Learning while I sleep...

http://www.summersdale.com/images/Italian-Without-Words-300.jpg

On Saturday I bought this "Teach Yourself German" deluxe set that contains 2 CDs and a workbook. All for the princely sum of 50 bucks.

I learnt German for 5 years when I was in high school and like most things that aren't compulsory, let it fall to the wayside as I buzzed through uni in a blaze of fun times, travel and study. But then one day as I lay back in my chair at work, I overheard my boss lamenting the embarrassment that comes with being an Aussie- linguistically speaking, that is. Aussie's excel at lots of things- sports, music, meat pies, Harbour Bridges, barbies, beaches and marsupials... but learning lots of languages doesn't really seem to be one of them.

Sure, you learn French in year 3, and beginners Indonesian in year 7, but it's not like the Europeans where English is compulsory from the time they can walk and French, German and Spanish are taken on as they progress through their schooling. Unless you're brought up in a household where English isn't the native tongue, most of us go through life thinking English is enough... which it is- most of the time.

But there's more to be said about the fact that knowing another language takes you out of your comfort zone, arms you with a whole new set of words and makes you feel like you're equipping yourself to engage with the world. Which is a pretty nice feeling at the end of the day.

That doesn't mean to say I'm the exemplary student. This morning I plugged my mp3 player in and settled into my seat all comfy-like. I was a little apprehensive- listening in German had never been my forte. I put the volume up really high and steeled myself for some rapid dialogue.

It was pretty rapid, that's for sure. And I was only on the chapter that goes through how you say "Hi, how are you? My name is Brigitte Herzberg". All the straining and listening spent my brain power and within 10 minutes the lull of the German dialogue sent me drifting off to sleep.

Whoops. So much for furthering my linguistic education.

Amazingly though, it was the best sleep I've had on a train ride to date, and as I woke up almost on cue to get off at my stop, I sent a little wish to whoever's listening in the universe that my brain, in its sleepy subconscious state picked up on a few vital words and phrases to help me on my Foreign Language Learning Crusade.

The Battle of the Early Riser...

http://tell.fll.purdue.edu/JapanProj/FLClipart/Verbs/wakeup.gif

Man from Mars and I have mismatched body clocks. Especially when it comes to waking up. We're out of funk. Big time.

On weekdays I wake up without the assistance of an alarm clock. On weekends, I'm ready to roll by 9 am at the absolute latest.

Meanwhile Man from Mars seems to live for the Big Lie In.

On weekdays he's not so bad. Work calls from 3 blocks away and he rolls out of bed relatively quickly. He shuffles into his long pants and slippers and mooches to the kitchen where he slurps down his cereal with his eyes half closed and his hair spiked in all the directions of the compass.

But on weekends nothing, not even my persistent whining (which, let me tell you, is designed to drive even the most saintly person up the wall) can lift his heavy head from the perfect contours of his two pillows. The lure of the porcelain throne is only a temporary interlude to his otherwise blissful sleep.

I tickle his feet, I blow in his ear, I peer up his nostrils, I tug at his hair, I declare that the day is being wasted, I bounce up and down on the bed (the way you're not meant to, it's not a trampoline is what any responsible adult would say), I use my stern principal voice, I pull the doona off, and denounce his hairy legs. All for a response. Any response. The slightest retaliation.

But it's never to be. The most Man from Mars ever does is half open one eye, give a sleepy smile that's meant to rid me of my woes, and reaches out inviting me to partake in a cuddle. All so he can go back to sleep again.

The first 3 times I oblige. After all, cuddles are always nice. But by the fourth time, I have reached the end of my "WAKE UP!" tether and decide to paint my nails. The whiff of nail polish should make him wake up- just like smelling salts are meant to rouse the unconscious-- right? right??

Unfortunately, Man from Mars has a perennially blocked noise. So no, he doesn't really smell the nail polish. He only smells it when he opens his eyes to investigate why I have suddenly gone so quiet. I specifically ask him whether he can smell anything. He sniffs and sniffs and sniffs until finally he detects a diluted whiff of that acrid acrylic smell that girls know too well: "Ohh yeah, I smell it".

That's it. The final straw. Ultimate non reaction. I give up. I am officially exhausted. All I want to do is lie back down and have a little nap.

Meanwhile, Man from Mars has succumbed to my efforts and lurches upright to get up: "You're so bossy" he murmurs.

I frown, he laughs and we both shuffle down the corridor to get some breakfast.

When Man from Mars comes up to play... we eat and eat some more

http://rlv.zcache.com/lean_mean_eating_machine_sticker-p217939763373698529qjcl_400.jpg

When Man from Mars comes up to visit from Canberra, all we do is eat. We wake up late and we eat. Two hours later and all this shopping/lying around/dvd watching has stirred our appetites and it's time for Lunch. We shop/flop around/dvd watch some more and we're revved up for some Arvo Tea. Then in the grand tradition of ending on a high note we celebrate the final meal of the day with no less than a 4 course banquet.

This weekend was no exception. We made a special trip into town to bestow Man from Mars with the chance to sample the culinary delights of Burgerlicious (you may recall that I have raved about this eatery in a past post- a popular haunt of my work mates, it never fails to satisfy). I had the Bostinian beef wrap, Man from Mars had the Munaco chicken wrap, we both got the most chicken saltiest chips you ever laid eyes on and a fizzy drink to balance out the salt and the grease. All for the bargainable price of $11 bucks each.

Satisfied we were, and we lugged our two tonne bellies down the street for some veritable purchases. I spontaneously felt inspired to pick up on the German I learnt 5 years ago and bought some German language CDs. Meanwhile, Man from Mars tapped into his lyrical/hardcore rocker/whimsical pop side and purchased an electric guitar. That's right, an electric guitar.

Then we lugged our two tonne bellies along with a one tonne guitar to Arvo tea where I had a chai latte, Man from Mars had his regular latte and we both dipped into the Apple and Rhubarb Crumble. As we sat there pondering our painful feet and massaging our swollen bellies, it occurred to us that it was fast approaching 5 pm, and that we better get outta town quicksmart if we were going to even have the chance to put in a strong effort for dinner.

And so we motored home and were greeted by my parentals, eager for some "Altogether now, it's Family Time!" time.

So we went to the local RSL and had the hugest servings of the most heartiest meals available.

I kid you not, if humans could roll (without getting scratched, bruised, mangled and travel sick), I guarantee you we could've rolled faster than any car on Valvoline.

Anyway, so now we're back home and we're about to embark on a hardcore Movie Night.

But come to think of it, movie nights aren't the same without movie food... I suppose that it'll just have to be accompanied by some chips, ginger ale, and some chocolate. All in the name of enhancing our cinematic experience, of course.

Self help is happy help

http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6W4ylwIYopw/SqMP-uM8KPI/AAAAAAAAAzA/2UBab9hGeuQ/s400/littleenginethatcould.jpg

At work we all had to attend a half-day training session on postive thinking.

Apparently positive thinking will enable us to be less affected by everyday stresses and take on those bothersome aspects of life with the poise and collected cool of Princess Mary (okay, bad analogy there since royalty is paid to look unaffected, but you get my story homies).

Anyway, so one of the things our presenter highlighted to us is that we have a lot of negative self talk which stops us from dealing with annoying situations properly, makes us hold onto anger longer and prevents us from reaching our full potential.

She asked us to monitor those times throughout the day where we engage in negative self talk, and so today I did just that. Here are the number of times my negative self talk kicked in:

1. This morning on the train I thought "I am wearing the most uncomfortable skirt today, I bet my bum looks convex". I immediately turned my self talk around and said "Who cares if it looks convex, you're wearing a long coat and long coats are classy in a mysterious kind of way";
2. At work, I received a bunch of emails from this one really annoyed person and I thought "Damn I'm a retard, I should've been more prompt with this, I should've nipped this problem in the bud. It should never have gotten to this point." Then my good voice chimed in "But you couldn't have done anything about it before because no one could've known. You're fine";
3. After lunch I polished off two Kitkats and thought "Whoa there Miss Chocoaddict, steady on! Two is two too many!" Then I did my mental 180 flip and reasoned that "Two mini Kitkats is a treat- enjoy, just because it's chocolate, doesn't mean it's bad- it's got happy chemicals all throughout. And you can't just find happy chemicals anywhere. "
4. When I got off the train it was pouring and I turned into a soggy sausage. I thought "I feel like a stray cat, all my stuff's wet and I really really need windscreen wipers for my glasses!". Then I decided that "Look, at least you turned into a soggy sausage on the day that your greasy hair desperately needs washing, and plus, rain opens up your pores."

To be honest, I was happier for it. And I know there are those cynics out there who think self help and positive thinking is a bunch of loony tunes, but at the end of the day whatever makes you feel good is what will make you enjoy life. And really, we're all our own harshest critics. A little bit of self appreciation wouldn't hurt anyone.

Short lived reprieves are overrated...

http://blog.hazrulnz.net/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/a4216seaside-retreat-posters.jpg

On Monday I took annual leave. That meant I had a three day weekend. I most probably was the envy of the office and I won't lie, I was so excited for the weekend to start that I wasn't very (at all) focused on Friday. My mind strolled around lazily in its giant vacuous space. I took doubly long to do things. Then I watched the clock tick to 4:30pm before steamrolling outta there faster than I could say "Hello Melbourne, here I come!"

As I trudged awkwardly with luggage in tow to the station, I was stopped dead in my tracks by a broken down train. The train before my train had become unconscious somewhere in between my station and the next and every train thereafter was doomed to delay. I stared at the train master. How could he do this? Did he not know where I needed to be? Tiger Airways requires check in 45 minutes before the flight. I was incensed and worried at the same time. I stood paralysed on the platform. There was no scheduled train. Only the scrolling message on the train board which read "Significant delays expected." Do I wait? Do I get out of the station and catch a taxi?? Friday night traffic was so bad it would take 45 minutes as it was to get to the airport. And so I paced backwards and forwards like a maniac and chewed on my bottom lip. And chewed. And chewed and chewed. Still no train.

Then I got on the phone and in my irrational blind panic, blasted Man from Mars with impatient abuse which was completely undeserved, given that first of all the dead train wasn't his fault, and second of all, he was still cosy and tight at his house, and therefore poking around mindlessly at his things to get ready for his trip to Canberra airport. In other words, my cantankerous outburst would have burned the tips off his blameless ears I was that annoyed.

By some miracle my train arrived and I made the check in line with two minutes to spare. By the time I got on the plane I was so exhausted that all I wanted to do was go to sleep.

It wasn't to be.

I got my karma for blasting Man from Mars and was put next to this guy who was even more cantankerous than me and let loose a torrent of swear words, punched the seat in front of him and groaned continuously for the entire 50 minutes that the plane sat stubbornly on the tarmac.

Eventually, we flew, we landed and I made it out of the "terminal" (read: shed) that only Tiger Airways would ever think to use. Next stop was a cafe for some food. Cue: the discovery of a hair which looked suspiciously like a pube (all crimpy-like) folded in amongst my chicken wrap. I practically ralphed.

Anyway, that Friday couldn't get much more difficult and Man from Mars arrived on time before we headed to his house.

Saturday was Man from Mars' friend's wedding day. The ceremony was beautiful, the bride was fashionably late and delicately elegant in a strapless floaty gown and cascading veil. The groom was typically jovial and only showed the slightest concern when his fashionably late bride almost erred on the side of being unfashionably delayed (like my train). But she arrived, they exchanged their vows and the congregation cheered with happiness.

Then we all went home, some slept, some played tennis, others cleaned their house before we reconvened for the reception. Excellent food, lovely speeches (some witty, others like the one from the bride's father, so touching I got teary) and some short and snappy dance floor time. We all retired home and suddenly it was Sunday. Man from Mars met up with his mates, I met up with mine, then we motored home for some dinner before calling it a night. Suddenly it was Monday.

And herein lies my point to this rather long narrative, because, Annual Leave Monday may well have been a regular work Monday. I woke up, had breakfast, got paranoid about the emails I would be receiving at work, checked my work inbox, became slightly concerned about the number of emails that would greet me on Tuesday and basically had to go straight to the airport. Four hours of travelling later, I was back at home. I was almost more tired than if I had just stayed in Sydney. But you know, I'm only 25, I should be able to handle going interstate 3 weekends in a row.

Buggered, more like.

On Tuesday I shuffled to work and had so much to do, I wondered whether the short lived "reprieve" that is, one day of Annual Leave, was worth it.

In hindsight, it was. Of course it was. It was a marvellous albeit hectic weekend.

But I just wish there was an extra day in the week that would give me that little bit more time to catch up and have a proper reprieve.