da gehoere ich hin.

Die Grenzen meiner Sprache bedeuten die Grenzen meiner Welt. - Ludwig Wittgenstein

Just read through a few of my posts that I made in Germany. Jeez, I did not pay any attention to spelling and as for grammar.. Very atrocious! Sorry! Manchmal, vermisse ich wirklich was ich dort erlebt hat... wirklich. Und wenn wir im Deutsch Unterricht ueber die Deutsche Kultur diskutieren, vermisse Ich es sogar etwas mehr. Das Erlebnis kann man nie von mir wegnehmen. Auch mein Lieb fuer das Land nicht. Ich glaube Ich muss weiter gehen und nicht so viel danach denken aber weisst du was? Deutschland wird immer ein Teil meines Leben sein. Mein Herz wird immer einen Platz fuer das grossartige Land haben. Gestern habe Ich beschlossen dass Ich wirklich weiter mit meinem Deutsch gehen will. Ich will nicht die Person, die so viele zeit fuer eine Sprache ausgegeben hat die denn die Sprache verlernt. Sau viele zeit vergeudet.... und fuer was? ganz ehrlich, nichts. Das passiert jetzt in meinem Leben.Ich lese was auf Deutsch und aergere mich weil Ich mich an ein bestimmtes Wort nicht erinnern kann, obwohl Ich weiss dass Ich es irgendwann und irgendwo mal gelernt habe. Oder Heute habe Ich das Wort: Bescherung gehoert. Es klang so bekannt... aber mein Gehirn konnte es nicht bearbeiten. Ich habe das Wort schon gelernt und Ich erinnere mich genau wann und wo Ich es gelernt habe: waehrend die Weinacht zeit gelernt! Diese verlernte Woerter alle haben eine bestimmte Erinnerung, und Ich finde das sau schoen. Eh Nur ein Post den Ich schnell geschrieben habe. Nur Gedanken

wisdom

Rainfalls

The storms come rushing in our beautiful town. The clouds choke the scorching sun, not allowing even the slightest bit to warm the heart of an innocent child. The mountains, the grass, the roads gasp for breath as the water comes pouring down with speeds, uncontrollable, for the human-race. The heavens are mourning. For what? for what, we cry. The once beautiful skies are hidden by a dusty, cold cover which begin to groan which then turns into a loud yell,  for every soul to hear. We stay in our houses, not daring to encounter that great, angry storm.

But, wait! the terrible sounds once heard begins to cease. The rain still pours but the only thing to be heard is the simple drip-drop, hitting the pavement. The clouds begin to lighten once again, as the sun comes out of despair, to kiss the once gasping mountain tops, our skin, the grass. She brings the most refreshing smell to everyone, the most luminous light of hope which we thought we lost. The children grin as they slip into their rain boots. That frightening storm once so horrid, is now the most welcoming sight they've seen. 

Jamestown/D.C picturrrrres

M.c Kenna

Back in Provo

Well, what do ya know? I am back in the city where I was raised.

I am finally getting over this bothersome sinus infection that has been dwelling in me since my trip to Berlin. Due to this sickness, the first few days I locked myself in my room and forced myself rest and recover although I didn't necessarily want to.
In all honesty, it's weird to be back. It's almost as if I was in Germany and I came back and somehow everyone is a year older. A lot but not has happened while I was gone.
My younger sister is now taller than I am! what is this nonsense?
People have changed. People are growing up, some even to the point that they left the earth.
I've especially changed. Mentally and, well, physically (This altitude is killing me! not to mention my weight).

I miss a lot of things about Germany and especially the language. Though, I do use the fact of americans not being able to speak german to my advantage. They don't understand any of the revolting things I say. My English is pretty bad sometimes... I make grammatical mistakes all the time and my vocabulary is much more simpilized.

I love driving!!! my goodness did I miss that. But, yet, I still enjoy riding my bike to the places that are actually reachable by bike. Same goes for good mexican food and random people talking to me.

Provo has been a pretty bad culture shock on me. I won't describe it in details because this blog is, indeed, not private.

4th of July was geil. Nathan turned 11 and we celebrated by me taking him to the local baseball park and playing with him sandlot style. We later went to rock canyon park to view the stadium of fire. :D So much red, white and blue. Enough to last me a lifetime.


M.c Kenna