Family portraits. A window through time with the all the cues of a dysfunctional family.

What family wouldn't be complete without their cheesy family portrait placed in the living room? Denim jeans, white button down shirts - or - maybe color themed rather than denim themed. This is what I see from the samples of family portraits from the photographer my family will use to get their picture taken. Head shots, sitting on the ground, mom in the middle, dad with the hand on the shoulder - everyone around mom. So...family-centric. So weird.

I realized a couple of weeks ago that my two sisters and I have hardly more than five pictures together. In fact, I can only think of one picture that has us all together in a portrait type setting and it is hysterical to think of. Setting: Dayton Air Force Museum Date: Early 90's. My sisters and I are sitting on a bench/couch in the waiting area. Erin, the oldest, is looking at the camera with a face full of hatred and annoyance. Me, the middle child, is in the middle slumped into a position looking exhausted with my B-52 bomber baseball hat pulled down over my entire face, and the youngest, Alice, looking content and unsure of what's going on around her. I wish I had a copy of the picture here in Deutschland. THE POINT- we don't have a family picture or sister portrait...but we have this. I think it is as good as any. Even the best of photographers can't erase the faces, gestures, and tension that is shown in family photos. And if there IS such a picture that exists...denim clad individuals with their white button down shirts, I'm pretty this family if full of pod people - either that or they are so repressed with everything they do that it's a joke.

Case in point...Sebastian's family photo proudly displayed at his Grandma's house. Setting: Photography studio. Time: Early 90's. Set up: Mom holding the youngest (Sebastian), the oldest son (Dennis) sitting slightly higher than Sebastian, and Dad above them all... This is a pretty normal seating position that photographers like to arange families in. I guess the only difference in the pictures, other than the people in the pictures, is the expressions and events that are captured by the camera lens:

First. All eyes focus on a young Dennis...hands on knees but obviously not enjoying his time there. Expression on his face: priceless...full of annoyance and I can only IMAGINE how annoyed his parents were to get him to sit there and take the picture. This is coupled by the image of Dad, Herr Kalupa, sitting in a way behind Dennis that looked like he either just popped up to say 'Smile at the damn camera' or he is grabbing Dennis from behind to make him straighten up for sure.

Second. Young Sebastian is in the picture...looking clueless about what exactly is going on. All while his mother sits there with a wide eyed hoping that the picture comes out like the picture she has in her head.

All this adds up to the normal family dysfunction that can be seen in family pictures. All in all, I love it because it makes me guess as to how that day actually went down. Furthermore...although Sebastian was young, I asked him if he could remember that day....he could...and although I wasn't there...I laughed with him like I was there...all because what was captured by the camera is the perfect representation of how his family is.

Living with people is hard. Living with people that don't speak English is even harder.

My record with roommates:

First year at Kent: unsteady at first...some bumps in the road - but who doesn't have a issues ONCE in a while when living in one room with another girl. All in all, my first roommate experience was good.

Second year at Kent: (first semester)She was hardly there, I actually liked here. So all in all - it was good. (second semester) She was a crazy fucking bitch who didn't have a descent bone in her horse face body.

Third year at Leicester: I lived in my own room. The girls next to me were only loud when they were drunk.

Fourth year at Kent: This was a GREAT roommate experience. I even would go so far as to say I miss it. I don't miss the spats between me and Kelly about cleaning, but that was only about 4 times in all. My apartment with Kelly was my first home away from home and it felt good to have.

London: The place was a hell-hole. Though I had my own personal space, just because the Hawkridge (the housing from hell) seemed to warrant hatred towards whomever I would have lived with. I guess that's just how council estates go.

This brings us to Hannover! Which was the whole point of this blog posting in the first place.

Ok - So living with Harsi is great. He's not a problem at all and we get along with hardly any upsets (mostly just me being emotional). But our other roommate...that's a completely different story. I don't know if me, my English tongue, or if I have a some sort of bitchiness that comes off although I don't mean it. But I swear he hates me with a certain passion you can't have for another person. It's not even a GOOD hatred. It's the kind of hate that completely disregards a person from your life. Granted that I don't speak very good German, I should still get talked to (instead of channeling questions through Harsi).

My non-existance in the life of the other German(s) -he has a girlfriend who's over all the time- I live with is something that really bothers me. I suppose it would bother anyone who's trying to immerse into a culture that's language is hard as hell to learn - but I'm not finding anyway to combat it. THEREFORE I must accept this. How to do this in my own style:

I plan to act as ridiculous as possible around him. Say random things (yes, he knows English - it's not like we can't interchange in English if needed), strange twitches are very possible, and I'm considering blurting out random sounds like "MMRRPHH".

TODAY for instance, I was in the kitchen with Harsi and said roommate walks in and only talks to Harsi, only looks at Harsi, only addresses Harsi. So behind him I'm doing a little shimmy dance, looking like a moron. He DID happen to turn around and look at me but only because Harsi was laughing and looking at me while listening to him talk. Silence and annoyance emerged from the eyes, face, and aura of our roommate.

I feel that one reaction is better than no reaction.

MMMRRRRMMMPPHHHH!

So here I go again. This is my umptenth time attempting to write a blog with hopes that I'll "keep it up" (and I never do). But, I've never been good at keeping a diary - so I don't know why I thought this would be any better. I think that I still have diaries from when I was 10 years old that are only composed of the first 8th of the book. So it goes.

Now in Hannover, Deutschland - I'm facing a crazy time. New job, new language, new location. It's all very strange. I have likened myself to a small child that understands complex items. This of course, is only because I have yet to learn to speak German, but on occasion I impress everyone by being able to understand what was said to me. So basically - I am a mute here.

I keep thinking that I am never going to understand this horrendous language of the German peoples, only because day in and day out I feel left behind by this German world around me. However, I'm trying to stay positive and rationalize that I am learning more and more each day - but without the knowledge that I am doing so. I can say, as I look into the past, that I have learned a LARGE amount of German and am doing well for never really having any studies in the language. So one thing sticks out in my mind - PROGRESS!

I give myself 2 years to become fluent. If I'm not fluent in this time I'm going hardcore and enrolling in University (again) and immersing myself into the scholastic community (again). What should I do though - another masters? or another bachelors?