bored and birthdays

Today is my mother's birthday. She's exactly 20 years older than I am, and six months ahead, so I get a taste around now of what I'll be, if that makes any sense. She's 57. So always around this time I start thinking of myself as that next year older, and can't enjoy the six months that I'm still this age. And every year I feel older. Not really feel older, but feel like I am old to the outside despite myself.

So I called my mother this morning before work (she lives in Berlin, so it's 6 hours time difference), she wasn't there; I called her again just now, still not there. I wrote her a rambling email and promised to call again, since it's Easter and we tend to talk on the phone on holidays. That's the only time we do, in fact. Saying that we're not very close isn't quite accurate. We're far too close, even at great distances and during long absent stretches of time. I am furious at her for so much. Nothing she'd ever understand though, so it's pointless to try and fix. I think I might skip my annual visit to Berlin this year though and go to Spain instead to visit my sister. Get my money saved. Says Jane.

The day my mother started school was her birthday. Every child got a little porcellan piggy bank with one Pfennig in it, except there was one too few and since my mother sat in the last seat in the back, she didn't get the porcellan pig. I've heard this story many times, it must have been quite sad for her. It always makes me sad to think about. And then I wonder, how could school have started on April 14th? I guess they had a different schedule back then.

So the new job is fine.

Lalalala. I am truly bored with my life. I'm lonely without the fairly frequent companionship of B over the past months, but trying to replace that time with other interests. Suggestions welcome.

gertrude