Off Kilter

I like to complain. I complain about work, about food, about disorganization, about too much organization. I’m often against various things and I always find more things to complain about, whether it’s a dripping tap, or the hole in my jacket’s pocket where everything falls through. And since I’m often the only one who complains, I have to complain about the fact that no one else complains.

I have moved 15 times in the last 6 years. After all those experiences of cultural displacement, I realized that my emotional wellbeing stems from my longing for the familiar. However, over the years, things that used to be foreign have become ordinary, and vice versa, things that used to be familiar became strange.
In adopting new cultures, I compromise fragments of my beliefs, not only personally but also professionally. In my first internship in the United States, my boss used to tell me that my design looks “too German”.

Back in Germany, people described my internship-work to be “very American”. While adapting, my identity polarized, my critical stance detached from national origins, and my perspective expanded.

Complaining is not always negative. In my case it is simultaneously a desire for the known but also a desire of change and moving forward. If I keep moving it is because I haven’t settled.