#My2009

Nattens Bibliotek asked her readers to sum up the year 2009 in 140 signs or less. I quickly decided that for myself, the most honest way of doing this would be to write spontaneously the first things that came to mind.

I've seen worse, but not often and never for so long. Darkness, coldness and hard times approach but we'll get through #mitt2009

I tweeted it and then looked at it again, realising I'm talking more about politics, here in Sweden as well as global, than anything else.We seem to have lost the balance, lost sight of the point where there's room for everybody. There seems to be a short sightedness in the governmenting, again both localy and globaly, a childish way of ruling as if there was neither a tomorrow nor any consequenses, and that worries me.

Because there is a tomorrow, and after tomorrow there's another day.

Why leave food or cookies out on Christmas Eve?

Do you know why it's done? Is it to bribe Santa, or to say thank you for the gifts under the tree?

Well, perhaps to modern minds it is, but the tradition goes back further than Christmas trees. Way up here in Scandinavia we know that the one we need to please is not Santa, the one bringing the gifts, but the house elf. We know, or at leaste we used to know, that in every house and home there is an elf living. He's the one who blows out the candles we forgot to blow out before we went to bed, he's the one who puts the keys in the middle of the table when we just can't remember where we put them, the one who wakes us just in time to make it if we skip breakfast when we forgot to set the alarm. That is, when he's pleased with us.

He's also the one who hides the keys so well you just can't find them, turns off the alarm, spills the coffee all over the floor, ties your shoestrings together in ten thousand knots when you are in a hurry. When he's displeased with you.

On Christmas Eve he expects you to share your meal with him, both to say thank you for all the good things he's done for you during the year but also to show that you recognize him and admit that he actually is a part of the household.

So for your own sake I hope you left him something to eat?

Christmas Eve

It's over for this year. It was a good day, though the snow is melting away. My family is small, and a little broken, but it's a good family and I love each and everyone in it very much. I got lovely gifts, useful and beautiful and funny things.

Remember, though, not everybody's Christmas is good. Be generouse to the ones less fortunate than yourself.

Skåne in snow

Skåne is still covered in snow, it's been almost a week now. It may seem like a little thing for those of you living in other climate zones but we haven't had this much snow in.... I don't know, but it's beautiful!

Buses don't run, cars slide off roads if the driver is not overcareful, it's cold and snow silent and the nights are as bright as they should be in wintertime.

Hvilan in winter

I took this picture through the window at work today (hence the frame), it was a cold, clear and sunny day today. See how beautiful our apple orchard is in winter! This orchard is a remnant from the days when Hvilan was a boarding school but is widely appreciated by today's students too.

Boom Boom

Speaks for itself, doesn't it?

Angel in Hell

I met somebody the other day, a very nice, gentle person. She asked me about my job, but when I asked her about where she works she hesitated. After a moment she said it, and then asked if that was the end of our conversation. Of course not, a person is not his or her job, but I was curious.

She works in Hell, you see, so of course I asked her why she took that job. These days it might simply be desperation, better a job in Hell than no job at all, but that wasn't it. Instead she'd applied for this job in times when there actually were other jobs available, and her reason for doing so was nothing less than fantastic: By working in Hell she had a chance to make the situation for those forced to live there a tiny bit more humane. By being there she could set an example for others working there, show them that their duties can be performed in a respectful way and remind them that the people in their care are individuals, not a group of lowlifes.

In this there's alot to learn for alot of us. Regardless of which position we are in we always have the choice to treat the people around us with respect, and that makes all the difference.

Room with a view

It may seem as if this is turning into a photoblog. It's not, I promise, but I've just spent two days in a classroom with this here view:

Christmas Tree

Christmas is coming up and regardless of whether we like it or not it's one of the really big and important parts of what makes us who we are. And because of the iconic status of this holiday, statements made during it reaches around the world. In Paris, "French designer Fabrice Peltier used the holiday season to raise awareness to the environmental issues of our time" Go have a look, these are really cool trees, and a great way to reuse plastic bottles!

I don't know where you're going

but you're on your way. Travel safe, dear valuable friend.

For the one slightly obsessed

No lessons

This week I only have two lessons. The rest of the time will be spent on invidiual talks with the students. I'm looking forwards to it, it's an opportunity to hear how they see things, what they as individual need and what they feel they need me to help them with. In short, it's a chance for me to find out how I can be a better teacher for them.

Good times!

Mood swings

I was in a good mood this morning:



but then my teacher came along, indirectly, and my mood changed drastically:



*sighs*

This too shall pass

If I can endure for this minute
Whatever is happening to me,
No matter how heavy my heart is
Or how dark the moment may be-

If I can remain calm and quiet
With all the world crashing about me,
Secure in the knowledge God loves me
When everyone else seems to doubt me-

If I can but keep on believing
What I know in my heart to be true,
That darkness will fade with the morning
And that this will pass away, too-

Then nothing in life can defeat me
For as long as this knowledge remains
I can suffer whatever is happening
For I know God will break all of the chains

That are binding me tight in the darkness
And trying to fill me with fear-
For there is no night without dawning
And I know that my morning is near.

...Helen Steiner Rice

Overcutifying

When a woman gets to be about my age there are certain things she'll gain a lot from realising. One is that things that were cute when she was a teenager, and are cute in teenage girls today, are not as cute in her any longer.

Ending a message with an expression like *huggzies* is cute when a 14 year old girl does it. Turn the numbers around, suddenly it's more annoying than cute, and brings any kind of credability in the sender tumbling down. If a 41 year old woman peppers her workrelated messages with overcutifications (it's a word in desperate need of being coined, so here you go, world! It means trying to create an impression of being younger than you actually are by doing pathetic imitations of the ones who are the age you are trying to imitate) like *giggles* and *perty* and *thinkelinkling* I will have to struggle so hard to take in what she actually has to say, regardless of the lvl of wisdome in it, that I most likely will not do it.

Yes, I am an old cranky woman, and yes of course people are allowed to write how ever they please. At least as long as THEY are willing to take the consequenses of it and do not try to make ME do that.

Not me!

There might be some really small and unsignificant burn marks in a table (or two) and just for the record - I had nothing what so ever to do with that!

Really, I didn't!

Christmas present on Halloween

Today is Halloween. I got an early Christmas present today, too, and I am so happy about it!

In December I'm going to see Eddie Izzard Stripped in Malmö together with somebody I love so much.

Thank you sweet wonderful young man!

Digital communication

I just caught myself hissing like an angry cat at the screen. Somebody sent me some crap that I really don't want to deal with, and in response I hissed.

And then started thinking. I often do things like this, I give the screen the finger when somebody says something that deserves that respons, I curse at the screen, I laugh, I smile, I aaawwww out loud when somebody says or does something increadibly nice or sweet (So I'm not all bad and evil, ok?) The person on the other side neither hears nor sees this, and the cats don't care, so why do I do it?

I'm only half way through this thought, so I have no theory to offer yet. I wonder if others do the same?

Heading home from the second meeting with 'my class'. It's very interesting to be a student, I notice things I normally just walk by. I find myself being very critical, both towards myself as teacher and towards my teachers. Things like structure and correct information matter. It makes a huge difference to know ahead what'll happen, and to be able to trust that what's been said really is what goes.

I also find that it makes a huge difference to have a teacher who makes himself or herself available to the students, and one who's only there in the classroom but very absebt at other times.

I think these reflections will help make me a better teacher. I hope so, at least. What is the most important difference between a good teacher and a mediochre one?

Winterson, Atwood and Woolf

In my mind there's a strong associative link between Jeanette Winterson, Margaret Atwood and Virginia Woolf. I can't really put my finger on it, yet, but I think it's something I'll talk more about once I've had time to sit down and think about it for a bit.

Meanwhile I'll just settle for recommending you to read some of their works, they're all really great writers.

Confusion

When my phone rings it doesn't sound like many other phones around here, and that's, of course, the purpose. For the last few days, though, I've been hearing it going off again and again, even though it's not ringing. Very confusing!

And just now I realised there's a TV commercial that uses exactly the same tune!

Such a relief, I'm not crazy!

Proud teacher

A long day filled with presentations. I'm still in school, have redecorated the classroom where we'll move in on Monday morning, and I'm very tired but oh so proud.

My students this year is so inventive, so creative and so generous towards each other.

Now, homewards bound, just wanted to brag a little first.

Booked book

I have pre-ordered it, I hope it arrives soon. I wish I could ask to have it signed, but Chicago is just too far away.

But who knows, one day perhaps?

Where are my words?

I have so much I want to talk about, that I need to talk about but for some reason I just can't put the words together at the moment!

I'm relieved to know that this, too, shall pass.

Autumn leaves

Autumn is here, the crisp air, the tang of coldness in the morning that is almost, but not quite, a sign of frost. The leaves have not changed, yet, but are not as green as they were only a few days ago. The apples in the applegarden in school are ripe, and students have found them and enjoy them, and in the mornings the sky is so beautiful!



I do like this time of year!

Yikes!

A colleague just shared a Really Creepy Story with me over the 'net, I read it and replied an onomatopoetic 'Yikes!' To further foreground my reaction I made it big and red and underlined it.

It left her totally confused.

She figured it was some sort of abbreviation and tried to decipher it, to no avail. Since it isn't.

Communication is not to be taken for granted.

Is he dying?

I hear rumours that the great nobel savage, the impressive, the strong and mighty and seemingly unstoppable Zakk Wylde is dying, and it breaks my heart. His kids are so young, and his wife - oh she's such a sweetheart and they seem so happy together!

I hope it's just rumours!

Cute as a button!

We were watching Swedish Idol tonight, and the first contestant stole our hearts! Did you ever see such a cute artist? Durna will get my vote, every week, if she goes all the way.

And if she doesn't, guess who'll not be voting even once?

That's how cute she is!

Statistics

According to statistics one out of every 200 will die in this new flu. That'a a little more than one of us in my school.

I'm not happy about that.

Old students

Our students go out into the big wild world and do amazing things, become amazing people and every now and then I come across them again. As I mentioned last week I've spent a few days at a university in a different part of the country. Today one of my fellow students posted this to say 'thank you and see you again in October' and to my suprise I find an old Hvilan student in the video and once again I'm proud to be able to show the world the musical talent of our students:

Student again

So, it's time to go back to school. This year I'm going to study at a teachers' academy again, this time one located +450 km from home.

And now, the night before my uncharmingly early morning train leaves I wonder if this was such a wise move?

*tilt*

The first two weeks of school. Dear darling students, do you feel any hint of the utter chaos going on behind the curtains?

This year is worse than ever for me, I've been working almost non stop for two weeks now, and there's one more to go before everybody's settled in. To a different part of the country I'll go during next week too, oh such a great idea! Silly university, couldn't you have waited one more week? I will need to sit there and look as if I'm not only awake, but am also paying attention. Idealy I would actuall be paying attention too, but I fear my mind will stay with my own students.

This week an extra Sunday would be so welcome!

Morning bus

Morning.

Heading for work.

Walking towards busstop. A middleaged woman in bright red pants is standing there. As I approach, so does the bus. Great!

No, not so great.

You see, the woman in the very red pants does not want to get on the same bus as I, and she's the kind of self centered person who can not imagine that someone else might wish to. So she waves to it to go by. And it does.

With a flick of her hand she cost me 20 minutes.

She said 'sorry'.

I turned my back on her.

Better than the alternative.

I hope she's not there tomorrow. And if she is, I hope she does not try to speak to me.

Missing

I have told you before about how great a teacher Robert Archambeau is, haven't I? He gives us a tiny sample of his enthusiasm and huge knowledge in his his blog post Intention & Accident, Authenticity & Artifice and I thank him for this boost of inspiration only a few days before the students arrive and return to Hvilan.

The Return of the Summer

Only a few days ago the August moon was at its fullest, it was white and bright and lit up the night. It sailed high in the sky, cold and distant. Not much like the huge, near, yellow August moon we picture in our minds when here in Sweden we are talking about the August moon (we actually do just that, with a romantic sigh to set the proper mood).

I wonder if perhaps we shall expect that face of the moon, the one who says goodbuy to Summer and greets Autumn welcome, in September from now on? Weather seems to indicate that, is hot and sunny and dry, just the kind of weather you wish for when it's time to harvest the hay.

Do we have longer summers than we used to have or is it just an old womans failing memory that gives me that idea?

Force of habit

I find myself trying to retweet articles in newspapers, doubleclicking on space to make a full stop and trying to link irl. I'm not sure if I'm getting my worlds mixed up, or if I'm integrating them.

Time will show, I suppose.

I hope.

What's behind the garage door?

I don't own a garage. I don't even own a car (Polar bears, environmental issues, you've heard it, it's for real and I can't bring myself to not do what I can to make the world a better place for my great grandchildren... not what I was going to talk about right now) but if I did own a garage, I would like it to be like this one:



I really like this idea!

Library

This beautiful school has got a new library. It's very small and very nice, and I'm very happy to be able to show it to you:



I hope that in a few weeks it will not only be nice, but also frequented by students who will feel welcome and at home in it.

Dear neighbourhood

Dear neighbours,

There are many different kinds of neighbourhoods. Some are all new and shiny, in some there are huge private gardens with flowers ans things, some are more of the lived in kind, and some rather worn down.

One thing they all have in common, one very important thing, is that in them people live. Adults, old people, children, all ages share the area that is the neighbourhood.

Another thing that makes one neighbourhood different from another is how people in it live. Some areas are very quiet all the time, others sometime. In some there is a constant background of sounds and voices.

Let's be honest, shall we? Silence would not become our neighbourhood. It's much more natural with a certain amount of sound when 600 people share an area this small, so let the kids play, ok?

Qwerty

The keyboard on my phone is a qwerty keyboard. I really like that, so much easier to use!

I'd like to end this post with a quote: "and that was all I had to say right now"

A hint for a Christmas somewhere in the future

This is a book I am really looking forwards to, even if it will actually be titled The Big Boring Book of Aesthetics, or: How Poetics got to Now from Then

Robert Archambeau is a brilliant narrator, and a fantastic teacher. He has a way of sort of casually untangle the most complicated concepts in literature and doing it in such a way that the student, or reader, feels that 'of course, I actually knew that to begin with, I just didn't know I knew'. He’s funny and serious at the same time and still, years and years after I left his classroom, I learn things from his lessons, find little nuggets of gold in the notes that I don’t remember writing and find inspiration in thinking back on how he teaches.

So if I do survive the curse for a yet a few more Christmases, and you find yourself wondering what to give me, you may want to go looking for this book. I’ll be very happy.

Cursed

Standing at the busstop today was a man a few years older than me. When I arrived he stared at me, then walked against me stabbing his finger towards me saying something I could not hear. I honestly think he was cursing me, so if I catch the piggyflu you know why.

I might have misunderstood, of course. He might have been threatening me with violence and murder, or something else much more ordinairy than a curse.

Catching a bus has its hazards!

Allergy

I am developing a slight allergy as I'm growing even older, I realise. Grown up women who, when they want to show off their girlyness, write *giggles* everytime they want to indicate that they are joking give me a rash.

I wish I could be more tolerant, but this habit annoys me.

Tattoo removal

I notice a change in the way people look at tattooes. Today people talk about laser removal as if it was no bigger a deal than it is to erase a word written in pencil, tattoes are fashion and when fashion changes they are removed or possibly covered.

To me, though, a tattoo is something to keep. It's a token of who I was then, sent from me of yesterday to me of today, and of tomorrow. Should I decide to remove a tattoo I feel I should also be removing a piece of what made me me. I'm not saying that those who choose to have tattooes removed or covered up are doing something wrong. I'm just saying that for me that would be like erasing a message from me of yesterday to me of tomorrow.

The old that is strong

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

J.R.R. Tolkien

Today's Sky

I like clouds. Some would go as far as to say I am slightly obsessed with clouds. Some would leave out the slightly from that sentence.



This could possibly be the forerunners of what Swedish media call ‘the Polish Storm’. Yesterday it was nicknamed ‘the Polish Cold Spell’, and we got little house hold tips on what to do while it lasted. Stay in and read, watch TV and that sort of ingenious little ideas. But today it’s been upgraded, in media, to a Storm. With capital S. That means we should Worry. We should not be running out taking pictures of the clouds shouting ‘oh look how pretty it is! Oh how cold and wonderful the wind is!’, instead we should be… I’m not sure, they haven’t gotten around to telling us yet.

I will prepare myself by reading about how Winnie the Pooh and his friends made it through their Windy Day.

Vampire

Twilight may be giving us the Vampire Nouvelle, but I'm an old fashioned girl when it comes to vampires. Rice stands a better chance



And so does Stoker



Do we want to go this way? We may possibly do.

Sunset

We've had a long stretch of clammy hot days, not a cloud in the sky and hardly any air to breath. Then, finally, the clouds that have been hovering over other parts of Europe came to visit us too. Last night gave us this beautiful, silvery sunset


followed by a magnificent thunderstorm and then a full moon lit up the rest of the night.

Today the sun is back, but the clouds are still in the sky shading us at times and keeping the temperature down. Clouds are nice.

A clear mind in the night

I have always functioned better in the night than I do in the day. I'm nicer, I think better, I communicate better, I learn better, I teach better, I do everything better in the wee hours, when the world's asleep. During the years I have thought of many reasons for this: nights are calmer, phones are quiet, neighbours sleep, those few of us awake have time to finish our streams of thoughts and conversations since nobody else claims our attention. Darkness is peaceful and undemanding, unlike daylight that keeps nagging you for action and energy.

Now I am informed that there is one more reason: cold air, it seems, contains more oxygen per cubic measure than warm. Thus, every breath we take during the night contains more oxygen than the breaths we take during the day.

So there's a biological explanation to why I function better at night as well. Who knew?

Too hot

It's too hot to think straight, let alone write something worth reading.

Grim Reaper

He walks around the world, and to him neither money nor fame makes any difference. When the time has come, he collects us and brings us to the next world, to Valhalla, to paradise, to eternity, our next life or wherever we hope he’ll be taking us.

The only thing we can be really sure of is that he’ll come for us one day, that he’s not interested in negotiations whatever filmmakers like to think, and that he knows exactly what he’s doing. After all, he’s been doing it for quite a while now.

On love

Just a few tables away from where I'm sitting. He's so much in love, he smiles at her, at everyone around, at the potted flowers, he’s just so full of smiles. I can see the stars flying around him, I can literally see them flying from his twinkling eyes to her.

There are no stars around her, and the smiles seem forced. When he leans forwards she leans backwards, when he leans backwards she relaxes. It’s like they are choreographed, but not together.

His stars brighten the entire restaurant, but when he gets up to leave the kiss lands on her cheek. He’s still smiling, strokes her hair and goes away, no dances away. He waves from the entrance and is gone. With him all the stars left.

She picks up her phone, dials a number. Her voice sounds tired and a little flat.

I fear this story ends with one heart broken. Perhaps even two.

The Starfish Story

The Starfish Story
adapted from The Star Thrower
by Loren Eiseley (1907 - 1977)

Once upon a time, there was a wise man who used to go to the ocean to do his writing. He had a habit of walking on the beach before he began his work.

One day, as he was walking along the shore, he looked down the beach and saw a human figure moving like a dancer. He smiled to himself at the thought of someone who would dance to the day, and so, he walked faster to catch up.

As he got closer, he noticed that the figure was that of a young man, and that what he was doing was not dancing at all. The young man was reaching down to the shore, picking up small objects, and throwing them into the ocean.

He came closer still and called out "Good morning! May I ask what it is that you are doing?"

The young man paused, looked up, and replied "Throwing starfish into the ocean."

"I must ask, then, why are you throwing starfish into the ocean?" asked the somewhat startled wise man.

To this, the young man replied, "The sun is up and the tide is going out. If I don't throw them in, they'll die."

Upon hearing this, the wise man commented, "But, young man, do you not realize that there are miles and miles of beach and there are starfish all along every mile? You can't possibly make a difference!"

At this, the young man bent down, picked up yet another starfish, and threw it into the ocean. As it met the water, he said, "It made a difference for that one."


This story has appeared all over the web in various forms, usually with no credit given to Mr. Eiseley. Sometimes it is a little girl throwing the starfish into the ocean, sometimes a young man, once even an elderly Indian. In any form it is a beautiful story and one that makes you think.

Loren Eiseley was a anthropologist who wrote extensively. He was the 'wise man' in the story, and he was walking along a beach after a storm and encountered the fellow throwing the starfish back. I have not had a chance to read the original book yet myself but will post more background info here after I do.

Thanks to Dave Navarro for sharing the link.

A dinner party

When I invite people over for dinner I do it because I wish to spend an evening with those people. Because they are nice, and I enjoy sharing my meal with nice people. Simple as that. If some of the guests have allergies, are vegetarians or vegans or for cultural reasons avoid some food I try my best to cook something that everybody can eat, or make a buffet where there’s something for everybody. It’s no trouble, it’s part of the pleasure.

Others see it differently. I called somebody just a few minutes ago to inform the cooking person about that a few of us are vegetarians. Turns out this is very rude, we’re causing the cook all sorts of trouble with this. The special meal that was planned, the fantastic meat and the sauce to go with it, are we really rejecting that?

Well, yes, when you put it like that I guess we are. Sorry. We can bring food for ourselves, if you like. Or would you rather we didn’t come this time?

*deep sigh* nonono, I’ll manage. I don’t really know anything about vegetarian food but… *one more deep sigh*

I feel so welcome to this dinner party now (<--- well hidden sarcasm)

How to win

First they ignore you.
Then they ridicule you.
They they fight you.
Then you win.
Mahatma Gandhi

from Nima

Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose

I miss you so much!

The artist and the Internet

This was originally posted in Swedish, but since I was inspired by and am using quite a lot of the words of somebody who does not, to my knowledge, read Swedish I've decided to translate it and post it again:

The relationship between artist and fan is changing if you haven't noticed, along with the way we consume and experience music and even communicate since the internet arrived.

In the forum on the NIN homepage Trent Reznor, the voice of Nine Inch Nail, talks amongst other things about how the cultural landscape have changed, and still is changing today:

It's been an interesting experiment over the last couple of years or so. Faced with leaving the infrastructure of traditional record labels and figuring out what the right thing to do is in this new world - I found myself realizing that for me to have any concept of how to interact with the community and know what they might want / what they find appropriate, I need to immerse myself in that world and live it for a while.
The reason no record label knows how to market anything to new media is they don't live there. They don't get it because they don't use it. What you've seen happen with the marketing and presentation of NIN over the last years is a direct result of living next to you, listening to you, consuming with you and interacting with you. Directly. There's no handlers or PR people here, it's me and my guys - that's it. There's no real plan, even - it's just trying to do the right thing that respects you the fan, the music, and me the artist. That's the goal - a mutual and shared respect.

Not everybody chooses to follow the same path but it is my belief that the path chosen by NIN and many others is wisely chosen. It's better on so many levels to participate in this new thing, be a part of it and dealing with it from experience and insight rather than desperately hanging on to what no longer is, or even allowing some of all these self proclaimed experts or gurus take command.

Of course there's a price to pay for the intimacy this sort of interacting brings. The world is a huge place and here be all kinds of people, including the ones who may not always be able to grasp the concept of perspective. Reznor tells about people who are unable to fully distinguis between reality and imagination, about people who express anger and hateful feelings due to the fact that he's not the same man today as he was in 1994, and about people who attack the fact that he's in a relation and his girlfriend. Yet, he forgrounds, even if they are both intrusive and stubborn, and sometimes threatening and scary, the only a few of them.

Reznor with NIN, like many artists, writers, musicians etc have chosen to be part of the new social arena. They choose to communicate directly with fans all over the world and generously share both time and other things with their fans. They are rewarded with loyalty, attention and their works, records, books etc, are sold and bring pleasure to many. The artist who chooses to stay out of the arena may achieve some fame as a hermite but accepts the risk of ending up out in the cold, forgotten. Choosing between works from somebody who's generously shared his or her thoughts along the process, replied to questions etc, or the works by somebody one's never heard of most of is would choose the first one.

The world is not out of joint, it has changed. Artists have nothing to loose in getting of the high horses they cannot handle and instead follow in the path of Reznor and many others. It's not that dangerous, and it's worth it.

Stars aligning

Neil Gaiman says on Twitter: I'll be at the Edinburgh bookfest: 19th Aug as kid's author, 20th interviewed by Ian Rankin. Tickets onsale mon 22nd jun

Can I explain how HUGE this is to me? Two of my absolute favourite authors in the world in my favourite city!

Now, how to get there?

a Lovesong For the Internet

I love the Internet. Through it I meet so many wonderful, fantastic, generous, wise, fabulous individuals from all over the world. Sometimes they even send me guitar picks. Today the actual Pick of Destiny arrived in my mailbox, too cool! Thank you, dear friend!

I love the Internet. I honestly believe that all the communication between different people that goes on all the time is the way to peace.

You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one.

Graduation day

So it's over, graduation day has come and gone, and the classes are no more. This is by far the proudest and saddest day of the year in a teacher's life. Those who, only this morning, were still our students have now moved on and are walking paths that will lead them far away from us. I hope they remember to listen to the wind that whispers to them that they'll always have a home at Hvilan.

My class gave me the most beautiful gift one could imagine: a photoalbum with photos of them all, showing their year at Hvilan from their perspective. Thank you!

Manipulative

I am being manipulated. It’s not done with any great level of finesse and is rather obvious. Yet I allow it to happen, I even encourage it to some degree, and I pretend I do not notice.

Does this make me a manipulator too?

My purpose for this deceitful act is simple enough – I’m trying to draw a bit of flak to myself, away from somebody who does not deserve the flak flying his or her way, and is less well equipped to handle it than me. If it works, and neither of the persons involved notice what’s going on, there might be lots to gain for us all.

Thus, I am being manipulated at the moment.

Communicative confusion

Communication is so much more than just the words we use. It’s so much more than body language. It’s so much more than tone and intonation, what we say and what we don’t say.

We did use the exact same words, you see. We used roughly the same body language, which is rare enough in itself. We even looked at each other and nodded in agreement. For a very long time I have been thinking that we did say the same thing.

But then there’s the aspect of culture, of tradition. I forgot about that. No, I’m not being honest. I did remember that, but I didn’t think it was an issue here. I thought, for a long time, that we belonged to the same culture in this perspective.

It turns out, I realised today, that was a huge mistake. While using the same words, on the same occasion, talking about the same thing, we were actually saying opposite things, without knowing it. While I intended to communicate ‘I’m not interested, thanks anyway’ she was intending to communicate ‘I would really like this, please ask me directly!’ And everybody thought she was saying the same thing I was.

On one level this is really cool. On another it’s really sad. On a third is horribly frustrating.

There’s also an important lesson for me here: do not take for granted that just because a person is using the same words you are he/she means the same thing.

Mother's day

My son dedicated this to me, such a beautiful gift!

Emilie Autumn

I learnt to walk in the backstages of theatres and opera houses, amongst the beautiful chaos of costume changes, circus performers, sweaty ballerinas, dripping make-up, and far too much glitter. Then, I went mad and was locked up. What did you think that would sound like?

Emilie Autumn says about her music. The child-prodigy classical violinist grew into a very special artist. She played with Cortney Love on her debut solo album and toured with her for a few years, worked a while with Smashing Pumpkin's Billy Corgan before releasing her own solo album, Ohpeliac, in 2006.

To me Emilie Autumn is the kind of person who is so pretty, so adorably cute, so strong and so vulnerable it breaks my heart, the kind of artist I cannot not love! Her music is funny, rich and elaborate, her way of performing it so light in touch it dances all around the room. Her lyrics are beautiful, poetic and slightly bizarre, she follows the gothic tradition in her choice of themes and sings about death and madness as phenomena rather than as threats.

Give her a listen, I don't think you'll regret it.

Life in a jar

On the very last lesson of the school year the teacher put an empty glass jar on the table without saying a word. She started filling it will colourful balls of different sizes, squeezing them into the jar until no more could fit.

-Is the jar full? she asked the students. Some said yes, some said no. So she took from her bag a bowl filled with sparkling marbles in bright colours, and started putting them in the jar. They fell between the balls, filling the holes and empty spaces between them, catching the light from the sun through the window. She shook the jar and continued to fill it until she could not find room for even a tiny marble.

-Is the jar full? she again asked the students. More said yes, but some still said no. So she took from her bag another bowl filled with soft sand. Carefully she poured the sand into the jar, again shaking it so the sand would fill all the tiny empty holes between the marbles and the balls. She smoothed the sand at the top of the jar, some fell to the table, and for the third time she asked the students:

-Is the jar full? Yes, they said, except one or two who still shook their heads.

-Well, said the teacher, this here jar represents your lives. The balls represent the things that bring meaning to your life, the things you could not take away without changing your life for the worse. They represent family, health, home. Children and friends, food on the table and love. If everything else disappeared and only the balls remained, your life would still be valuable and rich.

The marbles represent the other things in life that means a lot to you. Your hobbies, your workplace, your car for example. They make life colourful and sparkly.

The sand represents all the other things that fill your life, like bills, dentist appointments, horrible neighbours, standing in line and taxes.

Now, if you start by pouring the sand into the jar, and then the marbles, you could not fit all the balls in there. You must always remember to begin with the really important things. If you spend too much time and energy on the little things there’ll be no time for the big, important things. Play with your kids, spend time with your friends, kiss your loved ones and take care of your health.

The students were all nodding in agreement. The teacher now took the last thing from her bag. It was a bottle of bear. She opened it and poured it into the jar where it filled out the last pockets of air between the grains of sands, balls and marbles.

-And remember, she finished, no matter how complete your life may seem there’s always room for a single, nice, cold beer!

What's in a name?

What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet

Shakespeare has Juliet say, lamenting the fact that Romeo is a Montague. A few moments later he will let her know he's there, and the name will be of even less importance to them. For a little while, in the middle of the night, they will be two people, and that is all. Neither Capulet nor Montague, just two young people in love. The play is a tragedy, yet she's so right.

A name does not define a person. Somebody today was being really, truly nervous about the fact that Someone had said the name of the Syrian President Assad could be translated as Beast. This, claimed Somebody, is a warning.

Dear Somebody, it's just a name.

To offer some balance I can tell you that my given name, not the one I've given myself but the one my parents quite optimistically gave me many years ago, translates as Angel. See how little a name tells you about a person?

Adrian Heath

Some of you, who know me away from keyboard, out in real life, might be a bit surprised when you listen to Adrian Heath. He’s a singer/songwriter (see, I told you, not what you’d expect to read about here, but go on, he’s worth it) living in New South Wales in Australia.

His lyrics go beyond the simple storytelling too often found in this genre. The kind of lyrics one could read and reread as poetry, finding more in them each time; a quality further foregrounded by his distinct British pronunciation. The music is soft, often dreamy, yet intriguing enough to keep me interested.

Check him out, I think you might enjoy the experience.

Misunderstandings

Sometimes people totally get things wrong. They misunderstand everything about it, from the very beginning to the very end.

Sometimes that causes disaster. But sometimes, not often but sometimes, it leads to something pretty good.

Time zones

A few months ago, as I was fighting the unavoidable after-holiday-jet-lag, a friend of mine calculated my personal time zone. My mind was to be found in the time zone of Yekaterinburg, it was said.


Today somebody else explained to me that my friend was thinking backwards. Actually, it turns out, if one calculates carefully, my personal time zone is to be found in New York.


Now I’m not only jet lagged, I’m utterly confused about it too.

Tinnitus

The banshee's still far away
her voice lingers beyond today
near is pleasure brought on pressure
all is here and all will stay

Dizzy Lizzy's spinning a dream
lightheaded chaos creating the scene,
needles' dancing neadless prancing
knew so well was all too mean

Eddie Izzard - Brit and American Films

I went to YouTube to look for something tonight. YouTube recommended me Eddie Izzard, who made me laugh again and again. I still haven't found what I was looking for. I don't even remember what it was any longer.

I do know Eddie Izzard is absolutely wonderful.

Power to the People

I was not really going to talk about my job, I had a whole different subject in mind but something came up. So here we go.

Sometimes my students fondly (I hope, at least) call me Darth Vader. It’s because I wear black and appear kind of scary when I sneak up on them when they least expect it, they explain. But there’s more to it. There’s the power too.

In my position as teacher I have huge amounts of power invested in me. I decide what we do, when we do it, for how long we do it. If it pleases me we could spend an entire school year studying adverbials and how to use them. If I choose I could decide that some students have privileges others do not have, and some might have duties others don’t have.

In short, I could be as corrupt as I please, because I have the power to decide who passes and who don’t. I do. And all my colleagues do too.

Therefore one of the most important characteristics in a teacher is humbleness.

I must humbly remind myself that even though I know things the students need to learn, they know vast amounts of things I don’t know the least about. They have done things, seen things, and experienced things that I cannot even dream about.

I must, at all times, remember that I work for the students. They are not there for me, I am there for them. I must constantly remind myself that the fact that I have the power means that I have the power to share it with them, and they have the ability to handle it.

What's in a name?

My screen name – Morrica – was given to me by the person who knows me better than anybody else in the world: me. It’s a name that represents me, rather than the name given to me by birth which represents my parents at that time.

It turns out, however, pronouncing it is not as easy as I think. I have heard many different, very creative, versions. Actually, it’s quiet simple: Do you know how to pronounce Morticia, as in Morticia Addams? Good, just copy the intonation, which seems to be the hardest part, and remember the c is a hard c.

That’s all.

September Mourning

This is a young band from New York worth keeping an eye on, wouldn't you agree? Colourful, interesting, vivid music, rough enough to keep me happy, yet at the same time as sweet and sparkling as youth itself.

Never heard of them? You will! A good start could be to go to their MySpace page! This is how they describe the music they make:

We make music for the light in us all

no matter how small....

the beat down or the forgotten
the broken hearted or the alone
the lost or the scared
the weak or the strong
the loved or the hated
the dreamers......

We make music to give you hope.

Your dreams. Your vision of who you want to be.....

Never give in.

Never give up.

We make music for you.

Sounds beautiful, doesn't it? Here's a sample of what their music sounds like, more to be found, as mention, on MySpace:

The romantic point of view vs the classical

Many many years ago I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for the very first time. It was the first time I saw put into words the cultural crash that I was encountering every single day, and couldn't understand.

I have read and reread the book a few times since then, to remind myself that even if people have a totally different way of seeing the world it is still possible to get along. It's even possible to have a good time together, enjoy things together and love each other.

The Angel

I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?
And that I was a maiden Queen
Guarded by an Angel mild:
Witless woe was ne'er beguiled!

And I wept both night and day,
And he wiped my tears away;
And I wept both day and night,
And hid from him my heart's delight.

So he took his wings, and fled;
Then the morn blushed rosy red.
I dried my tears, and armed my fears
With ten thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;
I was armed, he came in vain;
For the time of youth was fled,
And grey hairs were on my head.

-William Blake

The first post in a new blog

The feeling is similar to the feeling you have the first day of the school year, when you open the door to the class room to greet the new students. Even if you know some of them, perhaps all, it’s been a long time since you last met, and much has happened. Who are they? As individuals, and as a group? And who will you be, with them?

Welcome.