Ridiculous thing: A few nights ago I had a dream entirely in instant messages.
This day has left me weak but overall, all right. After my, um, final exam, David and I went to a club soccer game at the big stadium in Copenhagen. Eric was supposed to come, was asked to *play* soccer for the university team instead, deliberated for an hour, and chose to ditch us. David ran around trying to find other people to go with us, but everyone had (gasp) work to do. So it was just me (exhausted from my panic attack/writing 14 pages about nationalism) and him. And we were running very late by this point.
So we get to the train station, just miss one train, run to another track, and the train is there but the doors are closing. So David jumps on and pries the doors open and I jump over him through the tiny space. Now, the train-monitor man is yelling at us, and he looks in the window like “you guys are crazy” as the train pulls away. Probably because another train would be along in approximately 3 minutes.
The game itself was awesome: Like a college football game, only they sell cups of beer in 5-packs. Most of the crowd was for the Copenhagen team, F.C.K., so there were lots of cheers, blue and white streamers, and singing F.C.K. lyrics to Tubthumping and La Vida Loca. We didn’t know what they were saying, but we tried to sing along. Mostly we clapped along. The halftime show was interesting: Three women in tight leather sang, surrounded by men with (hopefully fake) rifles who knelt pointing at the crowd. That would not go over well in the U.S. … F.C.K. won 3-0.
But the bad public transportation saga continues. I wanted to rent a movie, so we walked to the Blockbuster, and then had to figure out how to get home. We took one bus, and rode for half an hour before realizing it was going the wrong direction. Got off, took another bus, realized after 20 minutes of listening to some drunk guy talk to his bottle of Tuborg about F.C.K. that it was also going the wrong direction. Again David pointed at our location on the map in some unknown suburb. Got off, figured we’d just go the opposite direction, but there was no bus stop for the other direction. Finally after a few blocks we spotted a bus just pulling up to a stop a block away. David was planning to throw himself in front of the bus. Luckily, seeing our all-out sprint, the bus driver waited, probably in shock that two people were so anxious to get on his bus.
So now I have an excellent example of what happens when you are stressed out, distracted and unorganized. I woke up today at 9 and had to physically will myself to go back to sleep. I just didn’t feel like waking up, even though my entire body wanted to be awake. So I went back to sleep. Then I woke up at 11, took a shower, rode my bike to school, as usual. Got to school, started finishing my Kierkegaard paper. Then Eric walked in and was like, “Hey, I didn’t see you at the test.” Yes, yes indeed, I missed a final. I thought it was tomorrow.
Now, luckily I’m at a small school run by unorganized distracted people who understand these things. The academic director gave me a copy of the test and sent me on my way to an empty room. I hadn’t studied, but I had a whole peaceful room all to myself to contemplate the 12 pages I had to write.
New megaphone, btw.
“the water is warm til you discover how deep.” — same U2 CD
Random thoughts: I’m sitting in my room, which I tried to clean last night. I thought it was going to be some impossible task, like it is every time I move. But I got into the familiar rhythm of cataloging everything mentally, remembering that I own it and placing it near similar things to pack. And pretty soon I was done. There’s not much here. I have my clothes, my CDs, and a few books. None of this is mine, and it’s a little unsettling to realize that it’s all staying here. I can’t take Denmark with me. Hmm.
“The future is no place to place your better days.” — Dave Matthews, “Cry Freedom”
Last night was the Eurovision song contest. Now, I dunno if anyone in the states has even heard of it. But here, it’s about as big as the Olympics. If the Olympics only took place for a weekend. Basically, every country in Europe has a contest to find its best pop song. Then those representatives have a showdown, and ordinary citizens from all of the countries vote on each song. Denmark won last year, so the contest was held in Copenhagen this year. Stores were all supposed to be closed Friday for National Prayer Day, but because of all the tourism they were open, illegally. I’ve never heard so much English spoken on the streets. We went out last night to a few bars, and people were crowded around TV sets cheering as they announced the scores. Denmark came in second, to Estonia. Estonia! It’s a funny concept, though… the best song is something that must appeal to *everyone* in Europe. Therefore: maxiumum brainless bubblegum beats.
So the morning was good today, and so was the afternoon… I rode my bike around the city’s fringe neighborhoods and found an awesome, cheap bagel shop. Yay. Then I hung out in a park by a pond and listened to a group of guys play guitar. Had a good discussion with my Kierkegaard prof, too… Found out that Big K says some stuff I wasn’t looking for. My final paper topic is about choices and how we should make them. And Big K says nothing about this. And I was all confused, because people call him the philosopher of choices. And it turns out that he says that individual choices are not important, and in fact you will never know how to make them, nor should you attempt to know. You should just want to know, be concerned about following God’s will, not society’s, and do the best you can. And whatever happens, happens. Then if you made a mistake, you’ll be forgiven.
Today was my host brother’s birthday, so everyone woke up early, and he opened presents right away. The whole house is decorated with tons of Danish flags. Then neighbors came over and they joined us for breakfast: rolls, cheese, sweet peppers, croissants and pastry. And black coffee. We sang their birthday song, which involves pretending to play various instruments that the birthday-ee chooses. Then we sang the American song, just for kicks.
Last night was the most entertaining thing. I went to a concert at my host sibs school, and I thought it was going to be the usual mass of kids singing dreary songs all night. Some of it was — there were three different choruses that came on and sang songs about spring flowers and stuff. But the kids were so cute it wasn’t boring… they were all smiley and blonde and dressed like little trendoids. The other performers, though, got to have more fun: A group of girls came on and sang and danced to ABBA… a few girls sang Billie Halliday, and some kids played as a band — Not a concert band, a rock band. The bass guitarist kid was hilarious. He came down in baggy pants and T-shirt and a knit hat, totally the opposite of the Euro slick look, and made the 3-finger hand sign up to his friends in the balcony. When they started playing punk, he head-banged through the whole thing. The Danes didn’t know what to think. I just wanted to congratulate him after the show, but I didn’t see him. … So after the concert, we came home and my host fam put on ABBA’s gold collection. I danced to “Dancing Queen” and felt so Danish.
“They’re real flowers, we can smoke them afterward.” — alterna-Danish kid at a school concert, all the kids got roses for performing
i wasn’t jumping… for me it was a fall… it’s a long way down to nothing at all… – u2 (still listening to the new cd)
You know what? Sometimes I am much more screwed up than I realize. And so are other people. Why do I put this faith in others when they’re probably just as messed up as I am?
“I have a match: your face/ My asking you questions/ you can’t answer/ You want to box me?” –Barenaked Ladies, “I Know”