There are many times per day I question my mental health, though perhaps never as often as I have in the 48 hours I’ve been back on campus. As an International Studies (and Journalism!) major, various foreign countries are mentioned during the course of my classes multiple times a day. Apparently I never realized before how much Germany is slipped into even the most casual of lessons, though you can bet post-foreign study I now pick up on every even hint of a whisper of any mention of anything I ever even kind of encountered in my four months there. I need to go back to Germany. And this isn’t just “The beer is better there! Maybe I’ll backpack across Europe post-graduation.” In the spirit of full disclosure to my loyal legion of 5-13 readers: I was fighting tears in my European Integration class today. That’s right, people– my professor’s mention of the Defenestration of Prague in which he explained that “defenestration” means to throw someone out the window got me all misty-eyed because DID YOU KNOW that “fenster” means “window” auf Deutsch?! I need to go back. I need to learn more of the language, I need to show the people I love back home how amazing a country it is. It’s like my culture shock upon American reentry has laid dormant for a few months and is rearing it’s ugly and apparently overly emotional head now that I’m surrounded by people who still think “Nazi/Hitler/war/bad” when they see the red, black & yellow. It’s not that I miss the people in my program; save for a few close friends, I’ve hidden/ defriended most of them on Facebook. It’s rather some, I don’t know– primal need? Like four months wasn’t long enough, or I should be looking for some incredibly lucrative job that could support me living there six months out of the year. Perhaps you think I’m being overly dramatic, but I long ago stopped giving a shit what people think about me when I start to have feelings. So as to not leave you on a completely Debbie Downer note, I have no class tomorrow and generally like all my courses this semester. Yea for rays of sunshine!

Did the Fourth of July seem not at all like a holiday to anyone else? Except for the absurd amount of time I was given off from work, actual Independence Day itself went off like any other. NPH and I traveled back to the Chicago suburbs to visit his family and friends from home, watch fireworks over Lake Michigan, and attempt the Taste of Chicago (only to decide we could get food and much cheaper beer in air-conditioned facilities not surrounded by thousands of other sweaty bodies. Though I did get a plate of sweet potato fries as big as my face for only seven tickets.) I met and became best friends with his family dog AND made a surprisingly fantastic rhubarb pie to win the rest of their hearts; we’ll see if I’m the new favorite when we go back in August for LOLLAPALOOZA!! Upon our return to Iowa City, we watched Inglourious Basterds since I hadn’t seen it post-Germany, and it mostly made me sad to hear them speaking German (though happy because I could understand it?) That has been the most challenging part of this summer– oh God, she’s trying to get all deep here at the end– dealing with the I’m-an-adult-but-living-at-home thing. I have to actively remind myself that I’m no longer in high school and in fact have much more freedoms this time around. Also, I miss D-Bag a boatload, but that’s secondary to the constant inner turmoil I’m going through maturity-wise. I read an article today that said it costs a quarter of a million dollars to raise a child to the age of 18– do you know how much Bavarian beer that would buy in Munich over my lifetime? 1. A lot, 2. That segue to tie the whole post together really just did not work at all.

After barraging Google with searches for  hypokalemia (low potassium) I am now a veritable expert on the potassium content of most foods.  Thankfully T-Bone was set to do some grocery shopping anyway, so I added prunes, cantaloupe, bananas, and avocados to the list to jump start my blood’s return to healthy.  I must interject that I was a bit surprised to find out a potassium-low diet was part of my problem because I am not exactly the world’s slouchiest eater.  My meals at home consist of lots of color and produce and are much more nutritionally balanced than most 21 year olds you know– except for my weekends in Iowa City living off of cheese fries from the Vine, but even those are made from potatoes which are filled with potassium!  Getting told I need to eat more fruits and veggies is no skin off my back, except when it comes to the prune department.  These dried plums and I had never met before, and I was well aware of the reputation that precedes them.  Mom picked up three bags– regular, cherry and orange flavored.  My first reaction to a prune: GROSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS.  Why are they slimy?!  Dried apricots aren’t slimy, they’re magically delicious.  This prune was bitter and slimy, yet the inside was mushy.  The other two flavors didn’t exactly mask the taste of nasty, but unfortunately “3-5 prunes with meals” was literally part of my doctor’s prescription.  I took a break from this culinary misadventure and tried again later.  At least I can proudly report, they’re growing on me.  And boy am I getting creative with them.  Last night I took some of the cherry ones and chopped them up in ice cream.  This morning I took advantage of their oddly spreadable insides and mixed them with the peanut butter on my English muffin (topped with a sliced banana because PB & ‘nanas is the best taste combo in. the. world.)

Let’s take a break from the exciting adventures in my kitchen and talk about Germany. D-bag and I talked via Skype yesterday and it was awesome yet sad.  Then I looked through some of my pictures from study abroad– MISTAKE.  Then, missing it so much I could have puked, I figured I should probably have some goal about when I’m going to return (Oktoberfest 2011.)  I’m certainly not hating being home, but it’s crazy to think that some of my classmates are still over there and haven’t even began the coming home process yet. Speaking of study abroad, I got a 4.0 last semester– not exactly the toughest 16 weeks of academia I’ve endured, but all A’s nonetheless.  This does wonders for my overall GPA, and now only 24 credit hours until I’m done-zo.  Posts related to that upcoming life crisis to follow.

Yeah, so the whole two blogs thing isn’t going to really work for me while I’m here having the time of my life in the most awesome place in the world.  For the duration of my study abroad experience (I’ll be back with plenty to say in a non-German setting in May) I’ll be posting exclusively on Iowa Girls Gone Wild.  Despite it’s name, it’s completely safe for work.  Ya’ll tell all your friends now, ya hear?

My suitcases are full, the Post-It lists on my wall are mostly checked off, the Hawkeyes are on TV in six hours.  I’ve been much calmer today than anticipated, kind of like the night before studying for a final when you just can’t care anymore about what grade you’re going to get.  I did have one mild to moderate breakdown (not for any particular reason, though being in a cemetery may not have helped) in which I found myself in a vehicle with no tissues and resorted to using my new scarf to wipe the streaming snot from my face.  But other than that, pretty freakin’ excited.  The German foreign exchange student my brother went to prom with lives in the town I’ll be studying in and although (I’m fairly certain) we never met, she’s excited for me to come and show me around and take me out on the town.

Internship application 3/3  was sent today, the one I’m most excited about, the one I’d PEE.MY.PANTS. if I got.  Maybe I’ll get ambitious and apply for more while abroad (HA).  Apparently with my spending habits, I need to find more than 10-15 hours at a sandwich place a week  to supply some cashflow.  I’m predicting around mid-March or April I’ll start freaking about my nebulous summer plans, don’t worry– I’ve accepted my self-diagnosis of CRIPPLING NEUROSIS.  I think when my mom and I went to the mall last week and I wouldn’t go up and ask the hair salon lady if I could get an appointment she realized that her daughter is a social FREAK (perhaps a new spin on the blog could be WhatMentalIllnessIsBrittneyOnTheCuspOfToday.com)

NPH keeps telling me to calm the truck down (<–see?  2010 resolution of swearing less), that “everyone loves Americans” (blatant lie) and “you’ll make friends so fast you’ll freak” (blatant Jimmy John’s rip-off.)  I’m no longer talking to him however because currently he and three other of my good friends are drunk in Miami for the Orange Bowl.  When he asked if I was just “chilling all day” and I said AREYOUHIGH today might be one of the most critically busy days of my life he responded “Oh yeah.  Well I just have drinking and football.”  I’m just SO happy for you.

My layover tomorrow in Chicago is four hours long.  I will not have a cell phone, thus it’s really a crapshoot as to whether I’ll have my sanity.  My trusty shiny new blue laptop will be with my however so I will be blogging, Facebooking, Twittering up a storm– how excited are YOU?!

Nine days.  I’d sell my soul to be there now.

We’re flying out earlier than expected for our cruise tomorrow.  Miami will be nice.  I will have no connection with the world (Facebook, blogging, cell phone) for like, a lot of days.  And then only one full day in between flying back and flying out for Germany.  My room is beyond a wreck (not on purpose, contrary to apparent popular belief) with boxes, clothes, suitcases, lots more clothes, Christmas gifts.  It’ll be weird celebrating New Years on a ship with strangers and my family.  Hopefully there will at least be champagne.

I got new glasses today.  And my digital camera from Christmas finally came (thanks, Grandma!)  There’s nothing really great to put up pictures of yet, but you can bet there’s much bigger excitment to come.  That’s all for today, folks.  I will spare you my shit-tastic mood.

“She’s blogging!  She survived the night!”

Yes indeed, you may all carry on with your lives normally again– one night down, 141 to go (yep, I calculated that when I woke up.)  Thanks to my newest best friend NyQuil, I slept 13 hours and my throat feels much better.  And I suppose I’m genuinely glad to be home (so much food in the fridge!  So many TVs!  Someone else to clean the kitchen!)

This afternoon we have Chistmas 2 of 3, this time with my mom’s dad’s side of the family.  Speaking of, I’ve scoped out the present situation under our trees and there are some for me, though not dozens as there should be (there’s still four shopping days left, I’m not too concerned) but T-BONE has TAPED the bags shut.  Ahem.  If I were really desperate (and it’s only Sunday, so I’m not ruling this out later in the week) I could cut open the tape, peer inside, then re-do it with no one the wiser (I mean, my conscience would know, but I’ve gotten pretty good at shutting it up after 20 years of questionable morals.  <– A half-joke.  You should half-laugh.)

Speaking of presents, NPH loved his.  Mine never arrived.  The bastard assures me they’re on their way and that he’ll send them to me to take to Germany.  I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m not devoting precious space in my luggage to three bottles of barbecue sauce.  Oh, and APPARENTLY my parents met each other long ago and were “friends” but my mom “didn’t like him like that” until she moved away and realized they were “actually in love with each other.”  Okay 1.) Barf.  2.) That was some heavy use by me of superfluous quotations around most of that story. 3.) Yes.  I understand this.  You the reader, Obama the president, Jerry the homeless guy in Iowa City ALL THINK Neil and I are either already dating or destined to be together or at some point in our lives be touching each other beyond the occasional drunk slapping I do of him when he makes fun of me for exchanging more than pleasantries with a kid who went to special ed in high school (if you do not already know this story, you don’t want to.  Might I just say for the record: HE WAS NOT “special.”  So academia might not be his strong suit.  BIG DEAL– he’s in college now.  Not a very rigorous one, but higher education nonetheless.)  I’ve completely lost my train of thought now… anyway, the point is: me + hot German man I’ve yet to meet = yes please  You may think I’m going over there to “learn German” because its required by “my major.”  HA.  Boy do I have you fooled.  This is really just a husband-finding mission.  NPH already knows he’ll be standing up between Kayla and Lauren in my bridal party in Vegas.  I think he’s quite excited for this, especially if I pick out bridesmaid dresses they’ll be able to wear on other occasions, for example, a mid-summer polo match.  Ooh, I should get them in red– Neil really does look best in warm colors.

My last night in IC was better than anything I could have asked for or Facebook event-ed for myself.  Magically I saw almost everyone I would have wanted to hang out with at some point in the evening which was NEAT-O.  Lots of people hugged me, and I hugged them back (I know, you’re shocked– this whole maturing thing is weirding me out, too.)  Today I had leftover pokey sticks for breakfast and Hy-Vee chinese for lunch.  The stabbing stomach pains that have resulted do not want dinner, just water and sleep.  And my THROAT hurts like a SONUVABITCH, so that’s cool– getting sick for Christmas.

Things I don’t want to talk about: saying good-bye to NPH.  Can I just say that I never cried in front of anyone during this whole going away process?  I’m quite proud of myself for that.  I mean, my car might be a different story and other drivers on I-80 tonight were probably extemely concerned that I was going to careen through a guardrail at any point, but STILL– the actual parting of ways was not that bad.  The resulting wallowing is pretty painful, at least for those around me anyway.  It’s not like anyone’s dying or anything, and I’m starting to get REALLYEXCITED for Germany, but separation anxiety is still no picnic.

Things I would love to talk about: the scholarship letter I got in the mail today.  Woo-hoo, journalism school!  By some weird miracle I applied  on time and the powers that be decided my grades and stroke-of-luck writing samples warranted a big ol’ check to help pay for college.  That’s pretty boss.

I’m home, my parents are off at a Christmas party, I’M GOING TO BED.  It’s 7 pm.  Wow, Brittney.  Your life is too.much.fun. to handle.  Hey– this little illness festering away in my nodes isn’t going to go away by itself.  Also, when one is mourning the loss of their partner in crime for five months, sleep is a much more attractive option than watching I Love You, Man with your brother because it would just remind you of the Paul Rudd poster hanging over the TV in 713’s living room and then all of a sudden you’d be bawling again and calling Kayla who would get really concerned that something actual tears-worthy had happened but you’d have to explain to her that it’s just because you already miss NPH and she’d be all “Good God woman get ahold of yourself.”  I mean, that didn’t happen.  I’m just saying… I could see a scenario like it in which sleep is always the better option.

Before I jump into my lovely nonsensical post, may I just rant that we had tomorrow ALL SET UP to sign the subleases for our apartment, but the landlord then reminded me that any new applicants have to FILL OUT PAPERWORK (which really isn’t that extensive, but it requires some parent signatures and a fax machine and $25 and a background check and UGH.)  So perhaps it will get signed by the time I return from Germany.  POOOOOP.

Anyway… guess what, dear kiddos– it snowed.  I was pretty oblivious to this, thanks to my new best friend NyQuil.  By 6 pm last night I was sound asleep and didn’t wake up til my alarm this morning at 7.  That’s 13 hours, for those of you counting at home.  A interesting thing about any sort of precipitation is that I am grossly unprepared.  I do not currently have boots, gloves, a hat, or scarf in my possession.  (That loud bang you just heard was my mother shooting me through the Internet.  I imagine there was also some sort of “BRITTNEYMARIE no wonder you’re sick!” followed by a lot of huffing and complaining to my father.)  At some point I had these things, but I’m not certain where they’ve gone.  NPH gave me some gloves at 713, but I forgot them there on Saturday.  Today it doesn’t really matter since I’m generating enough body heat to run a small-engine vehicle for a short distance, even though the thermometer says my temperature is 96 degrees.  Yep.  I am a cold-blooded freak.

The one thing that does peeve me right is my lack of proper footwear.  Apparently snow has not been deemed cool enough for the hipster population of Iowa City to give a shit, so those in charge have decided to just let it sit there, getting all gray and slushy and killing any hopes of a semi-normal walk to class.  I’ve survived two winters here with only tennis shoes and a prayer getting me place to place, but I should think I’d like to get boots before heading thousands of miles east where I presume there will also be snow.  (Note to self; I also need a phrasebook, clock, watch batteries, and a few more thousands of dollars, should I find some just lying about on the sidewalk.)

OH, my German language buddy just e-mailed me.  Her name is Melanie (I will get along with her, I will get along with her.)  She doesn’t write English that well, but asked how long I’ve been studying German.  Uhh, does a few phrases online count as studying?  I am so royally fucked on this not-knowing-the-language-of-the-place-I’m-living-for-four-months thing.  If in any sort of sticky German situation, the phrases I could hope to throw out include, “I miss you” “I love you”, the numbers 1-3, “the child is fat”, “the car is silver”, and “Good-bye” (though I’ll never be able to say it quite like Heidi Klum a la Project Runway.  Drat.)

“When you study abroad, be careful who you hang out with and what you do over there.” –our professor after discussing the Amanda Knox ordeal.  This is the same professor who just had us watch part of the Jerry Springer show to highlight the difference between indecency and obscenity.  The proximity of Germany to Amsterdam was only recently revealed to me, so really there should be no question as to what I’ll be doing there.