Baba & Howdy (2) - Falling In Love... With Austin

In my last post I told y’all (yes, that’s what we say here in Texas) that leaving home made me really sad. As soon as I arrived in Austin though, I was happy.

After I had picked up my heavy luggage (when you try to fit your whole life into one suitcase, it weighs quite a bit) at the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport, I just stood there for a second and tried to realise that I just arrived in Texas, my new home. I took a deep breath and looked around. The warm air smelled like summer and was filled with the sound of cheerful country music. The shop next to me sold cowboy boots and Texas Longhorn T-Shirts. People were passing by and when they saw my puzzled look, they would smile at me, friendly and encouraging. That was the moment when I fell in love with Austin.

And this love should grow stronger and stronger in the next weeks, for several reasons.

First of all, the campus life here is amazing. You can’t compare it to the university life in good old Austria. As I walked around my new neighbourhood, West Campus, in my first days, I was surprised to see that there wasn’t one single actual grown up on the street (Yeah, I know, theoretically I’m a grown up too. And all the frat guys dragging themselves to class with eyes only half open, after a rough night playing beer pong, too. But you know what I mean, I mean the real ones.) At home there are a lot of older people and students don’t live in one place but are spread out over the whole city. I was not used to seeing only people around my age, all just wanting to have a good college time, meet other students and have fun.

And the great thing is, you can see friends and have fun within walking distance! All the people you want to meet up with live like 10 minutes away from you. You need a midnight snack, a beer or a late night conversation? Just step out of your apartment, go any direction and you sure will find something! If a friend here calls me at 11 pm and asks if I’m down for a drink, I usually am. That’s because I just have to walk across the street and there is my favourite bar, sweet Cain&Abels, where I traditionally spend every Tuesday with a $1 beer in my hand. Admittedly, American beer tastes a little like water and sometimes I really doubt that there even is alcohol in it, but hanging out at Cains still is great!  

What really amazed me was the way students looked and how they go to school. When I went to university on my first day there, felt like I fell into one of these American college movies I saw. All the girls hanging around on Campus with their sorority sisters, a Starbucks cup in their hands, wearing Yoga Pants and Sweaters twice as big as themselves. Or shirts that are so long that you can't see the running shorts they're wearing and think that they're not wearing any. And the frat boys with their caps and these washed out T-Shirts that look like their grandfathers had already worn them and the Greek letters everywhere which all look the same to me.

I was really happy to see that people go to school in what you should be supposed to go to school: comfortable clothes. University is rough enough and not always exactly fun to be at. So why do people at my business school in Vienna feel like they have to make a day of studying even worse by going there all dressed up, with a ton of make-up and a catwalk ready outfit?! I love the way people here go to school. Come to class with your workout clothes - no one cares! Don’t wear Make-Up and messy bun – perfectly fine! Wear a not exactly sexy but really handy bag back – everyone does it! Do that stuff in Vienna and everyone will look at you like you’re a homeless person who got lost and for some reason ended up at a University campus. I’m definitely gonna take this whole chilled attitude back home to Vienna, even if it means that people will look weirdly. If you get used to getting up 20 minutes before class starts in the morning, you don’t want to get back to the one hour “Oh god, I gotta look good at school or people will think I’m not a good student AND a lazy person” routine. Because, actually I am a lazy person. At least at 7:30 in the morning. It’s just too early.

Oh, and don’t let me forget the most important thing about Austin: The nightlife! You can go out pretty much every day. There’s always some stuff going on. In my first weeks here I went out around five times a week. The famous 6^th street, is completely crazy. It's called "Dirty Sixth" and they call it that for a reason. A street full of escalating party people, cheap drinks and loud, fun bars. (And freaking expensive pizza, by the way. Why do americans do that? Five dollar for a tiny slice of pizza, in the middle of the night, when I could actually eat a whole cow? Whyyy would you do this to me?!) A lot of live music is going and a LOT of dancing.

dirrrrrty 6th

I’ve never danced as much in my whole live as did here in the last weeks. And no, I don’t mean the usual hopping from one feet to another dancing or the twerking stuff. I mean REAL dancing, with holding hands and steps you have to do and spinning around. Since I came here I’ve “learned” not only a few Latin dances but also how to Swing and Country dance. Well, at least the basic steps. And how to act as if you’d knew what you’re doing. And you know what? It’s amazing! I’m so thankful for the lovely people I’ve met here that are not only great dancers but are also ready to share their knowledge. They taught me and the other dancing newbies what to do and didn’t mind us moving like robots while staring at our feet instead of elegantly swirling over the dancefloor, like they do. It was a whole new experience. Especially the one time they took us to a Latin dance club where all the people were moving their hips like Shakira and looking like Jennifer Lopez while I was highly focused on starring at my feet, trying to not break my partners’ toes.  

So, I’ve already made a lot of great experiences here in Austin. Last night I came back from Spring Break in Florida which also was pretty amazing. There’s definitely gonna be a post about that later! And I still have to tell you about me at the shooting ranch, me at the country club and me in New Orleans. Soo, stay posted! J

Baba & Howdy (1) - Leaving Home for the Unknown

It’s hard to leave behind what you love for something you don’t even know.

Honestly, I was scared as f*ck to leave home. I knew, I was only for five months but that’s quite a long time for someone who has been in one place forever. Vienna is the city I grew up in, I’d never been somewhere else for a longer span of time. I didn’t need to move to another city for studying, I’d never had to leave my comfort zone before. Never had I been away from my family more than a few weeks and I’d admit it at every time: I’m a family person and I couldn’t imagine to not see my parents and my younger bro for a whole semester. Also, I couldn’t think of not having my great friends around, friends I’ve known for more than ten years. People, who take me as I am. People, who still love me, even though they know even my darkest sides and worst habits. People, who I can be myself around, knowing, they don’t judge me, knowing, they’re on the same page as I am.  How am I supposed to enjoy parties and have fun when my favourite persons to celebrate with are on another continent?! I didn’t get it. During the weeks before my departure I doubted my decision (which was made long before, when everything seemed too surreal to worry about it) to study abroad on a regular basis. I wasn’t sure why I was even going…

Just because random people told me that their exchange semester had been the best time of their life? Because it would look good on my resume? Because I need to improve my English? Of course, that where some of the reasons. But there was something else. Deep down inside me, there was a secret wish. The wish, to prove myself, and everyone else, that I can do it. That I can be on my own. That I can survive in a new environment, without all my loved ones. If so many people could do it, why shouldn’t I be able to finally leave my comfort zone and experience another kind of life?! So, I did it. Because I’m not a coward, not a little girl but an independent grown-up. Actually, I didn’t even believe it myself. But I jumped into the cold water and just hoped, I wouldn’t drown.

The worst part was the night before my flight to the U.S. I didn’t sleep a single minute. Thoughts kept running through my head. Tears came and went. Tragic Good-bye-scenes filled my mind and the fear of leaving my beloved home was killing me. (I am an emotional person, yes. It sounds like dramatizing things but I actually felt this way.)  BUT that was the hardest part, as I should learn later (at least up to now).

The day I left, my lovely best friends surprisingly showed up at the airport to say good bye, together with my family. I was in such a hurry to catch the flight, I didn’t even have time to be sad. (That still kind of bothers me by the way, I wanted a handkerchief-waving-movie-scene.) At the plane I realised that I was really doing this and kind of wanted to jump out of the airplane, go home, crawl into my cosy bed and act as if nothing had happened. The friendly Stewardess wouldn’t let me do it though. So I flew to America, for the first time ever and spent a few days in cold, grey New York together with my Viennese colleagues. The impressive/depressing city didn’t exactly have a positive influence on my unsteady mood but then, it all got a lot better when…

I arrived in Austin, Texas. I was really looking forward to getting there. I couldn’t wait to see the city I would live at for the next months. The flight was short and even though I doubted that the tiny plane could actually fly us through whole North America, we landed there safely sometime in the afternoon. It was an exceptional beautiful January day. The doors opened and when I set my foot on Texan earth for the first time, it was an extraordinary moment. The sun stroke my skin which got used to freezing temperatures. For a moment, all my concerns and doubts got melted away by the sun’s rays. The warm air smelled like summer and I felt like arriving at some tropical holiday destination. I took a deep breath, inhaling this soothing smell of vacation and realised that everything will be fine. Texas had me now and I was finally ready to embrace this experience. I was ready to enjoy my exchange semester. I was ready to rock Austin!

 To be continued...

New York City - Was passiert, wenn wolkenkratzerhohe Erwartungen auf den harten Boden der Realität treffen

Die alles überragenden Wolkenkratzer glänzen herrschaftlich in der Sonne und tauchen die Stadt unter sich in ein Meer aus dunkeln Schatten.

New York City ist eine ausgesprochen seltsame Stadt. Während uns in Filmen oft nur die Glanzseite der Metropole offenbart wird, ist sie in Wirklichkeit alles andere als eine reine Hochburg von Macht und Glamour. Auf seine ganz besondere Art vereint NYC verschiedene Welten und Lebensweisen, die in einem starken Kontrast zueinander stehen. Alles trifft hier aufeinander, Licht und Dunkelheit, schwarz und weiß, intensiv und blass. Und alles verschmilzt zu dem einzigartigen New Yorker grau.

Diese Stadt, sie ist voller Lebensfreude, hell und strahlend, aufgewirbelt von aufgeregten Touristen, die ein paar Tage im Big Apple verbringen um die nächsten drei Jahre davon erzählen zu können. Sie bietet so viel Schönes, Ermutigendes und Beeindruckendes.

Doch gleichzeitig gibt es so viel Leid, so viel Armut, so viele Menschen, die hier um’s Überleben kämpfen.  Menschen, die in keinem der vielen Hollywood Filme vorkommen. Armut, die niemand wahr haben will. Leid, das nicht ausgestrahlt wird, denn wer sieht sowas schon gerne.

New York ist reich und arm,

Glanzvoll und verdreckt.

Mächtig und ambitionslos.

Es ist alles. Alles und nichts.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Die Erwartungen sind hoch, wenn man am JFK Airport aus dem Flugzeug steigt. Ganz besonders, wenn man, so wie ich, überhaupt zum ersten Mal in Amerika ist. Alles ist anders und neu und das meiste Wissen über den Big Apple hat man sich per Fernseher angeeignet. Immerhin spielen (gefühlt) die Hälfte aller Filme und Serien dort. Unsere Vorstellungen sind geprägt von Ihnen. Wir wollen Kaffee trinken, wo Carrie es in Sex and The City tut und nebenbei auch gleich so ein fancy Leben führen wie sie. Wir wollen die Upper East Side entlang schlendern, so wie die Elite-Prinzessinnen aus Gossip Girl und ihre goldene Kreditkarte hätten wir auch gerne. Wir wollen die Aussicht von dem Hochhaus genießen, in dem Harvey Specter aus Suits seine Fälle „closed“ und ein Bier auf der Couch im McLarens trinken, wo Barney und Co. legendär wurden.

ABER… Das Leben ist kein Film. Und wir keine stinkreichen, modelähnlichen, hochintelligenten Filmfiguren. Leider. Oder zum Glück. Wer weiß.

Die Magnolia Bakery, der Laden in dem die SatC Ladies ihren fettarmen Latte Macchiato schlürfen ist in Wirklichkeit nicht nur überteuert (wie eigentlich alles in New York) sondern auch überfüllt. Der Sex-Appeal hält sich in Grenzen, wenn man sich in eine Schlange aus touristischen Tussis quetschen muss um einen Muffin kaufen zu dürfen.

Die Upper East Side ist, wie erwartet, sehr nobel und schick. Die vorbei stolzierenden Damen tragen ihre Nasen ganz hoch oben (vielleicht damit sie stets das Empire State Building sehen können?!) und die Pinguine, die in den Eingängen von Prada, Tiffany und D&G stehen sehen aus wie die Türsteher eines teuren Nachtclubs. Aber anstatt einer ID wollen die hier mindestens einen Pelzmantel und einen Brilli sehen, sonst kannst du eigentlich gleich draußen bleiben. Und die harten Fakten sind, ich kann hier noch so viel auf und ab laufen, mit der goldenen Kreditkarte wird das trotzdem nichts und daher kann ich mir hier höchstens ein Unterhöschen leisten.

Das Gebäude aus Suits war unglücklicherweise verschollen aber weiter als in die Eingangshalle hätte ich es ohnehin nicht geschafft.

Und was das McLarens angeht, musste ich eine herbe Enttäuschung einstecken. Die Bar, die angeblich die Vorlage für das HYMYM Pub darstellen soll, hat zwar Drinks wie den „Naked Man“ oder den „Robin“ auf der Karte aber das ist auch schon das einzige, das an die Serie erinnert. Es ist zwar auch ein Pub, jedoch ist die einzige Gemeinsamkeit, dass es sowohl eine Theke als auch Sitzecken gibt. Wie in den meisten New Yorker Bars. Schade Schokolade, also.

Ach und übrigens, der Bull of Wallstreet, der ist gar nicht auf der Wallstreet. Und hinter seiner goldenen Rückseite stellen sich erstaunlich viele Menschen an um ein Foto davon zu machen, wie sie die bulligen Kronjuwelen in der Hand halten. Faszinierend. 

                     













Doch trotz allem, New York City ist eine eindrucksvolle Metropole. Diese bezaubernde Skyline, die wunderschönen Aussichten, die vielen hellen Lichter, die die Stadt und die Gesichter der Menschen zum leuchten bringen und gleißend helle Erinnerungen in uns hinterlassen. Es ist etwas Besonderes. Es ist nur nicht wie im Film. Aber was ist schon wie im Film.

"The Magic of Books" or "Why You Should Turn Off Netflix Right Now and Start Reading Instead"

I was able to read before I was six. It wasn’t exactly that I was a super highly intelligent kid, I just hated it to not know what all these weird symbols everywhere meant. The summer before I came to school I read out loud the menu at a restaurant to my parents and was proud as hell. I felt like the world has just opened up to me and all the secrets would be ready to be revealed now. Not long and I started reading books, those with a lot of pictures in them and letters as big as my fingers, of course. Some time passed and then, when I was about 7, I fell in love with books. The reason for that was an inconspicuous paperback I got as a present. It was about a boy a little older than me, who used to live in a cupboard under the stairs before he found out that he’s the most famous wizard in a world full of magic. The day I started reading the first Harry Potter book was the day I became not only a Potterhead but a crazy bookworm as well. I was a real nerd and I am kind of proud of it. It made me to who I am know. Since then I have read all the Harry Potter books several times and I loved every single one of them.

After I started reading, I found that pretty much everything else is quite boring. My life, school, it all seemed so normal, so grey, so uninteresting. When I walked from the bus to school, I was holding my book in front of my face to stay in this adventurous world just for five more minutes. It is actually surprising that I never got hit by a car, the way I walked around staring into the pages. Sometimes I even sat in class and followed Harry to Hogwarts with the book on my knees under the table. I went to the library every second week and, no kidding, I took home about ten books each time. When I piled them up, they were higher than me. Every time I laid them out on the floor when I got home and tried to decide in which fascinating life I wanted to dive in first and it always was a hard decision to make.

The Harry Potter books made me fall in love with reading. Later I got to read the Inkheart books and with them I fell in love with words. They taught me about the importance of written thoughts, of the power a sentence can have and of the magic of books. If you don’t know them, I can only recommend you to change that. They are some of the most beautiful written books I’ve ever held in my hands. The first time I read them, I was a child, about ten years old. The last time was half a year ago when I was twenty and it still was amazing, it reminded me of all the things I had been so aware of when I was younger and forgot when I got older. It reminded me of how reading is healing and of the fact that I have neglected my beloved second world, the world of books, since I have been a grown up. There’s just so little time when you have to study, work, see your friends and take care of other things. Over all these problems I faced since I wasn’t a kid anymore, I totally forgot that the easiest way to leave them behind for a while, is opening up a book. Diving into another reality. Being someone else. At least for a while. When you read a book, you can be everything. You can do everything. How on earth could I forget that? It is so much more fun to watch an awesome fictive character deal with his problems than dealing with your own. Sure, we can’t do that all the time as we have to tackle them eventually. But why worry about things you can’t change anyway and why wrap your mind around the same boring problem again and again, when you instead can pick up a book and laugh and cry and fantasize?

When you read, your mind starts doing funny things. It gets creative. It starts to imagine things. As you don’t have pictures of all these pretty persons and great places, you have to make them up in your head, just using the describing words written in the book. That shows how strong words are. They can paint pictures in our heads, so bright and colourful and detailed no brush could ever create. That is, by the way, why I never want to watch a movie based on a book before I’ve read the book. Because when you read it afterwards, you always have those film pictures in your mind. The face of that random actor that happens to play the main character. You don’t have the chance to make up your own persons, your own pictures.

Reading a good book is like dreaming. You aren’t in your own reality but far away at different, unknown places (at least when you start, after seven Potter books I know Hogwarts better than Ron does). When you have to put away your book, it feels like you’re just wrong here, like you don’t belong here. I remember the days when I just wouldn’t stop reading a good book and 200 pages a day were normal. I just sat on the couch for really long without moving much and then, when I got up and out, I felt a bit dizzy and my mind still was in that other reality I got to know so well in the last few hours.

I know, this is a lot of talking about paper and ink. But I’ve been in love with books since forever and I just had the feeling, I’d need to share my nerdy thoughts on that topic. I wish, everyone would do more reading. People would think and understand more. The world would probably be a better place (and not just because grammar mistakes would be much rarer) if everyone would turn off Netflix from time to time and read some literature instead. So, next time you stare at the TV, thinking about how the actor just has far too much makeup in his face, just turn it off and pick up a good book. Sounds weird, I know. We always have the feeling that reading requires us to do something while watching TV is just so easy and relaxing. But instead, reading does something to us. It makes us smarter and more thoughtful. More emphatic and creative. It makes us use our rarely used and needed fantasy and makes us think about things, we have never thought about before. Reading is everything. It is the best medicine.It is always the right thing to do, no matter if you’re sad or happy or lonely. It is magical. Let yourself be enchanted!

Hot Music °2

I like to hear a lot of music. When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is turning on the radio to not fall asleep again. On my way to University I always have my iPod and my newest songs with me and when I’m tired in the evening but need to get ready for going out, I turn it up really loud and feel motivated again. Without music, life would be so boring. But if you always listen to the same, it is boring as well. Especially if you ONLY listen to radio music. I don’t see how someone can work at the radio. How can they take it? Hearing the same ten songs twelve times a day? Even if they are awesome (and some of them are), you just HAVE to hate them after they’ve been in the charts for six weeks and you’ve heard the like 400 times. To get to know new, good music isn’t always easy though. It’s time consuming to search and find some good songs. So, if you just need something fresh and nice to listen to, check out my new list of hot music.

PS.: Actually, there are some songs that are already in the charts and are probably going to be played to death as well buuut now they are just super, so, enjoy!

Mr. Polite - The Jungle Giants

Some happy-making indie music from Australia. Makes you want to sing along and smile!

Woke the Fuck Up – Jon Bellion

This song is something special as it hasn’t only a great and somewhat unusual sound but also an interesting text which criticises our todays hook up culture. It reminds us that playing games and faking feelings isn’t the ultimate way to live our (love) life.

Lose It – Oh Wonder (Jerry Folk Remix)

Some smooth electro sounds combined with a nice voice, dance dance dance.

Easy Love – Sigala

Weeeell. This is just awesome. It’s a remake of “ABC” from the Jackson 5 which has already been a song which makes you feel so fine. And this is even better. It makes you happy, really does! After I’ve heard it for the first time I wanted to sing the refrain non-stop for three days.

Downtown - Macklemore

Wanna sit in a cool car and cruise through some even cooler city with your arm out of the window and everything…

Seventeen - Sjowgren

Some more uplifting, indielicious stuff which makes you want to tap your feet to the beat.

+1 – Martin Solveig

How come that every song Martin Solveig produces is a must-play for every DJ in a club? Bam bam!

Baptism – Radical Face

A beautiful song with a mellow sound which makes you feel relaxed and a bit thoughtful.

San Francisco – The Mowglis

Cheerfull song for good times. Whith this, the sun shines even on a rainy day.

“I’ve been in love with love…”

One – Ed Sheeran

Ed Sheeran simply has one of the most beautiful voices, probably on the whole world. He could sing “You Can Leave Your Head On” and it might would make me cry as well. This song isn’t new but it is so sad, so full of feelings, so perfect, you just have to hear it before some freak think it’s a great idea to put it on the radio… 

Kalt und immer kälter

Sie blickt aus dem Fenster,

blickt in ihr Herz,

fühlt dort die Kälte,

da den Schmerz.

Noch ist es Herbst,

doch die Farben verblassen,

bis sie schließlich die Welt,

in grau hinterlassen.

Der Winter, er kommt,

in all seiner Pracht,

hüllt sie in Dunkelheit,
in ewige Nacht.

So schwarz, so weiß,

so still und fahl,

die Luft klirrend kalt,

die Bäume ganz kahl.

Eine Träne fließt,

als sie sich eingesteht,

dass es so weit ist,

dass die Wärme nun geht.

Sie wünschte sie bliebe,

ist längst nicht bereit,

doch weiß sie genau,

es ist höchste Zeit.

Kein Festhalten mehr,

kein warten und hoffen,

ergibt sich der Kälte,

verletzlich und offen.

Und so friert sie ein,

wird eisig und steif,

bis eines Tages wieder,

ein Sonnenstrahl sie streift.

Growing up

Do you remember those days back then in kindergarten, when life was easy and full of fun and innocent happiness? When the only thing you had to worry about was whether or not it would rain today, because in the rain you weren’t allowed to play in that great sandbox full of lovely dirt? The only networking you had to do was being nice to that awfully aggressive boy so you could borrow his shovel to build your sandcastle. The worst things in your day were those vegetables you had to eat for lunch but your mood lighted up immediately when you watched your four year old super-best-friend-forever try to feed those little green trees to the cat. It didn’t need money, cars or good marks to make you happy. All you needed were some soap bubbles you could blow or playing catch to make you smile.

When I was a little kid, I thought the world was good. I thought, everything would just be fine. I was deeply convinced that my parents could fix everything. If there’s a problem, whichever, they’d be able to solve it. Because, they were adults. And my parents as well. I thought, they’d have to know how the world works, how to make everything right again when something is wrong. That they would protect me, that nothing in this world could harm me.

And that was the best feeling, ever. To think, I am invincible, untouchable, protected and save.

It took me a while, to figure out, that grown-ups have problems too. Some of them, unsolvable. I remember exactly how it felt when I realised, that there where things in this world, even my superhero-parents couldn’t protect me from. Wars. Disease. Pain. Heartache. I felt so vulnerable, so afraid, so irritated. Why do awful things happen? To whom? What for? Why can’t anyone do something against them?  I just didn’t get it. Actually, in some cases, I still don’t.

I grew older and understood some more (partly because of that awesome skill I acquired, called reading) and I started worrying about a lot more than the weather. Some things just didn’t make sense to me. I knew more by then but I still was fascinated by older persons and what they’ve already experienced. When I was around ten, I was looking up to those sixteen year olds and thought, they’d have to know so much and seen so much. They’d have to be so self-confident, so strong, and so grown-up. They sure have had their first kisses. First boyfriends. First maybe. Eventually even other first times. Uuuugh. I was wondering, do people change after that? Do they look different? Do they feel different? I really was sure, things like this would have an immense impact on people’s lives. I mean, they kind of have. But in fact, you just stay the same afterwards. The only things that change, are your memories. For the better, ideally.

And then, some day, I was sixteen myself. But I didn’t feel much wiser by then and not very different. And I sure as hell didn’t feel strong or grown-up. I still felt like a kid, like one who can go out and even drink and party but still a kid which doesn’t know what life plans for it. But I was sure, I’d know, when I’d be 21. Because with 21, you really ARE a grown up. You’ve finished school, you live alone, you can do what you want, you have to take care of yourself and you have to know what’s right and wrong and what you want.

Well. I turned twenty-one last month. And, surprise, I still don’t feel grown-up. Life is harder now. Full of worries and to-dos, of tasks and responsibilities, of problems and regrets. I deal with them, we all do. We have to. But it’s not like it’s easy. I always thought it would be, when you’re an adult. You’d know it by then, you’d know how to handle everything. The good news are though, no one really does. No one ever feels ready and prepared for that. Everyone just has to do it, live life, the best he can.

We have the feeling that we have to act all mature and sensible, show how strong we are, don’t show too much emotion, don’t show we’re vulnerable. We try to convince everyone else, especially ourselves, that we can handle everything, that we don’t need help, that we are no kids anymore. We forget taking time outs for blowing soap bubbles. We rarely make a break from live for dancing in the rain, for just having fun.

We are so busy pretending that we are just fine, that we are old enough to do all these serious things we have to do. All the time we hide our weaknesses and emotions to not seem childish, not seem like a kid. But while we do that, we totally forget, how much being a kid was. We forget all these good times we had, how easy life was and how important it is, to recover our inner child, to remind ourselves that life doesn’t always have to be serious and we don’t always have to be tough.

I did some statistically sound research (asked some friends) and found out that even the strongest of us, those who seem so adult the whole time, feel like crawling into the cosy, safe bed of their mums sometimes. We move out, want to be independent, want to be free. And then we are. And next we realise how lonely it can be, to be all grown up, all independent, protected by only ourselves. Sure, we can handle it. When we are in a bad mood and just want to be hugged, sure we can stay home and occupy ourselves with work (because of course there always is enough) but why on earth should we force ourselves? Why shouldn’t we call home, ask our lovely parents if we couldn’t come over for that motherlicious food you only get in the safe house you’ve grown up at?

Because we are too proud. Don’t want to admit to our friends or parents and especially not to ourselves, that we could sometime need a break from adulthood. A place where everything is safe and sound. Where no one can harm us, where we don’t have to put on an act, where we are loved the way we are.

There are days I wish I just could go back to kindergarten, where the sky was so blue and free of the worries of the real life. Of the life of adults. Of the not-as-funny-as-I-thought-life of grown-ups. I want my parents to be able to solve all my problems. I want to feel that freedom I felt back then, because THAT really was freedom.

I’m glad that when life really is tough, I know I can go home. Where I don’t have to be strong, where I can be a kid again. My parents might aren’t able to solve my problems for me. But they can help me, solve them myself. Sometimes I just want to sit there with my mum cooking dinner for me and her listening to me whining about life and telling me that everything will be fine. I need that. It gives me strength for all the daily fights of the real world. Because honestly, I think deep down we all still are kids. Forever. And actually, I wouldn’t want to have it any other way. Peter Pan would be so proud of me. Of us.