September 30, 2007
I hate the overstate the obvious, but I am feeling so much better without that silly “school” weighing on me. I mean, I’m all for education, but that shit was seriously dragging me down. Since giving up on that part of things, I’ve been having a really good time. The only guilt I feel is that everyone else in the program envies me.
I realize that’s like saying “My mornings have been so much better since I stopped setting an alarm clock to wake up.” In fact, it’s exactly like that. Because I really have stopped setting alarm clocks to wake up. But it’s not the Lebowski-lifestyle that I’m enjoying (Obviously, you’re not a golfer…), it’s that I recognized what the problem was and I fixed it. Now I get to spend my time meeting folks and doing something (by “doing something” I mean something other than econometric analysis of Swedish labour statistics - spelled with an ‘our’ because it’s fucking classy!)
SO what have I been doing? Well, I went to Copenhagen and hung out with some friends of friends who I’d never met. And let me tell you… Danes are good people! I don’t remember the last time I had so much fun on my travels. They’re a perfect blend of laid back and fucking nuts. Lots of getting drunk and riding bikes and climbing things that are not supposed to be climbed. I’d post pictures, but my new camera was the victim of a drunk Norwegian and his flailing arms.
I’m hoping to talk to some people about a potential job back home on Monday. Then off to Stockholm to visit some other friends. Then back to the US in the middle of October.
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September 19, 2007
I quit!
As I sit here writing a paper distinguishing the confirmation and falsification methodology of the American railroad expansion at the turn of the century, I’m having a difficult time understanding why. I’m not enjoying it. I’m not gaining anything of value from it. And I would rather not continue with it. SO I don’t think I will.
My biggest fears are that 1) you’ll think I’m quitting because it’s too hard or 2) you’ll think I’m quitting because I have problems sticking with anything. SO let me address each of those.
1. It’s not too hard. It’s just too painfully boring. The last class I sat through, we spent an hour discussing typo problems with a single equation in a book that I’m never going to read, because the professor was so proud that he had discovered them and communicated them tot he other of the book. As they say, those who can’t, teach. Those who can’t teach, write minute critical emails to authors of textbooks. Even if we had talked about something related to my program, I would have been bored. But because we talked about shit that has nothing to do with my program, I was some kind of super duper extra double bored. In a program that takes 9 months (3 of these months are spent writing a thesis) wasting an additional 2 months in classes this boring and learning nothing is amazing to me. (The advisors have confirmed that these classes are worthless).
2. Uh… this is a tough one. I do have problems sticking with things. But. This is something I have wanted to do for a long time. It’s been floating around back there. Shit to do. Number one. Go to Sweden for free grad school. Well, now I’ve tried it. I can check it off the list. Done. Don’t ever do it again. I’m ready to go home and commit to something, now that I know that the thing that I was worried about missing sucks much, much worse that what I was doing.
So. I’ll have to give 30 day notice here on my apartment. Which means I’ll be paid for another month. Which I hope to spend traveling and hanging out with friends. Riding my bike. Relaxing. Looking for work.
The only thing hanging over my head is whether or not I should finish these two papers I’m working on. In some ways I’d like to, just so I know that I can. See how my peer reviews go. See if I can still bullshit a paper about a bullshit topic that means nothing to me.
I know. Nothing funny. Sorry. I just wanted to let you know so your disappointment in me would have time to sink in before we talked again. I’ll try to talk about hilarious stuff next time.
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September 13, 2007
Yesterday in class two people fell asleep. I guess I thought that would be frowned upon in grad school, but I guess I thought wrong. The only thing that kept me from joining the two narcoleptics is the coffee vending machine in the main hall. 2 Kroner for a little disposable shot glass of re hydrated caffeine. Extra sugar. Extra strong. At that price I can afford one every 45 minutes until they let me go home.
Also yesterday, my Friedman-minded war-profiteering former-roommate got into a fight with the Danish muslim over the US involvement in Iraq. This happened during a presentation about China’s Institutional Changes, so I have no idea how we ended up in Iraq. I must have dozed off between powdered milk Latte-shots (I assume Bush has the same answer when faced with the same question).
Today I think they fought about nuclear submarines. Now the rest of us look for hot button issues that will set them off, because it’s the only entertainment we get. It’s like interactive RISK, where the ultimate goal is to get one of them to flip over a table and cry.
I just watched the first half of Jesus Camp. But I couldn’t watch the second half because I didn’t want to hear the words “God” or “Lord” or “JC” anymore. Unless they are coming out of Stephen Bladwin’s mouth. Because he makes Christ Chool, with skateboards and shit.
Now that I’m living in the most expensive country in Europe while the dollar is hitting new lows against the Euro every day, I’m sure you’re worried about my eating habits. Because I’ve always been cheap, and I already looked emaciated. Well let me set your fears to rest. I’ve discovered a new food group to fill in the nutritional gaps left over by my daily diet of yogurt, eggs, and bread: giant bags of European bulk candy.
Every store has a wall of candy bins. You just pick up a miniature plastic beach kit shovel and run the gauntlet, filling your neon pink bag with every candy from gummi coke bottles to… sour gummi coke bottles. They also have gummi rings (coke flavored), gummi discs (coke flavored), and gummi fried eggs (no flavor at all). I don’t know why everything has to taste like cola, but God bless them for their commitment. And for making a food product that I can eat for hours but rarely swallow. Bang for my buck at only 69 Kroner per kg.
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September 5, 2007
Lund isn’t very photogenic. I mean, it’s a nice classy European city. But it’s pretty in a boring kind of way. Like Catherine Zeta-Jones. (Or is it Catherine Zeta-Jones-Douglas? And if so, does she really need all of those hyphens?) You know, if people asked if this city were “hot”, I’d have to tell them it has a really nice smile. And a cute, round face. They’d see through my diplomacy immediately, and I’d have to come clean: Yes, Lund is FAT. Okay?
Anyway, this is why I’m not posting any pictures. It has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve totally forgotten how to compose a photograph. Or that I’d rather just sit in my room and download season after season of the Gilmore Girls. NO WAY. It’s because Lund is FAT. And I don’t want to take pictures of a fat town.
Now that I’ve got that off of my chest, I saw a stuffed Pippi Longstocking doll in the middle of the road today. It looked dead and abused, lying face-up on a rural farm road. And it’s clothes were all torn off. Creepy. It looked just like a scene from a Raymond Chandler novel. Except with a goofy smile and bright red pigtails that stuck straight out. Here’s a picture, Woodstock-style:
So I know you’re dying to hear about grad school. Because nothing is more exciting than Economics graduate school. So here are the major discussion points, in a convienent bullet-pointed format. You know, for taking notes:
- I don’t enjoy economics. I used to, which now seems strange to me. I don’t know what happened, but I can only guess I was drunk and/or on drugs at the time. Now that I can’t afford to buy beer over 2.5 alcohol content, I realize that this subject is very, very boring.
- I thought that this would be a good opportunity for me to change my direction. I now see that this direction is “backwards”. I will now be competing for internships at companies for whom I have very little interest in working.
- I had hoped I would be able to tailor the schooling towards a topic that interested me. I had also at one time hoped to be a professional stunt man that solved crimes, just like Lee Majors in the Fall Guy. I don’t think that either of these things are going to happen.
- I tried to open a student bank account, but I was too old. Even though I am a student, I am now TOO OLD for a student bank account.
- All of the young students like to party. Which is cool. But they party in a really young-student kind of way that I’ve forgotten how to do. When I try, it just comes out all wrong. Like watching John Kerry try to “bro down” with his constituents. And the older students are all at home, watching the Gilmore Girls.
- All students (even students that are TOO OLD) are required to join a “Nation”, which is like a frat. But I’ve found that if I go to the Frat Hou… er… Nation at off hours, I can drink bottomless supplies of coffee. This has been a nice addition to my diet of yogurt, eggs, and ramen.
- I’ve joined a cycling club. They ride really fast and speak to me in Swedish. I’ve learned how to identify “nice bike” in Swedish, and smile politely in return. I can also now say “Car!” and “Left!”. I still can’t say “Right!” or “Straight ahead!”, so I can only make left turns and ride around in circles. Like Nascar. Here are some pictures from my rides:
I realize that I might sound unhappy. Because I am. I’m meeting some nice people, but I just don’t really have a good reason for being here anymore. Whatever I get from this study experience is going to be purely social. This isn’t improving my professional future. And I can see now it isn’t opening any doors that I really care to open.
I know I know. You guys told me this months ago. You were right. I was fooling myself because things had gone sour and this seemed like a fantastic way to avoid everything. SO what should I do now? That’s easy… I’m going to watch some more Gilmore Girls!
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August 28, 2007
Oh yea, I somehow completely forgot about the roommate drama. So, when I agreed to move here I was going to be living with one guy in a two bedroom apartment for 3000 kroner. When I got here, I was living with two guys in a two bedroom apartment (the owner had moved into the living room). I was relieved to hear that cuddling was not expected, but dissapointed that the reduced living space would still be 3000 kroner. So I finally asked him why we’re now splitting it three ways and it costs the same. He explains that “obviously my living area is reduced”. So he knocks it down to 2900 kroner. And I get to pocket that sweet, sweet $14 extra dollars each month.
The owner in a UN kid who’s been living all over the Africa and the Middle East his entire life. I can only assume that growing up in a series of places most likely occupied by US troops gave him his taste for military strategy video games, which he seems to do 12 hours of each day. The other 12 hours are spent sleeping or making couscous.
The other guy is American and a former arms dealer* who loves power ballads.
I immediately see how amazing this arrangement is going to be. It’s like some wacky sitcom produced by Donald Rumsfeld. I plan to sell it to Fox and call it “Al in the Qaeda” (that was an All in the Family joke, to prove my age). All I need to do is learn some kind of skill with knives or computers, and we would be the A-team.
Anyway, the arms dealer wasnt happy with the arrangement, so he moved out. One day notice. But that’s okay with me, because I was getting tired of his singing. And I would finally get a living room like I was promised.
But five minutes later an ad had been posted and a new roommate found. Now we’ve got a girl from one of the former USSR satellites moving in. I’m not sure which one. I hope it’s near Chernobyl and I hope she has funny stories about chipmunks with extra body parts. And I hope she doesn’t sing.
*Not an actual arms dealer, but he worked for the DoD selling us weapons. To whom? I didn’t ask.
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August 24, 2007
I had my first meeting today as a student. In almost a decade. It’s as lame as I remembered. Everyone chatting about how scared they are. About the class they heard is the hardest. About how tough the exams are. Blah blah blah. But now that I’m an old man I have zero emotional attachment to any of it.
I also found out that I’ll be in Shanghai for a couple of months during the second term for an internship with a Chinese company. Sounds interesting, but it’s got me concerned about my ultimate goal from this program. I don’t really want a job in China. Or Sweden for that matter. I want a better job back home. I guess I should have thought of that before applying for a degree about China. In Sweden.
My flat mate (the one that listens to the Dirty Dancing soundtrack) just quit his job as a weapons buyer for the Department of Defense. His last sign off was a check for 1.3 billion dollars (with a B) for nuclear submarines. After that he did “humanitarian work” in Iraq (why is it that everyone says they are in Iraq building schools, but really all we ever see is shit blowing up). Anyway, now he seems to enjoy singing Patrick Swayze tunes. And leaving his dishes in the sink for me to clean.
Swayze looks like a fucking great scrabble word. I propose we make Swayze a verb describing the act singing bad power ballads out loud with little or no regard for those around you. Triple word score if you see an arms dealer doing it.
There’s a party for International Students tonight. But it’s sold out. And I don’t really want to go anyway. I’m going to stay home and Swayze.
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August 23, 2007
One of my new flat mates has been listening to music through his tinny laptop speakers all day. Right now it’s that “Time of my life” song from Dirty Dancing. It’s really been the low point of his milquetoast playlist.
My room is exactly what I expected. Sterile. Small. Except for the third flat mate. That part was a surprise. He’s American. He’s in my program. And apparently he enjoys the Dirty Dancing soundtrack.
The first thing I did was try to plug in my power adapter and blow up my power strip. It popped really loud and smelled like burning. I didn’t want this to be my first impression, so I hid it under my bed. It’s still there, but the burning smell is going away.
Today I wandered around the town a bit and tried to find the important things (like banks and bike shops and places to buy dirty magazines).
At the moment I’m not eating. I assume this is because I’m scared and depressed. I assume that when I’m less scared and depressed I’ll start eating again. I assume that when classes start I’ll become less scared and depressed. Or maybe it will just make me more scared and depressed. Maybe. I don’t know what to expect, really. Other than 7 hour exams. But that alone is scary and depressing when you’ve been out of school as long as I have been.
I’m sure that soon I’ll. Have. The time of my life.
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August 21, 2007
This is supposed to be my blog about adventures eating wacky Swedish food, with titles like “Check out this crazy mustard!” and “What a weird pickled fish!”. But I’m sitting at the airport in Seattle trying to figure out how to waste 11 hours, while anchored to a giant backpack, a bike box, and 80 pounds of computer and camera crap. I’ve decided to try sitting in a corner and watching youtube clips of dogs and rabbits humping things. But now that I’ve mentioned wacky Swedish food, I’m starting to get hungry (the humping videos had offset my appetite for a short time).
I spent my day driving around Seattle, hanging out with Dawn and a man whose legal name may or may not be “Hipster Carpenter” (he works construction, wears a headband, and has an ironic beard, but I’m not sure how his parents knew that this was how he’d turn out). Then spent the night sleeping in a warehouse (spellchecked as “whorehouse”) that was, for a short time, a gallery space but is now storage for a man whose legal name may or may not be “Mattress Guy” (again, forward thinking parents). I’m under the impression that Mattress Guy wasn’t aware of the ambiguity of warehouse ownership, and seemed genuinely surprised to find us asleep on his bedding at 1am. I was equally surprised to find him there, surprised to find me there. So while I froze like a deer in headlights, Dawn rubbed the sleep from her eyes and excitedly said “Hi you guys sure are here early I’m Dawn!” (The lack of punctuation is the best representation of how is sounded coming from her mouth).
Mattress guy seemed to genuinely appreciate that we weren’t, as he had suspected, a homeless couple that who had climbed in the third floor and spent the evening boning and shooting up on his stockpile of furniture.
I really should have brought food with me. I could really go for some weird pickled fish with crazy mustard.
Posted in Boredom, Travel No Comments »
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