No, no, no.
After a very tumultous weekend starting wonderfully and ending not so wonderfully, I was back in town, ready to start working on the biggest exam up till this day which is to take place on Friday. I've never seen this much information before, and I just don't understand how it's supposed to be done. But that's another issue. Because the problem now is;
I'm sick. I realized it in the library when I couldn't focus my eyes, kept sneezing and shivered. I got home, checked my temperature - et voilà! There it was. The highest one I've had in probably a year, doesn't say much because I'm very rarely sick.
The problem now is how to get rid of this horrible and uncomfortable obstacle. I have to stay focused like 12 hrs a day this week in order to learn all that has to be learnt. And with a barrier of highly unpleasant things in my sinuses, it's pretty darn hard.
Why is it, that the one time that a cold can't affect you, it does? Usually my colds happen right after I'm finished with something, not right before. Maybe somebody higher up there is trying to tell me something, I don't know. I just know that this week can alter my life forever, or actually it will. And with that notion, being under the weather is not desired.
måndag 15 oktober 2007
söndag 7 oktober 2007
Ave Verum Corpus
This post is about a song that we sung in church yesterday. My choir participates in Sunday mass four times a year, and this week was one of them. I love this piece to death, and to be able to sing it with a choir that I've aspired to be for so long, was almost surreal. We also only had to rehearse it twice before we did it infront on an audience becuase these people are amazing!
I think it's interesting that this is Mozart. It's written so long ago, and still it makes my hair rise, and my eyes fill with tears. (A little troublesome as I was singing it myself) My whole day was altered because of it yesterday. It brings out somethings in me and makes me contemplate all those big things that I can't really govern.
Listen to it and marvel along with me.
I think it's interesting that this is Mozart. It's written so long ago, and still it makes my hair rise, and my eyes fill with tears. (A little troublesome as I was singing it myself) My whole day was altered because of it yesterday. It brings out somethings in me and makes me contemplate all those big things that I can't really govern.
Listen to it and marvel along with me.
lördag 6 oktober 2007
Work
Like school wasn't enough, I also work every Saturday. I sell bread to people with the means to spend a little too much on their breakfast, and I make about 20 cappuccinos and 40 lattes a day (the number has decreased since I changed shops) and I'm "flight attendant" nice, dressed in a ridiculous head-scarf-thingy that makes my hair look like I've sat through three electrocutions by the end of the day.
But work is work, work is money, money is good, useful and very important right now. So, what to do? I have to get up on Saturday mornings, pray that it won't rain when I bike to work, and then, that I like the person working with me that day. Since my shift is 9.5 hrs long - a co-worker that I don't get along with is hopeless.
Today, nothing was right. I was tired, I should've studied all day since I have a big thing in school on Monday, and I had pain all over my body after, well, I don't know. It just hurt. I got to work and found that nobody was there yet which meant that my favorite collegue wasn't the one to accompany me today. The person who did show up wasn't horrible, but we just don't have much in common.
Then, things started to go wrong. First of all the bread didn't show up when and where it's supposed to. So instead of having about half an hour to upack and get stuff in order, we had 15 minutes which is waay too short, and we had to transport it all the way from the garage via an elevator. Then, it turned out they'd sent us all the wrong quantaties and some things they hadn't sent at all. So of course we had to call and complain and all that wonderful stuff.
And then, the day passed. Not too much to do, a few rushes, head aches and screaming kids around. I tried to study some during my 30 minutes' lunch break at 3pm, but that didn't really happen.
Then came the time for clean-up start (starts about two hours before closing). We've learnt that if you're efficient, you can get out of the store at least 20 minutes before you're scheduled to. So we did all we could, arranged the bread, cleaned everything and got ready for a possible last hour sale. (we do that in case we have too much bread) Everything is where it's supposed to be, and we're calm.
But then, it happens. The boss calls and says that we have to take bread from another store that doesn't do the sale. We tell him we already have waaay too much, but he doesn't care. And suddenly the little sale area looks like 3 hrs ago. Nothing is where it's supposed to be, and we're pancing.
But we managed to get rid of mostly everything, although it was the worst last hour ever. Then, came the time to count the money, which I hate because I feel like I'll ge robbed every second, and it's hard to keep your mind straight after 9 hrs of work. Of course there was a deficiency.. SO, we had to count again, and again, and again. And despite our efforts of getting ready early, we got out just as late as we were scheduled to.
And then.. I get home and my parents are hosting a dinner party. Time to move out? oh yeah..
But work is work, work is money, money is good, useful and very important right now. So, what to do? I have to get up on Saturday mornings, pray that it won't rain when I bike to work, and then, that I like the person working with me that day. Since my shift is 9.5 hrs long - a co-worker that I don't get along with is hopeless.
Today, nothing was right. I was tired, I should've studied all day since I have a big thing in school on Monday, and I had pain all over my body after, well, I don't know. It just hurt. I got to work and found that nobody was there yet which meant that my favorite collegue wasn't the one to accompany me today. The person who did show up wasn't horrible, but we just don't have much in common.
Then, things started to go wrong. First of all the bread didn't show up when and where it's supposed to. So instead of having about half an hour to upack and get stuff in order, we had 15 minutes which is waay too short, and we had to transport it all the way from the garage via an elevator. Then, it turned out they'd sent us all the wrong quantaties and some things they hadn't sent at all. So of course we had to call and complain and all that wonderful stuff.
And then, the day passed. Not too much to do, a few rushes, head aches and screaming kids around. I tried to study some during my 30 minutes' lunch break at 3pm, but that didn't really happen.
Then came the time for clean-up start (starts about two hours before closing). We've learnt that if you're efficient, you can get out of the store at least 20 minutes before you're scheduled to. So we did all we could, arranged the bread, cleaned everything and got ready for a possible last hour sale. (we do that in case we have too much bread) Everything is where it's supposed to be, and we're calm.
But then, it happens. The boss calls and says that we have to take bread from another store that doesn't do the sale. We tell him we already have waaay too much, but he doesn't care. And suddenly the little sale area looks like 3 hrs ago. Nothing is where it's supposed to be, and we're pancing.
But we managed to get rid of mostly everything, although it was the worst last hour ever. Then, came the time to count the money, which I hate because I feel like I'll ge robbed every second, and it's hard to keep your mind straight after 9 hrs of work. Of course there was a deficiency.. SO, we had to count again, and again, and again. And despite our efforts of getting ready early, we got out just as late as we were scheduled to.
And then.. I get home and my parents are hosting a dinner party. Time to move out? oh yeah..
fredag 5 oktober 2007
On the art of figuring stuff out
When you’re little, you hear people telling you that you’re going to, at one point in your life, try to figure out what life is. Not only that but more importantly; why it is. This chain of thoughts supposedly comes along with puberty. You are, according to biology, going to be trying to figure out who you are, and along with that, the inevitable question; why you are.
When I was 14, I had heard all of this a million times, and I was waiting for the teenage depression to kick in. I suppose I did dwell a little bit over who I was, mostly related to what clothing style was the right one for that month, or whether Leonardo Di Caprio was more handsome than Josh Hartnett or vice versa. And when I so turned 19, had gone through all of the adolescent musts and become a well-equipped woman, I thought I was done. I patted my own back, shook hands with myself and said “Good Game”. Just some light eating disorder and a couple of stress related allergy shocks, and that was it. I’d gone through it all without any major damage on neither my parents nor myself.
But so came the months after high school graduation including the anniversary of my class mate’s death and the time to decide what to make of the life I was leading. And BAM, enter dwelling. No, I did not embark on the teenage depression when I was supposed to, and maybe that’s why these questions come back to haunt me now. Too late in life, when I’m supposed to be through with all this, and nobody will understand me. Who am I and why the heck am I here?
I’ve also always been told that the years of high school are the best in one’s life. No real responsibilities, just study and play. Well, I didn’t believe people who said that. Because, honestly, I didn’t think it was all that fun. I was just stressing out about not learning all the stuff that I really could be learning had we used a different book or had another teacher. Thinking that I probably wasn’t that smart, since we would always get an easier test than N3b, and I would surely enough not be a straight A student had I ended up somewhere else. It’s not until now that I get it. And now it’s too late to enjoy what I once had.
So what if the rest of my life will only be about this. About stressing out about wondering why I am? What if I’ll always just long for the next thing to start, never be happy in the moment? I’m scared out of my wits of this. And it’s not OK.
When I was 14, I had heard all of this a million times, and I was waiting for the teenage depression to kick in. I suppose I did dwell a little bit over who I was, mostly related to what clothing style was the right one for that month, or whether Leonardo Di Caprio was more handsome than Josh Hartnett or vice versa. And when I so turned 19, had gone through all of the adolescent musts and become a well-equipped woman, I thought I was done. I patted my own back, shook hands with myself and said “Good Game”. Just some light eating disorder and a couple of stress related allergy shocks, and that was it. I’d gone through it all without any major damage on neither my parents nor myself.
But so came the months after high school graduation including the anniversary of my class mate’s death and the time to decide what to make of the life I was leading. And BAM, enter dwelling. No, I did not embark on the teenage depression when I was supposed to, and maybe that’s why these questions come back to haunt me now. Too late in life, when I’m supposed to be through with all this, and nobody will understand me. Who am I and why the heck am I here?
I’ve also always been told that the years of high school are the best in one’s life. No real responsibilities, just study and play. Well, I didn’t believe people who said that. Because, honestly, I didn’t think it was all that fun. I was just stressing out about not learning all the stuff that I really could be learning had we used a different book or had another teacher. Thinking that I probably wasn’t that smart, since we would always get an easier test than N3b, and I would surely enough not be a straight A student had I ended up somewhere else. It’s not until now that I get it. And now it’s too late to enjoy what I once had.
So what if the rest of my life will only be about this. About stressing out about wondering why I am? What if I’ll always just long for the next thing to start, never be happy in the moment? I’m scared out of my wits of this. And it’s not OK.
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