Mishaps with a mannequin

Laurel Haslam

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about

I’m a person. Finnicky. Dry humor. Contrology is life. Voracious reader. Animals. Hates war, cruelty and stupidity. We are all idiots:)

  • Schneeflocken

    Before moving to Germany,…but I question if I really moved here. It’s more like…I showed up here on a blind leap of faith. One that deep down felt incredibly wrong, but in the deepest place I knew to be my way forward. Away from heartbreak. Away from a dead end. A way to give up the community and life that was impelling me out. I left almost a year ago. I don’t care for the geography of where I live. I love the people in my life here deeply and I could not imagine saying goodbye. I love the fall colors. I love the colors of all the people. I miss the food, god i miss healthy California living. I miss the radical open-mindedness that circles around and makes the radical left and the radical right beides. I miss the San Francisco mindset…in some ways.. Yet, as I get ready to visit I feel a little bit nervous.

     I lived in one of the most open minded, fantastic places imaginable and liberal to a detriment. It was a community where every word felt like a potential offense, and where ideological purity often outweighed open conversation. In that environment, I was probably just shy of being labeled right-wing….sweet little vegan me. The average income hovered around $180,000 a year,..average….and that’s impossible to live on if you are not single and the population was a blend of white, Asian, and Hispanic residents—an affluent, “diverse” slice of America.

    What strikes me, in hindsight, is how much Americans take assimilation for granted. Living on a continent surrounded by water, we grow up assuming that people who come to the United States will naturally adopt “American” ways. I’ve started to wonder if the water itself symbolizes perhap the ocean acts as both a barrier and a filter, creating a sense of similarity among those who cross it. And stay. LA is diverse….New York …ok maybe yes. SF…no….not to me anymore.

    Living in Germany has changed the way I look at diversity fundamentally. I can laugh with my friends…here about americans leading the diversity train.  Germany is a nation rich with immigration, a tapestry of cultures,languages, religion…all woven together in one shared tiny! Space. To obtain a visa, one must complete German language courses and demonstrate proficiency at a B1 level. I probably function at around that level myself—I can teach Pilates in German, navigate doctors, dentist, optometrist and official appointments on my own, and participate in daily life without much issue. But what does it mean to participate in daily life. As someone who barely speaks the language at a functional level, I feel safe moving about Germany solo. I speak a ton..too much English. Relationship building. Here is where I sometimes feel so homesick and overwhelmed I can barely breathe. I cant express myself clearly. Aber here sind so many people who …live in Europe…so many languages…its totally different than life in USA. A pilates teacher who speaks crappy but understandable english? Not likely? Having dinner with people when you dont understand the language….its not as lonely as you might think. Three people I am attached to dearly here….dont really speak english. Language alone is a diversity I never considered. Here, in Germany, you are required to participate in language class…potentially pass a test to stay. As one of my friends here- German being his 3rd language, he is fluent…”it didn’t have to be this way” , laughing about how complicated german is to learn. This language is so hard…but its doable..but you dont sound good:) If American leadership chose to enact this language rule…the left would protest. But…its the only way to inclusion. To keep diversity and include inclusion.

    Perhaps one of the greatest callings of humanity is the ability to see people as individuals- should be same for dogs…(#pitmom). And diversity is a real thing. Geography affects that, size of a continent …Hollywood. Diversity isn’t something you can…create….too many factors. And as individuals we just don’t know much, as a collective we can, but we usually fight and label.

    I laugh at the way I used to think about diversity and inclusion, I just didn’t get it.. The kids in germany seem to kill themselves less…but they aren’t presented with so many….social issues we have created huge conversations around. I dont worry here…about what I say getting me canceled. I worry about …not being deeply understood, less hysterical and loud laughter. But thoughts ideas and opinions. Nope can say anything. It makes me laugh as I get so excited to see my LOVED people- basically ANYONE living in SF at this point I miss it so much…I also am nervous about the level of sensitivity. That I so deeply miss but enjoy making fun of over here. I am the snowflake…my snowflake friends would life. Is it even ok I’m joking about snowflake…oh…Dot. De so yes!

  • It Didn’t need to be this way

    As my favorite client says all the time about German…it doesn’t NEED to be this way…so complicated. It just doesnt. He is from Turkei. I dropped out of school after eighth grade, so walking into a classroom at forty-three to learn German felt like some kind of cosmic joke. Four cases and all. I mean—first of all—the language is ridiculously complicated and absurdly precise. If you trail off mid-sentence, a German isn’t going to fill in the blank for you. They can’t.

    I sometimes regret not finishing high school, but learning German at this age has made one thing clear: I never would’ve made it through school anyway. I just don’t learn the way most people do. Now I have the wisdom to know educated idiots are the worst…and I am ok with struggling more than the others.

    So I walk into this classroom—maybe eleven of us in total. The Turks sit with the Turks, the Arabisch with the Arabisch. I’m the only American. Most people speak a little English, but we don’t talk. What’s there to say? We’ve all ended up in a room in Stuttgart, Germany, trying to learn a four-case language. The only appropriate thing to say is, “Oh, fuck.”

    I’m lucky, though. I grew up around the German language, took it for a year in seventh grade, and live in a German-speaking household now. I’ve  sat through four-hour dinners where I barely understand a word. But i came with the basics. Um…meaning I can tell you my name, but I’ll also tell you I’m thirty-four—because I’m forty-three. German numbers are inverted, with no botox effect.

    The teacher’s kind, but she speaks zero English. None. There is no English in this classroom. My language—gone. People can speak English, sure, but I can’t just speak here. I have to slow down, strip down my words, make everything simple.

    And I feel guilty about it, honestly. Most people here learned English; I’ve had it easier than them. I’m American, now even more aware of that. The U.S. loves to brag about leading the way in diversity and inclusion, but here, that’s a punchline. My classmates make jokes about it all the time. They laugh about Black Lives Matter. At first, I thought it was messed up, but now that I live in Stuttgart, I get it. On any given day, I hear seven languages, see every kind of person—and I realize how ridiculous it is that we think we “lead” the global conversation on inclusion. We have no idea, because we are such a large body of land…foreigners are swallowed up and assimilate…here not so mucht We’re entitled. The world bends to us because English is everywhere. And yeah…just eye opening.

    That class taught me a lot. Once we got friendly, I found out they’d all placed bets on how long I’d last. Apparently Americans don’t do well being cut off from other Americans—especially not in a room full of Eastern Europeans and Middle Easterners. Shit, am I going to get canceled for saying that….I believe it to be true.

    Classes were 2 to 6 p.m., Monday through Friday, for seven months. Two schools. I just fucking did it…you cant think about it…but I loved it, and I’m getting the hang of it—besser und besser jeden Tag. Still, Ich kann nicht so viele Beziehungen mit Deutsch machen. I speak too much English, but handled the Financeamt auf deutsch…so like i think im ok…or really fucked:) .

    Dativ oder Akkusativ? Four hours a day hearing German, speaking German..but the weird part about learning a language is, you never really know if you’re learning it. Because you cant actually speak it out of the classroom!

    One day we got a worksheet about two boys. I thought Boy A was asking Boy B if he had a skateboard for Saturday. Boy B said no, but maybe Sunday. I answered all the questions, wrote a whole paragraph about it. My teacher asked me to explain what was happening, and I told her. She said, “Zeit ist ein uhr….dieses kurs fangen um 14uhr An…., nicht ein skateboard.” I laughed until tears streamed down my face. So did my Romanian friend Ana. The teacher didn’t. Because she was born in germany.

    But I kept going. I did a Pilates teacher training—in German. Went to social events—in German. I have dinners with Roland—five-hour European marathons—all in German. I just threw myself in.

    I have to learn it..but I dont stress about it.. Stuttgart thinks it’s a city, but it’s a town—and you’ve got to Deutsch sprechen here.

    The grammar is a path to  Insane. They have three “the’s.” Yes, three. If you ask for die Messer (the knife), you’ll get that look—because it’s das Messer. Or maybe der Messer. Who even knows. It’s still a knife, and they know it.

    A knife (Messer) lays on the table. A glass stands on the table. So now I measure things before I pick a directive word as to if something should be stood or laid on the table. I laugh when I see people sitting down…akkusitiv…akkusitiv akk…and the ass makes contact we have DATIV.

    I ask Roland for help with homework, but most Germans don’t actually understand their own grammar—they just speak it. Ask them about Dativpronomen and they’ll stare at you. Roland once Googled  the Kasus, printed out ten pages, and even he laughed.

    Now I catch myself: Oh fuck, verb ist immer Position zwei. Half the time I split trennbare verbs, half the time I have no idea what they even are.

    The language makes me laugh as much as it frustrates me. But its fun to learn with other foreigners ….like i say…there is a reason these people do sauerkraut so well..VINEGAR! We are soaked in it….a sense of humor is key to language….especially the german one…and that is up to us. The immigrants.

  • Coping with Change: Leaving My Old Life Behind

    Now I’m here. But sometimes, I wonder.

    I’ve thought about starting this blog a hundred times—usually mid-day, in one of those moments where I stop and think: what the fuck did I do? I laugh, because honestly, what else can you do?

    In those moments I tell myself, I have to write this all down, share this with my community. But when night comes and I finally sit down, the words vanish. Living here in Germany feels too big, too weird, too much for a tidy little sentence. And some days, feeling so far from my communit…and my dog Korbe, who I believe was a direct descendent of Jesus Christ.I just push the thoughts away and worry about Dativ or Akkusativ instead.

    Maybe the best place to start is at the beginning. Almost a year later, I can finally think about it without flinching.

    The truth is, I had a great life. I always have. I loved my business—it was the hardest thing to leave. It was my love story: I helped name it, build it, open its doors. And then, somehow, I found myself pushed out of those very same doors I had helped to create—a place where I’d imagined everyone could just be themselves.

    One day, I showed up to work to a note to forward to all my employees welcoming someone to my position. The only problem was…I hadn’t actually left. I felt like I’d been shot, but some people do how they do and I guess I’d been pointed to the door I’d opened. Like a million times. I still can’t come to grips with my exit, but I can laugh about it because- facade, pulpits and stages. And the girl in the black t-shirt. I didn’t fit anymore. Used to it!

    I had a place to go in Europe—which sounds like every American’s dream. Someone dear to me was here. But I also had a whole life on Valencia Street—and a dog who wasn’t invited.

    It was July 17, 2024. I just broke. Two years earlier, a significant relationship had burned me up, beaten me down, and left me for dead. Now I could feel everything in my life slipping away. And I knew: Ich werde nach Deutschland gehen. All I really had tying me to my life was my dog. I knew I couldn’t leave him, but I also knew my life was leaving me. I cried once, because it was all just too big.

    I moved out of my beloved home and sold it in September. I gave my notice, gracefully….so technically it was “my” decision. So many feelings about that- i hate bullshit though.  I got rid of my plants, died a little inside, and gave away my stuff. I accepted that my books wouldn’t be coming with me. Neither would Korbel. His cancer had returned, and I medicated him with a cocktail to make him last as long as possible.

    I put my life, Korbel, down on November 5th. I moved to Germany on November 7th. And I still can’t believe I survived that. Now I’m here…but I wonder. Also fuck SEO but its 2025..>Coping with change???! really….lame.

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