I’m a student. I study history. So I’m supposed to read a lot. And God knows I don’t lack things to read. In fact I have several books that were supposed to have been read months ago and they’re piling up. But somehow I don’t get the reading done that I’m suppose to. Not that I don’t want to cause I like reading and I think the subjects are interesting. I make my so-called “reading-plans” one week at a time but at the end of the week the plan has somehow not been accomplished. So I try to analyse my days. Sunday I set my goal to 40 pages in my history of violence course. I make myself comfortable in my bed and start reading. It goes very well until I begin to feel really sleepy. Of course I know I’m not supposed to sleep so I wipe my eyes and slap myself on the cheeks to stay awake. Ten minutes later though, I naively let myself close my eyes for five minutes as long as I promise myself that it’s gonna be those five minutes only. However, two hours later I wake up and realise all the time I have lost on nothing. At this point I’m hungry and have to make dinner and afterwards all the good shows on TV starts and there’s no chance of getting any reading done for the rest of the day. I however promise myself that I will make all this up on Monday. Monday arrives and I wake up at seven. I look at the clock… naah. Could do with one more hour. At ten I wake up again and curse myself to hell. I have classes at twelve and there’s no way I’m gonna get any reading done by that time when I have to wash my hair, pick out the clothes I’m gonna wear and do the dishes in order to get some breakfast. But after class I promise myself I will read. After class however my friend persuades me to go shopping with her. And how can I say no? We’ve been planning this for ages and finally we have time. Off we go!
Tuesday I’m supposed to have class at nine but I miss it as I am being held hostage by my bed until ten. Again!! I get up kinda pissed at myself and find out to my deepest regret that I ate the last of my breakfast yesterday. I’m forced to go out and shop for groceries. I go to the basar only to find out it is closed Tuesdays. Crap!! I go to another store but remember that I only brought the exact amount to buy the necessary things at the basar and everyone knows that the basar is much cheaper and so now I don’t have enough money to buy what I need. I buy what I can instead and go home. My friend comes over and we have a snack. When she goes I go online. I mean I have to check my mail don’t I? Besides now I don’t have anything to do for the rest of the day so there’s plenty of time to read later. By the time I’ve checked my mail, checked the last on sale prices at H&M and played a fashion game on king.com I remember that I have a date with my friends down town at three. Crap!! I promise myself that I’ll only stay for an hour and then rush home to read. This does not happen however, cause my friend tells me during our meeting that there’s CD and DVD sale and we quickly go. Quickly is maybe a bit of an underestimation. Not only do I spend too much time there but also too much money. Despite the sale! By the time I get home it’s the same old story.. it’s dinner time, then it’s TV time and then it’s bed time. And that’s that day gone by. Wednesday I simply have to go to the council office to register for my holiday salary. It can only be paid if I register with the council. I know there’s gonna be a lot of waiting time and happily and self-satisfied I plan to bring my book and THEN read. But once I get there the reading just ain’t all that appealing and I decide to call my friend. We talk for a while and then I call my mom. She tells me she needs something for her computer and I tell her that I know where one of those can be found very cheaply. I promise to get it for her. On my way home I think about how much reading I have done and the black cloud of guilt expands over my head. I reach home and now I sit here writing this, wondering… is this normal or is it just me? Am I a bad and lazy student?

Disabled man in metro

The other day I was standing in the Metro in Skt. Petersburg. I get on the train along with a bunch of other people. Suddenly I hear someone shouting below me. I looked down and see a disabled man. His legs cut from the knees down, he’s standing on duck tape wrapped around the lower part of what’s left of his leg. He shouts through the train, urging people to help a disabled man. No one in the train even moves. It felt as is this man only existed in my head.
I was very shocked by this. I am not from Russia and I must admit that I have never seen such a disabled man as well as such ignorance. What I am looking for is an answer or at least a point of view of a Russian person. Why did those people react like that? Is this normal or was it an extreme exception.
But first I would like to tell what some of my friends had to say about this subject.
I told them about the story and the reaction from them wasn’t very remarkable. One of them started telling me about how such people are on every street corner and people are used to it. Then she moved on, telling me how those invalids should get a job as there are plenty of jobs like for example sitting in a booth like for example the ones in the metro. As she said: All they have to do there is sit down and watch! She wrapped up by saying that she “kinda” feels bad. I didn’t buy or agree with any of this and told her so. She then tells me one last reason. In Russia, she told, there are many invalids and in the Soviet Union the state would hide them as they disrupted the picture of the perfect society. Now when they’re let out people don’t care and they ignore them. Even though I don’t quite completely understand why that is a reason for people to ignore such disabled I think this is for me a more plausible explanation.
I ask some of the other friends what they would do. One said that he doesn’t care and that the state should provide for them. Therefore it is not his problem. Another told me that it depended on the mood on that day whether he would give disabled person money or not.
Now as I see it all these answers are bullshit (pardon my language). First of all I don’t see disabled people on every street corner. I see beggars but not someone which is so extremely and obviously in need.
Secondly, yes of course the government should take care of these people. But since it is obviously not is it then not okay to give disabled a few coins?
Thirdly, I don’t think it’s all that easy to get a job for such a disabled man. Of course he could sit in a booth and do nothing but this is a very primitive and black and white way of thinking. Things are a bit more complicated. Employers might not want to hire these people. These people also have to get from and to the job and I bet there are other problems related to this as well which I simply can’t think of as I have never been in that situation.
My last argument is that a few kopeks or a ruble wouldn’t hurt or turn the whole economy upside down for the people who have jobs and have a standard income. If many people however contribute it might help the disabled quite a lot.
Furthermore, human compassion should make all of the things irrelevant.
I musts stress that I am not talking about beggars who might not really be poor or alcoholics who’ll go out and drink up the money. I am talking about a man with no legs, trying to make his way through the train on what’s left of his limbs and probably doing so the whole day each day. This was not a story I heard, this was something I saw with my own eyes. It couldn’t get more real.
I want to know why things are like that and what you think about this. What would you do and why? And how come people reacted like that in the train. Is this normal and if so then why?

Call me braggert, call me arrogant. But when you need the job done on deadline, you'll call me (Sam Donaldson)

The human individual, with no limitations to his own free will, creates his own personality (Blockmans & Hoppenbrouwers)

Sjove fejl lavet af danskere når de skal snakke engelsk - de såkaldte daniseringer:

Dansk: arrangement
Engelsk: arrangement

(Det er jo ikke det samme)


Dansk: Jeg kan ikke gøre for det.
Engelsk: I cannot do for it.

Dansk: Udkast
Engelsk: outkast

Dansk: ..hvis det er noget?
Engelsk: ... if that's something?

Dansk: Hvad tror du selv?
Engelsk: WHat do you think yourself?

Det kan også gøres den anden vej:

Engelsk: I let him know that..
Dansk: Jeg lod ham vide at..

Engelsk: Get a realitycheck
Dansk: Få et realitetschek

Generelt er der flere og flere engelske udtryk som bliver integreret i det danske sprog. Man hører det mere og mere og de begynder at lyde naturligt men mange af dem er ikke danske. Jeg har ikke noget imod det for jeg elsker engelsk men synes bare det egentlig er ret interessant. Jeg kommer også selv til at bruge engelske udtryk når jeg snakker dansk.

Am I an interesting person... hmm?

Yes, we live here in the cold North
but we got that blond hair to weight it up
we all came from a far
some from destruction and pain, where people cry
life goes on and you gotta fit in
with only your name as proof of who you've been
and voice from home scream at night
but the cold North keeps you tight
you get confused, don't know where to belong
things change while you sing your own song
you go back home but it's not the same
before you know, home is not from where you came
strings pull at you from both sides
your soul splits and falls apart
there's nothing to do other than cry
until you get up and continue your Northern Life.

When I was about 13-14 I went to Poland on vacation with my family. We visited my successful uncle. I was then a very shy girl. I never received much attention and was used to being overlooked. But my uncle came to ME with a book in his hand that was for me. The book was in Polish and it was called “I’ll see you at the top”. It was about how to become successful and how to reach your goals etc. It might not have meant anything but for me my uncle put not only this book in my hands but along with it his faith in me! Faith that I could be successful! This gesture means a lot to me today. This is one of these things in life that really touched me and affected me in the future and that I will never forget!

Kæft hvor er jeg bare træt af det danske skolesystem. Her snakker jeg om folkeskolen OG gymnasiet på lige fod. Det er også disse to uddannelsesinstitutioner jeg har gået på foruden universitetet hvilket jeg ikke har det store problem med. Jeg er ikke en af de super kloge, don’t get me wrong. Jeg er her ikke for at brokke mig over at der ikke er nok udfordringer og at der ikke bliver taget hensyn og at de bogligt svage fylder for meget. Derimod er jeg heller ikke en af de netop omtalte bogligt svage. Jeg er bare et normalt menneske. Arbejder jeg som jeg skal og følger med så klarer jeg mig fint. Jeg har ingen supertalenter eller en kæmpe hjerne men er heller ikke dum som en dør. I visse fag skal jeg arbejde lidt hårdere for at opnå resultater. Jeg ved godt at man ikke bare kan læne sig tilbage og lade 10 tallerne falde ned over en. Men det er fanme heller ikke nemt med et skolesystem som bedømmer elleverne efter de helt forkerte kriterier!!
Helt ærligt – man får karakter hvert halve år. Derfor ved man aldrig hvilken stil det var der var den gode, hvilke ting skal man arbejde på, til hvilken karakter lå den fremlæggelse til for to måneder siden og hvad med de ting jeg siger i timerne? Tja, alt det bliver sammenblandet i EN karakter hvert halve år!! Man aner jo ikke hvor man står!! Desuden bliver får man ikke karakter efter hvor klog man er eller hvor god man er til stoffet. Nej da! Man får da karakter efter hvor meget man siger i timerne! For så får de rapkæftede og ikke nødvendigvis kloge jo gode karakter og dem der læser hjemme men som ikke ti heste kunne få til at åbne munden i timerne selvom de brænder inde med et rigtige svar får middel karakter og ned efter. Det er ikke lærernes skyld. De har jo ikke de rette værktøjer til at måle den egentlig intelligens hos eleverne. Ingen tests, ingen prøver… der er stilene men stilene udgør jo desværre kun en del af bedømmelsen. Gæt hvad den anden er. Deltagelse i timen! Så vidt jeg ved, er bedømmelse efter hvor meget en elev deltager i timerne ikke en bedømmelse af elevens intelligens men af personligheden hos eleven! Det er karakterer på vores personlighed vi går ud til de videregående uddannelser med eller til erhvervslivet. ”Ja jeg har fået syv i dansk. Jeg fik ti i alle mine stile men det står ingen steder fordi, ser du jeg sagde ikke rigtig noget i timerne…” Jeg syntes det lyder lidt forkert. Men det er altså realiteten. I sjette klasse bad jeg for sjov min lærer om at give mig en karakter. Hun nægtede med den begrundelse at de andre jo ville blive jealous og hvis hun første begyndte med at give karakter så ville det påvirke elevernes forhold til hinanden. I’m sorry but that just ain’t good enough. Det var som om at karakter var et tabu den måde den lærer snakkede til mig og kiggede på mig da jeg spurgte om at få den karakter. Jeg var i chok! Det var desværre det samme i gymnasiet hvilket er endnu værre da det er ens dør til en videregående uddannelse. Er du genert og tør ikke sige noget kan det betyde at du muligvis ikke kan komme ind på din drømmeuddannelse. Men er der nogen der nogensinde har sagt at en åben og udadvendt personlighed er et vigtig kriterium for at kunne gå på f.eks universitet? Nej, for der bliver du netop bedømt på hvad du kan bogligt og ikke socialt! Hvad uddanner de os egentlig til her i Danmark? Til et erhverv eller til showbusiness?

Od vishka glava ne boli

I lang tid har jeg nu forsøgt at oprette et regulært mønster i mit liv. Jeg har et mål om at jeg skal stå op på samme tid hver dag og gå i seng nogenlunde samme tid. Jeg skal spise ordentligt hvilket indebærer at jeg skal sørge for at købe ind så jeg ikke står gang på gang om morgenen med en tom cornflakes pakke løftet over den tomme tallerken og desperat prøve at få de sidste rester ud. Jeg skal have styr på mit liv så jeg kan få energi og ikke gå rundt og være træt eller ikke kunne sove om natten.
Da det endelig lykkedes mig at opnå dette mønster og endda opretholde det i en hel uge fandt jeg egentlig ud af at det er for kedeligt. Det er jo det samme dag ind og dag ud! Livet bliver endnu mere trivielt end det i forvejen er. Endnu mere gråt, endnu mere meningsløst. Det fik mig til at indse at det sikkert er derfor at jeg aldrig har kunnet have sådan et regulært mønster. Simpelthen fordi man hurtigt begynder at længes efter overraskelser og de impulsive handlinger. Jeg mener hvis man kan sove til kl. 12 en enkelt dag så hvorfor ikke gøre det. Og hvis man har lyst til at være længe oppe om aftenen fordi man har fået en skide god ide eller fordi der kommer en fantastisk film på tv så hvorfor tvinge sig selv til at sove fordi kl. allerede er 11? Det er et eller andet sted mere opløftende hvis man ikke har en ens rytme eller de samme ritualer hver dag. Jeg kan godt lide at jeg nogle dage skal skynde mig af sted og andre dage bare kan slentre rundt i mit nattøj i tre timer efter jeg er stået op, før jeg gider at tage tøj på og gøre noget ud af mig selv. For hold kæft hvor bliver det dog kedeligt at lave det samme dag ud og dag ind. Så hvorfor gøre det? Jeg mener… det kommer jo nok alt sammen den dag jeg skal ud og have mig et rigtigt job!

I weak up every morning lying in my far too warm and cosy bed. But getting up every morning is practically impossible. Or so it seems despite the fact that the previous mornings have proven the opposite. The first thing I see is my window to the outside world. But the world is not viewable as it is covered by my white Venetian blinds. But the world is not interesting though. Suddenly nothing’s interesting. Instead it’s grey and boring and most of all it has no meaning whatsoever. I can never remember what I’m supposed to do except the boring things like going to work. And during the winter, the thought alone of going out in the cold is terrifying. And then I have to figure out what to wear, and as a girl (unfortunately) I need time to put on make-up, fix my hair and walk around the whole day in my ultra high-heeled shoes until I feel my feet are gonna crackle underneath me. These are just some of the things going through my head lying there in the morning. It’s about this time in my daily morning ritual that I decide that is so not worth it to get up and my eyes slowly close again. But only until I with horror wake up again too late for work and then drag myself away from paradise – my bed.
From the time I wake up until about twelve o’clock I still hate the sun, the day, the light, and whatever things that are to blame for my necessity to get up. After twelve it all starts to clear up though. I start feeling better. The feeling of being chronically tired starts to wear off and the dreadful feeling I had earlier on begins to disappear. This lasts until about three or four o’clock in the afternoon where work begins to bore me and I begin to feel fatigue and especially hunger. The hunger is especially noticeable on those days where the dreadful morning “sickness” has been really bad resulting in me getting up so late that I don’t get to eat any breakfast. I therefore gladly and with a sense of freedom rush home (unless of course I have to take care of a thousand things in town before that). In the moment I reach home, I again feel better and more energetic and throw myself over all kinds of personal projects. Then it’s time to make dinner and before you know it’s evening – the best time of the day. It is at this time of the day that I turn into the most energetic and happy, except in really bad cases, person ever. I’m like a tornado. It is at this glorious time of the day that the best ideas come to me. And of course also at the time when I’ve just turned off my computer and gotten ready to hit the sack, but this is just a minor unimportant detail. But at night time the sack suddenly doesn’t seem so warm and fantastic as twelve hours earlier. But you know that you have to face it and go to bed eventually (and not too late either) in order to avoid the same well-known horror scenario the next morning cause Julia you simply can’t walk into the office half an hour late for the 17th time.
In this way, I spend two hours each night preparing myself to go to bed only to spend two hours the next morning to prepare myself to get up. I conclude hereby that I am a B-person with a enormous B. I live in the dark and shun the light like a blood thirsty vampire. The mornings are just not for me.. I am not made for this time of the day. To quote my friend:

“At 7’o’clock in the morning I simply hate my whole existence”.