Lack of Decent Blog Posts...

Yeah, I know I've failed at life as fair as blog posting is concerned. All I can say is that I've been largely consumed by school, and by Norwegian studying. :D But here is something I'm quite proud of... My first translation of a Norwegian song. It's not my favourite song ever, but there aren't that many to pick from anyway. :D And this one had the lyrics to translate from.



It was sunset
There was laughter, there was song
There was the freedom of summer
There was the sea, there was magic
There was you, and there was me
There were memories that will never die
There was eternity
And a sun that painted the heavens red
There was beer
Intoxicating words
It was summer, there was sun.
There were hearts on fire
Still water
All on this earth
And there was love...
Yes there was love
Memories which will never die
A sun that painted the sky red - Idyll!
Summer was at an end
This was the last evening
We laid on our backs
I felt strong and confident
But still a little cold
We lay and looked at the stars
And listened to the terns' songs
We knew both where it would end,
And that we would never forget how it was
There was beer
Intoxicating words
It was summer, there was sun
There were hearts on fire
Still water
All on this earth
And perhaps some day we will see each other again
We'll stop and talk and you will be with me again
So we'll see what happens with time
While we think back upon memories and laugh
There was beer
Intoxicating words
It was summer, there was sun
There were hearts on fire
Still water
Still water
All on this earth
And there was love,
Yes there was love,
Memories that will never die,
The sun painted the sky red - Idyll!
Barefoot in the warm sea
The sun painted the sky red
Memories will never die - Idyll!

Snow Day! :D

Hehehehe

Jeg snakker ikke Bjørnsk!

I'm reading Norwegian better all the time, to the point where I understand most of the threads on diskusjon.no and rarely look up anything. I'm also getting more and more comfortable with writing. I've had some good conversations on messenger about politics, music, global warming, and whatever the hell else I want, all in Norwegian! :D

So it's great. Except that I completely fail at listening. I've gathered a little group of very nice Norwegian contacts on messenger to help me with speaking and listening, but when I tried it with Snorre, I completely froze... I was too nervous to speak much, and my listening left a LOT to be desired. A bit annoying.

So I got to thinking about what I could do for practice that wouldn't waste other people's time. Radio? Yeah, I've got a bunch of Norwegian podcasts, but radio is one of the most difficult things to listen to of all, really. It's SO fast, and there aren't the slightest visual or context clues.

Movies. :D First, Uno. It killed me. Then I found some Norwegian subtitles and put them on... it was easy as pie that way! I went through the whole movie at natural speed and understood 80% of it... 95% of the important stuff. So not terrible, but still relying on reading. I was a bit worried though, as Oslo dialect is supposed to be the easiest.

Next, Kill Buljo. I wasn't going to as Evan said it was Trøndersk and harder, but I'm going to Trondheim next summer so I figured I'd better start. I left it on without the subtitles and watched the first dialogue... before they come in and shoot everyone at the wedding|thing. So far, so good. I understood a few words per sentence, and they were the important ones. I sort of followed what was going on. Then I replayed it with subtitles and... I didn't understand it any better. I went through the movie without them. I understood enough... even a few of the jokes. Luckily a lot of it was visual humour and words weren't that necessary. Didn't love the movie, but thrilled at how much I learned. And this is the wicked hard Trøndersk everyone talks about? Seemed easier to me that Uno's Oslo Dialekt!

Then I downloaded Villmark and watched the first bit. Fjord! Pretty! But wait... scary music... Didn't quite think I could handle it alone in my dark sad sterile office. That's just sad. So I'm waiting for that one.

Then I decided to go easy on myself. I got Brother Bear and Finding Nemo in Norwegian. Granted, I've seen both movies. I've seen Brother Bear twice, and Finding Nemo enough times to know most of the words. But who cares. Without subtitles, I find myself getting almost all of it. About as much as I got with subtitles in Uno. Dunno if it's familiarity with the subject matter, difficulty level (they are Children's movies... :D), some sort of really universal dialect used, or what... But I feel as though I've made progress.

Så... som Koda sier, "Jeg er på vei nå"!

Spinning Around in Circles

Lydia's house today. We made pots on a little pottery wheel. It was cheap and plastic so it didn't work that well, but it brought back good memories. Then Liam, Lydia's love, came over to play. We played run around in circles. Wow. Tiring. Eventually I gave up (I'm bigger and not as good at this kind of thing, right!), and flopped down on a cushiony object not far from the 7ft by 7ft square we were running on.

Then Lydia and Liam started competing over who could stay up longer spinning around in circles. "Mikhail Barishnikov did 11 pirouettes in a movie one time." I say. "Who was she?" "He was a dancer." "He? What kind of guy dances?". I love teaching them things.

Lydia loses. Liam keeps going and going. "Watch out," he says, "I can't even tell what I'm falling into."

Choose Your Own Adventure

A Collection of Fake Choose Your Own Adventure Titles. :D








Those are the only good ones, but for fairnesses sake, here's where they come from: http://www.somethingawful.com/d/comedy-goldmine/choose-your-own.php?page=1

Countdown! :D

The Golden Compass Trailer

Just so happens that this is my 666th post... how strange is that? :P

Going to see it today with Charles.

Norwegian Composition! :D

(For some reason this doubled some letters when pasted... so if it's a really dumb mistake, it's probably not my fault... :P)

Introductory Norwegian

Independent Study

Altadonna 3a

Oslo - (Fra Tretende og Fjortende Kapitler)

Oslo er hovedstaden i Norge. Det er mange lange gater og store bygninger I denne stor by, og mange av bygningene er høye og fulle av butikker og kontorer, men det er også mange pene parker, gode museer, og kjente kirker å se i Oslo.

Det er en berømt gate i Oslo som heter Karl Johans gate. Det var oppkalt etter Karl Johan, som var konge i Norge og Sverige fra 1818 til 1844. Det er en statue av Karl Johan på en hest ved siden av gata si.

Ved enden av Karl Johans gate kan en se en gul og hvit bygning. Dette er slottet, og kongen bor her. Nå er Harold V kongen i Norge. Dronningen heter Sonja, og barna deres er prinsesse Märtha Louise og Kronprins Haakon Magnus, som skal arve tronen. Når det er et rødt flagg på toppen av Slottet, betyr det at kongen er hjemme.

Et stort og berømt teater i Norge er Nationaltheatret. Det er mange skuespill der fra hele verden. Det er også mange av de berømte norske skuespill av Ibsen, Bjørnson, og Holberg. Et Dukkehjem av Henrik Ibsen er veldig berømt i hele verden. Dette skuespillet er om en mann som behandler kona si som et barn. Hun går fra ham. Dette er mer typisk i dag, men et Dukkehjem er ikke et modernt skuespill. Det var skrivet i 1847. I dag har Ibsen, Bjørnson, og Holberg statuer foran teatret.

Over gata fra Nationaltheatret er det en stor, pen park som heter Studenterlunden fordi den ligger like ved universitet. I Studenterlunden er det en friluftskafe. Når solen skinner kommer mange til friluftskafeen. Bygningene ved siden av Studenterlunden er ikke høye, så parken får mye sol.

Stortinget er ved enden av Studenterlunden. Stortinget har makten i Norge, og ikke kongen og dronningen. Stortinget har møter fra september til mai hvert år. Grand Hotellet er også ved siden av Studenterlunden. Det er en kjent kafe i første etasje. Henrik Ibsen spiste often der.

Nåår været er varmt, gå mange Nordmenn ut. I sommer er det ogsåå mange turister i hovedstaden. Butikkene og museene er fulle av folk. Hotellene er fulle, og de er veldig dyre, men mange turister kommer til Oslo fordi det er så mange interesante ting å gjøre!

Det er ei kirke i Oslo som heter Domkirken, og det er hovedkirken i hovedstaden av Norge. Foran kirka er det ei gate som heter Torggata fordi det er to torg ved siden av denne gata. En av dem er et stort blomstertorg. De selger røde og gule roser, og mange andre fargerike planter, her i blomstertorget. Det er et populæært sted. En kan se kirka fra torget, og blomstene er vakre.

Det annet torg ved siden av Torggata heter bare ’Torget’. De selger grøønnsaker og frukt istedenfor blomster. En kan kjøpe frukt som epler, appelsiner, og pærer her. Både frukt og grønnsaker fra torget er rimelige, saftige, og deilige. Begge koster mer fra butikkene enn de koster i torget, så en bør gå til torget, når solen skinner.

Nede ved havna i Oslo er Rådhuset. Rådhuset er en impenitence bygning, med mange viktige kontorer, pene værelser, og noen kjente veggmalerier som viser mange ting om livet i Norge. Det er store vinduer i salen som veggmalerier er inne, så solen skinner inn og det er lyst der inne.

En kan gå ut av Rådhuset og se på utsikten. Fjorden ligger foran Rådhuset med mange øyer, båter, og skip. Ved siden av fjorden er det et stort, gammel slott som heter Akershus Slott. Det er omtrent 600 åår gammel. Ved annen siden av fjorden kan en si Bygdøy, ei halvøy med museer. En kan gå til Bygdøy med buss eller båt. En bør gå dit med båt, fordi alle museer på halvøya er om båter, skiper, eller flåter!

En av museer på Bygdøy er Fram-museet, med polarskipet Fram. De kaller Fram et polarskip fordi det har vært både på Nordpolen med Fridtjof Nansen, og på Sørpolen med en annen mann, Roald Amundsen.

De andre museene er om flåten til Thor Heyedahl og Vikingskipene. Thor Heyerdahl tok en lang tur med flåten sin over Stillehavet, fra Sør-Amerika til Polynesia, for å se om folk kunne gå dit med små flåter. Seks menn gikk på turen på den liten flåten. Vikingskipmuseet har tre store skip. De er omtrent tusen år gamle, og Vikingene brukt dem for å ta lange turer over Atlanterhavet.

Folkemuseet av Oslo er også interessant. Her kan en se mange gamle, norske hus. Noen er store og andre er små, og noen har gras på taket. Det er også ei veldig gammel kirke på Folkemuseet. Det er en stavkirke som er omtrent sju hundre år gammel! Istedenfor gras, er det dragehoder og kors på taket. Slike kirker kan finnes bare i Norge, så er de populært med turister.

Folkemuseet har en liten friluftsrestaurant der inne. Der kan en kjøpe norsk mat eller kaffe, og kan en se folkdanser. Folkdansere har norske bunader på seg, og det er en spillemann med dem som spiller på ei hardingfele. Hardingfela er et gammelt norsk nasjonalinstrument.

Nåår en vil se noen andre ting, og gå ut av Oslo for dagen, kan en ta tunnel-banen til Nordmarka eller Holmenkollen. Toget er bare en ‘undergrunnsbane’ et lite stykke av veien til disse sted. Det går under Slottet og noen gater, og da kommer det opp igjen litt utenfor Oslo Sentrum. På veien ut av Oslo kan en se mange fine hus og mer av fjorden. Det er hyggelig å reise med tog.

Nordmarka er et stort friluftsområde nord for Oslo. Mange nordmenn går dit ofte. Toget går også forbi Holmenkollen hvor den står, et høyt og hvitt tårn mot grønne trær. En kan få en flott utsikt fra toppen av dette tårnet. Holmenkollen er virkelig en gammel hoppbakke, og det er et skimuseum der oppe også. Det har mange berømte ski der inne.

Modal Verbiage

When it came to the partitive in Finnish (with it's little detour into Italian), I was less than pleased with the native's explanatory attempts and less so with that of the textbook. Eventually, I went online and printed out every long, lengthy, overdone explanation of the idea until finally it made sense in my head.

There's a certain level in my mind where I need to make things make sense. I'm finally getting to a level in some of my pursuits where, not only do I sometimes need to have something explained more fully to reach that level, I sometimes need to sit down, concentrate, and make a strong mental effort to get my mind around it.

Oddly enough, I always thought that was just a weird way to speak of learning... never really understood it. I knew that it sometimes happened to less intelligent people with easier things, and pitied them. I knew it sometimes happened to super-geniuses with their original theories, and respected them. But I didn't realize it would actually happen to me before I was out of high school. :P

It happened in Spanish the other day with the future uses of the Subjunctive, for example. "Voy a decirte, tan pronto como ella venga." It means, "I'm going to tell you, as soon as she comes." The subjunctive is, loosely, used to demonstrate subjectivity. So in my mind scheme, the first part would be subjective, since it depends on the second.

But no, it's the second part which is in subjunctive. Eh? I wish I could just memorize that and be done with it, but it doesn't make sense to me. Kiser says that of course 'I'm going to tell you", it's the condition, 'her coming', which is uncertain. You can't be sure it will happen, it's in the future.

But then how can Spanish express anything in the future without the subjunctive? Future could carry a certain amount of doubt along with it inherently, but why would this inherent room for possibility and change be implied in some usages, but not others? I would use it for everything or nothing, according to that line of thinking, but then, I didn't invent the language.

"Voy a decirte, tan pronto como ella venga."

So they should both be in subjunctive. Or neither one should be. But if you're going by degrees of subjectivity, a rather subjective matter in of itself, then I would still, incorrectly, choose to make the first part subjunctive and the second part indicative.

Even with all the hazy 'whys' of the subjunctive aside, even looking at this one isolated construction, I have to ask - How can something that depends on something 'subjective' be objective? If it depends on something that is uncertain, how can it be certain? How can the indicative rely upon the subjunctive?

I think I'll ask Altadonna about this tomorrow. For now I'm just speculating. For Spanish, fortunately, I have the luxury of asking my elders. :D Norwegian is another matter entirely.

Skulle. Bør. Burde.

Should. Should. Should.

Which one is which? At first I thought it was the only tangle in the mercifully similar to English modal system. I was wrong. It only opened the door, and wasn't itself resolved in the process! Books skirt the subject as if it were of no importance. Evan wouldn't give me a decent answer, and neither would Svein. Lene gave it her best shot, and I was content with her explanation for a while. Then, the more I thought about it, I couldn't think of any situation under her system in which I would be able to use Skulle. And, as Skulle is a word, there must therefore be a flaw in the system as I understood it.

So finally I found this way too linguistic and scholarly artical, online, about all the Norwegian modal verbs and their being "Epistemic vs. Non Epistemic, Quotative vs. Assertive vs. Probabilitive vs. Speculative, Partly Dynamic Deontic - Partly Epistemic, Dynamic vs. Deontic, Compulsative vs. Colitive vs. Intentive vs. Abilitive, Necessitive vs. Appropriative vs. Possibilitive, and Directive vs. Hortative vs. Permissive"

Yeah, it makes me want to die inside. But it actually goes fairly slowly, actually provides enough information to crack it's own code. And I firmly believe that if I give it a little time, go at it with a clear, unhurried mind, throw at it all of my pitiful self taught linguistic background and knowledge of Latin roots, and try to use my common sense, I will come out of it understanding Skulle, Bør, Burde, and the rest, and even learn some useful new words in the process.


Forget memorizing dates, formulas, or vocabulary lists. THIS is learning.

Lovely Saturday

I had work off because we were to stay at the lake, but instead we came home early Saturday morning and I spent all day online, chatting with old friends. I had more windows up on messenger than I have for years. At one point it even became too much... I was talking to Alberto (Spanish), Svein (English), and Caroline (Norwegian) actively, and Lucía (Spanish-English) passively, when Stian (English w/ some Norwegian) and Isa (Spanish) came on. Ahh! :P

I chatted a bit with Lucía and caught up with Isa. I met my new friend Alberto... he goes to my school, needs help with his English, and doesn't have many friends, so Lucía and I have volunteered. :D I talked to Caroline for the first time in a while... she probably would have forgotten who I was if I hadn't been that weird American who could speak a small bit of norsk. We only spoke in Norwegian, so that was good practice.

I talked to Jashen at one point too... he's so fun. ^^ And huggy, as I believe he said himself. Apparently he's got a huge blog post brewing that I'll need to check out this week.

Svein and I chatted for a good while. I missed Evan... it's so fun with the three of us. He was gone all day, probably for that UN thing or his class trip, can't remember, I'm awful. :D Anyhow, Svein and I played pronunciation practice once I got my microphone working. (Turns out it was a driver problem... :D) Apparently I was saying Svein too much like Swine... there's less juncture between the S and the V than I anticipated. Fixed that and had him throw correct pronunciation of Lene and Stian into the bargain.

So, when Stian and I finally got the MSN thing right, I was actually able to say his name right for the first time. Then the two of us talked for several hours.

Amazing that it could have been good for my mental sanity - since the break up, it's usually stressful and awkward to talk to him. Instead, for the most part, it felt good.

We spent the time mostly just catching up, of course. Amazing how so many things change while so many things stay the same. I was surprised to see how much both of us had grown up and changed, especially physically. For some reason I wasn't expecting that. And it was nice to hear that I wasn't the only one who had ever harboured any regrets about the way things turned out, even if we're both content now.

I said Good Night, and he told me he hoped I had terrible nightmares. I didn't... I slept better than I have in months. Pleasant day, really needed it. :D

Walking Like Tidbit

Coming down from our neighborhoods only private lane, whose residential destination newly features a white cross and a miniature trash dump, Tidbit ran a bit ahead without a care in the world. I was a bit worried about her, as we were coming around a blind corner with concrete on all sides, and was keeping a close eye out for cars coming around the bend.

None of this was a concern to Tidbit. She's a smart little dog in some ways - we've never had a problem with her going into the street or anything. But when she's out with us she never seems to worry about what might happen. She trusts us, and so is content to march forward fearlessly, even around such a blind corner. I know any good Christian ought to be able to do the same, but I guess I need a different sort of God for that.

Tidbit has other admirable features, too. We can't walk down the street without half a dozen kids begging to pet the 'weiner dog'. She's a minicelebrity... but a kind word from someone she cares about means more than the admiration of the faceless multitude.

It was a nice walk, at any rate, with the fall colours at their latest but brightest, red everywhere. And it was unnaturally warm today, too... felt like the coming of Spring, when it should be the dawn of Winter. And I felt oddly at peace with myself. Distress and Eustress, were those the terms? Living in the future may be more pleasant than living in the past, but they both carry a certain load of stress, which is, if you believe in the media, along with poor diet the leading factor in illnesses.

Perhaps this is why dogs rarely get sick?

:D Lets Kill French! :D

Click here for a laugh at the Frenchies. :D

The boys, 11 and 16, who have a French mother and a British father, were taken to live in France after the parents' marriage broke down. But during a visit to England they asserted their "Britishness" and refused to return to live with their mother.

The mother took the case to court, arguing that she had a right to decide where they should live and that the father had put the children up to it, the Times newspaper reported.

But three of Britain's most senior judges decided the boys had an inherent right to refuse to live in France, where nearly 300,000 Britons have chosen to live.

Describing the case as "not just exceptional but very exceptional," the chief judge said it was clear the children really disliked the country and hadn't settled in.

They preferred England because, apparently, they could "walk to school, could have their own key and would not have to do as much homework."

In his ruling the judge said he had "rarely, if ever, heard such strongly expressed views by children."

Jeg, Claudius

Okay, to me, and the like 2 other people who could maybe understand all of it's nuances, this says more than words. :P A part of me just died...

Fall Break

I'm sort of fed up with America not having a fall break, except for like two days for Thanksgiving, so I decided to take my own in the form of a five day weekend. We had Friday off, and I'm going to an out of town concert on Monday night, so I won't be back in school until Wednesday. Yay! :D

I have a lot of makeup work, but it's SO worth it.

Friday was great, in the morning we had a birthday party for Lucia... really small but happy. Sara and Claudia and Lisa and I went and kidnapped her from her house... I don't think they do that in Chile or Brazil, she was kind of surprised. Best part was her talking to her mom in Spanish...

"Don't worry about me, I'll come back..." And I was like...

"Di Adios a Lucia! No vas a verla otra vez!" :D

Then we went to IHOP and ate... I tried pumpkin pancakes with Boysenberry syrup... yummy... :D For some reason we had major accounting issues, though, trying to split the bill four ways so Lucia wouldn't have to pay... and working out the tip... everyone felt like they paid twice their bill, kind of funny, but no one really cared. We're finally getting to that age where, while a few dollars might still matter to us, they don't matter enough to make any sort of deal about it.

Aww, it was so cute.

In the evening Melissa and I went to see the Elizabeth movie. It was pretty good, focused on the Pirate romance but the war in Spain for some reason drew some attention as well. :P The movie was harshly reviewed but it wasn't horrible - not amazing but not horrible. The architecture and costumes were gorgeous, and I loved understanding the Spanish and, to an extent, the German.

Then of course I worked on Saturday and couldn't go to church when I got home because Tidbit was freaking out from being alone all day and I didn't feel I could leave her. Then today I slept in, hung out with Lucia awhile to get a head start on my Neruda project (I swear, I want to die... I chose an English project which requires I translate lots and lots of complicated literary Spanish...), and then I've been trying to do my housework and break up my homework in an easy to travel way.

This is good for my mental health. ^^

Oh, and I had a lovely time talking with Evan and Svein in Norwegian... I think I did okay, I mean, they were always correcting me, but Evan even made a few mistakes... and besides, I was proud to be able to communicate. I also made my first two posts on diskusjon.no, although the first doesn't really count, but it made me feel more confident. Yay! :D

Dra Til Helvete

http://russellsteapot.com/comics/2007/Dra-Til-Helvete.html

:D This is great, thanks Christy. I still need to post about the German... ahhh! :D

For Now

So, mom said I could go. And that's all I want to say for now. :D :D I'm finding it hard to say much else.

Nyheter!

Yay, I can read Norwegian Headlines! It's a start, right? And I can even get most of the articles and picture captions. So they lose me when they play the video. Big deal... I listen to the whole thing every time, and someday they'll start making sense. For now I have my headlines. :D

Militærjuntaen har løslatt 229 munker og nonner

Nikolai (5) sprang over 1 km etter hjelp

Prinsessens siste øyeblikk

Mange tusen elever uten skolebøker

Hun er Norges vakreste

Ingen amerikanere er drept på våre oppdrag

Indonesian Lessons on Youtube

Speaking Tests

So Frau Eilken generously gave us some class time to prepare for the upcoming speaking test, which might even be a good idea for once, as we are now in German III, which means things are starting to look in the dreaded direction of serious...

Still, let's be honest. My Spanish grade is one hundred times more important to me, and so I blew off the practice, because the next hour I had a speaking test (Imaginate, no less!) in Kiser's class, and it was hard enough to keep the Imaginate vocab words in my head without the added bother of having German words attempt to substitute themselves for ordinary ones!

The Spanish speaking test went fine. I learned from my first, painful Imaginate experience that the goal is not, as usual, to make the conversation sound natural and to accomplish reasonable goals within it's context. No, the idea is to use vocab words. As many as possible. Which is usually as many as could conceivable work for a given topic, and then some. "Your fish is rotten? Well! I certainly hope you haven't used it for something you shouldn't have!"

But I know the game by now and I think I slammed the test. The upper goal for vocab usage is 8-10 expressions. I used 11, and possibly one or two more. The worst part came when I brainfroze on how to say, "Are you sure that you had put in the refrigerator?" That silence was actually awkward, but after all Kiser gave us no preparation time, (We volunteered to go first) and I was nervous. :D After that things went fine, and she was generous enough to say that we were 'going at a pretty good clip', and that I 'mixed the expressions well' so hopefully I'll only lose a point or two for fluency.

Still, the whole thing felt kind of awkward. Later this evening, I had a different kind of speaking test.

So there are these two little kids whose mother is Spanish, who go to Spain every summer and whose mother speaks to them entirely in Spanish. Their vocabulary isn't bad, but their grammar leaves something to be desired. And so, I was called in to tutor them. Gah! Would I be found worthy? I tried to warn the mother over the phone that after all I had only studied for four years, but I was nervous...

I kept telling myself, "This is not a normal thing to ask of a high school student. If you aren't good enough you aren't good enough, they won't eat you, YOU didn't shamelessly promote yourself, you left that to a well meaning coworker..."

It was worse than I thought. On the phone they had spoken mostly in English, and I was expecting similar treatment at the home. They didn't use a word of English. Not a one. To my delight, I found I could follow along well enough, but I kept responses to a minimum.

I worked with each child for half an hour, working on reading and pronunciation. And afterwards Mercedes came to me and I thought she'd be reasonable - talk English while we worked out the details. No such luck. And neither was it a simple matter of 'every Wednesday'. We tossed around our schedules for half an hour in Spanish, I dropping errors like flies but keeping up well enough to keep her placated.

Then finally, at the end, her husband wanted to talk a bit and we spoke in English. It was then that she complimented me, saying, "Wow, you're already fluent after 4 years! Incredible!"

Well, fluent may be a bit much... :) But I have the job! And I didn't embarrass mysel when the heat was on in real life!

So did I pass my speaking test?

Faroe Islands

'Food' Vocabulary

Why do I even bother? I've been going through the motions of the first chapters of my Norwegian material, because somehow it seems right to go through these things formally before I move forward. I was writing down the word list I want for food in English, and then I was going to write the Norwegian equivalants in the next column (looking them up), and then quiz myself until I knew all the words. But when I hit Cola (which, surprise, surprise, is the same word), I switched to Norwegian and had written about 20 words before I even noticed it. So the list now reads:


Knife
Fork
Spoon
Plate
Mug
Bowl
Glass
Sugar
Tea
Cola
Kaffe
Brød
Ris
Fisk
Tomater
Mais
Mango
Egg
Ristet brød
Eple...

And so on. I blame being tired for not noticing, but honestly... :P Altadonna better be happy.

Hairspray and Hispanohablantes

My sister and I went to see Hairspray today. It was really silly, quite unrealistic, but still, cheerful and fun. It was funny how they combined the plight of black people and that of fat people... Also, there were a couple parts that were really amusing and detailed. For example, when the best friend's hyper religious mom starts randomly reading from her bible, and she just happens to read that... um... interesting part about "Let us make our father drink wine, and lay with him." Also, a scene with the two antagonists (blonde and skinny, but rather beautiful), has them against some white wallpaper in their house, in white dresses, with a fluffy white dog. That was great.

Before we saw that we ate in the food court. Melissa got Chinese and I got Japanese... wow, we're so original. I was actually torn between a roast beef sub and Japanese, but I'm glad I picked Japanese. The person in front of me in line was friends with the guy who worked there, and they spoke softly but I could just make out that it was in Spanish. So I ordered in Spanish, and the guy was thrilled... we chatted in Spanish as the food was prepared and he gave me a nice discount. :D (Barry Farber is right and my hero. Buy his book. They've actually just republished it in a nice, thick hardcover, but the tiny paperback (beats me) is just a nice.)

Norwegian - The Class

I finally got all the paperwork filled out, signed, and turned in. This involved a classic chase scene before first hour in which I ran down to Plunkett's office to find her, then was told she might be by the senior locker bay or the cafeteria, at this point the bell rang, raced down to the cafeteria, didn't find her but had Mr. Bollman radio her and tell her to stay where she was (near the locker bay), ran up three flights of stairs, gave her my form, spoke a bit of Norwegian for her amusement, ran back to where I left my stuff, was interrogated by Sra. Altadonna, grabbed my stuff and ran across the floor to Art History just in time for class. And I made the deadline for adding a class. SO worth it.

The idea of having Norwegian for an actual class thrills me. It's also nice that I'll only be required to do the level 1a equivelant, because I'm only doing it for one semester. But after I finish the wordlist I've assigned myself for the first night... "Ja, nei, hus, tog, fly...", I get on youtube and watch funny videos. No, I don't understand every word, but yeah, I do understand most of it. If only they knew...

And speaking of funny videos, this one was especially amusing. (The one with the blonde girl and the computer geek was almost as funny, but subtitled and not really especially Norwegian in content...)

For those of you who don't speak Norwegian but wish to enjoy the snippet, basically it's about a whole bunch of Italian death metal fans who are learning Norwegian so that they can understand their favourite bands or even have their own fake Norwegian death metal songs. The best scene is when they're all in the classroom wearing black and goth make up, reading from a book that looks just like my textbook... Oh, but I have to give the one guy credit. He knew more of the anthem than I do. (I only know enough to recognize it, really...)


***

Edit: I looked up the sentences in question, they almost have to be from some version of Teach Yourself Norwegian, which says,

"Her kan vi spise koldtbord. Det er typisk skandinavisk... jeg liker fisk og reker."

While the film says,

"Her kan vi spise koldtbord. Jeg liker fisk og reker. Det er typisk norsk."

Computer Problems

So I stayed up late and took my time writing my Norwegian Independant Study Proposal. I went to print it and thought I'd also send a copy to Altadonna so we could make changes easily. I copied it and switched to email. And tried to past. And the email froze. I went back to Microsoft Word and it was frozen. I opened up Notepad and pasted. Notepad froze. I opened up Wordpad and pasted. Wordpad froze.

I closed down everything and then I ran searches for cached copies or 'recovered copies'. Nothing came up.

I retyped the entire thing. The same thing happened again.

And at this point my mom feels the need to come across the hall and point out that it's late. Then when I explain to her why I'm still up and haven't even started on the rest of my homework, she just bitches about the computer, and it's "Dad says this" and "Dad says that".

What the bloody hell? Why does mom think that when I'm exhausted and frustrated, what I want is for her to come and rub it all in and try to blame me for it in any way she can? I wish she would just stay away from me most of the time... :(

Be A Man!

Let's get down to business
To defeat the Huns
Mou stilan koritsia ki andres pia kapnos.
Vous êtes plus fragiles que des fillettes
Et jusqu'au bout et coup par coup
Maar ik maak jullie elk tot een man.
Rolig når du skyter
Men med ild i sinn
Mille e più minacce vi transformerò
Fino a fare di voi degli uomini
Ja tiedän sen, on nähty tuo.
Teistä viel'miehen näin minä luon.
No puedo ya ni respirar
Despedidme de mi gente
Di por qué falté a la escuela a entrenar
Han skrämmer ihjäl de där.
Hoppas att han inte fattar.
Borde nog ha lärt mig simma eller så
(Nan zi han)
Xing dong kuai su xiang na jiang he tuan ji
(Nan zi han)
Po huai li xiang na feng bao wu qing
Dzielny bądź!
A równocześnie tak tajemniczy
Jak księżyc co
Wygląda tu zza chmur
Tiden løber fra os;
snart slår fjenden til
teng ho gok chui zhuek ngo
kuen dik ya da dou
Não consegues nem lutar, então
Põe-te a andar, pois decidi
???
Homem ser!
Seremos rápidos como um rio!
Homem ser!
Com força igual a de um tufão!
Hombres ser!
Violentos como un fuego ardiente
Cumpliendo muy misteriosos la misión
(Savaşgı)
sakin bir nehir gibi olalım
(Savaşgı)
firtınalar kadar kuvvetli
Sei ein Mann!
Wir müssen heiß sein, wie Höllenfeuer
裏をかく戦術　知恵
*Ura wo kaku senjutsu chie

Basic Day

My day starts out with my alarm going off and waking me out of some sort of nightmare or another. Strange, that... I didn't ever have nightmares until a few months ago. But even now I often persevere through the hardships my dreams present. Last night, for example, my mom and I had to hitch a ride from some dirty old man who was hitting on me. Then he took us to his house and kept us prisoner for a while, which wasn't fun. But at the end of the dream, when my alarm clock went off, I had him locked in a room and was ready to make an escape as soon as I had grabbed as much of his stuff as I could carry.

Anyhow, I wake up feeling like I was hit by a truck because I stayed up late doing homework if I had a lot or emailing Liisa if I didn't. I get dressed, look beautiful, walk Tidbit to the corner and back, eat a bit of breakfast, and then drive to school listening to Rush Hour Italian!

The school day is lovely for a while, starting with AP Art History. It's an Honours class, and so not exactly a blow off, but it's easy, too. And it makes me excited that I already know the Spanish stuff, and that I've seen most of the Latin and part of the Greek pieces in real life! Actually, having been to the Louvre, Musee D'Orsay, the Van Gogh Museum, Museo Nazionali (Napoli), and the Acropolis Museum, I've seen a fair amount of all of it.

After Art History I go to German, lovely little class which is in the Transition Mode of a year 3 language. Ah, I remember those times from Spanish, although I must say I was better with Spanish then than I am with German now. The class is mostly Sophomores, a bit immature, but that suites me fine - it makes things easy.

And after that I go to limbo - well, currently, that's Student Aiding for Sra. Altadonna, but as soon as we finish the paperwork it will be NORWEGIAN! What joy...

Then I go to Spanish class, which is a blast, though it's starting to think about challenging. We have discussions and debates and are actually trying to hammer out the mistakes that have haunted us all along. Kiser is merciful about mistakes, and you feel comfortable spreading your wings in her classroom, even if it means you occasionally call a hammer a suitcase. Lucia's in this class too, which makes it fun!

Then right when I'm thinking that this can't possibly be school - it's too much fun - I go to Lunch. A crazy, chaotic, noisy cafeteria that pulls me right back to reality, although I can be with friends. :D This year lunch is, strangely, almost the same cast as last year. Rachel, Gwen, some guy that belongs to gwen, Wendy, Lisa, and so forth - Luckily all those who take a level 5 in languages (except Spanish) have first lunch by default, so that's a lot of my friends. Kate and Stephanie, for example, are outside in the courtyard. Christy is still in Chazen's room, but our Lunch Bunch is disbanded and she's almost alone.

LATIN. Gah, what is to be said about Latin? It's a language that I once loved, and still find bits of enjoyment in. But it's too late to be a class... What can I say? If it had been a class from the beginning it would have been one thing. I would have learned well and never felt inferior and perhaps not have taken German. Who knows? But as it is... well, the days of the easy H are no gone, and we weep for McAllister. I feel like I'm starting to get things, and in the long run, if I do, I'll be grateful for the swap, but it's awfully hard and hurts me.

After Latin is the double whammy of Math and English, real classes. I like both my teachers, but not their classes. Dean teaches Calculus. She's a good math teacher - I understand when she teaches. But I feel I'm behind on the underlying concepts, and Calculus is still hard, and anyway no one can say Mrs. Dean is FUN, exactly. My goal in there is to survive. English, on the other hand, is intimidating.

Mrs. Smith is smarter than I am. A lot smarter. And I'm not used to that. Okay, I'm a bit of a snob, but hear me out. I'm quite used to beating a lot of people without trying, although I don't take any pleasure from that. More pleasing is the smaller group that are near my level, who I can beat with a little, or a lot, of effort. And then there are the people who I enjoy the most, whose IQ's are either matched with mine or quite different, so that in competing we bring each other to new levels, or so that there is no need to compete, only to admire.

But Mrs. Smith is none of these. She is smarter, a lot smarter - formidable, frightening... But nice, never forget that, and she has a sense of humour that you like to appeal to even when you feel that she is mocking you and are embarrassed... She's been teaching us Latin a bit, and that's bad enough. But English is completely her domain. If only the woman would let us speak! You get halfway through a comment and she's challenging you already! I love the challenge but sometimes she takes it too far, in such a strange direction... perhaps in more limited doses it would be more effective. We'll see, we'll see!

But although part of me enjoys the dialog, a part of me is scared to death that a grade depends on such things! I could never get a degree in English, much as I casually adore it.

Done with English, out to the car, home, play with Tidbit, talk with mom. I've got a new technique for that, by the way. I grab something to eat and let her bitch and complain about what a burden Melissa and I are. Every time I want to make a retort that's really deserved but will only exacerbate the situation, I take a bit bite instead.

"Wow, Miranda, you really are going at those Rice Cakes!"

No Shit.

But Later...

"Thanks for listening."

See, she doesn't really mean that she hates me and I cause her so much pain and that she wishes she'd never have children and why can't I just sit in the corner and grow up! Well, she does sometimes. But not always or really.

Then work. Library or Lydia. Or, if I'm lucky and it's a Wednesday, Japanese lessons! These are great - I got a book and so we're actually learning something this time! I'm finally getting the syllabaries down and some of the vocab, although Hirayoshi-san tires of the repetition at times. She's neither a language teacher nor a linguist, she doesn't understand... Oh well, I study it more at home, then.

Then I come home and shower and study into the night... And then go to the nightmares.

Hope and Memory

Dear Liisa,

I've actually gotten rather comfortable with memories, which may be surprising given my history. As a child I could get myself worked up over the end of anything - saying to myself, "Well, this is the last morning bus ride of my third grade life..." and sniffling a bit. But I'm a little better now. It's always a bit sad when things end, and especially when you have to leave people behind that you will never see again, but I'm a little better at packing the memories away. For something new to come after, something must end, after all, and the memories - they're safe in my heart, and I collect them like treasures. Pictures and mementos don't hurt either.

Of course, this approach only works if you have your memory, and I am also scared of these things... Alzheimers and Amnesia and such. They almost seem worse than death... especially if they come, as they often do, late in life. I think I'd rather just die, though to tell the truth, I'm not always optimistic about what happens after death. I think I would be content to live in my memories, perhaps to relive my life again and again. Some say that memories are what make a soul rich, perhaps that is what such a thing means.

But death is frightening too, isn't it? The other day I ran into a rather terrifying line of reasoning that took me a while to answer with any sort of hopefulness. I was thinking about ghosts and their transparent fingers, the way they slide through life without feeling. If they cannot feel without fingers, how can a ghost see without eyes? How can one hear without ears? How can one even think, without a mind? How can one remember? And if one does not remember, did one ever really live?

The more we learn about the mind, the less room there seems to be for anything else inside of it, anything resembling a soul, anything that endures. Hope was easier when these things were a mystery. Still, I can't help but think that it's possible that our senses are only a very physical and earthly extension of senses we might have more easily on some other, higher plane of existence - that when we live inside our bodies it is like slipping a hand into a glove or watching a sonar graph, that when we die we recede from these things just as easily...

Nothing terrifies me more than the alternative, that what follows death is nothingness, like before our births. I have heard older people, in their sixties and so on, say that they are beginning to understand that life has an ending, and are content with it... they feel finished and used up. I hope that if nothing follows life that I come to such a state before the end, but I despair of ever doing so. Right now I am so greedy for life... I want to see and taste and feel and experience so many thousands of things - anything and everything.

And I love all my memories, and fiercely hoard them. The experiences may be good or bad or even embarrassing, but the memories are lovely all the same. Sometimes you can feel a memory in the making, and other times the most precious memories spring from the most mundane things, the things you take for granted until years later, remembering long summer nights playing flashlight tag or sunlight on snow on a winter morning. And such memories can flare up and make themselves felt again, as if they never really left, when a smell or a turn of the light takes your heart back again.

And I can't help but think of dreams, in which there is often a long and extensive back-story woven into the detail. We remember it all naturally and perfectly while asleep, and upon waking only remember what was remembered, if that makes any sense. Do you ever wonder if your existence is only actually this very moment, and everything before that you think you remember is nothing more than a memory?

But which is more important, the memory or the truth? Would you rather remember a thousand rich falsehoods or forget a lifetime of experience?




Ha! You've written me such nice emails lately, filled with wonderful and intriguing detail. I've gone and repaid you with nothing but ignorant philosophy... (And I didn't even get to the religious aspects of any of this...) Sorry, my dear... I will write you all about school and teachers and such in my next email. I hope this made you feel a little big better and then a lot worse and then a tad bit hopeful about that strange thing we call memory...

- Miranda

Wings

"I'd be happy with Italian," I said to Sra. Altadonna, "But what I really want to study is Norwegian..."

"Norwegian?" She says, and, oddly, she reverts to some midwestern accent from her youth. "I haven't used Narwegian for... perhaps twenty two years. I don't have books, or..."

"I have a dictionary. And a phrasebook. A newspaper a friend brought my home from a cruise. An anthology - and a workbook to go with it. And Teach Yourself Norwegian, and the Hippocrene Beginner title. And casettes..." She must have seen the light that was just allowing itself to shine in my eyes.


I took Tidbit for a walk and went up to a field where we used to fly kites, where I laughed one day at my first childish love. Stephanie told me that with my short legs, I don't really have the figure or the grace for running dramatically across a field. But the whole way down I didn't think of falling.

I was quite conscious of the grass beneath my feet, of Tidbit's muscles moving and rippling beneath her greying fur, of my own arms, smooth and firm and white. At the beginning I could, out of practice, distinguish the sounds of separate cicadas on branches spread against the sky, but as I ran they blended into a single sound which grew in gently, almost lazy intensity like the waves of the ocean.

Looking at the dark and stormy sky, it might as well have been a clear blue day.


I am aware that I am quite mad...

Meh

I stayed up late during the night listening to Italian songs and doing copious amounts of English homework that I left to the last minute. I thought dark thoughts about my parents. It's best they don't read this, I suppose.

I can't help but feel that they don't understand me. When I try to communicate myself to them I get no where and only make matters work. They either mock me as though I was a small child or the criticize what I say or they comfort me and say, "oh, you don't mean it, you are tired..." and often I give in and agree because I know they are not really hearing me anyway.

This problem between my mom and I is deeper than a single fight which burns and then recedes. It even goes beyond her never ending nagging, although that is an undeniable part of it.

When it suits her I am not her daughter but her friend and her confidante. When that does not suit her I am her daughter. There is no democracy, she says, though I don't ask for democracy, only the right to lobby and make my feelings known.

And my dad is no better, he is almost worse. I think he could understand me if he tried, but of course he must support my mother. He mocks me and says "I know you can't stand to not be heard." That was cruel - to mock me for that earlier this summer. It's true! I admit as much! I will not be ignored. I am not that sort.

And when he said I didn't find acceptance in my peer group, so I searched for it within the family... Ha! What are families good for if you have to search for acceptance within them? To hell with them all.

I'm well liked. I am. No one else has a quarrel with me. I even have good friends, though not many of the classic sleepover variety. I have people I trust and care about very much. And my teachers love me - not just as a student, but as a person. I adore them too and love the stimulation of the school day, even when it leaves me exhausted. My babysitting clients love me - I'm quite popular. And I do a good job at work and adore my coworkers.

But whatever I do, it's never quite enough for my mother. Oh, when she's in the mood to be she can be perfect. She shines so much in those moments it's harder to blame her in the others. But if only it could be more spread out! When she is not in the mood... when she is unhappy or even just discontent, which happens rather often, it's never enough. My grades are good and my character is outstanding and I don't ask for money. So she moves on to friends and fashion and calls me out for that. When I do well enough there and she can't blame me, she finds other stuff. I try to meet her demands, but there is no pleasing her, she'll keep moving down the line. My room isn't kept well enough, I don't walk Tidbit often enough, why haven't I planned the trip yet?, I never help with the meals, why am I so dreary?, I'm not nice to mommy, I shouldn't use that tone of voice, I don't get enough protein, I don't get enough calcium, I need to not do so much, I should stop babysitting at the Maniscalco's, I shouldn't take so many classes, I should brush Tidbit's teeth more often, I haven't burned her CD yet, why haven't I helped with the scrapbook?, why do I always waste food?, why do I spend so much time on my homework and not enough on the house?, why is the bathroom a mess?, I keep too many books, what about that journaling I should have done... I DONT ANSWER MY CELL PHONE... WHEN IM IN THE HOUSE...

There are times I wish I could really be bad at something so the nagging might at least be consolidated and I could hide behind the old "I'm working on it." And other times I fantasize about being bad at something to punish her. And still other times I dream that I might somehow do everything she asks and still live, still work, still attend school with passing grades, still be cheerful. And then she'd be happy with me. All of the time. But that fantasy's harder to keep up now that I haven't even time to properly check my email or write or read, and even to write this blog post cuts into my sleep and I will pay for it later...

They always say I'm going hysterical and throwing a fit. I am not throwing a fit - I am quite cold. It has been hours since the last incident, because thankfully they are in bed. They wont take me seriously and despite the fantasies I start accepting that they never will. So I look out to the exit, when I will go away. After that when I come home I will be visiting and things will be different. And once I'm out in the world, far away, whose to say that I will ever look back?

Yes, they've been good to me in so many ways...

... And don't think I've forgotten...

... But I'd rather be heard. Taken seriously. Accepted.

No, I am not hysterical, I am not throwing a fit, this is not about not wanting to take the trash out or go pick up my sister. This is a basic question of respect and understanding. You do not understand me, mother.

Do you even know what really brings me joy, when math and work and nagging starts to blur together? I stay up late if I must, cutting into my sleep, because I must... And when I study languages that keeps me sane... you don't understand that it is my passion, that it heals me.

I know you don't understand me and can only laugh when you say, "Miranda, drop a language, don't do the Italian, you'll have more time." Maybe I should have more time... but I should lose myself.

Strange that I can hardly rely on people. Some times I can rely on my mother, but I can't rely upon relying on her, if that makes sense. It's not her fault, she is human after all. But so is everyone else. How can I describe this? It's mad. Absolutely mad.

But when my soul feels quite heavy and I weep, because I never want to look back, and I feel that I should, for she is my mother and has provided for me so well so often, it is my studies that I turn to, that comfort me. The written word that shines on new smelling pages, the flash cards I write with a shaking hand, and use over and over again, the words I whisper as I fall asleep.

And how can I give that up? I can't. But you can't understand. Who can? I'm not sure. I think I must be quite mad. But still... if I trouble you then leave me alone. I am happy with myself and content with my madness. You have your own, even if you don't see it. And someday I'll find my place in the world as you have in yours.

You've said before that you hope I have a daughter just like myself. A freak, you mean. Yes, I hope I do too. I can understand a freak like me. I'm frightened of not understanding my daughter, but of course I won't because she can't be just like me. Still, I want her to feel understood. I want to understand the lack of understanding, and be comfortable with it.

Please, understand that you don't understand. Let me be who I am. I'll try to help you. I'll try to remember you're nagging me for my own sake. But it's all a little much. I don't need things slower and louder. Try to understand that you don't understand...

When I close my eyes I see a world you don't see. I think of things you don't think of. I don't know what you think of, but I don't think you're happy with it, either, so don't pity me. We have our own heavens and our own hells.

Someday soon I'll walk away from this place. And I'll find acceptance. Even if I have to walk all the way to my death to find it... Someday I will. Acceptance of what isn't me isn't really acceptance. I cannot change. I think... I believe I will find it before the end. But if I don't I will still walk bravely. I can be strong.




Please. Understand that you don't understand. Let me try to find my own happiness, even if I don't find it until I walk all the way to my death. I cannot be otherwise...

Lu Purtuni

I love this song... the singer is incredible. She's not so beautiful for a music video, but it hardly matters. ^^

What a sad sound this song has... and the poem at the beginning is creepy.

A Sudden Rush

The music went on and on until it reached a song whose notes and words brought back in a sudden rush all of the old feelings... Unhappily I struck out to change the song to another, any other, as though it were urgent. Accidentally I hit the same song again the first time. After that I went to La Finforletta, a lovely sad song, and the feelings receded again, and looking back are all but incomprehensible. But it frightened me how quickly they came forward, after so many months, as easily as opening a jar of vanilla and letting the scent pervade the room...

AP English

Mrs. Sammie Smith. All I had heard of her was that she came here from teaching in Inner City Chicago. And then that she would be teaching the little ones Latin. Self taught, they said, but then she told us she majored in such things. She said so with a British accent. Almost. Her vowels are very British but the R's, the famous R's, are certainly pronounced. Did I mention she wasn't British?

So far she seems nothing short of a living, breathing, English teaching oxymoron.

She claims to be from Joplin Missouri, and it's a growing belief among her students that this isn't true, that she's covering something else up with this story. But wouldn't she try to hide the accent? Besides, I know the story's true, unless she's in cahoots with Spraley. His wife taught Mrs. Smith when she was in the Fifth grade.

She wears such strict looking clothing - suits and the like. The shoulders in particular always look rather strong and unyielding. But there's always the slightest feminine touch - the way the bottom of said suit gathers when she sits, her shoes, something. Something small but undeniable that neutralizes the image. Short hair, but a soft cut.

Her face... it's not hideous, it's not pretty. It's strong looking, a little boyish... unfriendly. Until she smiles. Which always takes you by surprise, however often she does it. And she does it a lot... and her whole face melts, and you feel suddenly quite fond of her. With her straight, hard face she tells the class that she makes incredible Brownies. Then she smiles and blushes...

"Is anyone overwhelmed?" She asks. "I don't want to overwhelm anyone." And what do you say to that? It only makes it more difficult to complain among ourselves. And there is a bit to complain about... for the first seven days, counting from the first day of school, we are given 200 pages of literatures to read and annotate.

We are reading The Awakening, Kate Chopin. I like Chopin well enough, as these things go. Her short stories were among my favorites last year. But I prefer her in small doses, a book is a lot. And The Awakening is strange. I agree with the meaning it strives for but not with the main characters methods. From the back,

"The poignant story of a woman who pursues love outside of her restrictive marriage in turn-of-the-century New Orleans." Yes, yes, forget New Orleans and the time frame and you've described a hundred stories. And usually I sympathize for the suffering protagonists. But this is different... confusing me from the start.

Edna is quite free, as far as I can tell. By restrictive marriage they can only mean "marriage"... her husband provides well for her and is friendly - even when shocked at her rather inappropriate transgressions he hardly raises his voice. Edna has adorable children and hardly any responsibility for them. She has a cook and maids for cleaning. She is free to pursue her painting and to associate with whomever she likes. On the summer vacation she swims and spends much of her time with an unmarried man - her husband is far from worried, he likes the chap. His only real demands seem to be that she treat him kindly, love the children, leave a good excuse when she goes out on the one day a week she is expected to take visitors, and not actually have sex with anyone else.

How horribly restrictive! I can see how this drives to her first to not one but two simultaneous affairs and subsequently suicide! How strange! Quid debemus cogitare?

Classes

1^st Semester

1. AP Art History - Dunsworth (3102)

2. German 3 - Eilken (3313)

3-4b. Spanish 5 - Kiser (3312)

3-4c. International Cuisine - Broemmelsick (2311)

5. Latin 5 - Spraley (3307)

6. AP Calculus AB - Dean (2419)

7. AP English Literature and Composition - Smith (3302)

2^nd Semester

1. Multimedia – Glenn (2314)

2. AP English Literature and Composition – Page (3206)

3-4b. Spanish 5 – Kiser (3312)

3-4a. Study Hall – Klund (2409)

5. Latin 5 – Spraley (3307)

6. AP Calculus AB – Dean (2419)

7. German 3 – Eilken (3313)

Summer is Ending

I was just on Stephanie's lovely blog, and it rehashed all the things we'd said during our walk in Queenie on Friday. Summer's Ending... And it's going to leave us as Seniors. And when the year that is now beginning ends - and it surely will - it will leave us as adults. Gone are the days when I could fall into a period of my life and trust it to hold for a while, as I settled in. Even the phases of my life may be going to fast.

When the last summer of childhood ends, where does that leave you?


* No more family camping trips
* No more long, long mosquito nights
* No more hopeless summer goals
* No more promises that vanish in the heat
* No more Harry Potter
* No more Pirates of the Caribbean



Then again, this summer has hardly been a summer. I've worked... changed diapers and shelved books and baked brownies in exchange for green slips of paper that smell like a thousand human hands. I've studied... Latin at Starbucks, early in the morning, Finnish at the pool, in a moldy, shady corner, Chinese at night, struggling to twist my mind around tones.

It's not as if there haven't been benefits - I'm 2,000 dollars the richer, have brushed up on the Latin basics, learned to make a few funny sounds, and gotten a head start for Finnish, after all - but I'm not ready for summer to end.

I haven't yet cleared the slate for the new year. Haven't cleaned my room until it shines, haven't done every last scrap of laundry, haven't forgotten everything intellectual and replaced it with sludge, haven't rp-ed, haven't gotten so lazy I sleep in til noon each day, haven't descended to the level of watching the TV, haven't started getting curious about new teachers and courses, haven't purchased school supplies and laid them out in a tidy little row, haven't started an epic length novel I'll never finish, haven't worked on a leisure reading book list...

NOTHING!

Two weeks from tomorrow lies in shadows, the beginning of a year of school that still seems far away. And beyond that... darkness.

I'm eager in a way, but I want these things to take their own good time. I'm not ready, not really, I haven't done everything I wanted to...

Been so busy looking forward that I failed to exhaust present potentials...

And now, for the first time in my life, something is ending.

Admitting Uncertainty

When faced with big questions, with religion or politics or world relations, so many take the easy way out. So many pick a side blindly and cling to it without reason. So many feign atheism, moderation, or even apathy.

I often wish to take one of these paths and disappear along it, but there is no fooling the mind. I am always confused... so easily persuaded by a well-written article or a moving real-life example. Sometimes I tell myself, 'well, the issue must be taken on a case-by-case basis', and dismiss it for a while. Other times I almost accept that there is no easy answer, and sketch out into my mind the two well balanced sides. To put them in eloquent words holds them off for the time being, but the troubling thoughts return.

As if my opinion matters. As if I can conform the world to my will. As if I need to take a stance on every issue. I've always felt that I must know, must understand, must be able to tell right from wrong, but sometimes it is so difficult.

What shall we do about immigration?

My first instinct says that of course, be kind, be generous, let them in. They want to make a life for themselves, the majority of them - they're people too, mostly good ones. It's hardly their fault they weren't born into a better society! The fact that I know several Mexicans, legal and illegal and still in Mexico, only serves to strengthen my opinion.

And then I read an especially well written article opposing the immigration. So many of them are terrible and strike all the wrong notes - "AMERICA FOR AMERICANS!", "THEYRE TAKING OUR JOBS!". But this one looked reasonable, and I read it. It was filled with examples of a similar crisis some years back in Europe, particularly in France. The immigrants were happy to have a new life and new opportunities, were in fact hard workers and model citizens. But their children, and their children's children, have now forgotten the hard life they came from and have become ungrateful, even resentful of perceived discrimination. The article closes saying that first generation Mexicans are already resentful, even going so far as to desecrate our own flag at sporting events.

Interesting indeed...

What shall we do about the War in Iraq?

My first opinion sides with most of the world. Get out. Now. Why are we there? What are we doing in that God Forsaken Place? It's a civil war - their civil war, and we have no place in it. Besides, we went for the oil. The majority doesn't want us there. The UN doesn't even want us there... that should say everything. I hear refugees tell me that yes, Saddam was bad, but that life under the Americans has been harder.

And then I think about it. Really think about it. Humour the other side, minus the oil-hunting and lies and secrecy. And I think about Hotel Rwanda. How I was outraged that no one did anything. How could it have come to that? How could no one have helped? The UN pulled out, America protected its own and left the minority to die. That was a civil war, too. A civil war in a faraway land...

There are no easy answers. I feel the questions lie within me and twist through my stomach, and at times I feel almost nauseous. I wonder if the world was ever more clear cut, or if it's always been filled with shades of grey, and I think... If one person can be so divided, how can we blame the world for war?

To Be Called "Foreigner"

Frau Eilken said to me,

"There comes a point where you have to ask yourself...

If you're willing to never be home again,

If you want to be called 'foreigner' for the rest of your life,

And let it define you..."

Ha! I always wanted to be the 'foreigner', or something equally as strange, as mysterious. Now when the time comes, how can I be frightened of it?

I may not feel as though the United States are truly HOME, as they should be... I don't feel the spirits of my ancestors in the earth or feel this incredible sense of belonging or identity...

I chase this dream, that somewhere in the world there is a place that I can call home... but it cannot truly be. I am expecting to much from home, as I expect too much from family and even from community.

At my age, no one knows with certainty quite where they belong. Leave it to me to make a mountain out of a mole-hill, to make it a national question where most people content themselves with changing their lunch table. I'm such a shameless dreamer...

I chase this dream even knowing that if I leave America I'll leave the closest thing I have to home, imperfect as it may be. I scan everywhere and pass nowhere, except in the one place I don't scan at all, the one place I'd like to repudiate. America may already be in my blood... not deep but deep enough, deeper than aught else.

"Have you ever wondered..."

My mom said,

"If the problem isn't everyone else...

But if the problem was you..."

Sort of, Kind of Official

So, this is how the whole thing started:


First I was just going to go on a little trip to Costa Rica with my Spanish Class...

But then, right as I started getting excited, it looked like that trip was going to be cancelled.

I was joking when I asked Liisa if I could visit her in Finland...

But then suddenly I wasn't.

And then the Costa Rica trip didn't get cancelled.

And I made the only possible decision.

I would do both.



-----



I started working hard, making money, learning Finnish...

I was at the table eating breakfast when my dad asked me, "Would you rather go to Italy or Costa Rica?"

That was poorly phrased.

The trip would start out in Italy, then it could go anywhere.

We worked out a plan - we'd go from Turin to Barcelona through the south of France and the Pyrenees, hitting Cannes and Monaco on the way.

Then Dad wanted to add in Venice.

Then Mom realized how close Switzerland was.

We've already mentioned how bad I am at making choices...



-----


Anyway, I chose both.

All Three.

Everything.


--------
Six Weeks, Six Countries, Six Languages,* One Arrogant American, One Really Big Suitcase

666...


But anyway, so it begins.


* 666 ???
* Six Weeks - Two in Costa Rica, Two in Mediterranean-Alps, Two in Finland
* Six Countries - Costa Rica, Italy, Switzerland, France and Monaco, Spain, Finland
* Six Languages - Spanish, Italian, German, French, Finnish, Swedish

It's Official, Pictures

...I was just going to go on a little trip to Costa Rica...






...I asked Liisa if I could visit her in Finland...





...We'd go from Turin...




...to Barcelona...







... through the South of France...







... and the Pyrenees...






...hitting Cannes and Monaco on the way...





...Add in Venice.

... realized how close Switzerland was.

Finnish Translation...

http://www.turunsanomat.fi/kulttuuri/?ts=1,3:1005:0:0,4:5:0:1:2007-07-13,104:5:472002,1:0:0:0:0:0:

Wow, I feel cool to be able to read this. Sort of. When a pencil, and a pen, and a highlighter, and a dictionary, and google image search, and some guess work. Still, It's exciting...

* - Very bad translation
____ - I have no bloody idea what this says

Other things are probably wrong, too.


Harry Potterin täytyy menettää läheisiään. Vain sitä kautta hänen on mahdollista kasvaa. Mielestäni on hienoa, että kovia kokenut ja useita läheisiään menettänyt hahmo pystyy pysymään voimakastahtoisena. Juuri sen takia Harry Potter onkin hyvä roolimalli, analysoi Harry Potter ja Feeniksin kilta -elokuvassa näyttelevä Katie Leung, 19.


Harry Potter must lose *intimates*. Only through this is growth possible. It seems to me beautiful, that having experienced so much and lost so many *intimates*, the character is able to endure intense ______. Just because of it, Harry Potter is also a good Role Model, analyzes Katie Leung, 19, actress is the movie Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Lack of Posts...

Not many posts lately, I know... But I've been working days up to 14 hours, and when I haven't been working I've been:

A.) Asleep

B.) Eating

C.) Studying Finnish

or

D.) Emailing Liisa

Pizza Perjantai!!!!

I think my life is now complete. :D

Speaking in the Subjunctive

But tell me... what does one pack for a trip that begins in Costa Rica, winds its way through Italy, France, Monaco, and Spain, and ends up in Helsinki, Finland?

I'm going to need a hell of a suitcase...

And that may not even be rhetorical...

Racquetball

So, I've really enjoyed playing on the Racquetball team. It's been really stressful at times, downright annoying at others, but by and large it's been fun, and it's one of those things that you can only experience once. It's the classic high school sport, and I feel like I've come far enough with it that I want to finish.

My mom thinks I need to call it good enough and quit, but she's hated Racquetball from the beginning. Now that I can drive, I think it's none of her business. But she's really angry that I'm playing again. :(

Anyhow, I told Mark that it's a tentative yes for next year, and that I want to see how the summer and the first few weeks of the season go before I commit myself to the nastier bits such as State later in the season. Junior year was hard, but Senior Year is a lot easier. Also, I am not going on the Nationals trip. I'm willing to do Rolla or something, but I've got Costa Rica and Finland to think about, so a Racquetball trip is out of the question. :P Sorry, Mark!

Summer Jobs

The End of Junior Year!

My Grades Came In. I Was Like...

oh... whatever...

:P The final count was this:

English - A
Chemistry - B
Math - C
Spanish - H
Comparative Gov - B
Health - A
German - A

GPA - 3.75


With the exception of Math, it was all the best that could have happened. I feel less angry at some teachers for being deceptive since it turned out okay in the end. I do feel like I was cheated out of a few O's, though. Wylie and Geldbach should have given me O's. :(

Ah well, my GPA is basically completely immobile. It's gone all the way from 3.6 Freshman year to 3.8 Sophomore year. Wow, what a swing. Still, I'm happy I kept it steady.

But not very happy. I hardly even care. Junior Year is OVER!!!!!

Il Mio Telefonino

Concerning Layla

Silence Before the Storm

Passions

The Value of Listening

The Way Home

New Laws

Belief

Writing in Spanish

Tia Blanca

Familia o Caridad

From Casa Martillo

Perezosos

Piratas Del Caribe

Games for Less

Words and Language

Humanity

Casa La Mission

La Lengua Maya

A Telephone Message

Shopping Mexico

Berta

Mis Fotos...

¡Fiesta a la Piscina!

Camarones

No Good Deed

Mañanas con Manzanas

La Cumbia

Señor Frogs

Baltic Cruise Tips

Drinking Water

Quintana Roo

Chedraui's

Beginner's Finnish