Today is a somewhat funny day. After five consecutive hours of translating a manual I decided to do something on the spot. I had a look into the web, found an ad for a flat at Färberplatz, called the girl and an hour later I visited a share-flat for students. Weird thing, I already knew I'd not be interested. Not for real. But the flat was awesome. Huge. Stylish. Friendly atmosphere. The girl was from Spain, totally naive but mercurial and all puffed up. I just loved talking to her, trying to avoid dialect and speak proper German instead. Of course, my efforts didn't last longer than ... roughly 34 seconds and a half. She had a hard time understanding me, so we switched to English. Funny enough, her English was even worse. Nonetheless, I kind of fell in love with her. Gotta be awesome to live there. Right where it's at. Gonna be seeing another flat on Monday. This time I am interested. And I hope I'll get it. It's anything but cheap but I'm tired of thinking about money. The guy had lots of photos on the net, so I've got a pretty lucid picture of what the flat's gonna be all about. And here's the really likeable part: I'd live with two med students. Female. Call me crazy but I imagine living with girls is way easier. No beer cans to dump. No cleaning table to draw up. No farting. And no beard hair all spread over the bathroom.

Yesterday I had another session of therapy. I just love my therapist. She's gorgeous and I felt right from the start that there would be nothing I could not talk about, which actually is the purpose of having conversational therapy, ain't it? We had a laugh when she admitted that I tend to confuse her thoroughly. She doesn't yet know which drawer to put me in. Is he an 'all-brains-person' or an amalgam of mixed-up emotions? I wish I could help her in that respect. But then, where'd be the fun part of it? Fact is, I'm doing this in order to damage the Austrian health system, costing them plenty of money for basically nothing serious. I'm convinced after the fifth or sixth session she's gonna send me home telling me to not think that much. And that's it. But still, there were two things that really hit me. When she asked me who'd hug me when I was sad, I said that I don't have someone for this task right now. Not in Graz. Realizing this hurt a great deal. The other thing is ... we talked about my entire family and the inter-relationships bla, bla ... and then she surmised that it might very well be that I'm not the group-person just because of that lack of family grip and that maybe my mother had been too much of a reference person throughout my entire life. Thus, I'm way better in face-to-face communication than group-stuff. She also made me aware of the fact that there actually is something like a generation gap at university, since it's proven fact that 7 years of difference already make for an entirely new generation. So this gives me a new punch line whenever I feel bored amongst my colleagues "see, I don't care about your stuff. And I don't have to. I'm not part of de-generation X" ... I'm fairly confident that things will improve as soon as I'm in the 2nd Studienabschnitt where the really talented and ambitious folks remain and the rest has resigned to AMS. The funny thing is, I have a certain hunch that there's some guy at uni who's even older than I am. I wonder how 'integrated' he might feel ... the thing is, I feel absolutely integrated. I have always been the communicative guy. And there are some people I really appreciate. I think there's some friendships under construction. But sometimes I just miss a broader connection. I'm just too personality-ridden. That's today's diagnosis.

To wrap it up ... there's this headline one of the guys I'm chatting with uses right now. Goes like this "if people only talked about the very things they could relate to, the ensuing silence would be insufferable." ... I somewhat like that line. Sounds edgy. And true. Like it or not ... people talk too much. Talking is overrated.