird.

Mostly, they've been weird because I've been slowly realising that things aren't going to just "work themselves out". The pressure is mounting, something's going to break, and then will be Big Decision Time. I've been see-saawing from one extreme to the other for months, thinking "you know what, FUCK ballet, I'm gonna get a real job, which pays real money, and doesn't hurt all the time", only to wake up the next morning all misty-eyed because I was dreaming about being on stage again, and I remember how much fun it can be. There's no telling where I'm going, I'll have to wait it out for now, and I'm just about tearing my hair out from the frustration of it all. What also is not helping is the fact that, to be honest, I'm lonely. Despite the Nameless Wonder being the awesomest thing ever and picking me up when I'm down, and dealing with my now-regular mini meltdowns, I haven't had much of a social life this year. I could count on one hand the number of parties I've been to, and the number of friends I see with ANY sort of regularity is two. So, my ENITRE world is made up of 3 people and a cat (who is madder than I, even at this stage). The stress is wearing me down, and I am not functioning well emotionally. I guess this is the test. If I get through this with lessons learned, or give up or give in (and at this point I'm not sure which choice is which anymore). Do I go back to certainty, but risk living with the regret of being a failure, or do I stay, and risk giving up the only thing I've ever done with any degree of success or confidence? It's either a catch 22, or it's a no-brainer, but I can't tell which one. I just don't know.

Deadly Dentistry

So for anybody who would care to look into my mouth when I throw my head back and laugh maniacally, you would see that I have a bit of hardware behind my front teeth. I got these Incognito braces while I was in Cape Town, hoping that I could finish treatment before we left for Germany, but that didn't happen. Since getting here, they have held up remarkably well; that is, until the unfortunate Pear Incident...

We were in Sweden recently, at a magnificent feast at one of our cult events, when I was eating a pear. They have very hard pears in Sweden, and my braces took instant and painful offence to this particular morsel, shifting uncomfortably down my tooth and pulling on all the teeth in the right side of my jaw. Nevermind that I've been chucking back hard raw almonds every day since arriving; no, this pear was just too much. So the feast was pretty much ruined after that (it didn't help that I was sick as well, which made the whole experience all the more delightful), and I realised that the time had come to find an orthodontist in Germany. This, frankly, terrified me, after hearing of the exorbitant amounts of money that they supposedly charged for treatment in Frankfurt. But I girded my loins and phoned a Dr Lemmerich who was situated in a small town close to us, called Obertshausen.

Now I should mention how atrocious my German still is, even after living here for nearly 6 months. It doesn't help that as soon as you try your pidgin German out on the natives, they take pity on you and switch to near perfect English, which is a little embarrassing. So you can imagine my surprise when I phoned Dr Lemmerich's offices, only to have my usual "sprechen sie Englisch" answered with "nein". Ah, shit. So more horrendous butchery of German ensued, until she told me in desperation to hang on, she'll go fetch the Doctor. Dr Lemmerich answered, and turned out to be a woman, which I was rather hoping for (ok her first name is Anette, but you can never tell with these foreigners). She spoke damn near perfect English, and kindly told me I could come and see her at 6h30 that evening.

I, of course, turned to Google maps for help, and as usual they gave me what seemed to be the most complicated route that they could find (it's a well-known fact that Google hates me). But I faithfully wrote it all down, and set off in good time to make it to Ostendstrasse.

Yes, you see the problem there, don't you? Despite having the same starting letter, Obertshausen is in fact not the same as Ostendstrasse, which is rather a lot further into town. I sat there gormlessly on the train for about 15 minutes more than I had to, got out and started trying to find the damn starting street that I was supposed to go down. Of course it wasn't there, but it still took me a good 20 minutes to figure out my immense stupidity, and by that time it was already 6pm and I still had to wait for my train to arrive. So I phoned the offices again in a bit of a panic, and sadly the only person I could talk to was the sweet but non-English-enabled secretary. First it took quite a time to get across to her who I was (how many other slightly inept English-speaking patients could they possibly have?). Then, it was crunch time, as I tried and failed to remember what the word for "late" is. Eventually: "Ich bin, uhm, tödlich?" Short pause, while it dawns on me suddenly that I have just told this poor woman that I am deadly. But, to her eternal credit, she doesn't laugh, but just says "Ahh! Du kommst später!" "Yes! That one!" And so arrangements are made for me to come at 7. I can't help but think that they may have been less inclined to wait for me, had I not warned them of my "deadliness"...

I eventually got to Dr Lemmerich, after still not finding that damn starting street, gave up on Google maps entirely and clomped around Obertshausen frantically for 20 minutes so that by the time I got to the good Doctor, I was sweaty and dishevelled as all hell and probably did look a bit dangerous. She fixed me up within 10 minutes, was nothing but sweet, and didn't even accept any payment for her troubles. I think it was the first time I've ever left an orthodontist feeling warm and fuzzy inside.