Note to self:
Self, show up early.
I didn't, today. I wasn't exactly late; in fact, I was two minutes on the other side of on time. It's just that all the seats at the tables were taken, so I was left balancing my notebook on my knees, tucking myself under the eaves and trying to find a delicate balance between being able to see and not being in everyone's way.
The gallery seats, as it were, aren't usually completely full until after the course has begun, and today was no exception. To my left and right sat two latecomers, two friends. Their biggest concern was about making sure they signed the attendance list, which the guy to my right, who had it first, took about forever and a half to read (there's nothing to read! It's just a list of names and people's initials!) which for some reason irritated the bloody bijeezus out of me.
Just because you get older doesn't mean you still don't need medication. Yes, I know meds are underperscribed, but these two could've used some. They would not sit still! The remaining 45 minutes or so they were there (typical--didn't stay till the end) they twitched, shifted around, got stuff out of their backpacks, put it back again, got something else, found their water bottle, chatted, drank, ate food, begged food off of other people to eat, read newspapers, talked some more, and basically distracted the hell out of me. And the dude on my left has the audacity to ask me if this stuff is even interesting to me (even though I spent a huge amount of effort just trying to ignore them and follow the discussion I still found it interesting) and the guy on the right kept grinning at me like a maniac.
So, self, learn your lesson and get a spot at the table. Preferably away from the back.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
How to take the tram: A beginner's guide
A thoughtful and useful guide to those unused to German trams.
Step 1: Find your nearest tram station. Helpfully located at frequent intervals, it's a snap to find the tram that's right for you. Check the direction and make sure it stops at the station you want. There is often a handy electronic display telling you when to expect the next tram which, unlike similar displays in Boulder, for instance, actually display to the minute the next arrival, compared to the "+/- 45 minutes" offered by RTD.
Step 2: Wait for the tram. It won't take long, and because it's Germany, the trams are frequent and punctual. At this point all passangers are relatively evenly spaced along the platform.
Step 3: Work your way with determination towards the doors, and try and guess their exact location as the tram is pulling in so as to be closest. Queuing does not exist. Waiting paitiently will get you a perpetual standing-room-only tram experience. Press button to open doors. Forgetting this step leaves one standing, frustrated, as the tram leaves again, without having been able to board.
Step 4: Stand aside as the flood of passangers disembarks. This may be a lengthy process if an elderly person is involved, as they tend to take up the entire door area and move exceptionally slowly.
Step 5: Try and get a seat. It is customary to give up your seat to elderly people, mothers with children, or anyone looking unsteady or who smells funny. In the last case, both seats are usually vacated. If you don't get a seat you will have to stand, and will have to do your best not to fall on people if your driver is particularly energetic. If you have suitcases, large bags, a pram/stroller, or any other large object you will have to stand.
Step 6: At your stop, try to get off. This may be complicated both by mobility-impaired elderly people and non-mobility-impaired elderly people--in the latter case, these individuals will practically run you over, shove you out of the way, and usually hurl a few dirty looks--or in worst case scenario, words--as they depart.
I had the experience of boarding a relatively full tram with a suitcase (35 kg, 70 lbs) and a violin. As it was full and I had lots of stuff I stood next to the door. At the next big station everyone wanted off--I was practically squashed into the wall by the flood of humanity disembarking, and because everyoone had to go around me to get out I had several old people intentionally jostle me on their way out as emphasis to their "you're certainly standing in a stupid place" comment. My options were few--before anyone got off, there was nowhere else to go, and as they were getting off I couldn't well remove myself and my suitcase to allow people to get off, which would be equivalent to the old-lady-with-walker-who-blocks-everything-for-ten-minutes-getting-out. I usually just ignore comments like that but I felt a need to shoot back a cynical "as if I had a choice."
It is a well-known fact that elderly Germans love to be opinionated, and love to share that opinion with you. If you are carrying large objects, anything bulky, and/or anything that would better be transported by car, you may expect sharp observations on how there are "better ways to do things." Note the lack of help offered. Elderly people find it their duty to instruct other people's children in public places, giving them a hard time for laughing too loud or whatnot.
And woe unto ye who adress elderly people with "Hi!" instead of "Good Day."
Step 1: Find your nearest tram station. Helpfully located at frequent intervals, it's a snap to find the tram that's right for you. Check the direction and make sure it stops at the station you want. There is often a handy electronic display telling you when to expect the next tram which, unlike similar displays in Boulder, for instance, actually display to the minute the next arrival, compared to the "+/- 45 minutes" offered by RTD.
Step 2: Wait for the tram. It won't take long, and because it's Germany, the trams are frequent and punctual. At this point all passangers are relatively evenly spaced along the platform.
Step 3: Work your way with determination towards the doors, and try and guess their exact location as the tram is pulling in so as to be closest. Queuing does not exist. Waiting paitiently will get you a perpetual standing-room-only tram experience. Press button to open doors. Forgetting this step leaves one standing, frustrated, as the tram leaves again, without having been able to board.
Step 4: Stand aside as the flood of passangers disembarks. This may be a lengthy process if an elderly person is involved, as they tend to take up the entire door area and move exceptionally slowly.
Step 5: Try and get a seat. It is customary to give up your seat to elderly people, mothers with children, or anyone looking unsteady or who smells funny. In the last case, both seats are usually vacated. If you don't get a seat you will have to stand, and will have to do your best not to fall on people if your driver is particularly energetic. If you have suitcases, large bags, a pram/stroller, or any other large object you will have to stand.
Step 6: At your stop, try to get off. This may be complicated both by mobility-impaired elderly people and non-mobility-impaired elderly people--in the latter case, these individuals will practically run you over, shove you out of the way, and usually hurl a few dirty looks--or in worst case scenario, words--as they depart.
I had the experience of boarding a relatively full tram with a suitcase (35 kg, 70 lbs) and a violin. As it was full and I had lots of stuff I stood next to the door. At the next big station everyone wanted off--I was practically squashed into the wall by the flood of humanity disembarking, and because everyoone had to go around me to get out I had several old people intentionally jostle me on their way out as emphasis to their "you're certainly standing in a stupid place" comment. My options were few--before anyone got off, there was nowhere else to go, and as they were getting off I couldn't well remove myself and my suitcase to allow people to get off, which would be equivalent to the old-lady-with-walker-who-blocks-everything-for-ten-minutes-getting-out. I usually just ignore comments like that but I felt a need to shoot back a cynical "as if I had a choice."
It is a well-known fact that elderly Germans love to be opinionated, and love to share that opinion with you. If you are carrying large objects, anything bulky, and/or anything that would better be transported by car, you may expect sharp observations on how there are "better ways to do things." Note the lack of help offered. Elderly people find it their duty to instruct other people's children in public places, giving them a hard time for laughing too loud or whatnot.
And woe unto ye who adress elderly people with "Hi!" instead of "Good Day."
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Pädigogik
Our word for the day today is Pädigogik, which I believe translates to pedagogy, a word which actually exists but I'd never come across until I looked up the translation.
Main Entry: ped·a·go·gy
Pronunciation: 'pe-d&-"gO-jE also -"gä-, especially British -"gä-gE
Function: noun
: the art, science, or profession of teaching; especially : EDUCATION 2
I find the variation in teaching styles to be quite astounding.
I have one Dozent (instructor) who routinely comes in late for an early morning class, to which everyone else was early. If he wants to start 15 minutes late, he can, it's his class. He then proceeds to spend the next fifteen minutes summarizing the previous lecture (these are lectures, not discussions), including walking us through whatever theoretical steps we convered the last time, making the previous session completely superfluous. If only he published the cliff notes. The bell rings. He keeps going. Five minutes past. Someone from the next class opens the door, realizes we're not finished, closes it. Ten minutes past. If I had a class after this I'd never make it. By now several people have opened and closed the door, eventually sent on their way with an impatient "we're not finished!". Quarter past............. time stretches out........... I try not to check the time every five seconds because it won't help, he'll let us go when he's good and ready....... I'm sure I'm visibly aging by this point......... and then he summarizes his points, carefully, calmly, as if he had all the time in the world.....
The German collegiate system generally works in a way that all upper division classes are seminars, so you get readings, you read them, you come to class, you discuss them, and for one class period per semester, it's your turn to run the session. And you write a research paper, to be handed in sometimes several months after the semester has ended. These presentations, Referate, they're called, sometimes are about summarizing the assigned texts, intrepreting a piece of literature, or sometimes the students plan the entire session and assign the texts as well. And when it's not your turn, you can more or less check out. Till it comes time for the paper.
Literature: you'd expect the presenters to have intrepeted the piece, have questions for the other students, and would attempt to evoke a discussion. Of course, this is university, where most of the kids just read it right before class, and don't even mention having prepared responses. I admit, I'm one of them. I read the story before class started, and came to the conclusion that the story was about mortality of man (when in doubt, guess one of the following: love, death, or if Kafka, failure). Anyways, instead of following the published set of intrepetation questions prepared by the students, the Dozent just jumps in and redirects the conversation.....then goes off on a tangent.....then insists on arguing whether 'communication' or 'interaction' is a more fitting descriptor. Some people have a deepset need to be right. I admit I can be one of them, but I generally know when to let go. Some people have such a death grip on their opinion that the poor thing will be bruised for weeks. We had a story about a guy who found a spool of thread with legs that could talk, with a lurid visual description (no, hallucinogenics are not issued for this class. They must be obtained independently). Someone tried to draw it. It didn't work out. Several more people, eventually including the Dozent, tried as well. The poor kid trying to run the discussion was looking increasingly disgruntled, eventually just letting the Dozent have his tangent. After 1:15 of tangents and rather useless discussion, we came to the conclusion that the story is about the mortality of man. I could have spared myself the hour and a quarter. I was expecting deep and penetrating discussion, a fierce debate about this or the other thing, and instead we went through it paragraph for paragraph and asked, "what happens here? and here? and here?". And in the last 15 minutes, which turned out to be 25 minutes, we tried to cram in an entire other story....hahaha. hehe. he. no.
Another Dozent sits at the head of the classroom, a long, thin, room, and explains theory. Excellently articulate, this particular Dozent has a penchant for the passive past perfect tense (ex. it had been made), a particuarly complicated form involving three verb particles. This Dozent also talks in such..........a way as to leave long breaks towards the end of.........a sentence, which I believe is just an excuse to try and remember which foms of which verbs are necessary (German has a lot of separable verbs with bits that go at the end, and every time you have a subordinate clause, the verbs all go at the end, in varying order depending on if there are two or three of them. Ex. the dog 'that I saw yesterday' would, in directly translated German in past perfect tense, be: the dog, that yesterday been seen had)
The Dozents do participate in the discussions as well. Some of them stimulate thought and comment, and others kill it like an impaired armadillo on the interstate.
Some Dozents are informal. We're all buds, we address one another by first name, and everything is relaxed and laid back. Others are exquisitely formal, even to the point of rediculousness, and I live in permanent fear of addressing them improperly or forgetting a title. And at the end of every seminar session, you knock on the desk in lieu of clapping.
And I got hit on the head by a frisbee. But that's another story. Want to hear it? You just did.
Main Entry: ped·a·go·gy
Pronunciation: 'pe-d&-"gO-jE also -"gä-, especially British -"gä-gE
Function: noun
: the art, science, or profession of teaching; especially : EDUCATION 2
I find the variation in teaching styles to be quite astounding.
I have one Dozent (instructor) who routinely comes in late for an early morning class, to which everyone else was early. If he wants to start 15 minutes late, he can, it's his class. He then proceeds to spend the next fifteen minutes summarizing the previous lecture (these are lectures, not discussions), including walking us through whatever theoretical steps we convered the last time, making the previous session completely superfluous. If only he published the cliff notes. The bell rings. He keeps going. Five minutes past. Someone from the next class opens the door, realizes we're not finished, closes it. Ten minutes past. If I had a class after this I'd never make it. By now several people have opened and closed the door, eventually sent on their way with an impatient "we're not finished!". Quarter past............. time stretches out........... I try not to check the time every five seconds because it won't help, he'll let us go when he's good and ready....... I'm sure I'm visibly aging by this point......... and then he summarizes his points, carefully, calmly, as if he had all the time in the world.....
The German collegiate system generally works in a way that all upper division classes are seminars, so you get readings, you read them, you come to class, you discuss them, and for one class period per semester, it's your turn to run the session. And you write a research paper, to be handed in sometimes several months after the semester has ended. These presentations, Referate, they're called, sometimes are about summarizing the assigned texts, intrepreting a piece of literature, or sometimes the students plan the entire session and assign the texts as well. And when it's not your turn, you can more or less check out. Till it comes time for the paper.
Literature: you'd expect the presenters to have intrepeted the piece, have questions for the other students, and would attempt to evoke a discussion. Of course, this is university, where most of the kids just read it right before class, and don't even mention having prepared responses. I admit, I'm one of them. I read the story before class started, and came to the conclusion that the story was about mortality of man (when in doubt, guess one of the following: love, death, or if Kafka, failure). Anyways, instead of following the published set of intrepetation questions prepared by the students, the Dozent just jumps in and redirects the conversation.....then goes off on a tangent.....then insists on arguing whether 'communication' or 'interaction' is a more fitting descriptor. Some people have a deepset need to be right. I admit I can be one of them, but I generally know when to let go. Some people have such a death grip on their opinion that the poor thing will be bruised for weeks. We had a story about a guy who found a spool of thread with legs that could talk, with a lurid visual description (no, hallucinogenics are not issued for this class. They must be obtained independently). Someone tried to draw it. It didn't work out. Several more people, eventually including the Dozent, tried as well. The poor kid trying to run the discussion was looking increasingly disgruntled, eventually just letting the Dozent have his tangent. After 1:15 of tangents and rather useless discussion, we came to the conclusion that the story is about the mortality of man. I could have spared myself the hour and a quarter. I was expecting deep and penetrating discussion, a fierce debate about this or the other thing, and instead we went through it paragraph for paragraph and asked, "what happens here? and here? and here?". And in the last 15 minutes, which turned out to be 25 minutes, we tried to cram in an entire other story....hahaha. hehe. he. no.
Another Dozent sits at the head of the classroom, a long, thin, room, and explains theory. Excellently articulate, this particular Dozent has a penchant for the passive past perfect tense (ex. it had been made), a particuarly complicated form involving three verb particles. This Dozent also talks in such..........a way as to leave long breaks towards the end of.........a sentence, which I believe is just an excuse to try and remember which foms of which verbs are necessary (German has a lot of separable verbs with bits that go at the end, and every time you have a subordinate clause, the verbs all go at the end, in varying order depending on if there are two or three of them. Ex. the dog 'that I saw yesterday' would, in directly translated German in past perfect tense, be: the dog, that yesterday been seen had)
The Dozents do participate in the discussions as well. Some of them stimulate thought and comment, and others kill it like an impaired armadillo on the interstate.
Some Dozents are informal. We're all buds, we address one another by first name, and everything is relaxed and laid back. Others are exquisitely formal, even to the point of rediculousness, and I live in permanent fear of addressing them improperly or forgetting a title. And at the end of every seminar session, you knock on the desk in lieu of clapping.
And I got hit on the head by a frisbee. But that's another story. Want to hear it? You just did.
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Quatre murs..... Une Chanson de Bénabar
| Quatre murs et un toit |
© Universal Music Publishing / Ma Boutique
Un terrain vague, de vagues clôtures, un couple divague sur la maison future. On s'endette pour trente ans, ce pavillon sera le nôtre, et celui de nos enfants corrige la femme enceinte. Les travaux sont finis, du moins le gros oeuvre, ça sent le plâtre et l'enduit et la poussière toute neuve.
Le plâtre et l'enduit et la poussière toute neuve.
Des ampoules à nu pendent des murs, du plafond, le bébé est né, il joue dans le salon. On ajoute à l'étage une chambre de plus, un petit frère est prévu pour l'automne. Dans le jardin les arbres aussi grandissent, on pourra y faire un jour une cabane.
On pourra y faire un jour une cabane.
Les enfants ont poussé, ils sont trois maintenant, on remplit sans se douter le grenier doucement. Le grand habite le garage pour être indépendant, la cabane, c'est dommage, est à l'abandon. Monsieur rêverait de creuser une cave à vins, Madame préfèrerait une deuxième salle de bain.
Ça sera une deuxième salle de bain.
Les enfants vont et viennent chargés de linge sale, ça devient un hôtel la maison familiale. On a fait un bureau dans la p'tite pièce d'en haut, et des chambres d'amis, les enfants sont partis. Ils ont quitté le nid sans le savoir vraiment, petit à petit, vêtement par vêtement.
Petit à petit, vêtement par vêtement.
Ils habitent à Paris des apparts sans espace, alors qu'ici il y'a trop de place. On va poser tu sais des stores électriques, c'est un peu laid c'est vrai, mais c'est plus pratique. La maison somnole comme un chat fatigué, dans son ventre ronronne la machine à laver.
Dans son ventre ronronne la machine à laver.
Les petits enfants espérés apparaissent, dans le frigo, on remet des glaces. La cabane du jardin trouve une deuxième jeunesse, c'est le consulat que rouvrent les gosses. Le grenier sans bataille livre ses trésors, ses panoplies de cow-boys aux petits ambassadeurs, qui colonisent pour la dernière fois la modeste terre promise, quatre murs et un toit. Cette maison est en vente comme vous le savez, je suis, je me présente, agent immobilier. Je dois vous prévenir si vous voulez l'acheter, je préfère vous le dire cette maison est hantée. Ne souriez pas Monsieur, n'ayez crainte Madame, c'est hanté c'est vrai mais de gentils fantômes. De monstres et de dragons que les gamins savent voir, de pleurs et de bagarres, et de copieux quatre-heures, "finis tes devoirs", "il est trop lourd mon cartable", "laisse tranquille ton frère", "les enfants : à table !".
Écoutez la musique, est-ce que vous l'entendez ?
Thursday, November 09, 2006
Jawohl! / AAAAHHHH
1. Jawohl: Three cheers for what passes for democracy in the States! Finally a democratic house and hopefully senate, as well as good ol CO--I no longer "live" in a republican state!
2. AAAAHHHH: Scandanavian Fairytales
An 8:30 AM class. The professor shows up 15 minutes late. He then spends the next 15 minutes repeating what he said the class before (rather thoroughly, and quite sufficiently, making the previous class completely superfluous). The text we were supposed to have read? He didn't get around to copying it to leave it in a particular office until 15 minutes before that office closed *yesterday*, meaning there was no possible way anyone could have read it. But no worries, it wouldn't have made a difference, because the @#$#%ing text is in DANISH. Written in Gothic script. So even if I spoke Danish I probably couldn't have read it, and I'd have a @#$# of a hard time even if it was in German. Or English, even.
So.....I'm sitting there, feeling like this is a complete waste of my time. He's reading passages in Danish, translating them into German, and trying to put it together into a coherant whole, which is hard because it's an 1819 theoretical justification of fairytales based on the philosophies of Kant and Lessing. But I more or less understood what he was trying to say, not having ever actually read Kant or Lessing though familiar with Critique of Pure Reason and such--and the whole point was that it was a sort of Nietzschean geneological declination from one concept to the next relative concept to the next, eventually arriving where you wanted to go. So the bell rings. I've been counting the minutes, not even bothering to try and follow along in the text whatever he's citing. He keeps talking. Someone opens the door (there *is* another class after ours in this room) and he sends them off. 5 past. 10 past. If I had another class after his I'd be aufgeschmissen (remember your German lesson??). *Finally* he lets us go. I meekly gather my papers and approach his desk.
"Erm...I don't speak Danish. At all. Is there any way to get this stuff in German or am I completely in the wrong place?"
"What languages *do* you speak?" he asks, addressing me informally. I ashamedly mutter something about only speaking English and German. I doubt he would have bothered to find me a French translation if I had mentioned French, so I thought I'd let it lie. Apparently the actual fairytales will mostly be available in translation, so I guess I should keep showing up. Which is good, because otherwise I'd be a course short and it's too late to jump into anything else....
2. AAAAHHHH: Scandanavian Fairytales
An 8:30 AM class. The professor shows up 15 minutes late. He then spends the next 15 minutes repeating what he said the class before (rather thoroughly, and quite sufficiently, making the previous class completely superfluous). The text we were supposed to have read? He didn't get around to copying it to leave it in a particular office until 15 minutes before that office closed *yesterday*, meaning there was no possible way anyone could have read it. But no worries, it wouldn't have made a difference, because the @#$#%ing text is in DANISH. Written in Gothic script. So even if I spoke Danish I probably couldn't have read it, and I'd have a @#$# of a hard time even if it was in German. Or English, even.
So.....I'm sitting there, feeling like this is a complete waste of my time. He's reading passages in Danish, translating them into German, and trying to put it together into a coherant whole, which is hard because it's an 1819 theoretical justification of fairytales based on the philosophies of Kant and Lessing. But I more or less understood what he was trying to say, not having ever actually read Kant or Lessing though familiar with Critique of Pure Reason and such--and the whole point was that it was a sort of Nietzschean geneological declination from one concept to the next relative concept to the next, eventually arriving where you wanted to go. So the bell rings. I've been counting the minutes, not even bothering to try and follow along in the text whatever he's citing. He keeps talking. Someone opens the door (there *is* another class after ours in this room) and he sends them off. 5 past. 10 past. If I had another class after his I'd be aufgeschmissen (remember your German lesson??). *Finally* he lets us go. I meekly gather my papers and approach his desk.
"Erm...I don't speak Danish. At all. Is there any way to get this stuff in German or am I completely in the wrong place?"
"What languages *do* you speak?" he asks, addressing me informally. I ashamedly mutter something about only speaking English and German. I doubt he would have bothered to find me a French translation if I had mentioned French, so I thought I'd let it lie. Apparently the actual fairytales will mostly be available in translation, so I guess I should keep showing up. Which is good, because otherwise I'd be a course short and it's too late to jump into anything else....
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
Scheisse (part II)
This week was better. I understood more of the discussion and more of the questions--I am learning much of the basic and backgrond theories upon which much of my course is based. So I don't feel quite so left behind: however, I will have to present on John Rawls and John Locke, so I better know what I am doing. But theory--reiterating and defending--is not my strong point, even in English, and I sometimes have problems with more abstract and philosophical arguments. If I read carefully, I understand.
Global Developments, the class that starts at 8 PM on the other side of town, is promising to be the most interesting. We had short presentations on books we had read (that was the 400 pages I spent last weekend reading), and I was able to present my bit with no major problems, and actually participate in the discussion. I feel most comfortable in this class, partly because we all speak informally (we address our teacher informally as well), partly because I know the material better than in the other classes, and partly because it is personally the most interesting to me. We are going to Bonn for a week to take part in a seminar, with large contributions from various government agencies to fund our little excursion. I am really looking forward to it, though the preparation is going to be murder (the two weeks previous I have two presentations due).
My Kafka class is also fun, and I can participate meaningfully in this discussion. Reading Kafka itself is enjoyable to me but requires a certain open-mindedness. The stories always have elements of the absurd, and rarely follow typical conventions in writing in that there is not always a relevance of the beginning and ending events, a climax is often lacking, and sometimes the stories just stop without warn--
A typical Kafka story: (translated and paraphrased). Blumenfeld is an old bachelor, and is lonely. He thinks about getting a dog but doesn't want the dog to dirty his house. He comes home one evening to find two small balls bouncing up and down of their own power. The two balls decide to follow him around and dog his steps whereever he goes, making him very nervous. He manages to go to sleep but doesn't sleep well because the balls keep bouncing up and down under his bed and follow him everywhere if he gets up. In the morning he has breakfast in bed so as to not reveal the presence of the magical bouncing balls to the maid. He manages to lock the balls in a wardrobe and leaves to go to work. On his way he sees the dimwitted kid of the maid and decides to give him the key to the wardrobe and the balls and hope that the balls will follow the kid and not chase Blumenfeld any more. He gives the keys to a pair of girls (the kid doesn't understand, as he's too dimwitted) and goes to work. (comment: at this point, your logical rational reader would expect an account of what happens to the magical bouncing balls, if they suddenly attack the kids or something or go try to find Blumenfeld. They are, of course, the absurd element to the story, which would normally have a central role. But no, alas).
At work, Blumenfeld manages a department at a lingerie factory, where he has two interns who have to stand behind their desks all day because there is no room. Blumenfeld campaigned hard to get an intern to help him with his duties, but since his boss hates him he received two interns, both of whom proved worthless and mostly served to annoy Blumenfeld. They always came in late, didn't do work, except when one of them decides he wants to sweep the floor and sets about trying to wrest the broom from the old janitor, who doesn't want to give it up. They get in a small fight and the boom falls on the floor. Blumenfeld yells at them.
The end.
One would have expected the story to be about Blumenfeld as a bachelor, as that is how it started, but it takes completely new twists and turns, and ends up somewhere completely different.
My class on Scandanavian Fairytales seems quite interesting as well, though I have a sneaking suspicion that some of the texts are in Danish--which I don't speak--though the class is listed as being available to students of all departments. We will see; I have to get ahold of the texts today.
In other news, I dyed all of my laundry a nice marine blue the other day, and I still don't know why. It's a lovely color, though, and marine blue socks are just as good as grey ones. It is interesting to see what items took the color and which didn't--I had a turqouise bra in there which did not take the color, but the straps did. It looks nice, I think.
Let's see.... the main contract on our apartment changed so I had to sign a new subletter contract, which reduced my rent by about 20 euros a month, and I am supposed to recieve the difference in what I had paid before and what I should have paid back again. Yay for money.
Since I have enough money to live on I applied for an internship at the Center for Political Education in Freiburg, as I seriously don't have enough to do with my time and hanging out in town just means that I spend money. At some point I will have a @#%#$ lot of papers to write, but whatever.
We have a new fridge! The Great Neighborhood Adventure involved borrowing a car from one neighbor, driving with that car and other neighbors to the friend of said other neighbors, who had a fridge and a freezer and a stove stored in the basement. We had to clean out the basement to get to the fridge, but it is a) working, b) big, c) free, and d) delivered. The neighbors even carried it upstairs for us (we live on the 4th floor).
I went hiking on Sunday, which was gorgeous, up Ravenna Gorge. Just a train ride away...
Sorry, no rotating on the picture.
Global Developments, the class that starts at 8 PM on the other side of town, is promising to be the most interesting. We had short presentations on books we had read (that was the 400 pages I spent last weekend reading), and I was able to present my bit with no major problems, and actually participate in the discussion. I feel most comfortable in this class, partly because we all speak informally (we address our teacher informally as well), partly because I know the material better than in the other classes, and partly because it is personally the most interesting to me. We are going to Bonn for a week to take part in a seminar, with large contributions from various government agencies to fund our little excursion. I am really looking forward to it, though the preparation is going to be murder (the two weeks previous I have two presentations due).
My Kafka class is also fun, and I can participate meaningfully in this discussion. Reading Kafka itself is enjoyable to me but requires a certain open-mindedness. The stories always have elements of the absurd, and rarely follow typical conventions in writing in that there is not always a relevance of the beginning and ending events, a climax is often lacking, and sometimes the stories just stop without warn--
A typical Kafka story: (translated and paraphrased). Blumenfeld is an old bachelor, and is lonely. He thinks about getting a dog but doesn't want the dog to dirty his house. He comes home one evening to find two small balls bouncing up and down of their own power. The two balls decide to follow him around and dog his steps whereever he goes, making him very nervous. He manages to go to sleep but doesn't sleep well because the balls keep bouncing up and down under his bed and follow him everywhere if he gets up. In the morning he has breakfast in bed so as to not reveal the presence of the magical bouncing balls to the maid. He manages to lock the balls in a wardrobe and leaves to go to work. On his way he sees the dimwitted kid of the maid and decides to give him the key to the wardrobe and the balls and hope that the balls will follow the kid and not chase Blumenfeld any more. He gives the keys to a pair of girls (the kid doesn't understand, as he's too dimwitted) and goes to work. (comment: at this point, your logical rational reader would expect an account of what happens to the magical bouncing balls, if they suddenly attack the kids or something or go try to find Blumenfeld. They are, of course, the absurd element to the story, which would normally have a central role. But no, alas).
At work, Blumenfeld manages a department at a lingerie factory, where he has two interns who have to stand behind their desks all day because there is no room. Blumenfeld campaigned hard to get an intern to help him with his duties, but since his boss hates him he received two interns, both of whom proved worthless and mostly served to annoy Blumenfeld. They always came in late, didn't do work, except when one of them decides he wants to sweep the floor and sets about trying to wrest the broom from the old janitor, who doesn't want to give it up. They get in a small fight and the boom falls on the floor. Blumenfeld yells at them.
The end.
One would have expected the story to be about Blumenfeld as a bachelor, as that is how it started, but it takes completely new twists and turns, and ends up somewhere completely different.
My class on Scandanavian Fairytales seems quite interesting as well, though I have a sneaking suspicion that some of the texts are in Danish--which I don't speak--though the class is listed as being available to students of all departments. We will see; I have to get ahold of the texts today.
In other news, I dyed all of my laundry a nice marine blue the other day, and I still don't know why. It's a lovely color, though, and marine blue socks are just as good as grey ones. It is interesting to see what items took the color and which didn't--I had a turqouise bra in there which did not take the color, but the straps did. It looks nice, I think.
Let's see.... the main contract on our apartment changed so I had to sign a new subletter contract, which reduced my rent by about 20 euros a month, and I am supposed to recieve the difference in what I had paid before and what I should have paid back again. Yay for money.
Since I have enough money to live on I applied for an internship at the Center for Political Education in Freiburg, as I seriously don't have enough to do with my time and hanging out in town just means that I spend money. At some point I will have a @#%#$ lot of papers to write, but whatever.
We have a new fridge! The Great Neighborhood Adventure involved borrowing a car from one neighbor, driving with that car and other neighbors to the friend of said other neighbors, who had a fridge and a freezer and a stove stored in the basement. We had to clean out the basement to get to the fridge, but it is a) working, b) big, c) free, and d) delivered. The neighbors even carried it upstairs for us (we live on the 4th floor).
I went hiking on Sunday, which was gorgeous, up Ravenna Gorge. Just a train ride away...
Sorry, no rotating on the picture.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
KYO - Je cours
Faites-moi de la place
Juste un peu de place
Pour ne pas qu'on m'efface
J'n'ai pas trop d'amis
Regardez en classe
C'est pas l'extase
J'ai beaucoup d'espace
Je suis seul
Et personne à qui le dire
C'est pas l'pire
Quand la pause arrive
Je ne suis pas tranquille
Il faut que je m'éclipse
Ou alors, accuser les coups,
Ou dehors
Faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faudra-t-il que je coure
Jusqu'au bout
Je n'ai plus de souffle
Je veux que l'on m'écoute
Plus de doutes
Pour m'en sortir
Je dois tenir
Et construire mon futur
Partir à la conquete
D'une vie moins dure
Sûr que c'est pas gagné
Mais j'assure mes arrières
Pour connaître l'amour et le monde
Faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faudra-t-il que je coure
Jusqu'au bout
Pour connaître le monde
Et l'amour
Il faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
Faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faudra-t-il que je coure
Jusqu'au bout
Pour connaître le monde
Et l'amour
Il faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faites-moi de la place
Juste un peu de place
Pour ne pas qu'on m'efface
Faites-moi de la place
Juste un peu de place
Pour ne pas qu'on m'efface
Faites-moi de la place...
Juste un peu de place
Pour ne pas qu'on m'efface
J'n'ai pas trop d'amis
Regardez en classe
C'est pas l'extase
J'ai beaucoup d'espace
Je suis seul
Et personne à qui le dire
C'est pas l'pire
Quand la pause arrive
Je ne suis pas tranquille
Il faut que je m'éclipse
Ou alors, accuser les coups,
Ou dehors
Faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faudra-t-il que je coure
Jusqu'au bout
Je n'ai plus de souffle
Je veux que l'on m'écoute
Plus de doutes
Pour m'en sortir
Je dois tenir
Et construire mon futur
Partir à la conquete
D'une vie moins dure
Sûr que c'est pas gagné
Mais j'assure mes arrières
Pour connaître l'amour et le monde
Faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faudra-t-il que je coure
Jusqu'au bout
Pour connaître le monde
Et l'amour
Il faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
J'voudrais m'arreter
J'peux plus respirer
Dans ce monde parmi vous
Faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faudra-t-il que je coure
Jusqu'au bout
Pour connaître le monde
Et l'amour
Il faudra que je coure
Tous les jours
Faites-moi de la place
Juste un peu de place
Pour ne pas qu'on m'efface
Faites-moi de la place
Juste un peu de place
Pour ne pas qu'on m'efface
Faites-moi de la place...
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Scheisse...
I've determined the French are crazy. Or dyslexic. Our teacher gave us a poem, une 'slam' (as in 'poety slam') about Paris suburbs. And there's at least ten instances of words being reversed: 'zen' means 'nez' (nose), 'ouf' means 'fou' (crazy). How the @#$% am I supposed to know that? Of course, we spend ten minutes furiously searching our respective dictionaries, giving up in despair. Crazy french.
And per the title: For your German lesson today, we will discuss the words 'scheisse', 'aufgeschmissen', and 'abgeliefert.' Scheisse, as any American knows, is what is yelled upon slamming one's fingers in the door, dropping a heavy object on one's foot, or what one would say on a sinkin ship with no lifeboats. 'Aufgeschmissen,' which literally translates to 'thrown up' but has nothing to do with the porcelain throne, instead refers to a state of being one could describe as 'screwed' or 'F'ed'. 'Abgeliefert' translates to 'delivered' and basically means 'sitting duck.'
You, dear reader, have undoubtably by this point realized it is probably no coincidence that these three words are our subject for the day, and are probably guessing that this won't end well.
The Scene: Seminar on Monday, Political-Theoretical Analysis of the Market Economy and Social Justice.
The cast: professor, presenters, other students, me.
Presenters: so, today we're going to explain the themes from the reading. The three main points talk about the market economy: homo econimicus (perfect theory), the failure of the models to account for the current market system and statistical anamolies, and the social order. We'll also discuss the difference between a minimalist and a socialist state system.
Prof: .......................................? (.... stands for a question I don't understand).
Other students: ................................. (.... stands for a response I don't understand).
Long and complicated discussion follows. Someone says something, I understand the words, and, upon recollection, realize that I recognize the theory to which he is referring. Fukuyama, John Rawls, etc. I know that stuff, more or less. Of course, by this point, three other people have commented and, while I understand the words, I am having problems following the discussion. The prof asks questions of the presenters, questions I wouldn't have been able to answer though I (thought I had) understood the texts. I hope it gets better, otherwise I'm going to have a problem.
Scene: Seminar for Politics of Global Development. Takes place at 8 PM on the other side of the city. Was cancelled last week. As I had recieved neither an acceptance nor a declination for attendance, I just showed up--to find that I was welcome to take part of the class, but that I would have a week to read a book and write a report, I would have to finish a 25 page paper, pay 142 euros for a week-long trip to Bonn, complete a 30 minute presentation and find my own lit for the class. But the topics are really interesting, and most of them are things I ran across in the course of my MUN research--I have had the MDGs (milennium development goals) as a topic at least in some form or another every conference. I've written pospapers on good governence, education, clean water, all sorts of stuff.
But otherwise, I have the feeling of being somewhat out of my depth. These are, after all, master's classes in German. I know a lot of the theories and concepts in English, but translating them is not as easy as I thought--if I had to explain Hobsbawn in German I'd have a problem, even though I actually theoretically know what I'm talking about.
To remedy my ignorance I wanted to attend the intro to politics lectures, but they all happen at the same time as each other and at the same time as a market economy and social justice lecture that I think would really help my seminar. Assuming, of course, I would actually find the room.
So, don't know yet if I'm screwed. But my feeling of having nothing to do all morning will disappear as I have to read all this stuff for all of these classes. I'm going to see what I can get done today (national holiday!).
Last weekend I went to Bonn, and it was great, actually. I had the feeling they were presenting the topics to the wrong audience (the 'intro to german higher education system' was definately old hat to the group of 70-odd North Americans in their second or third week of classes. Likewise was the info on health insurance and registration relatively irrelevant). But we got to meet other people, other students, all in the same boat, more or less. DAAD provided a generous buffet dinner on a ship (we did a nice night cruise on the Rhine) and we went to a bar and sat on the terrace afterwards, just talking and getting to know one another.
It was also nice to see the experiences a lot of the students brought with. OF course, there were some people 'fresh off the boat', as it were, with little to no German and stille xcited about little things. But there were also kids who had been on exchange or lived in DE and spoke excellent German. That is, of course, quite good for me to see, so I don't get such a swelled head about my German. Frankly I'm used to the compliments about my lack of accent--but it's good to see I'm not the only foreigner with good language abilities. I don't need to act so superior about it :). Now that I know people I'm going to have to do a number of weekend trips and visit some of my new friends.
At the conference I made a point of being exta outgoing (yes, me. You sound surprised. I was too). I went up and introduced myself to bascially everyone I could find, and the usual 'whoareyouwhereareyoufromwhereareyou- studyingandwhatanddoyoulikeit andhowlongha- veyoubeeningermanyanddidyougettotravel?' can carry us through the initial awkwardness. I hate meeting people--it's hard to talk to complete strangers--but I hate even more standing there awkwardly and not talking, and once we've been introduced I like talking to people. So I brought out my conference face, and between my determination to get to know people and the six or eight cups of coffee I was slugging it worked out pretty well.
And I absolutely love Freiburg. As a student city it couldn't be better--there is always a ton of stuff to do, tons of offers from the international office, trips, excursions, theater, movies (independant and regular cinema), bars, clubs, parties, people, concerts, art shows, hiking, sports, cafes (!). I, for once in my life, actually has something that passes for a social life. Of course, not going to bed at 1 or later still doesn't mean I sleep longer, but oh well....
Time for Kafka. I wouldn't be surprised if that leaves me 'aufgeschmissen' as well...
And per the title: For your German lesson today, we will discuss the words 'scheisse', 'aufgeschmissen', and 'abgeliefert.' Scheisse, as any American knows, is what is yelled upon slamming one's fingers in the door, dropping a heavy object on one's foot, or what one would say on a sinkin ship with no lifeboats. 'Aufgeschmissen,' which literally translates to 'thrown up' but has nothing to do with the porcelain throne, instead refers to a state of being one could describe as 'screwed' or 'F'ed'. 'Abgeliefert' translates to 'delivered' and basically means 'sitting duck.'
You, dear reader, have undoubtably by this point realized it is probably no coincidence that these three words are our subject for the day, and are probably guessing that this won't end well.
The Scene: Seminar on Monday, Political-Theoretical Analysis of the Market Economy and Social Justice.
The cast: professor, presenters, other students, me.
Presenters: so, today we're going to explain the themes from the reading. The three main points talk about the market economy: homo econimicus (perfect theory), the failure of the models to account for the current market system and statistical anamolies, and the social order. We'll also discuss the difference between a minimalist and a socialist state system.
Prof: .......................................? (.... stands for a question I don't understand).
Other students: ................................. (.... stands for a response I don't understand).
Long and complicated discussion follows. Someone says something, I understand the words, and, upon recollection, realize that I recognize the theory to which he is referring. Fukuyama, John Rawls, etc. I know that stuff, more or less. Of course, by this point, three other people have commented and, while I understand the words, I am having problems following the discussion. The prof asks questions of the presenters, questions I wouldn't have been able to answer though I (thought I had) understood the texts. I hope it gets better, otherwise I'm going to have a problem.
Scene: Seminar for Politics of Global Development. Takes place at 8 PM on the other side of the city. Was cancelled last week. As I had recieved neither an acceptance nor a declination for attendance, I just showed up--to find that I was welcome to take part of the class, but that I would have a week to read a book and write a report, I would have to finish a 25 page paper, pay 142 euros for a week-long trip to Bonn, complete a 30 minute presentation and find my own lit for the class. But the topics are really interesting, and most of them are things I ran across in the course of my MUN research--I have had the MDGs (milennium development goals) as a topic at least in some form or another every conference. I've written pospapers on good governence, education, clean water, all sorts of stuff.
But otherwise, I have the feeling of being somewhat out of my depth. These are, after all, master's classes in German. I know a lot of the theories and concepts in English, but translating them is not as easy as I thought--if I had to explain Hobsbawn in German I'd have a problem, even though I actually theoretically know what I'm talking about.
To remedy my ignorance I wanted to attend the intro to politics lectures, but they all happen at the same time as each other and at the same time as a market economy and social justice lecture that I think would really help my seminar. Assuming, of course, I would actually find the room.
So, don't know yet if I'm screwed. But my feeling of having nothing to do all morning will disappear as I have to read all this stuff for all of these classes. I'm going to see what I can get done today (national holiday!).
Last weekend I went to Bonn, and it was great, actually. I had the feeling they were presenting the topics to the wrong audience (the 'intro to german higher education system' was definately old hat to the group of 70-odd North Americans in their second or third week of classes. Likewise was the info on health insurance and registration relatively irrelevant). But we got to meet other people, other students, all in the same boat, more or less. DAAD provided a generous buffet dinner on a ship (we did a nice night cruise on the Rhine) and we went to a bar and sat on the terrace afterwards, just talking and getting to know one another.
It was also nice to see the experiences a lot of the students brought with. OF course, there were some people 'fresh off the boat', as it were, with little to no German and stille xcited about little things. But there were also kids who had been on exchange or lived in DE and spoke excellent German. That is, of course, quite good for me to see, so I don't get such a swelled head about my German. Frankly I'm used to the compliments about my lack of accent--but it's good to see I'm not the only foreigner with good language abilities. I don't need to act so superior about it :). Now that I know people I'm going to have to do a number of weekend trips and visit some of my new friends.
At the conference I made a point of being exta outgoing (yes, me. You sound surprised. I was too). I went up and introduced myself to bascially everyone I could find, and the usual 'whoareyouwhereareyoufromwhereareyou- studyingandwhatanddoyoulikeit andhowlongha- veyoubeeningermanyanddidyougettotravel?' can carry us through the initial awkwardness. I hate meeting people--it's hard to talk to complete strangers--but I hate even more standing there awkwardly and not talking, and once we've been introduced I like talking to people. So I brought out my conference face, and between my determination to get to know people and the six or eight cups of coffee I was slugging it worked out pretty well.
And I absolutely love Freiburg. As a student city it couldn't be better--there is always a ton of stuff to do, tons of offers from the international office, trips, excursions, theater, movies (independant and regular cinema), bars, clubs, parties, people, concerts, art shows, hiking, sports, cafes (!). I, for once in my life, actually has something that passes for a social life. Of course, not going to bed at 1 or later still doesn't mean I sleep longer, but oh well....
Time for Kafka. I wouldn't be surprised if that leaves me 'aufgeschmissen' as well...
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