Yesterday someone asked me if I was looking forward to Easter.
In return, this person got the blank stare I've gotten in the habit of giving everyone who asks me if I'm looking forward to one holiday or the other.
No, I'm not.
Listen, I don't mean for this to be a sob fest/pity party. The fact of the matter, though, is that as a single expatriate, you don't live with your family. Full stop. When the holidays come around, you may Skype with them or what not, but you're normally spending that day alone.
I can only speak for myself, of course. Some people may do things with friends, or some people may go home for whichever holidays they can/want to.
In the last five and a half years, it's become very clear to me that spending my holidays alone is a fact of life. It's really not the end of the world. I'm not religious anyway, so I don't really feel like I'm missing out on anything in that respect. The most I'm really missing out on is whatever seasonal bird is ending up on the table back in Canada.
All the holidays/long weekends/whatever give me are an extra couple of days away from work/uni to work on whichever writing projects I've got on the go at the moment. It's not sad, mopey or depressing. It's just the way it is -- another day.
Still, don't ask me if I'm looking forward to the holidays. Sure, it's nice to not set the alarm for an extra morning or two, but really. No. I'm not looking forward to the holidays. Why would I?
Showing posts with label Uni. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uni. Show all posts
27 March 2013
19 March 2013
"Minderwertiger Mensch"
Today at the staff meeting at one of my jobs, there was a discussion about whether or not we should be hanging art in the workplace, and what kind of art that should be.
Then, one of the people noted that the company could employ an SHK to take the pictures to and from a van and hang them. A previous SHK who used to work in the office with me (who now has a real job and thus recognition as being a real person) looked at me and a simultaneous headshake took place.
Those of you who know me will know this whole SHK thing is one that drives me crazy and that I choose to bitch about quite often. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the German system, an SHK is typically just slave labor, akin to an unpaid intern with a degree who spends their days getting coffee for higher-ups. Our bosses are pretty much convinced we do dick all, even though we often do tons of work that they get to take credit for later on. Oh yeah. And we get paid practically nothing to do it.
On the one hand, it's good "experience" to have on your resume, even if it doesn't technically count as "work experience". (Which, considering the amount of work most SHK's I know do, is laughable. I do more work here than I did at any of my previous full-time "normal" jobs.) On the other: we're stuck doing the lousy work that no "real" employee wants to take on; are not given keys to get into the buildings we work in because "we might throw parties" and thus have to hope the person manning the front desk will open the door for us when we get to work; and are treated generally like baby monkeys, even though enough of us are running around with Bachelor's degrees.
It's a half-win/lose situation, but we deal with it... Mostly because we have to. You can't be choosy when the best jobs out there pay 10€ an hour or (normally) less if you're a dreaded student, regardless of the vow you made to yourself at 17 that you'd never work for less than the equivalent of 13€ an hour again.
What drives me crazy, though, is the potential for exploitation. Of course, I'll do the grunt work! Of course, I'll unload a car! And then, of course, I'll be happy to go back to my regular work where -- were I a freelancer -- I'd be getting a cool 300 yoyos a day, but of course I'm DELIGHTED to take my 60€ before tax! Of course!
Are SHK's the new Yes Men? Yes!
As for my previous co-worker, he went from being a Yes Man to a "real" human being whose thoughts could be respected from one day to the next. As far as I've been able to tell, nothing happened that day to make him more "important" or better of a person (except for the fact he got a key to the building).
Grumble, grumble. Here's to hoping my day comes eventually.
Then, one of the people noted that the company could employ an SHK to take the pictures to and from a van and hang them. A previous SHK who used to work in the office with me (who now has a real job and thus recognition as being a real person) looked at me and a simultaneous headshake took place.
Those of you who know me will know this whole SHK thing is one that drives me crazy and that I choose to bitch about quite often. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the German system, an SHK is typically just slave labor, akin to an unpaid intern with a degree who spends their days getting coffee for higher-ups. Our bosses are pretty much convinced we do dick all, even though we often do tons of work that they get to take credit for later on. Oh yeah. And we get paid practically nothing to do it.
On the one hand, it's good "experience" to have on your resume, even if it doesn't technically count as "work experience". (Which, considering the amount of work most SHK's I know do, is laughable. I do more work here than I did at any of my previous full-time "normal" jobs.) On the other: we're stuck doing the lousy work that no "real" employee wants to take on; are not given keys to get into the buildings we work in because "we might throw parties" and thus have to hope the person manning the front desk will open the door for us when we get to work; and are treated generally like baby monkeys, even though enough of us are running around with Bachelor's degrees.
It's a half-win/lose situation, but we deal with it... Mostly because we have to. You can't be choosy when the best jobs out there pay 10€ an hour or (normally) less if you're a dreaded student, regardless of the vow you made to yourself at 17 that you'd never work for less than the equivalent of 13€ an hour again.
What drives me crazy, though, is the potential for exploitation. Of course, I'll do the grunt work! Of course, I'll unload a car! And then, of course, I'll be happy to go back to my regular work where -- were I a freelancer -- I'd be getting a cool 300 yoyos a day, but of course I'm DELIGHTED to take my 60€ before tax! Of course!
Are SHK's the new Yes Men? Yes!
As for my previous co-worker, he went from being a Yes Man to a "real" human being whose thoughts could be respected from one day to the next. As far as I've been able to tell, nothing happened that day to make him more "important" or better of a person (except for the fact he got a key to the building).
Grumble, grumble. Here's to hoping my day comes eventually.
15 February 2013
Nobody Told Me I Almost Died Today!
So, here I am taking a break from revising my thesis (so much harder than writing it, btw), and I decide to take a 5-er and check out my news feed on Facebook. Lo and behold, almost every post is about someone going to an end-of-the-world party, and the whole time I'm thinking "Wow, and here I am sitting with my thesis on a Friday ni... Wait?! Weltuntergang? Wasn't that last year?" Only to see, of course, the more, errrmmm... reputable sites informing me that an asteroid was about to whiz past the earth.
NBD, though, because I checked my news feed five minutes after it apparently went by.
Good thing that whole Armageddon thing would probably mean no people would be left on the earth, cuz I'd hate to be that guy who was tolling away on a humanities project (which most people consider to be totally not worthwhile at the best of times) as the world ended.
I hope you would have had a cooler dying story than me, that's all I can say.
But, for the record, were I to totally almost-not-really die again, I'd totally still be kickin' it with them antislavery women-folk.
NBD, though, because I checked my news feed five minutes after it apparently went by.
Good thing that whole Armageddon thing would probably mean no people would be left on the earth, cuz I'd hate to be that guy who was tolling away on a humanities project (which most people consider to be totally not worthwhile at the best of times) as the world ended.
I hope you would have had a cooler dying story than me, that's all I can say.
But, for the record, were I to totally almost-not-really die again, I'd totally still be kickin' it with them antislavery women-folk.
08 February 2013
I Like Books
Ladies and Gentlemen,
Welcome to the latest installment of "Building my Library/Books Only I Like"!
It's been an embarrassingly long time since I bought myself any books. The last two books I purchased from Amazon were for some book reviews I had to write for uni two semesters ago, and the last time I bought books for funsies/the expansion of my own personal library, I was still researching for an old Master's thesis topic which has long bit the dust.
Now that I'm done my last exam and am pretty much done my MA excepting the conclusion of my thesis and a lot of bureaucratic nonsense, I've decided to start loving reading and researching again.
So, today and yesterday, I received four awesomely awesome books to help me on my way (I suppose being home to get them is the plus point to locking myself in the flat over Karneval).
I've got:
Sister Societies: Women's Antislavery Organizations in Antebellum America by Beth Salerno, The Abolitionist Sisterhood: Women's Political Culture in Antebellum America edited by Jean Fagan Yellin and John C. Van Horne, Liberating Language: Sites of Rhetorical Education in Nineteenth-Century Black America by Shirley Wilson Logan and Education as Freedom: African American Educational Thought and Activism edited by Noel S. Anderson and Haroon Kharem.
I already tore through my library's copy of The Abolitionist Sisterhood a good year and a half ago, but it's such a good anthology that I wanted to have it to peruse at my leisure (yeah, I'm the weirdo who does that). As for the rest, although I bought them with the primary purpose of background reading for further research, I hope they'll be of use in sprucing up one of my chapters for my Master's thesis.
Yaaaay! Books! So much more satisfying than a cute pair of heels! (Though I wouldn't say no to the heels, either, if anyone's offering!)
Welcome to the latest installment of "Building my Library/Books Only I Like"!
It's been an embarrassingly long time since I bought myself any books. The last two books I purchased from Amazon were for some book reviews I had to write for uni two semesters ago, and the last time I bought books for funsies/the expansion of my own personal library, I was still researching for an old Master's thesis topic which has long bit the dust.
Now that I'm done my last exam and am pretty much done my MA excepting the conclusion of my thesis and a lot of bureaucratic nonsense, I've decided to start loving reading and researching again.
So, today and yesterday, I received four awesomely awesome books to help me on my way (I suppose being home to get them is the plus point to locking myself in the flat over Karneval).
I've got:
Sister Societies: Women's Antislavery Organizations in Antebellum America by Beth Salerno, The Abolitionist Sisterhood: Women's Political Culture in Antebellum America edited by Jean Fagan Yellin and John C. Van Horne, Liberating Language: Sites of Rhetorical Education in Nineteenth-Century Black America by Shirley Wilson Logan and Education as Freedom: African American Educational Thought and Activism edited by Noel S. Anderson and Haroon Kharem.
I already tore through my library's copy of The Abolitionist Sisterhood a good year and a half ago, but it's such a good anthology that I wanted to have it to peruse at my leisure (yeah, I'm the weirdo who does that). As for the rest, although I bought them with the primary purpose of background reading for further research, I hope they'll be of use in sprucing up one of my chapters for my Master's thesis.
Yaaaay! Books! So much more satisfying than a cute pair of heels! (Though I wouldn't say no to the heels, either, if anyone's offering!)
05 October 2012
What does your mail say about you?
Okay, wacky topic, but maybe I'm disillusioned (or paranoid) enough after seeing my fair share of postal workers deliver my mail to my door in person (usually in combination with a package). Rifle through the different pieces of mail, raise eyebrows, and hand the mail to me with a smirk.
I'm probably just paranoid. The response probably has less to do with my mail and more with the fact I usually answer the door in my pyjamas and have a howling dog on the other side of the door who happens to hate doorbells more than anything else in the world.
I mean, it's obvious that anyone's browsing history would give away some embarrassing secrets about habits and interests. (I, for one, have been recently recommended to watch "flying dachshunds" on YouTube, FWIW.)
I guess my mail, though, would probably give a fair look into my life, albeit excepting the hints to my ridiculous YouTube watching habits.
So, I invite you to sort through my mail with me! Yay!
So, there you have it. I'm a bilingual foreigner from Canada studying History in Germany who happens to be a socialist and a feminist. I also do my best to pay my bills. It can also be assumed I do so, since I haven't included bill collectors in my mail-list. All this information is open to the random who delivers my mail.
It seems the only thing my mailman doesn't know about me is that I watch ridiculous dachshund videos on YouTube. Or watch the Season 6 promo of Gossip Girl OVER AND OVER. T-minus three days, yoop!
I'm probably just paranoid. The response probably has less to do with my mail and more with the fact I usually answer the door in my pyjamas and have a howling dog on the other side of the door who happens to hate doorbells more than anything else in the world.
I mean, it's obvious that anyone's browsing history would give away some embarrassing secrets about habits and interests. (I, for one, have been recently recommended to watch "flying dachshunds" on YouTube, FWIW.)
I guess my mail, though, would probably give a fair look into my life, albeit excepting the hints to my ridiculous YouTube watching habits.
So, I invite you to sort through my mail with me! Yay!
- Bank statements: I apparently do not keep my money hidden under my mattress.
- Letters from the Canadian Government: Ausländerin.
- Der Spiegel: I am an Ausländerin who can read German at a fairly reasonable level. (Note the lack of a Deutsch Perfekt abo in my mailbox.)
- Lotta and Clara: I'm a socialist, and most likely a feminist, to boot. (*oh the horror!!*)
- The American Historical Review: I am a historian (or trying to be). I am also apparently bilingual since I can read academic texts in English and the Spiegel in German. Since I'm also a Canuck, the jury's out on joual, but I guess you all know the real answer to that one.
- Paperwork from my local Stadtwerke: I either subscribe to electricity or gas, which means I probably don't live in the dark. (You may think this is trivial, but you try living by candlelight!)
- Paperwork from Uni Köln: STUDENT ALERT! I must really be struggling to pay my energy bills! Still, combining this paperwork with my AHR subscription, chances are good I study history.
- And, of course, various other bills that point to my student status.
So, there you have it. I'm a bilingual foreigner from Canada studying History in Germany who happens to be a socialist and a feminist. I also do my best to pay my bills. It can also be assumed I do so, since I haven't included bill collectors in my mail-list. All this information is open to the random who delivers my mail.
It seems the only thing my mailman doesn't know about me is that I watch ridiculous dachshund videos on YouTube. Or watch the Season 6 promo of Gossip Girl OVER AND OVER. T-minus three days, yoop!
18 September 2012
The System
One of the hardest things about getting work experience in Germany is that you often need German work experience to get it. The kicker is that not only do you need German work experience, you need the right kind of German work experience.
As I'm sure 99.8% of you all know, I'm not exactly in one of those highly sought-after fields that gobble up foreigners who can't speak a word of German to save their lives. Not only am I attempting to enter a field that is known for spitting out the brightest, most well-connected people out like garbage, I'm attempting it as a foreigner with a colourful past.
Okay, my past isn't colourful as in "I have made my living until now in some illegal sub-sector of the economy", but as in "I am a foreigner who has happened to not only skip the globe a couple of times, but also take the sad advice of doing what other people thought I 'should' be doing, rather than focusing on what makes me happy."
It's not as if I haven't worked. I've worked, done very well at it in most jobs, and enjoyed it. I've developed weird interests like filing and fixing/writing company e-mails that go out to clients and customers that don't come around unless you've ever worked in an office environment.
Unfortunately, these roughly eight years of job experience account for nothing here since a) they're in the wrong field, b) I'm studying humanities and therefore am not "qualified" to do what I've done the last eight years, and c) I don't have a fucking piece of paper saying I performed x-activities for x-years.
The job search is a tough one for a lot of expatriates, and even if you speak the language and don't have visa issues, it's not necessarily a walk in the park.
Still, my year and a half of perseverance has paid off, and I now have two jobs.
Yay for me!
Except for the fact they're still not considered official work experience most of the time because they're student jobs.
You try getting a non-student job as a student.
Hello, catch-22.
I don't know. I mean, what I'm doing feels like work, and I'm apparently getting paid to do it (albeit at the student wage that's actually below the minimum wage in all Canadian provinces, including rip-off-Alberta (where I'm from). I'm also using some of my past non-work-experience to do it.
But really, I suppose it's not fair to always be bitching about it.
I mean, if I were in Canada with a Master of Arts degree in my field, I can guarantee you that my job prospects would be 0 (you know, overqualified for my experience and under-qualified for what I'm actually trying to do), and I would be begging to answer phones for 8 bucks an hour.
...On some illegal sub-sector of the economy, of course, since I wouldn't technically be allowed to work for that wage in Canada anymore.
Germany, your system is stupid. But I'm going to play along anyway, because 8 bucks an hour is better than 0. Besides, my jobs are actually awesome! But you know me... Always find the less-awesome side of the coin and complain about it. So isses.
As I'm sure 99.8% of you all know, I'm not exactly in one of those highly sought-after fields that gobble up foreigners who can't speak a word of German to save their lives. Not only am I attempting to enter a field that is known for spitting out the brightest, most well-connected people out like garbage, I'm attempting it as a foreigner with a colourful past.
Okay, my past isn't colourful as in "I have made my living until now in some illegal sub-sector of the economy", but as in "I am a foreigner who has happened to not only skip the globe a couple of times, but also take the sad advice of doing what other people thought I 'should' be doing, rather than focusing on what makes me happy."
It's not as if I haven't worked. I've worked, done very well at it in most jobs, and enjoyed it. I've developed weird interests like filing and fixing/writing company e-mails that go out to clients and customers that don't come around unless you've ever worked in an office environment.
Unfortunately, these roughly eight years of job experience account for nothing here since a) they're in the wrong field, b) I'm studying humanities and therefore am not "qualified" to do what I've done the last eight years, and c) I don't have a fucking piece of paper saying I performed x-activities for x-years.
The job search is a tough one for a lot of expatriates, and even if you speak the language and don't have visa issues, it's not necessarily a walk in the park.
Still, my year and a half of perseverance has paid off, and I now have two jobs.
Yay for me!
Except for the fact they're still not considered official work experience most of the time because they're student jobs.
You try getting a non-student job as a student.
Hello, catch-22.
I don't know. I mean, what I'm doing feels like work, and I'm apparently getting paid to do it (albeit at the student wage that's actually below the minimum wage in all Canadian provinces, including rip-off-Alberta (where I'm from). I'm also using some of my past non-work-experience to do it.
But really, I suppose it's not fair to always be bitching about it.
I mean, if I were in Canada with a Master of Arts degree in my field, I can guarantee you that my job prospects would be 0 (you know, overqualified for my experience and under-qualified for what I'm actually trying to do), and I would be begging to answer phones for 8 bucks an hour.
...On some illegal sub-sector of the economy, of course, since I wouldn't technically be allowed to work for that wage in Canada anymore.
Germany, your system is stupid. But I'm going to play along anyway, because 8 bucks an hour is better than 0. Besides, my jobs are actually awesome! But you know me... Always find the less-awesome side of the coin and complain about it. So isses.
26 August 2012
Back Home
I'd like to say that the past week was sort of my bridge week between vacation and the real world. I spent last week in the wonderland that is Allgäu, giving myself time to get back into academic-mode without the pressure of laundry, flat-cleaning and other things that come with living in your own flat.
So, while I managed to churn out an entirely adequate fifteen pages of text, I also managed to do some things that make me sublimely happy:
- Catching up on an entire season of Army Wives. (Yeah, I got addicted when I was an army wife. Sue me.)
- Playing MarioKart on the Wii most evenings and being amazed that there are still enough people playing on the internet with each other.
- Enjoying staring out the window at Grünten.
- Spending time with one of the most important people in my life.
- Eating copious amounts of good food I would never buy for myself such as Smarties yogurt, peppers stuffed with cream cheese, popcorn and watermelon (Like it was a bowl of ice cream. Please see below.)
So, while I managed to churn out an entirely adequate fifteen pages of text, I also managed to do some things that make me sublimely happy:
- Catching up on an entire season of Army Wives. (Yeah, I got addicted when I was an army wife. Sue me.)
- Playing MarioKart on the Wii most evenings and being amazed that there are still enough people playing on the internet with each other.
- Enjoying staring out the window at Grünten.
- Spending time with one of the most important people in my life.
- Eating copious amounts of good food I would never buy for myself such as Smarties yogurt, peppers stuffed with cream cheese, popcorn and watermelon (Like it was a bowl of ice cream. Please see below.)
Tomorrow, it's back to the grind of getting up at 5:30 rather than a comfortable 8:00. What does my week consist of? Work, rushing to get papers done and handed in, and trying to arrange my flat in a presentable manner for when my mom and step-dad come to visit next week. (!!)
So... Yay for that. I guess.
(I just want more watermelon.)
22 August 2012
It tooks me 26 years to realize the benefits of a real vacation.
When it comes to my education (which could also be called: "fear of the real world" or "never-ending pursuit of intellectual fulfillment"), I work relatively hard. I take classes at a distance university on the side for funsies, and I exclusively read secondary literature for projects on the train. In the last years, I've gone on plenty of "vacations", which were normally marked by me only working three or four hours per day on university work in a foreign country rather than most of the day at home.
I don't do it because I have to. Almost everyone I know gets by on far less.
I do it because I love it.
Still, that being said, I'd been at my breaking point for awhile. As much as I looked forward to my trip to Montreal, it scared the hell out of me since I'd promised myself twelve days without work. Why, you ask?
Because the last time I took a break like that was after my BA, and I was so bored after a week that I enrolled in distance courses just to give my brain something to do other than go to work and sit in front of the TV for a couple hours before going to bed. That drove me mad.
I admit, there were times in the last weeks when I just wanted to cruise JSTOR for some literature, and if I'm being honest, I did do a teeny, tiny bit of primary source research for an article I'm writing.
Yeah, I cheated. I did about an hour of work in twelve days, which officially marks the laziest I've been in years.
It's been a slow go getting back into it. Yesterday, I only managed some reading. Today, though, I'm back into writing, and am already a good thousand words into my day. I feel better again, a bit like I did this time last year before things really started piling up. The joy is back in it, and I'm grateful.
I recognize it took me going away and leaving my books behind, but I'm so glad I actually took a "real" vacation for once.
Yay for vacations! When's the next one?
I don't do it because I have to. Almost everyone I know gets by on far less.
I do it because I love it.
Still, that being said, I'd been at my breaking point for awhile. As much as I looked forward to my trip to Montreal, it scared the hell out of me since I'd promised myself twelve days without work. Why, you ask?
Because the last time I took a break like that was after my BA, and I was so bored after a week that I enrolled in distance courses just to give my brain something to do other than go to work and sit in front of the TV for a couple hours before going to bed. That drove me mad.
I admit, there were times in the last weeks when I just wanted to cruise JSTOR for some literature, and if I'm being honest, I did do a teeny, tiny bit of primary source research for an article I'm writing.
Yeah, I cheated. I did about an hour of work in twelve days, which officially marks the laziest I've been in years.
It's been a slow go getting back into it. Yesterday, I only managed some reading. Today, though, I'm back into writing, and am already a good thousand words into my day. I feel better again, a bit like I did this time last year before things really started piling up. The joy is back in it, and I'm grateful.
I recognize it took me going away and leaving my books behind, but I'm so glad I actually took a "real" vacation for once.
Yay for vacations! When's the next one?
03 August 2012
Greetings and Salutations to the Interwebbies
Well, hey there! Long time no see!
Where have I been, do you ask?
In a statistics class that ran thirteen days straight without a break!
Basically, I now feel like I got hit by a sack of hammers. Actually, I've been feeling that way for twelve days now. You know, it's funny -- it feels so strange not to be going to school tomorrow morning. It seems like I've been living this routine for so long, I don't even know what my life before looked like anymore.
I always used to laugh at those people on Survivor (yes, I know you're laughing at me right now) who would go on about how, at the beginning, it's exciting to get to know everyone and everything, but at the end, you are sick of everyone's stories and just want to go home. I mean, sure, we had the added luxury of actually getting to go to some sort of bed at night/didn't have to sleep at a campfire in a torrential rainstorm whilst laying on rocks, but yeah. There's only so much you wanna hear about people's dissertations, empirical research, hopes and dreams, etc.
Sure, there's a couple people I actually enjoyed spending time with through the whole thing, but yeah.
Ah, well.
I'm not gonna bother recapitulating my weeks for you. A lot happened, and there were a lot of times I wanted to write something (be it happy, sad or funny), but, frankly, after a 9-5 day of stats and computer-staring, the last thing I felt like doing was coming home, opening up my laptop, and writing a virtual message to you fine people out in the interwebbies.
No offence.
But I'm alive, a little worse for the wear (I suppose I will heal eventually), and have sore arms after trying to carry 20kg of groceries home in a flimsy plastic bag/not in a plastic bag because cornflakes boxes are awkwardly shaped.
So yeah. I'm off to shower before watching Mr. Phelps swim one of the last swims of his career.
Where have I been, do you ask?
In a statistics class that ran thirteen days straight without a break!
Basically, I now feel like I got hit by a sack of hammers. Actually, I've been feeling that way for twelve days now. You know, it's funny -- it feels so strange not to be going to school tomorrow morning. It seems like I've been living this routine for so long, I don't even know what my life before looked like anymore.
I always used to laugh at those people on Survivor (yes, I know you're laughing at me right now) who would go on about how, at the beginning, it's exciting to get to know everyone and everything, but at the end, you are sick of everyone's stories and just want to go home. I mean, sure, we had the added luxury of actually getting to go to some sort of bed at night/didn't have to sleep at a campfire in a torrential rainstorm whilst laying on rocks, but yeah. There's only so much you wanna hear about people's dissertations, empirical research, hopes and dreams, etc.
Sure, there's a couple people I actually enjoyed spending time with through the whole thing, but yeah.
Ah, well.
I'm not gonna bother recapitulating my weeks for you. A lot happened, and there were a lot of times I wanted to write something (be it happy, sad or funny), but, frankly, after a 9-5 day of stats and computer-staring, the last thing I felt like doing was coming home, opening up my laptop, and writing a virtual message to you fine people out in the interwebbies.
No offence.
But I'm alive, a little worse for the wear (I suppose I will heal eventually), and have sore arms after trying to carry 20kg of groceries home in a flimsy plastic bag/not in a plastic bag because cornflakes boxes are awkwardly shaped.
So yeah. I'm off to shower before watching Mr. Phelps swim one of the last swims of his career.
09 July 2012
Hartz IV-Empfänger
Ahhh, the end of the semester!
I know it's not actually the end of the semester (I have way too much to do in the next three days for that), but today is officially the first day where my alarm clock went off, as usual, for Monday morning class and I got to grumble, "Heh, heh, FU."
Speaking of which, I should probably turn the clock off so I don't have the same thing next week when it actually is semester break.
Anyhoo, I like summer break for a lot of reasons. I mean... it's not actually a break, but it's still fun to change my sleep schedule from early-up and early-bed to medium-early-up and late-bed. Morning person as I am, I write best at night, which kind of cramps my Grandma-style-in-bed-by-9 thing I have going on during the semester. All that extra time also means I can twiddle my thumbs all day and not feel guilty about it, knowing I'll be working six to eight hours straight that evening. It also usually means trips to Finland (though that comes later this year), but does definitely mean a visit from my Momma!!
Here's a potpourri of why I like summer:
Last year, I'm pretty sure the neighbourhood thought I was a Hartz IV recipient. (For my non-German friends, see here.) I mean, when I first moved in, I was gone reasonable hours that ensured I could have at least been going to some kind of part-time job. Summer, though? Ha. I was always around. And the neighbours always were staring when Maxie's morning business became a later and later event. (I lived in a village. This is what people do, amirite?)
I mean, I suppose I could argue they were the Hartz IV-Empfänger since they were spending the day watching and criticizing me.
But, whatevs.
New city, new neighbours to think I'm a lazy git on Hartz IV.
I wish... I'd be living the high life compared to this. (Minus the random and impulsive trips across the globe, of course. It'd suck to give those up.)
Happy summer break, friends! (Yeah, not yet, but you all know how I like jumping the gun...)
I know it's not actually the end of the semester (I have way too much to do in the next three days for that), but today is officially the first day where my alarm clock went off, as usual, for Monday morning class and I got to grumble, "Heh, heh, FU."
Speaking of which, I should probably turn the clock off so I don't have the same thing next week when it actually is semester break.
Anyhoo, I like summer break for a lot of reasons. I mean... it's not actually a break, but it's still fun to change my sleep schedule from early-up and early-bed to medium-early-up and late-bed. Morning person as I am, I write best at night, which kind of cramps my Grandma-style-in-bed-by-9 thing I have going on during the semester. All that extra time also means I can twiddle my thumbs all day and not feel guilty about it, knowing I'll be working six to eight hours straight that evening. It also usually means trips to Finland (though that comes later this year), but does definitely mean a visit from my Momma!!
Here's a potpourri of why I like summer:
- Even when the weather's bad, it's not -20 and snowing.
- Crappy weather? No problem. I love walking in the rain, as long as it's not to class.
- The sun is still shining a long time, but not obnoxiously till 23:00.
- I get really productive because I can write nights.
- Even though I actually end up working more than during the semester, since rarely have anything jamming up my schedule, I can work when I want to, which is far more relaxing.
- Maxie is happy because I am with him almost every day.
- I am happy because I get Maxie snuggles most of the day almost every day.
- Ice cream
- Fruit is on sale at the supermarket. Nectarines 750g for 89c! Woowoo!!!
- I no longer live in the 'hood, so there aren't children running around screaming all night in the streets. This means I might actually get to write something, and who knows? Maybe I'll even be more productive!
- I may have to do that statistics course, but I'm also working on two books (authoring articles for both and editing for one), which makes me feel like one of those "productive" members of society that somehow lives with a purpose.
- My Mooma is coming! My Mooma is coming!
- You know the other reason. And therefore know why I'm not running around, publishing it on my blog. I made that mistake on Facebook already. Oh the horror!!
Last year, I'm pretty sure the neighbourhood thought I was a Hartz IV recipient. (For my non-German friends, see here.) I mean, when I first moved in, I was gone reasonable hours that ensured I could have at least been going to some kind of part-time job. Summer, though? Ha. I was always around. And the neighbours always were staring when Maxie's morning business became a later and later event. (I lived in a village. This is what people do, amirite?)
I mean, I suppose I could argue they were the Hartz IV-Empfänger since they were spending the day watching and criticizing me.
But, whatevs.
New city, new neighbours to think I'm a lazy git on Hartz IV.
I wish... I'd be living the high life compared to this. (Minus the random and impulsive trips across the globe, of course. It'd suck to give those up.)
Happy summer break, friends! (Yeah, not yet, but you all know how I like jumping the gun...)
06 July 2012
A Student's Rant
I've been a student for a long time. I've been in and out of university for the better part of eight years, which is pretty much all of my adult life. I did, of course, take some time off to work, too. (Oh yeah, and move to Germany)
I had a situation a couple of weeks back where someone I know said to me that students have it so easy. We don't really do anything, and we just basically live life like one big party. The real hard thing in life, according to this person, is working at a real job, and not some part-time, twenty-hours-per-week sort of gig while "studying" on the side.
I really took offense to that. I mean, sure, there are students who don't do much else other than sit around, go to lectures occasionally, work occasionally, and party a lot. Maybe because I finished my four-year BA in around two years and am now a graduate student, I don't really get what the undergraduate student experience is really supposed to be all about. I do know my fair share of people who don't do a heck of a lot and manage to squeak by somehow.
But the thing is, I find such an attitude detrimental to those of us who are working fucking hard for our degrees. I have friends who go to school full-time, work those twenty-hour-per-week gigs (and why doesn't this count as "real" work, exactly?), and still somehow manage to get great grades. They're also always really fucking busy.
Then there are people like me. You know what? I don't work. (Oh no! The horror!!) I study full-time, and I'm taking sociology courses on the side so I can become a better social historian. And statistics classes, to boot. No, I don't work. For money. I work my fucking ass off, reading, on average, at least one textbook a day and aim to write at least 1000 words of text for some paper I've got on the go. Every. Single. Day. Yeah, I sit around and watch Mad Men. I also take my dog for a walk for at least an hour a day. And I spend at least a regular eight-hour working day filled with schoolwork.
The difference between my day and your working-life day?
You get up, go to work, and go home. Then you have "you" time. I get up, dilly dally, go to university, get home, dilly dally, write, read on the train, and work some more. You work five days a week. I work seven.
I am always on the go. Always.
I know it may seem like this, but I'm not actually trying to go on a "studying is worse/harder than working" rant. I don't think that distinction is possible. I just think it needs to be acknowledged that they're so different.
I mean, I get it. I've worked your standard 37.5 hour a week gig before. It's not easy. You have a fixed schedule, are chained to your work and often end up counting down the seconds till you can log off your computer and go home. Working destroys your soul. Students, in contrast, can work whenever the hell they feel like it (showing up for classes excepted) and can fly off on vacation at a whim. Although it's not recommended, it's entirely possible to do absolutelyfuckingnothing for three weeks and then cram everything into seven days. I admit this one of the things I like best about being a student -- the flexibility. But the price of that flexibility is that you're always working. And when you're not working, your planning and thinking about the work that needs to be done. Or procrastinating, Iguess admit.
In fact, when I was working a "normal" job, I was so used to student life that having two days every week to myself without anything that had to be done was extremely strange. It was uncomfortable. It was so uncomfortable, in fact, I signed up for classes at a distance university just so I would have something to do with all that time.
Yes, I know most people aren't weirdos like me.
While I would agree (to a point) that working for pay can be more exhausting than studying, mostly due to the time constraints and restrictions (Would I sit at my computer and study for eight hours straight with two fifteen-minute coffee breaks and a half-hour for lunch? No.), you get time for yourself in big blocks of time, which is something students don't get.
I'm talking about the student experience right now, not because I don't believe the other side isn't difficult, but because I think our side needs to be brought to light every so often. Especially when people think we sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs all day. Or, rather, get drunk and boink all day. Man, wouldn't that be the life?
And as a response to the disbelieving remark of "Don't you work?!"
You know what I did today?
I woke up at 6:30am, handed in a paper to a professor, wrote up and e-mailed my theses for my upcoming oral exam to my professor, read a textbook, cleaned the flat, studied for my oral exam, took the pup for a walk, had lunch (at 5:00pm, mind you), and wrote a book review. It's now 10:00pm.
Did my "work" day include more than eight hours of work? Probably not.
But it's been a long-ass fucking day, and that's how almost all of my days go. As do other students'.
So please stop berating us.
We're working hard, too. (And who says we can't take a day or two off every so often, either? You get two a week!)
I had a situation a couple of weeks back where someone I know said to me that students have it so easy. We don't really do anything, and we just basically live life like one big party. The real hard thing in life, according to this person, is working at a real job, and not some part-time, twenty-hours-per-week sort of gig while "studying" on the side.
I really took offense to that. I mean, sure, there are students who don't do much else other than sit around, go to lectures occasionally, work occasionally, and party a lot. Maybe because I finished my four-year BA in around two years and am now a graduate student, I don't really get what the undergraduate student experience is really supposed to be all about. I do know my fair share of people who don't do a heck of a lot and manage to squeak by somehow.
But the thing is, I find such an attitude detrimental to those of us who are working fucking hard for our degrees. I have friends who go to school full-time, work those twenty-hour-per-week gigs (and why doesn't this count as "real" work, exactly?), and still somehow manage to get great grades. They're also always really fucking busy.
Then there are people like me. You know what? I don't work. (Oh no! The horror!!) I study full-time, and I'm taking sociology courses on the side so I can become a better social historian. And statistics classes, to boot. No, I don't work. For money. I work my fucking ass off, reading, on average, at least one textbook a day and aim to write at least 1000 words of text for some paper I've got on the go. Every. Single. Day. Yeah, I sit around and watch Mad Men. I also take my dog for a walk for at least an hour a day. And I spend at least a regular eight-hour working day filled with schoolwork.
The difference between my day and your working-life day?
You get up, go to work, and go home. Then you have "you" time. I get up, dilly dally, go to university, get home, dilly dally, write, read on the train, and work some more. You work five days a week. I work seven.
I am always on the go. Always.
I know it may seem like this, but I'm not actually trying to go on a "studying is worse/harder than working" rant. I don't think that distinction is possible. I just think it needs to be acknowledged that they're so different.
I mean, I get it. I've worked your standard 37.5 hour a week gig before. It's not easy. You have a fixed schedule, are chained to your work and often end up counting down the seconds till you can log off your computer and go home. Working destroys your soul. Students, in contrast, can work whenever the hell they feel like it (showing up for classes excepted) and can fly off on vacation at a whim. Although it's not recommended, it's entirely possible to do absolutelyfuckingnothing for three weeks and then cram everything into seven days. I admit this one of the things I like best about being a student -- the flexibility. But the price of that flexibility is that you're always working. And when you're not working, your planning and thinking about the work that needs to be done. Or procrastinating, I
In fact, when I was working a "normal" job, I was so used to student life that having two days every week to myself without anything that had to be done was extremely strange. It was uncomfortable. It was so uncomfortable, in fact, I signed up for classes at a distance university just so I would have something to do with all that time.
Yes, I know most people aren't weirdos like me.
While I would agree (to a point) that working for pay can be more exhausting than studying, mostly due to the time constraints and restrictions (Would I sit at my computer and study for eight hours straight with two fifteen-minute coffee breaks and a half-hour for lunch? No.), you get time for yourself in big blocks of time, which is something students don't get.
I'm talking about the student experience right now, not because I don't believe the other side isn't difficult, but because I think our side needs to be brought to light every so often. Especially when people think we sit on our asses and twiddle our thumbs all day. Or, rather, get drunk and boink all day. Man, wouldn't that be the life?
And as a response to the disbelieving remark of "Don't you work?!"
You know what I did today?
I woke up at 6:30am, handed in a paper to a professor, wrote up and e-mailed my theses for my upcoming oral exam to my professor, read a textbook, cleaned the flat, studied for my oral exam, took the pup for a walk, had lunch (at 5:00pm, mind you), and wrote a book review. It's now 10:00pm.
Did my "work" day include more than eight hours of work? Probably not.
But it's been a long-ass fucking day, and that's how almost all of my days go. As do other students'.
So please stop berating us.
We're working hard, too. (And who says we can't take a day or two off every so often, either? You get two a week!)
19 June 2012
May 26, 2012
Yeah, it’s been a long time since I wrote anything. Probably you’re not even checking up on my blog anymore. I know this, because it is likely you’re as stressed out as I am. Heck, I’ve been gone so long, Tumblr finally signed me out of my account. That’s a first.
Anyhoo, I have too much and not enough to say all at once. You know I’m busy, and you know I’m tired. Now that it seems summer has finally arrived (about the same time that it comes around in the Great White North), I find myself with even less time, somehow.
But, yeah. I’m moving. You probably know this.
Why am I moving, you ask?
Well, I decided I’m gonna tough it out in NRW after all. I mean, if you’d asked me in 2007 (or ‘08, ‘09, ‘10, ‘11… ‘12… you get the picture) if I wanted to settle down in NRW, I would have laughed in your face, probably spitting at you in the process. I guess in some ways, I am more resigned than anything else in my decision to stay here.
I mean, come on — you all know I don’t actually find it very nice here.
The thing is, though, my friends make it nice. My day-to-day routines make it nice. The networks I’m building make it nice.
Yes, I could run off and do my DPhil in Erfurt or Tampere. Commute from love-of-my-life Stuttgart. I could go to the UK to do it, and I could probably even swing it in France. I could not, however, swing it in the US. But this is mostly because of tuition, and all that.
The thing is, though, I’m just getting too damn old to start over AGAIN.
Maybe I should reiterate since plenty of normal mid-twenty-somethings pick up shop without a problem.
I’m SICK of doing it and starting over all the time makes me feel OLD.
Nevertheless, my hatred for Cologne is undeniable. I’m not sure this will ever leave me.
So I’ve reached a happy medium. I am moving to a MUCH more beautiful city that is close enough to my friends and life. The best of both worlds, and all that. Plus, I’ll be awfully close to the Rhein, and I’m sure Maxie will love that. Like I said, I have to be sure, but I’m not actually sure, because I don’t think Maxie has ever seen a body of water larger than a puddle in his little life. He will probably be overwhelmed and run in the opposite direction with his tail between his legs, knowing him.
I’m quite sure (as sure as you can be without actually knowing) that this move will give me the fresh start with the added dose of familiarity that I need. New city, new people, old people. It’s exactly what I need. Plus the flat has a balcony where Maxie can sun himself.
I’m starting to wonder, though, how many times I will have to say that I’m not moving again before I actually, well… stop moving. Maybe it all has to do with frame of mind.
I mean, I moved to the flat I’m currently in with the plan to stay here for a maximum of TWO years, but maybe less. I wasn’t planning on staying after my MA, that’s for sure. But with this flat, I’m going in with the expectation I’ll be around for the next five to six, excepting, of course, times when I’m off doing research. But, I want it to be my home for the long term.
I’m hoping that frame of mind actually helps me stick there. I’ve finally felt more at “home” since I have in Calgary in 2007, except I don’t have the physical “home” location to go to. I’m hoping that in a couple of weeks I’ll finally be able to exhale, put my feet up, and switch my computer on to prepare for the next half-decade of researching and typing.
I’m sure this will not go as smoothly as I’d like it to.
On the plus side, two (wait, three) overseas moves has made me particularly resourceful with packing. Who needs packing paper and wrap when you have perfectly good lululemon tank tops that worked as across-the-ocean wrapping??
Anyhoo, I have too much and not enough to say all at once. You know I’m busy, and you know I’m tired. Now that it seems summer has finally arrived (about the same time that it comes around in the Great White North), I find myself with even less time, somehow.
But, yeah. I’m moving. You probably know this.
Why am I moving, you ask?
Well, I decided I’m gonna tough it out in NRW after all. I mean, if you’d asked me in 2007 (or ‘08, ‘09, ‘10, ‘11… ‘12… you get the picture) if I wanted to settle down in NRW, I would have laughed in your face, probably spitting at you in the process. I guess in some ways, I am more resigned than anything else in my decision to stay here.
I mean, come on — you all know I don’t actually find it very nice here.
The thing is, though, my friends make it nice. My day-to-day routines make it nice. The networks I’m building make it nice.
Yes, I could run off and do my DPhil in Erfurt or Tampere. Commute from love-of-my-life Stuttgart. I could go to the UK to do it, and I could probably even swing it in France. I could not, however, swing it in the US. But this is mostly because of tuition, and all that.
The thing is, though, I’m just getting too damn old to start over AGAIN.
Maybe I should reiterate since plenty of normal mid-twenty-somethings pick up shop without a problem.
I’m SICK of doing it and starting over all the time makes me feel OLD.
Nevertheless, my hatred for Cologne is undeniable. I’m not sure this will ever leave me.
So I’ve reached a happy medium. I am moving to a MUCH more beautiful city that is close enough to my friends and life. The best of both worlds, and all that. Plus, I’ll be awfully close to the Rhein, and I’m sure Maxie will love that. Like I said, I have to be sure, but I’m not actually sure, because I don’t think Maxie has ever seen a body of water larger than a puddle in his little life. He will probably be overwhelmed and run in the opposite direction with his tail between his legs, knowing him.
I’m quite sure (as sure as you can be without actually knowing) that this move will give me the fresh start with the added dose of familiarity that I need. New city, new people, old people. It’s exactly what I need. Plus the flat has a balcony where Maxie can sun himself.
I’m starting to wonder, though, how many times I will have to say that I’m not moving again before I actually, well… stop moving. Maybe it all has to do with frame of mind.
I mean, I moved to the flat I’m currently in with the plan to stay here for a maximum of TWO years, but maybe less. I wasn’t planning on staying after my MA, that’s for sure. But with this flat, I’m going in with the expectation I’ll be around for the next five to six, excepting, of course, times when I’m off doing research. But, I want it to be my home for the long term.
I’m hoping that frame of mind actually helps me stick there. I’ve finally felt more at “home” since I have in Calgary in 2007, except I don’t have the physical “home” location to go to. I’m hoping that in a couple of weeks I’ll finally be able to exhale, put my feet up, and switch my computer on to prepare for the next half-decade of researching and typing.
I’m sure this will not go as smoothly as I’d like it to.
On the plus side, two (wait, three) overseas moves has made me particularly resourceful with packing. Who needs packing paper and wrap when you have perfectly good lululemon tank tops that worked as across-the-ocean wrapping??
December 3, 2011
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!!
Well, not really. Outside, it’s still — on average — eight or nine degrees centigrade, and some slow-poke trees are still working on shedding their leaves.
One thing I’ve noticed?
Those crazy Hürth-ians go crazy with the Christmas lights. It’s almost like being in Canada again, and definitely makes me seem like a humbug with my little electric candles in the window. Ah, well… Energy saving, and all that, I suppose. These sort of things are important when it’s dark by 16:00. That, and it’s 8:00 already, but the sky is still pretty dark. Bah.
In other news, I feel a bit like I’m drowning. You know, technically I’m taking fewer classes this semester than I did last semester. For some reason, it feels like my workload is about ten times what it was last semester. This may have something to do with the fact I’m still not done those extra “funsies” classes at AU, and will be holding a lecture at a conference in February.
As a result, I’ve been dropping classes like crazy. Weekly quizzes in Finnish? No thank you. I’m sorry, but I have to leave you for the time being, lovely Suomi. Only, unlike I predicted, I’m not giving up on you because you confused me. I’m giving up on you because I’ve got conferences to prepare, and I have to finish some of my term papers before the semester ends this time, because I need to spend the bulk of my semester break preparing for my first Master Exam in April.
So, of course, it makes sense that — given the drowning feeling — my tendency to blog my very well go up in the next couple of months.
Typical…
Well, not really. Outside, it’s still — on average — eight or nine degrees centigrade, and some slow-poke trees are still working on shedding their leaves.
One thing I’ve noticed?
Those crazy Hürth-ians go crazy with the Christmas lights. It’s almost like being in Canada again, and definitely makes me seem like a humbug with my little electric candles in the window. Ah, well… Energy saving, and all that, I suppose. These sort of things are important when it’s dark by 16:00. That, and it’s 8:00 already, but the sky is still pretty dark. Bah.
In other news, I feel a bit like I’m drowning. You know, technically I’m taking fewer classes this semester than I did last semester. For some reason, it feels like my workload is about ten times what it was last semester. This may have something to do with the fact I’m still not done those extra “funsies” classes at AU, and will be holding a lecture at a conference in February.
As a result, I’ve been dropping classes like crazy. Weekly quizzes in Finnish? No thank you. I’m sorry, but I have to leave you for the time being, lovely Suomi. Only, unlike I predicted, I’m not giving up on you because you confused me. I’m giving up on you because I’ve got conferences to prepare, and I have to finish some of my term papers before the semester ends this time, because I need to spend the bulk of my semester break preparing for my first Master Exam in April.
So, of course, it makes sense that — given the drowning feeling — my tendency to blog my very well go up in the next couple of months.
Typical…
September 28, 2011
So… Could anyone, anyone please tell me why I thought it was a good idea to sign up for Finnish classes?
I know I’ve posted the same thing ten million times already — maybe that should be taken as a sign of sorts.
You see, even though people think I’m good at languages, they actually couldn’t be less wrong. I suck at languages. I mean, my English is pretty good, but I guess it should be. Something about it being my native language. Or something.
I guess my German isn’t bad, either. I still have that massive gender problem (nope, that hasn’t changed in the last two weeks), but it’s good enough that I don’t really care anymore if it gets any better. A new word here or there, sure… But really, five years down the line, I’m comfortable with spending my energies elsewhere.
As for French, well… I’ve been taking French lessons on and off for about 15 years. And I’m still only B1.
In case that makes no sense to you, here’s some Wiki-Fun: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_European_Framework_of_Reference_for_Languages
The nice thing about French though, is even though my skills still suck, I’ve been at it long enough that it doesn’t bug me anymore, and when something whack comes up, I don’t really get surprised. After all, zee French are crazy!
I wish I could say this about the other languages I’ve picked up for various reasons, and then left in the rubble once I got to about A2. You know, like Russian, Spanish and Latin (don’t ask). Hopefully Finnish doesn’t also have to be found caught lying in the wreckage one day, too.
We’ll see, though.
The problem is that (with German and French, at least), I got by that nasty part a long time ago. You know… The part where you feel like your brain is going to explode in confusion and frustration, because whyintheworldwouldanyonelearnsuchastupidlanguage? I haven’t even started Finnish yet and already feel those sentiments.
Why so bitter, you ask? Well, classes don’t start for another week and a half, but seeing as a professor for one of my seminars set the entire coursework (with a week and a half notice) for us to do BEFORE the class starts, it only makes sense that I do unnecessary coursework for something else.
If you know me, you will know this is completely rational, and also to be completely expected. (Because, really, I should actually be finishing off my papers.)
So, I’ve decided to get a head-start on my Finnish, because I don’t want to be caught knowing all about kahvi maidola, but nothing else. I’ve thus decided to take it upon myself to learn one phrase per day before classes start. (I told you… I suck at learning languages. My retention capacity is almost null. Or in this case, nolla.)
Yesterday, I learned the VERY important “Ei se mitään!” Today, maybe it will be something more exciting, like “Ihanko totta?”
The one-phrase-a-day isn’t really what’s frustrating me. What’s frustrating me is the stupid numbers. I’ve never been good at numbers. Not even in English. Numbers have been the bane of my existence in EVERY language. Apparently Finnish is no exception.
And see, I decided to practice them, because I thought I was not so bad at them. Throw any number under one hundred at me, and I can just tell you what it is without thinking. Throw 1546 at me, and well… I mean. I know how to say it. But it’s painful. First I’ll say “one thousand”. Then I have to stop, empty out my brain and then say “five hundred”. Wait. Stop. Empty out the brain again. Now I can go onto “forty-six”. It takes me a good thirty seconds to spit the whole thing out.
Are my expectations too high? Probably. Well, yes. It’s probably why I keep dropping so many languages; you put days, weeks, months and years into trying to figure something out. And nothing happens. Of course, that “light bulb day” comes eventually (you know ... the day where everything clicks), but it’s really hard not to give up before then.
Oh, the things you’ll do for best friends so you can speak to their fathers and boyfriends…
Maybe my phrase of the day should be “Minä en puhu suomea.” Or, better yet, “Minä en ymmärrä.
Very, very important, you see.
I know I’ve posted the same thing ten million times already — maybe that should be taken as a sign of sorts.
You see, even though people think I’m good at languages, they actually couldn’t be less wrong. I suck at languages. I mean, my English is pretty good, but I guess it should be. Something about it being my native language. Or something.
I guess my German isn’t bad, either. I still have that massive gender problem (nope, that hasn’t changed in the last two weeks), but it’s good enough that I don’t really care anymore if it gets any better. A new word here or there, sure… But really, five years down the line, I’m comfortable with spending my energies elsewhere.
As for French, well… I’ve been taking French lessons on and off for about 15 years. And I’m still only B1.
In case that makes no sense to you, here’s some Wiki-Fun: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_European_Framework_of_Reference_for_Languages
The nice thing about French though, is even though my skills still suck, I’ve been at it long enough that it doesn’t bug me anymore, and when something whack comes up, I don’t really get surprised. After all, zee French are crazy!
I wish I could say this about the other languages I’ve picked up for various reasons, and then left in the rubble once I got to about A2. You know, like Russian, Spanish and Latin (don’t ask). Hopefully Finnish doesn’t also have to be found caught lying in the wreckage one day, too.
We’ll see, though.
The problem is that (with German and French, at least), I got by that nasty part a long time ago. You know… The part where you feel like your brain is going to explode in confusion and frustration, because whyintheworldwouldanyonelearnsuchastupidlanguage? I haven’t even started Finnish yet and already feel those sentiments.
Why so bitter, you ask? Well, classes don’t start for another week and a half, but seeing as a professor for one of my seminars set the entire coursework (with a week and a half notice) for us to do BEFORE the class starts, it only makes sense that I do unnecessary coursework for something else.
If you know me, you will know this is completely rational, and also to be completely expected. (Because, really, I should actually be finishing off my papers.)
So, I’ve decided to get a head-start on my Finnish, because I don’t want to be caught knowing all about kahvi maidola, but nothing else. I’ve thus decided to take it upon myself to learn one phrase per day before classes start. (I told you… I suck at learning languages. My retention capacity is almost null. Or in this case, nolla.)
Yesterday, I learned the VERY important “Ei se mitään!” Today, maybe it will be something more exciting, like “Ihanko totta?”
The one-phrase-a-day isn’t really what’s frustrating me. What’s frustrating me is the stupid numbers. I’ve never been good at numbers. Not even in English. Numbers have been the bane of my existence in EVERY language. Apparently Finnish is no exception.
And see, I decided to practice them, because I thought I was not so bad at them. Throw any number under one hundred at me, and I can just tell you what it is without thinking. Throw 1546 at me, and well… I mean. I know how to say it. But it’s painful. First I’ll say “one thousand”. Then I have to stop, empty out my brain and then say “five hundred”. Wait. Stop. Empty out the brain again. Now I can go onto “forty-six”. It takes me a good thirty seconds to spit the whole thing out.
Are my expectations too high? Probably. Well, yes. It’s probably why I keep dropping so many languages; you put days, weeks, months and years into trying to figure something out. And nothing happens. Of course, that “light bulb day” comes eventually (you know ... the day where everything clicks), but it’s really hard not to give up before then.
Oh, the things you’ll do for best friends so you can speak to their fathers and boyfriends…
Maybe my phrase of the day should be “Minä en puhu suomea.” Or, better yet, “Minä en ymmärrä.
Very, very important, you see.
September 15, 2011
You see, I’m basically a crazy-head. Today, the zweite Belegungsphase starts at the Uni Köln, which is essentially just a mad rush to apply for over-filled courses you’ll never be accepted into anyway; which, after all, is completely okay, because you can just show up to the class anyway, and have the teacher add you onto the class list.
I never really understood how this whole thing had a point, to be honest. But whatever.
So, you see, my Master’s program has a very simple layout. Do seven classes the first semester, eight the next, and then four in the third semester.
I’m right on track.
And, if the profs are willing to be flexible enough with me for my modules to rearrange some things, I could technically have nine done this semester without any changes to my timetable.
What makes me crazy is not that I’m doing eight classes, but that my schedule is ridiculous. You see, I’m in school the entire day. So, rather than having four-hour blocks of time that don’t really permit me to go home in the first place, I’ve decided to fill up my timetable. I mean, if I’m at uni for ten to twelve hours a day anyway, I might as well do something productive, right?
Well… yeah, I guess.
But I officially have fifteen classes this upcoming semester. Granted, two of them are not really for “funsies” — read: Finnish and French lessons. But the others? US Constitutional Law and Federal Civil Procedure in the USA?
Who are those weirdos who take law classes for funsies because they don’t have anything better to do?
Oh, yeah. Me.
I’ve also got two or three block seminars to take care of this semester.
I’ll probably burn out pretty quickly, but hey… I welcome the change of pace after this summer break of trying to will myself to write essays on topics the professors chose that I don’t really care about.
We’ll see if I still feel the same way after October 17. (And yes, semester starts on October 10.) -.-
I never really understood how this whole thing had a point, to be honest. But whatever.
So, you see, my Master’s program has a very simple layout. Do seven classes the first semester, eight the next, and then four in the third semester.
I’m right on track.
And, if the profs are willing to be flexible enough with me for my modules to rearrange some things, I could technically have nine done this semester without any changes to my timetable.
What makes me crazy is not that I’m doing eight classes, but that my schedule is ridiculous. You see, I’m in school the entire day. So, rather than having four-hour blocks of time that don’t really permit me to go home in the first place, I’ve decided to fill up my timetable. I mean, if I’m at uni for ten to twelve hours a day anyway, I might as well do something productive, right?
Well… yeah, I guess.
But I officially have fifteen classes this upcoming semester. Granted, two of them are not really for “funsies” — read: Finnish and French lessons. But the others? US Constitutional Law and Federal Civil Procedure in the USA?
Who are those weirdos who take law classes for funsies because they don’t have anything better to do?
Oh, yeah. Me.
I’ve also got two or three block seminars to take care of this semester.
I’ll probably burn out pretty quickly, but hey… I welcome the change of pace after this summer break of trying to will myself to write essays on topics the professors chose that I don’t really care about.
We’ll see if I still feel the same way after October 17. (And yes, semester starts on October 10.) -.-
September 10, 2011
I don’t know how people do it.
One of the first things that was most exciting to me when I landed back in Germany last week was that I could understand things again.
You know, my relationship with German hasn’t been an easy one. Whether it was breaking down in tears in German class at uni in Calgary when we had to learn irregular past-tense verbs (okay, I may have been a little bit hungover from seven-dollar triples the night before), or seriously considering throwing my computer at the wall whilst trying to do some homework, it hasn’t always been rosy.
In fact, I still get frustrated often, mostly (still) due to the gender issue.
But, you know, five years in, I think German and I are doing pretty good. I’ll never be a native speaker, but hey… If I was a native speaker, well… You wouldn’t want anything to do with my English. Give and take, you know.
What I don’t understand are the people who have lived in Germany for years and years without speaking the language. How do these people survive?? I have only been in Finland for about a grand total of six weeks of my life and it’s been enough for me to throw my hands up in the air and register for Finnish next semester at uni.
I mean, it’s nice that English is a pretty universal language and you can go pretty much anywhere with it, but it’s so UNCOMFORTABLE not knowing what’s going on around you.
How do these people stand it?
So, moral of the story, point one in my reconciliation experience is that if nothing else, it’s a lot more comfortable being somewhere where you know what’s going on.
Thank you, irregular past-tense verbs, for not giving up on me when I wanted to give up on you. <3
One of the first things that was most exciting to me when I landed back in Germany last week was that I could understand things again.
You know, my relationship with German hasn’t been an easy one. Whether it was breaking down in tears in German class at uni in Calgary when we had to learn irregular past-tense verbs (okay, I may have been a little bit hungover from seven-dollar triples the night before), or seriously considering throwing my computer at the wall whilst trying to do some homework, it hasn’t always been rosy.
In fact, I still get frustrated often, mostly (still) due to the gender issue.
But, you know, five years in, I think German and I are doing pretty good. I’ll never be a native speaker, but hey… If I was a native speaker, well… You wouldn’t want anything to do with my English. Give and take, you know.
What I don’t understand are the people who have lived in Germany for years and years without speaking the language. How do these people survive?? I have only been in Finland for about a grand total of six weeks of my life and it’s been enough for me to throw my hands up in the air and register for Finnish next semester at uni.
I mean, it’s nice that English is a pretty universal language and you can go pretty much anywhere with it, but it’s so UNCOMFORTABLE not knowing what’s going on around you.
How do these people stand it?
So, moral of the story, point one in my reconciliation experience is that if nothing else, it’s a lot more comfortable being somewhere where you know what’s going on.
Thank you, irregular past-tense verbs, for not giving up on me when I wanted to give up on you. <3
03 November 2009
Wheat Kings and Pretty Things
It has sure been a long time since I posted! I suppose that happens when there's nothing to say! Seriously. I can give you an update in no time at all.
I have been ill on and off for about two months now. I get sick for a week, am better for a week, and then get sick again. Lucky for me, I'm on a role and haven't really been ill for the last three weeks!
School has been psycho-crazy. Papers, papers, papers. Yesterday and today, I wrote my final exams. So that makes this the first time since I started blogging that I haven't mentioned pre-exam jitters and the overwhelming desire to drink my life away around finals time. You must be so grateful.
And I leave to Canada on Thursday. I'll be out at my mom's a lot where there's no internet, so I'm sure I'll do plenty of off-line soul searching to post like I did while I was in France. To be honest, I'm completely jazzed to be going to Canada. If you asked me two weeks ago if I was excited, I would've said yes. If you asked me if I missed Canada, the answer would be no. But with less than 48 hours left, I'm fantasising about Arby's, Sausage McMuffins and Marble Slab ice cream. I wonder if I don't really miss things because I turn myself off to the possibility of ever having them.
It's kind of like when I lived in Cologne and H. brought me TheraFlu (NeoCitran for all you Canucks out there) when I was sick. Did I miss that warm medicine-y goodness before he brought it? No. But I was like a kid at Christmas just to have something familiar to soothe my sore throat and ease my body aches. When H. brought me Froot Loops, it was much of the same. I literally closed my eyes and made "mmm" sounds whilst eating my cereal. No joke.
So now I have all these mirages of food, craziness in shopping malls at Christmas time, and time at home in my head. I'm freakin' excited. I'm going to miss Maxie and H. a ton. But to be honest, it isn't dampening my excitement.
09 October 2009
I Love my Mom
Today has been a bit of a rough day, mostly because my college's administration feel like making up the rules as they go along. It doesn't really pay to go into the details, but one decision they made (which, oddly enough, wasn't a factor about a month ago) means that they will withhold information for my transcript which will negatively affect my applications for grad school (seeing as this credit information is vital for my application).
Being the super stressed-out person with the propensity for breakdowns that I am, I had a breakdown. It was not fun, and I still feel inclined to another breakdown every so often as I continue on throughout my day. Also, being a glass-half-empty kind of person, I've also played every possible worst scenario through in my head including: working at dead end jobs for the rest of my life, being a full-time housewife, not having a chance to go on to study at the universities I want... Yes, I'm prone to overreaction, and I know that. But it is a necessary part of the cycle I must go through in order to come out the other end with a clear head.
Well, the head isn't quite clear yet, but a very necessary phone call to my mom back in Canada did help. A lot. First, my mom asked me why I was going to let some bureaucratic douche-bag make a decision that was going to affect an entire year of my life. She then told me I didn't have to accept what the first person at the school told me. After all, the thing with bureaucracy is that everyone has a different story (which is probably why this is the first I've heard of this stupid requirement, which I'm not going to get into).
Then, my mom gave me some of the best advice: "Be an obstinate bitch until you get what you want. You deserve it, and don't settle for anything else."
I love my mom. You don't get too many mom's out there telling their daughters to be obstinate bitches. But my mom did, and I love her for it. Because she gave me the kick in the butt I needed to stop moping and thinking about the end of the world.
So, on Tuesday, it's back to the administration office to get things sorted out. And if they can't sort them out from here? I'm off to the head office in Heidelberg to bang down some doors. As corny and lame-o as it sounds, my mom was right -- I've been working much too hard (taking seventeen credits per term) to get into grad school next fall to let some douche just tell me "no."
And I don't care if this post with all it's "mom power" is lame. My mom is my best friend and I'm so happy she could help put me right-side up again.
If your mom has ever helped put you right-side up again and you appreciate it, let her know. Tell your mom you love her today. Because moms just don't hear it enough. And because they rock.
04 October 2009
Ramble, Ramble
Wow! It's been awhile again since I've posted.
To be honest, everything is new, yet nothing is new at the same time. I've been going through bouts of sickness, being bed-ridden and then functioning, and heading back to my bed again. Now, H. is lying on the couch with a fever and a cough that makes him sound like a 90-year-old with emphysema. It sucks, really. He can't afford to be sick with all the stuff he has to do at work, and I can't afford to be sick since I'm taking 17 credits per semester plus baby-sitting and Russian classes on the side. (I know, boo-hoo.)
Other than that, school is school. Now that I've hit the mid-term point, it's heavy on the papers. I'm trying to get into good habits of writing in three or four page chunks rather than sitting down and hammering out a fifteen-page paper. Sure, it works now. It definitely won't fly in grad school though. Nobody sits down to write a three-hundred-page paper. Nobody I know, anyway. So, I figure good habits are good to establish now. Or something.
On the plus side, I'M GOING TO CANADA SOON! That's right! I'm psycho and am going in the middle of the winter. Instead of complaining about the cold, though, (which I'm bound to do once I actually get there), I'm looking at the bright side of things. Other than my house shoes, the only pair of shoes I have to take are the winter boots I'm wearing on the plane. I'll tell you, it sure makes packing a lot easier when you don't have to plan your shoes with the clothes you pack.
Another plus side? H. earns USD, which sucks the big one when everything in Germany is in yo-yos. But it definitely makes things fun for shopping in Canada. Even though the US dollar is in the toilet right now, it's still cheap shopping! Woohoo!
And that's it. See? I told you nothing was happening with me! Oh, I could go into the details of the last TT dinner I attended, or the fun it is to baby-sit a teething child. But that would be even more rambling than the interwebs could probably deal with.
So here's to something interesting (yet not catastrophic) happening soon...
04 September 2009
Straßburg
Well, it's sure been a long time since I've posted! Classes started up again on the 31st, and that day was our first anniversary, as well. So things have been busy! First things first, here's the scoop on Strasbourg!
We decided that a one-day trip for our anniversary would probably be best. After all, we're still mostly broke from my trip to France. Plus, one-day trips save on hotel rooms, and save the bother of trying to find a hotel where Maxie is welcome. And really, it doesn't take that long to get to Strasbourg. Really. So H., Maxie and I went to Strasbourg for the day. It was really lovely. A. and her hubby had gone there for their first anniversary and had nothing but good things to say about the town. So, we went. And I spoke French. It was lovely. In fact, at the tourism office, whilst buying a map, I had an entire conversation in French with the lady there. I told her I needed a map, and she asked if I wanted it in German or English. We discussed the town a bit. In French. Yet I needed a map in a foreign language. Strange people. The rest of our anniversary was low-key. It was nice.
And, the fall semester has begun! This semester, I've got a couple of history classes, chemistry and math requirements, and Latin. Fun, no? I also realised that I screwed up my schedule, and if I wish to graduate on time, I need to take two one-credit seminars per semester to meet my upper-level credit requirement. Crap. All because of those darn CLEPs. Speaking of which, H., Maxie and I went to Mannheim for the day on Wednesday, where I sat an exam to receive up to twelve credits for French. You can imagine my distaste when they used Québequois and not French on the exam. I almost started crying, swearing to myself I'm not cut out for languages, that I'd be lucky to get six credits (you either get six or twelve), and that there was no way I'd be able to study French in grad school if I couldn't even pass an exam.
I got twelve credits (thank goodness).
So other than that, H. is still on vacation. We may travel to der Schweiz on Monday. Also with the Maxie. And then it's back to the grind, only it's like a super-grind. Or something...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)