Hello world,
Just a small foto test in preparation of the USA holiday!!!
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
The Mirror
Regular (even though the term regular is per definition not applicable by sheer vice on my side of not posting regularly) readers of my blog will have noticed that I have not posted for a while. In saying that I assume that there are people who still check if I post; strangely I found out that this is the case, as I talked to someone today who claimed to do just that. I promised her to write a blog, and I would hate to break my promise. Anyways, the reason that I did not blog in such a long time is quite simply, being a simple result of a vast number of complex underlying triggers or lack of triggers. I simply had no inspiration to write a blog. My life here has become predicable. I could give you a list of what my day looks like:
When I wake up I try to estimate the time. After short consideration, I either continue to sleep or take a look at my cellphone, which functions as alarm clock. Needless to say that no alarm is set, as I have no classes or anything for which I should be out of bed before noon. Normally I tell myself the night before "Okay, you're going to read some articles in the morning" and every morning I think "Aw screw it". By the time I get out of bed, I take a look at my computer, and wake up with some family guy or american dad. Apart from some skype conversations or activities which involve meeting people in person, an average day would be spent with some more family guy, reading a little Murakami, solving the rubik's cube a bit too often, and playing a level of Ninja gaiden 2 for the xbox 360. Also, I know Brahms 3rd piano sonata a little to well by now, as well as Beethoven's piano concertos.
Even I think this is getting to emo, so I have stopped describing a day. I presume that people will understand that not everyday is like this, but far to many of them are.
-----
The main character in Murakami's book "A wilde sheep chase", discovers a mirror in the house where he is staying at a certain point late in the story . It is the last piece of furniture that he discovers and the only one not cleaned very well. He must have overlooked it before. He decides to clean it. After some arguments of inner monologue he decides that it is not quite certain that we are driven by our own will or what we consider to be our own actions. It could be that we are simply forced to comply with what happens on the other side of the mirror. This person on the other side and the world on the other side of the mirror may be very different from our own...
I myself figured it might be worth to take a look in the mirror. It will be likely that I will be staying in Glasgow at least till June 1. That is about a month and a half, very similar to the time-span of the first series of blogs. I will take a look in the mirror of these blogs and see what I find. In this blog you have already witnessed my rather passive attitude, which I hope to change soon. Even if it is just my imagination that makes ordinary things ever so slightly more exciting, it makes things so much more fun. Enough meta-blogging then, in the hereafter following blogs I will return to my old weird-not-so-interesting-events-turned-slightly-more-interesting-by-adding-some-strange-elements-to-them-style event witness blogging. Hope you enjoy.
Next time on Glasgow chronicle:
- The guy with just one hobby
"I still don't believe he claims I am to interested in too many things; surely he does not have just this one hobby"
Monday, 27 October 2008
Seeing it, sometimes, for a moment (Zien, soms even).
My mother showed me her thesis once, or at least I think it was her thesis. I did not read it at the time but I do remember a part of the title: "Zien, Soms Even" (which I poorly translate into English with: Seeing it, sometimes, for a moment). I think she refers to the feeling that only lasts just a little while, the lucid feeling of lines of thought that synchronise completely with a text you are reading; the abstract tangent of your thoughts touching the one of the author, making everything fit for a moment. The feeling that when you try to follow a line of thinking in a text by someone you hold in much higher esteem than yourself you succesfully predict the next step along the line. An amazing feeling of understanding at which you arrive only for a little while. Similarly, such a feeling can from time to time enter our heads - perhaps enter is a very strange word to choose as the question arises where they come from, to which the answer surely is from inside - in an everyday situation. From time to time we feel good, not worrying about a thing we leap into discussions because we think that we're on top of the world, that no one can touch us. What I'm trying to describe are the moments that we think we can clearly oversee our believes and stanpoints, our philosophies and what not. At this very moment, I do not feel this momentum or feeling which I attempt to convey above. Quite the opposite, I feel like I lost the ability to see all the beauty in nature, a believe very important to me. Which is not to say that I'm feeling sad, no not necessarily. Just empty. I feel as if my imagination is not working and things do not really make that much sense to me. I'm on auto-pilot, just living breathing, eating, trying to be social and so on and so forth. Maybe I should just read more, try to activate my creative faculty by mimicking other people's ones.
Saturday I had a slightly different feeling, an feeling of emersion, I did not feel I could "see everything" as described above, but I had a feeling of being caught in a textworld for a moment. It was pouring rain from the sky all day. I wanted to buy some books for my studies and some for my personal collection. I had been told before that the bookshops in the citycenter did not have any books that were not on my list, but I had a real urge to go there anyway and perhaps buy a book by murakami. It was about 4 pm when I accepted the fact that it was going to rain all day. So, I put on my newly acquired waterproof shoes on (thanks dad), and a very cheap rain jacked hoping they would keep me dry. Well, I can say the shoes work, my feet were warm and dry; as for the jacket, let's just say I need a new waterproof coat. Once arrived at the bookshop I was pleasantly surprised by the variety of books they had to offer. I ended up buying 6 books, most of which I would have bought at some point in my life anyway: James Joyce's Ulysses, I always wanted to read the rest of the book (we read a couple of chapters in a course on modernism), so I figured that it would be quite useless to wait to buy it; Plato's republic; John Milton's Paradise lost; and three books by Murakami. At the check-out counter the lady behind it mentioned that it was quite a lot, at which I replied with that the books are so cheap here compared to the Netherlands that I just had to buy them. We had some small talk about the Netherlands, waiting for the pin- machine to work. I really have to say that people are very nice here in Glasgow, even though the rain tends to be quite depressing, to me at least. It is these kind people who keep me from becoming depressive I suppose. My urge to take a look at the books, and perhaps even start one took over about 1 minute after I left the bookshop. I decided to go into the starbucks and sit and read there. I took a seat at a window of which the inside was all foggy because of the humidity in the air inside. I tried to wipe it but the fog soon returned. I could only see bright coloured lights coming through the watery shade. The book I was most curious about was a book by murakami. I started reading it and was very absorbed just after reading the first page. I felt as if I was soon part of the story. The neon lights of the entertainment district in tokyo remembered me of the lights I had seen in Tokyo the time I was there. After reading on I could feel the story come to life, time passing by unawarily. When looked up, I could not be sure where I was; just for a split second, the vague lights outside were the lights of the tokyo entertainment district. But not long thereafter, I was kicked back into reality and I saw on my watch it was time to go.
Saturday I had a slightly different feeling, an feeling of emersion, I did not feel I could "see everything" as described above, but I had a feeling of being caught in a textworld for a moment. It was pouring rain from the sky all day. I wanted to buy some books for my studies and some for my personal collection. I had been told before that the bookshops in the citycenter did not have any books that were not on my list, but I had a real urge to go there anyway and perhaps buy a book by murakami. It was about 4 pm when I accepted the fact that it was going to rain all day. So, I put on my newly acquired waterproof shoes on (thanks dad), and a very cheap rain jacked hoping they would keep me dry. Well, I can say the shoes work, my feet were warm and dry; as for the jacket, let's just say I need a new waterproof coat. Once arrived at the bookshop I was pleasantly surprised by the variety of books they had to offer. I ended up buying 6 books, most of which I would have bought at some point in my life anyway: James Joyce's Ulysses, I always wanted to read the rest of the book (we read a couple of chapters in a course on modernism), so I figured that it would be quite useless to wait to buy it; Plato's republic; John Milton's Paradise lost; and three books by Murakami. At the check-out counter the lady behind it mentioned that it was quite a lot, at which I replied with that the books are so cheap here compared to the Netherlands that I just had to buy them. We had some small talk about the Netherlands, waiting for the pin- machine to work. I really have to say that people are very nice here in Glasgow, even though the rain tends to be quite depressing, to me at least. It is these kind people who keep me from becoming depressive I suppose. My urge to take a look at the books, and perhaps even start one took over about 1 minute after I left the bookshop. I decided to go into the starbucks and sit and read there. I took a seat at a window of which the inside was all foggy because of the humidity in the air inside. I tried to wipe it but the fog soon returned. I could only see bright coloured lights coming through the watery shade. The book I was most curious about was a book by murakami. I started reading it and was very absorbed just after reading the first page. I felt as if I was soon part of the story. The neon lights of the entertainment district in tokyo remembered me of the lights I had seen in Tokyo the time I was there. After reading on I could feel the story come to life, time passing by unawarily. When looked up, I could not be sure where I was; just for a split second, the vague lights outside were the lights of the tokyo entertainment district. But not long thereafter, I was kicked back into reality and I saw on my watch it was time to go.
Tuesday, 7 October 2008
Tastes, smells and panties. Little good news in this blog.
Three Teaspoons of Raspberry Jam
Exactly one week ago I woke up in the morning with the most terrible taste in my mouth that I had in a long while. It was Tuesday morning, so I had class at 10 and again at 12. I woke up even before my alarm went of though, and it was certainly not because I had a blessed night sleep. The bitterness of the taste was teasing any other thoughts out of place so I decided to try to fix it. As I went into the kitchen, I noticed my coordination still was not as it was supposed to be. In addition I could feel my stomach aching very badly. I took a glass of milk and thought of something to neutralise the terribly taste with. The sweetest I could think of was the raspberry jam in the fridge. I took the jam out of the fridge and took a teaspoon from the drawer. One teaspoon of raspberry jam felt good, but my tongue still was quite numb so I took no less than three teaspoon before going to bed again. After maybe five minutes, the smokey taste of the Laphroaig wiskey of the night before returned, and of course my stomach wasn't getting any better either. Apparently you cannot get rid of the taste of a bad date that easily. Whether it was the date itself that put me drinking half a litre of wiskey or my flatmate how argued I could use some "liquid confidence", it was certainly a bad idea to have such an amount of any spirits. The girl I was on a date with told me on the way home that she did like me, but not in that way. I suppose that's fair, but I was still rather puzzled by the fact that she wanted to go on a date with me. To say the least, it was quite bad for my self confidence to have such a failing date. I'd rather not have three teaspoons of raspberry jam again.
Panties
Several days went by without anything out of the ordinary happening, until a pair of panties, yes, woman's underwear, appeared in our bathroom. There were soaked, so I presumed one of my flatmates had washed her underwear by hand and forgot to put it to dry. I asked one of them, but she responded it wasn't hers. After inquiring the next later that day it turned out to be none of her collection as well. So, naturally I assumed it to be of the last girl.
Two days later the panties were dry, but still in the same place. I actually forgot about them untill one of my flatmates who I already asked mentioned them. She went to ask the third remaining suspect. We were all equally flabbergasted by her answer, it was also not hers. Now I have to admit that I can be a person who totally forgets about something because I can be distracted by other things. But this time it could impossibly have been mine as they were a woman's; and I do not happen to be into that sort of thing. We have had several friends over, but we wouldn't hope one of them took their panties off in our apartment. The size is a 12 uk size, which I as told was not too small, nor too large. Today we still haven't found out whose they are, and I doubt we really ever will.
An unusually high concentration of deja-vu's
Today has been an mixture between things I seemed to recognize and sometimes even did and new things. And those things mainly are smells. Ever since the first day I arrived, I picked up a very distinct kind of smell. I believe I have once tried to define it as a smell of burt rubber but then from a bakery shop. This smell still hangs around Glasgow always, although not as strongly anymore. But of course, I believe that my father, when he shall visit me in 8 days, will recognise the smell as strongly as he did the day he dropped me of; as opposed to me being used to it now. Funny the recepters of the smell, aka my nose, has not changed at all of course, but for some reason the signal coming from the nerves in my nose are now differently interpreted by my brain. Or at least that would be my guess, with the little knowledge I have of the human body. It makes me feel a bit like a formula one fan telling schumacher to change his tires. Today, I did pick up some old smells, mostly ones that disgust me. One in the street, it was an old leather smell; another close to the residence, as a wave of freshness that fell upon me; and yet another that smelt like something newly unwrapped. The latter I found in a classroom, a new classroom where we had to go. It was also there I had an really intense deja-vu as I took of my coat and sat down. It lasted for maybe 2 seconds, but I was slightly scared by the thought I had in it. I was thinking about how little we actually have to do in our academic career (at minimun that is), and what the use of all these classes actually might be. The deja-vu was in the downward sitting motion, in a motion that felt like for a moment it captured me in its entirety and it would not let me go, even if I tried as hard as a could. These kind of deja-vu always frighten me slightly, they give the day such a pre-destined feeling. I had 2 other minor deja-vu's later today, but to be honest I can't actually remember those. Maybe they were new. One other thing sure was not: I got an e-mail from my mother, stating the financial difficulties ' we' (as in my mother, as she will pay for the trip) will have if we go on a trip to New York for Christmas. I couldn't believe it! Ever since the idea arose in May if I'm not mistaking, I told my mom to book as soon as possible, as the prices are better then. Apparently they did not change much overtime in the end, but they were just higher than my mom expected. Again, I couldn't believe it. I had the feeling I have had many times before, the feeling of inevitability, I knew for some reason that it was to good to be true; I expected this moment to come from the day the idea arose, but when it comes true such things always hit hard nevertheless. I feel kind of sick of disappointments. And that because of a financial situation! Of course I realise many things are out of my hands, but the promise was so real, I could almost touch it; and now it turns out to be this bone chilling fata-morgana. To make matters worse for myself, I just bought this poster of Central Park at night in the winter of 1961, a beautiful photograph. I hung it at my feet so that I could look at it, telling myself that it was just a short semester of studying away. Isn't that just the saddest thing! I may not have the most wonderful relationship with my parents, but the biggest disappointment of all is that I will not spent the holiday with them at this fabulous destination. [Update 8/10/08 ]. At first I told my mom it was ok, eventhough that was not my own honest thought of course. Last night she called me again and I told her the truth, that of course I wanted to go. Today, I recieved a message in my inbox that the financial situation could be coped with; therefore, we can go to New York at Christmas (me and my mom at least, not my dad). I'm very excited about it I suppose.
Exactly one week ago I woke up in the morning with the most terrible taste in my mouth that I had in a long while. It was Tuesday morning, so I had class at 10 and again at 12. I woke up even before my alarm went of though, and it was certainly not because I had a blessed night sleep. The bitterness of the taste was teasing any other thoughts out of place so I decided to try to fix it. As I went into the kitchen, I noticed my coordination still was not as it was supposed to be. In addition I could feel my stomach aching very badly. I took a glass of milk and thought of something to neutralise the terribly taste with. The sweetest I could think of was the raspberry jam in the fridge. I took the jam out of the fridge and took a teaspoon from the drawer. One teaspoon of raspberry jam felt good, but my tongue still was quite numb so I took no less than three teaspoon before going to bed again. After maybe five minutes, the smokey taste of the Laphroaig wiskey of the night before returned, and of course my stomach wasn't getting any better either. Apparently you cannot get rid of the taste of a bad date that easily. Whether it was the date itself that put me drinking half a litre of wiskey or my flatmate how argued I could use some "liquid confidence", it was certainly a bad idea to have such an amount of any spirits. The girl I was on a date with told me on the way home that she did like me, but not in that way. I suppose that's fair, but I was still rather puzzled by the fact that she wanted to go on a date with me. To say the least, it was quite bad for my self confidence to have such a failing date. I'd rather not have three teaspoons of raspberry jam again.
Panties
Several days went by without anything out of the ordinary happening, until a pair of panties, yes, woman's underwear, appeared in our bathroom. There were soaked, so I presumed one of my flatmates had washed her underwear by hand and forgot to put it to dry. I asked one of them, but she responded it wasn't hers. After inquiring the next later that day it turned out to be none of her collection as well. So, naturally I assumed it to be of the last girl.
Two days later the panties were dry, but still in the same place. I actually forgot about them untill one of my flatmates who I already asked mentioned them. She went to ask the third remaining suspect. We were all equally flabbergasted by her answer, it was also not hers. Now I have to admit that I can be a person who totally forgets about something because I can be distracted by other things. But this time it could impossibly have been mine as they were a woman's; and I do not happen to be into that sort of thing. We have had several friends over, but we wouldn't hope one of them took their panties off in our apartment. The size is a 12 uk size, which I as told was not too small, nor too large. Today we still haven't found out whose they are, and I doubt we really ever will.
An unusually high concentration of deja-vu's
Today has been an mixture between things I seemed to recognize and sometimes even did and new things. And those things mainly are smells. Ever since the first day I arrived, I picked up a very distinct kind of smell. I believe I have once tried to define it as a smell of burt rubber but then from a bakery shop. This smell still hangs around Glasgow always, although not as strongly anymore. But of course, I believe that my father, when he shall visit me in 8 days, will recognise the smell as strongly as he did the day he dropped me of; as opposed to me being used to it now. Funny the recepters of the smell, aka my nose, has not changed at all of course, but for some reason the signal coming from the nerves in my nose are now differently interpreted by my brain. Or at least that would be my guess, with the little knowledge I have of the human body. It makes me feel a bit like a formula one fan telling schumacher to change his tires. Today, I did pick up some old smells, mostly ones that disgust me. One in the street, it was an old leather smell; another close to the residence, as a wave of freshness that fell upon me; and yet another that smelt like something newly unwrapped. The latter I found in a classroom, a new classroom where we had to go. It was also there I had an really intense deja-vu as I took of my coat and sat down. It lasted for maybe 2 seconds, but I was slightly scared by the thought I had in it. I was thinking about how little we actually have to do in our academic career (at minimun that is), and what the use of all these classes actually might be. The deja-vu was in the downward sitting motion, in a motion that felt like for a moment it captured me in its entirety and it would not let me go, even if I tried as hard as a could. These kind of deja-vu always frighten me slightly, they give the day such a pre-destined feeling. I had 2 other minor deja-vu's later today, but to be honest I can't actually remember those. Maybe they were new. One other thing sure was not: I got an e-mail from my mother, stating the financial difficulties ' we' (as in my mother, as she will pay for the trip) will have if we go on a trip to New York for Christmas. I couldn't believe it! Ever since the idea arose in May if I'm not mistaking, I told my mom to book as soon as possible, as the prices are better then. Apparently they did not change much overtime in the end, but they were just higher than my mom expected. Again, I couldn't believe it. I had the feeling I have had many times before, the feeling of inevitability, I knew for some reason that it was to good to be true; I expected this moment to come from the day the idea arose, but when it comes true such things always hit hard nevertheless. I feel kind of sick of disappointments. And that because of a financial situation! Of course I realise many things are out of my hands, but the promise was so real, I could almost touch it; and now it turns out to be this bone chilling fata-morgana. To make matters worse for myself, I just bought this poster of Central Park at night in the winter of 1961, a beautiful photograph. I hung it at my feet so that I could look at it, telling myself that it was just a short semester of studying away. Isn't that just the saddest thing! I may not have the most wonderful relationship with my parents, but the biggest disappointment of all is that I will not spent the holiday with them at this fabulous destination. [Update 8/10/08 ]. At first I told my mom it was ok, eventhough that was not my own honest thought of course. Last night she called me again and I told her the truth, that of course I wanted to go. Today, I recieved a message in my inbox that the financial situation could be coped with; therefore, we can go to New York at Christmas (me and my mom at least, not my dad). I'm very excited about it I suppose.
Tuesday, 30 September 2008
"Give me all your fucking money"
Describing the events on Wednesday, 17 September
Half way through freshers week - for those of you who do not know what it is: it is the week where a lot of first year students get "introduced" to university, meaning they will drink rather large amounts of alcohol and will try to hook up - I got excited about what this coming year is going to bring me. The freshers fayre featured a great many resources to keep me from boredome during my time here at Glasgow university. I've joined several clubs, of which I'm most excited about the literature club, which will actually start a creative writing part. Nonetheless, the philosophers club greatly excites me as well.
At night, there was this hypnotist, Alan Bates, the famous hypnotist, as he kept refering to himself. I have to say, I had never been to a hypnotist before, but it really worked for me. He started with a warm-up hypnosis, an interactive part in which he ordered us to close our hands and would tells us they couldn't open anymore. The ones susceptible for hypnosis appearantly couldn't and were asked to the front of the stage. On me, it didn't work, unfortunately. The shows was great however, at one point I was literally crying because I was laughing so much. I shall not attempt to replicate any of the jokes or tricks he played on his willing volunteers as that will make as much sense trying to explain what it is that makes certain music so beautiful; you simply have to participate in the event to appreciate it.
When the hypnotist finished we were kicked out of the room, only to return an hour later, when there was a headphone disco. Now there's a good form of entertainment, which can be actually safe as well. For me it was heavan, not to have the music so loud as they normally put it in clubs. Maybe even better is the moment when you take off the headphone and listen to the people sing to the seemingly non existant song. As illiterate barbarians they cry out speech sounds which are vaguely similar to one another, the one singing the song even more unrecognisable then the other. Now that's what I call some old fashioned fun. Of course, after watching the spectacle for a while there really is no point in staying there unless you'd join. And of course, I did. I did however grew tired of it slightly earlier than my flatmates, or any of the people that I knew there, for that matter. I think it must have been around 1 am or 1.30 that I left the party. After having a quick chat with a guy from the international society and a new person I met who told me to come to the snooker nights as well, I wandered off to go home. I crossed the street at the traffic lights at the maingate at university lane. As I walked up to Kelvin way, I saw a person across the street saying goodbye to another individual and thereafter crossing the street in my direction. At this point I was almost at Kelvin Way. The guy was rather tall and did not look very friendly. He walked up to me and uttered the words: "Give me all your fucking money". For a moment, I stood there, as if nailed to the ground. He did not hold any knive are other menacing device, but still I was scared. Then he turned around and walked towards Kelvin way. I doubted for a moment whether I should wait, or go across the street or whatever. I took a step in his direction. Then he turned around again and asked if I were a fresher. By this time, it became clear to me that he had been scaring me for fun, as in a joke. I could not fully appreciate the joke. We started walking down kelvin way together. I was surprised not seeing any other people there, the whole way. He explained that he was a student as well, born here in glasgow. Then he went on to tell me he were a manic depressive; that he took to much alcohol and drugs the week before and took of in his fathers car and crashed it; that right now he was feeling fine, but the next day could be beating up a guy; that he studied medicine but probably was not allowed to continue because of his condition. I have to say, it was not the kind of person you'd want to walk down kelvin way with in the middle of the night. I kept about a meter distance and figured that I could run for it if he tried anything. He had obviously been drinking, although not that much. I thougt I could outrun him if need be. But fortunately, that situation never arose. At the end of Kelvin way he told me "I have to take a right turn, see you", and took of. I could not remember feeling the relief I felt right there at that moment. I'll try to walk home with some people after 1 am from now on.
Half way through freshers week - for those of you who do not know what it is: it is the week where a lot of first year students get "introduced" to university, meaning they will drink rather large amounts of alcohol and will try to hook up - I got excited about what this coming year is going to bring me. The freshers fayre featured a great many resources to keep me from boredome during my time here at Glasgow university. I've joined several clubs, of which I'm most excited about the literature club, which will actually start a creative writing part. Nonetheless, the philosophers club greatly excites me as well.
At night, there was this hypnotist, Alan Bates, the famous hypnotist, as he kept refering to himself. I have to say, I had never been to a hypnotist before, but it really worked for me. He started with a warm-up hypnosis, an interactive part in which he ordered us to close our hands and would tells us they couldn't open anymore. The ones susceptible for hypnosis appearantly couldn't and were asked to the front of the stage. On me, it didn't work, unfortunately. The shows was great however, at one point I was literally crying because I was laughing so much. I shall not attempt to replicate any of the jokes or tricks he played on his willing volunteers as that will make as much sense trying to explain what it is that makes certain music so beautiful; you simply have to participate in the event to appreciate it.
When the hypnotist finished we were kicked out of the room, only to return an hour later, when there was a headphone disco. Now there's a good form of entertainment, which can be actually safe as well. For me it was heavan, not to have the music so loud as they normally put it in clubs. Maybe even better is the moment when you take off the headphone and listen to the people sing to the seemingly non existant song. As illiterate barbarians they cry out speech sounds which are vaguely similar to one another, the one singing the song even more unrecognisable then the other. Now that's what I call some old fashioned fun. Of course, after watching the spectacle for a while there really is no point in staying there unless you'd join. And of course, I did. I did however grew tired of it slightly earlier than my flatmates, or any of the people that I knew there, for that matter. I think it must have been around 1 am or 1.30 that I left the party. After having a quick chat with a guy from the international society and a new person I met who told me to come to the snooker nights as well, I wandered off to go home. I crossed the street at the traffic lights at the maingate at university lane. As I walked up to Kelvin way, I saw a person across the street saying goodbye to another individual and thereafter crossing the street in my direction. At this point I was almost at Kelvin Way. The guy was rather tall and did not look very friendly. He walked up to me and uttered the words: "Give me all your fucking money". For a moment, I stood there, as if nailed to the ground. He did not hold any knive are other menacing device, but still I was scared. Then he turned around and walked towards Kelvin way. I doubted for a moment whether I should wait, or go across the street or whatever. I took a step in his direction. Then he turned around again and asked if I were a fresher. By this time, it became clear to me that he had been scaring me for fun, as in a joke. I could not fully appreciate the joke. We started walking down kelvin way together. I was surprised not seeing any other people there, the whole way. He explained that he was a student as well, born here in glasgow. Then he went on to tell me he were a manic depressive; that he took to much alcohol and drugs the week before and took of in his fathers car and crashed it; that right now he was feeling fine, but the next day could be beating up a guy; that he studied medicine but probably was not allowed to continue because of his condition. I have to say, it was not the kind of person you'd want to walk down kelvin way with in the middle of the night. I kept about a meter distance and figured that I could run for it if he tried anything. He had obviously been drinking, although not that much. I thougt I could outrun him if need be. But fortunately, that situation never arose. At the end of Kelvin way he told me "I have to take a right turn, see you", and took of. I could not remember feeling the relief I felt right there at that moment. I'll try to walk home with some people after 1 am from now on.
Friday, 26 September 2008
A walking comic relief. Lights at Kelvinhaugh Street
First of all, I wish to apologize to all who read this blog. This should have been published soon after Saturday on Sunday 12-14 of september, as the events described took place around that time. Due to a computer crash and my own laziness, however, I haven't sat down before this day.
The first week has been quite exciting. Perhaps it is a joint feeling of excitement that hit us all together in the time we have spent together thus far. For some reason or another I seem to make people laugh all the time, I do not always get why. They claim they are not laughing at me, and who am I to question that. On a deeper psychological level though, I think we will not allow ourselves to be irritated by the people whom we have to spend a whole year with. Therefore, it may seem that we go along very well together and I suppose that is not untrue, however a bit more tempered than it seems right now. Today I asked my italian and australian flatmates what ist was that I did what exactly made them laugh. They both appeared unable to describe the feeling precisely untill Alex (the australian one) claimed that I was just a walking comic relief. I wish that could be the case always. Not that I feel a bit anxious about the future, I am quite positive we will have a marvelous time together!
***
I just got home from a party at thes club "The Hive", a club that is part of the Glasgow student's Union. I have to say that I was very surprised by the way the people go out here, and it was not a very pleasant surprise. The soun of the music was mostly a monotonous ' Ding' mixed with some tension bars in the music. As far as I could distinct any kind of Melody lacked. Or any other repetitional intervals of any kind for that matter. Therefore, I had to conclude that it was very hard to express myself on this music. For me music is about patterns, about emotion, about combineing those two by conveying the feeling of the patterns with your body.
It was at this very party that I first realised that I did miss the Netherlands. I missed my friends with whom I went out 'every' time, I miss the silly dance moves. Around here it seems people go to the party to hook up, as if that is the sole purpose of going out. When I walked through a corridor to go to the bathroom it was jammed by this guy and girl, and some people around them. The girl was leaving so they said goodbye. The male of the pair asked for a kiss which he recieved from the female. The little make-out session was not even that vulager but it kind of surpreised me that the guys around him were actually cheering. There were looks in people's eyes of slight envy, as when admiring an athlete; the look tells you 'I could have done that if I had put the effort in. Maybe I felt sort of that envy, maybe not. Well I wouldn't have kissed a person there in that place and time anyway. It's just not how I work.
After a while I went home through Kelvinway close to the Kelvingrove park, famous for it's homosexual rapes. The atmosphere was pretty good though, and there were two girls walking in fromt of me. At one of the intersections I could have taken an other turn, but I chose to follow them, for no particular reason, as there was no real difference in distance to my street. They went on walking where I needed to take a turn, so we did not say goodbye when I actually took the turn. When I went around the corner I saw the stranges phonomenon: There were two light in the sky, other than the the streetlights and they seemed to be move further away. As the night was rather bright I could tell that they were bigger than the stars. If I had to guess they looked like fire colomns, very far away. Then, suddenly, one of the pair went out, like a candle blown out by an old man who can take all the time to distinguish the fire: gentle but at once. I could see a watery shroud at the place where the light had been just a moment ago, it seemed as if it were descending, not very rapidly though. After a few seconds I lost track of it. I took a second to literally rub my eyes and see if it was still there, and it was. Next, I looked for people in the street to ask if they could see the lights as well, but there werer none. Just me and the one remaining light. I walked up to the door of our building and stood there, watching the light. As I expected, it went out after a minute or so. I decided it was time to go to bed...
The first week has been quite exciting. Perhaps it is a joint feeling of excitement that hit us all together in the time we have spent together thus far. For some reason or another I seem to make people laugh all the time, I do not always get why. They claim they are not laughing at me, and who am I to question that. On a deeper psychological level though, I think we will not allow ourselves to be irritated by the people whom we have to spend a whole year with. Therefore, it may seem that we go along very well together and I suppose that is not untrue, however a bit more tempered than it seems right now. Today I asked my italian and australian flatmates what ist was that I did what exactly made them laugh. They both appeared unable to describe the feeling precisely untill Alex (the australian one) claimed that I was just a walking comic relief. I wish that could be the case always. Not that I feel a bit anxious about the future, I am quite positive we will have a marvelous time together!
***
I just got home from a party at thes club "The Hive", a club that is part of the Glasgow student's Union. I have to say that I was very surprised by the way the people go out here, and it was not a very pleasant surprise. The soun of the music was mostly a monotonous ' Ding' mixed with some tension bars in the music. As far as I could distinct any kind of Melody lacked. Or any other repetitional intervals of any kind for that matter. Therefore, I had to conclude that it was very hard to express myself on this music. For me music is about patterns, about emotion, about combineing those two by conveying the feeling of the patterns with your body.
It was at this very party that I first realised that I did miss the Netherlands. I missed my friends with whom I went out 'every' time, I miss the silly dance moves. Around here it seems people go to the party to hook up, as if that is the sole purpose of going out. When I walked through a corridor to go to the bathroom it was jammed by this guy and girl, and some people around them. The girl was leaving so they said goodbye. The male of the pair asked for a kiss which he recieved from the female. The little make-out session was not even that vulager but it kind of surpreised me that the guys around him were actually cheering. There were looks in people's eyes of slight envy, as when admiring an athlete; the look tells you 'I could have done that if I had put the effort in. Maybe I felt sort of that envy, maybe not. Well I wouldn't have kissed a person there in that place and time anyway. It's just not how I work.
After a while I went home through Kelvinway close to the Kelvingrove park, famous for it's homosexual rapes. The atmosphere was pretty good though, and there were two girls walking in fromt of me. At one of the intersections I could have taken an other turn, but I chose to follow them, for no particular reason, as there was no real difference in distance to my street. They went on walking where I needed to take a turn, so we did not say goodbye when I actually took the turn. When I went around the corner I saw the stranges phonomenon: There were two light in the sky, other than the the streetlights and they seemed to be move further away. As the night was rather bright I could tell that they were bigger than the stars. If I had to guess they looked like fire colomns, very far away. Then, suddenly, one of the pair went out, like a candle blown out by an old man who can take all the time to distinguish the fire: gentle but at once. I could see a watery shroud at the place where the light had been just a moment ago, it seemed as if it were descending, not very rapidly though. After a few seconds I lost track of it. I took a second to literally rub my eyes and see if it was still there, and it was. Next, I looked for people in the street to ask if they could see the lights as well, but there werer none. Just me and the one remaining light. I walked up to the door of our building and stood there, watching the light. As I expected, it went out after a minute or so. I decided it was time to go to bed...
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
A world in Green
Today, on a Tuesday (of all days!), the orientation programme for which I did not enroll started. I, however, was informed that I was welcome to attend any general talks and that I could even try to get a ticket after the late ticket collection had passed if any tickets were still available by that time. After waking up to the music of Vivaldi, sung by the counter tenor Jaroussky, I took my time to get a shower and dress. Normally, when listening to a counter tenor I prefer the sound of Andreas Scholl; Jaroussky, on the other hand, has recorded Vivaldi's Nisi Dominus in an incredible way, together with Spinosi. The combination just works and the colours flow richly and beautifully, even though Jaroussky's voice is rather modest for itself. Just like a good team player in sports, Jaroussky makes his team truely top of the world.
I reckoned today was going to be a rather boring day, and as much as I expected it I was right. The general meeting was about most that I already knew, except for the facts about Scotland. Since when is a golfball invented in Scotland? As far as I know the concept came from the Netherlands. The Scots just commercialised it.
Before going to the meeting, I chatted with the Italian flatmate of mine who just got the conformation he could stay in our flat for a whole year, opposite to the message that had reached him earlier. While making our way to the boyd orr building we made some small talk and met with a friend of his. The two of them did go to the registration. I, on the other hand, had no bussiness there because of my lack of registration evidence. I used the time to visit the department of English Language and sign a list we had been emailed about. When approaching the door the outer doors were opened. I gave the door a firm push, but it did not move. The lock appeared to be similar to the one here at the door of our accomodation but apparently it worked differently because the door would not open. The door and therefore the path I had planned were like the cows in an indian road, sacred and unapproachable. I took a look at the inside through the glass. The glass was rather chaotically placed in the framework of the door. Even though the frame was symmetrical, the person who chose the colours of the stained-steel glass the not take into account the symmetry. Still, it did not make an unorganised impression either. The glass was mainly transparent, but parts were also in matte. The part on eyeheight that was see through was green; when I looked through it the world behind it would appear in the same colour of course. The interior behind the glass was green. The table, chairs and the beginning of the staircase, which would circle up to higher in the building. I stood there wondering for a moment thinking that I actually could never be a hundred percent sure that the world behind the glass might seize to be the world I know and turn into a world where everything is green. The green world of the department of English Language at the University of Glasgow. Maybe, just maybe, green people walked behind that glass, shaking of their strange shade of colour when passing the door.
I went to the other department where a man from security told me the door should be opened and some people should be inside. He accompanied me to the door and as we walked to the door he touched the door in no other fashion than I did, as far as I could percieve. Still, with a strong movement of the man's big arms the door opened in one fast swing. He did not slam the door at all, but forced it open with the grace of an athlete throwing an heavy object; energetic but controlled. It had the power of revealing a world in the blink of an eye. The world behind the door was in full colour, not very different from what I had imagined it to be. Sometimes reality can be very different from what one has come to expect, and sometimes it's absolutely not. It turned out that I did not turn the door knob, which should have done the trick. I could have found the world behind the monotone world that the glass portrayed myself but I failed to do so. Reality is just a doorknob away.
This night I met a group of rather nice french girls. I really don't know what to tell about it. I can say that really all people I've met so far have been just so kind. From the man from maintenance to tesco's employers, once they hear that you're not from Glasgow they'll help you better instead of look like you're not welcome. That said I'm also glad that of yesterday a girl from my own university has arrived who is also studying English Language. She's my only living reminder link to groningen around here, for the good and the bad. Okay, that sounds quite redicilous I realize. She just a nice girl I'm glad I can speak some Dutch to once in a while.
I reckoned today was going to be a rather boring day, and as much as I expected it I was right. The general meeting was about most that I already knew, except for the facts about Scotland. Since when is a golfball invented in Scotland? As far as I know the concept came from the Netherlands. The Scots just commercialised it.
Before going to the meeting, I chatted with the Italian flatmate of mine who just got the conformation he could stay in our flat for a whole year, opposite to the message that had reached him earlier. While making our way to the boyd orr building we made some small talk and met with a friend of his. The two of them did go to the registration. I, on the other hand, had no bussiness there because of my lack of registration evidence. I used the time to visit the department of English Language and sign a list we had been emailed about. When approaching the door the outer doors were opened. I gave the door a firm push, but it did not move. The lock appeared to be similar to the one here at the door of our accomodation but apparently it worked differently because the door would not open. The door and therefore the path I had planned were like the cows in an indian road, sacred and unapproachable. I took a look at the inside through the glass. The glass was rather chaotically placed in the framework of the door. Even though the frame was symmetrical, the person who chose the colours of the stained-steel glass the not take into account the symmetry. Still, it did not make an unorganised impression either. The glass was mainly transparent, but parts were also in matte. The part on eyeheight that was see through was green; when I looked through it the world behind it would appear in the same colour of course. The interior behind the glass was green. The table, chairs and the beginning of the staircase, which would circle up to higher in the building. I stood there wondering for a moment thinking that I actually could never be a hundred percent sure that the world behind the glass might seize to be the world I know and turn into a world where everything is green. The green world of the department of English Language at the University of Glasgow. Maybe, just maybe, green people walked behind that glass, shaking of their strange shade of colour when passing the door.
I went to the other department where a man from security told me the door should be opened and some people should be inside. He accompanied me to the door and as we walked to the door he touched the door in no other fashion than I did, as far as I could percieve. Still, with a strong movement of the man's big arms the door opened in one fast swing. He did not slam the door at all, but forced it open with the grace of an athlete throwing an heavy object; energetic but controlled. It had the power of revealing a world in the blink of an eye. The world behind the door was in full colour, not very different from what I had imagined it to be. Sometimes reality can be very different from what one has come to expect, and sometimes it's absolutely not. It turned out that I did not turn the door knob, which should have done the trick. I could have found the world behind the monotone world that the glass portrayed myself but I failed to do so. Reality is just a doorknob away.
This night I met a group of rather nice french girls. I really don't know what to tell about it. I can say that really all people I've met so far have been just so kind. From the man from maintenance to tesco's employers, once they hear that you're not from Glasgow they'll help you better instead of look like you're not welcome. That said I'm also glad that of yesterday a girl from my own university has arrived who is also studying English Language. She's my only living reminder link to groningen around here, for the good and the bad. Okay, that sounds quite redicilous I realize. She just a nice girl I'm glad I can speak some Dutch to once in a while.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)