Exams, funerals and economics

And suddenly I’m hearing from all sides (well, two sides, so at least it’s in stereo) that I’m not just mumbling to myself, that people are actually listening and that people are actually out there paying attention. To what, I’m not exactly sure, but they are. Maybe it’s because of what Pyrrhus said, it’s because this is the only way they can keep up with what’s going on in my life. I’m not exactly sure what’s so interesting about my life that people want to know about it, but who am I to judge (after all, I wouldn’t want to switch my life for anybody else’s right now. Hell, I have enough trouble keeping track of what’s going on in my life, imagine having to figure out how somebody else’s fits together as well! Too much work, I’ll just be content with what I have.)

Yesterday I had my first exam. It went alright, I think. Not terrific, but then it’s been a very long time indeed since I’ve had to sit and write. Annoyingly part of this exam was knowledge based as in ‘does X mean A, B, C, D or E?’ (yes, a five pronged multiple choice question, so that guessing was even less effective). I not only dislike stamping facts into my brain most of which I’m going to have forgotten the day after the exam, I also severely dislike wasting space in my internal memory, when I’ve got an external memory out there to define these terms for me exactly. If I’m not sure what X means, I’ll look it up!

That’s what the internet is for, and libraries and tutors and notes. They are my external hard drives where I keep extra information that isn’t directly essential. My brain is where I store the overarching ideas, the concepts and the information that is directly relevant to what I’m doing at that moment in time. These kinds of tests are from before the era of mass communication and easy information, when it still took a great deal of time to find these exact definitions. As you might have guessed, my professor is trailing behind the modern times a bit.

As they say, “Science advances from funeral to funeral.” (which is probably paraphrased from Max Planck, whose original quote went something like this, “A new scientific truth does not triumph by convincing its opponents and making them see the light, but rather because its opponents die and a new generation grows up that is familiar with it.”)

I guess that holds true for technology as well. People cling to what they are used to. That’s why the paperless office is only now slowly becoming a reality (as the generation of people that grew up reading from screens starts taking a solid stake in the working world). Even when technology allows for things to happen easier, people find it mentally easier to do things the way they’ve always done.

I think economists are correct to an extent when they say we are rational beings, but they forget to calculate the mental costs of every action. Often we don’t do things differently because we already know the method we’re using. Better the devil you know, you know. Yes, blind typing is a great deal quicker than ramming away at the keyboard with two fingers, but do you know how much anguish and mental trauma switching over would cause? (well, neither does the person who’s ramming away with his or her two fingers, but they can obviously well imagine).

I quite enjoyed that

I haven’t written a blog entry in a while. I just haven’t felt like it, to be honest about it. Still, I really shouldn’t let that affect me. I should think about what it will be like in a years time, when I look back at this big hole in my blogging during what will have been an important part of my life. So without further ado, I hereby am starting the blogging process again. Hopefully I’ll even enjoy it. It used to be about sharing my experiences with all of the people out there, but after my sporadic blogging of late I doubt that many people will have stuck around. So instead I should just accept I’m writing mainly for myself and the few die hard readers that have chosen to stuck around.

Thanks die hard readers.

So what has been going on? As you know from my last few posts I’m back in university. This was something I spent about a year building up to (mentally probably more than physically, I left everything to the last minute, as usual physically). The first group of courses are just about ending. I somehow managed to survive and even do well. (I hesitated to use the word excel, but I don’t think I can really say I’ve been excelling. Maybe that will happen later, but for now I will stick with ‘do well’.)

I got an eight for the presenting part of a course (a 15 minute presentation got me part of the way there, a few questions did the rest). An eight is equivalent to an 80%, which is pretty crap by American standards, but then they grade more harshly in the Dutch system so if I manage to keep an eight average I will graduate cum laude. That is the goal I’ve set myself, by the way, to graduate cum laude. Since I worked so hard to get into this program, I thought I should at least try my utmost to finish it at that level.

For the rest I’ve largely been keeping to myself. I’m down to only two days a week at the café. When I first started at uni I was doing three days a week, but that was destroying me. I just had no time for anything but working and studying. Now that I think about it, I probably already discussed that before. I always type these posts in a word document off line. I somehow feel I can be more honest that way. It’s an extra level of abstraction, thereby creating a bigger distance between myself and the text that I make available for general consumption. Of course it’s the same text, but it doesn’t feel the same. Maybe it’s because Word somehow feels more like a letter, or an essay, and typing something into a web page more like a chat, or a forum post.

Anywho, I’m rather enjoying a lot of time on my own. It’s quite different to all the socialising I used to do, but it somehow seems to be part of the Holland experience, this solitary thing. It’s probably also part of the reason I haven’t blogged a great deal, I guess I’m just not in a terribly sharing kind of mood.

I imagine it’s just a stage.

And maybe one that is just starting to pass, as this blog entry could possibly attest to.

Did I ever mention that I always write my titles at the end?

Mob Moods

I’ve been really interested recently in the herd mentality of people. It’s been impressing me how herd driven we are; how we so easily pick up on signals from our environment and let them influence us; most of the time without us even knowing. It isn’t really surprising once you think about, seeing as we’re social creatures, which move in flocks very similar to other herd animals, but I don’t think many people actually sit down and think about it. Which is a shame, because it means that you’re even less in control of your actions than you think you are.

To give you a couple of examples. In the café I work in you can really see the herd mentality of people – you can sense the energy changing around the room as different things happen and different moods grip the crowd. For example, people never leave one table at a time. It is almost always several tables that leave at once. The more tables that leave, the more other tables that suddenly decide to leave as well. Sometimes the whole café will empty in the space of a few minutes. All of these people believe, of course, that they are independent and exercising free will. In many ways they are. It just happens to be the case that their free will is heavily influenced by the will of the people around them.

The same thing can be said for drinks and food and such. Often there will be waves of specific drinks being ordered. We’ll have cappuccino rounds, for example, or suddenly everybody starts ordering orange juice (which is really annoying, because you only have so much fresh orange juice at any one time).

Tipping is another one of these wave things. When one or two tables walk away without tipping, suddenly others seem to tip less or not at all. If a group of people walk up to pay, however, and the first person obviously gives a tip then suddenly you’ll find the whole group doing it. And if the first person is so nice as to say that your service was spectacular and fantastic (you might be surprised, but it does happen!) then suddenly everybody’s tip goes up! That person’s experience is completely different from everybody else’s, after all they were at a different table, but nonetheless their opinion influences the opinions of others.

Mood is another one of those amazingly contagious things. Sometimes I have to take over the terrace from somebody who isn’t really all that ‘on the ball’ or service oriented. Often, when that happens, there’s a negative energy over all the tables. The thing is, this negative energy infects newcomers – even though they don’t realise it. They directly act more critical, tip less and generally hang around for shorter. It normally takes me about an hour or even an hour and a half to change that mood around; then, when that mood is changed, suddenly everybody that arrives new takes on the mood of the rest of the terrace and is far more accepting, generous and friendly. I’m not making this up. Admittedly it’s anecdotal evidence, but it something I have experienced time and again.

The people subconsciously take in the mood cues of others and seriously let them influence their own. The thing is, they aren’t even aware of it happening. In my opinion, this gives their environment an immense amount of power over them. Or, to put it another way, it gives the people an immense amount of power over you. You can’t change it, but you can certainly try to be aware of it happening.

The first step towards being honest and objective is to be aware of your own self-deceit and subjectivity.

Power or the lack of it

Let’s talk about some research they’ve done in social psychology, so that you can get an idea what I’ve been learning. It turns out that the amount of power we have directly influences our mental capacities. People with power and people without power think differently. With that I don’t mean that they think about different things, we all already knew that, but rather that they way their brains work actually changes as their levels of power change.

Research has revealed that when people do not have power, their ability to plan is affected. They find it harder to make long term plans and to keep their minds concentrated on the task at hand. Instead, it seems, that a great deal of their mental activity is occupied with taking in their surroundings and observing what is happening around them. This actually manifests as the same person doing markedly worse on an IQ test when they feel they have little power, then when they feel the have a great deal.

There’s more.

Powerful people are less able to take on other’s perspective and instead they are much more likely to think from their own. This extends to being able to take into consideration other people’s emotions and their ways of thinking. People with little power, on the other hand, are much better at putting themselves in somebody else’s shoes. In other words, empathy goes down as power goes up.

The reasoning for all this is that more powerful people need to be able to plan better, seeing as probably others depend on them and they can’t depend on others. On the other hand, they do not need to worry about their surroundings as much as people without power, after all, the powerless are the most likely to be the first to fall prey if the group is attacked.

The empathy too is relatively easy to explain. After all, the powerful really don’t need to care as much about other people’s feelings. Instead it is the people without power who take care that others like them, since they can’t use their power to get what they want.

The interesting thing is, that this both fits our stereotypes (the uncaring boss, the less bright worker) and shows that it isn’t really that person’s fault. His or her mind is actually being effected by the world around them. It also means that something can be done about these things. People are much more a product of their environment than we realise.

What’s more, it can be used to make our lives better. You want your kid to learn better and plan more for the future? Give him more of say. Do you want to be more empathic to the people around you? Let go of the reigns a bit and let other people take charge.

And that’s just ideas off the top of my head. No doubt there’s a whole bunch of other applications for this research.

Man/ Machine interface

Sunday was the end of my grandfather’s birthday party and the town he’s from made quite a feast of it. He’s quite the celebrity there, you see. His music (he’s a composer) is actually performed in quite a few countries, it seems, especially out in the former East Bloc. My mother, my sister and I decided to go for a few hours (my studies didn’t permit me to go longer). Because we were so late in making that decision, there really weren’t any tickets left, not even for family. Still, we ended up sitting outside of a large tent where inside they were playing one of his earlier works, quite beautifully.

I fell asleep lying in the grass. I guess I really was completely exhausted. So I didn’t catch much of the concert at all. Still, the little bits I did hear were quite nice. I’m not sure if it was worth driving an hour there and an hour back, but hey – there were other reasons to go.

Like seeing my mother, who I really don’t get to see very much of. She came down last Wednesday and left yesterday. In total I only managed to spend about four hours with her. That’s about how long she needs to drive one way to get here. Of course I’m not the only reason she comes down. She’s got quite an active social life (more active then mine, at the moment) and I’m sure she wasn’t bored for a moment. It’s just another symptom of the underlying problem of too much to do and to few hours to do it in.

I still try to motivate myself to put in all the hours by saying ‘yeah, but I just spent eight months doing nothing in India’. Of course it wasn’t ‘just’. It was six months ago. I wonder how much longer I’ll be able to use that, before I’ll start telling myself ‘that no longer counts, that’s ancient history’.

Fortunately, yesterday there was suddenly some time left over and today class got cancelled, which gives me a short reprieve. In true me fashion, I directly started wasting time. Buy furniture for my room, read ahead for class, or get new sport shoes that actually fit in my bag? Why? Let’s instead download a really old game and spend the next hour and a half playing it.

What to do? What else is there to do but try and work harder and hope that I can survive these moments of wasted time. Truth be told, where formerly it used to be easy for me to waste days and even weeks doing what was entertaining but ultimately useless, now it has been restricted to a few hours at most. Maybe one day I’ll be able to avoid wasting time. Maybe that’s when I’ve finally rejected all of my humanity.

I wonder what I would look like in chrome steel.

No, I don’t really know what I’m talking about either.

The plot

I guess I’m starting to show the strain. Yesterday I wasn’t the nicest of people to work with. I was in a foul mood, snappy and generally hard to be around. The causes were numerous. First and foremost, I felt that it wasn’t going well. I was standing at the bar, which is definitely the hardest working position, but – according to me – not the most essential position. It’s basically all about producing the drinks; which yesterday meant producing cappuccinos (for those of you unaware, cappuccinos require just a bit more precision and work than other coffees, making them fun to make when it’s not pounding, but a pain when the shit hits the fan.)

The problem is, from there you don’t have any oversight. You’re tucked away in a little corner, with barely any idea what is going on outside. All you see is the tickets coming out of the machine and the other staff coming back to pick up the drinks. You can try to infer how busy it is from there – but generally you’ll be wrong. Often, the bartender will be slamming drinks out and the waiters will think it’s relatively quiet.

I’m better in service, because I know I’m good at keeping the people happy. After doing this for five months nearly continuously I can feel what’s going on on the terrace. I have the oversight to know which tables are new, which are content and which are ready for another drink, often without them even needing to signal. It’s all about reading their moods.

Recently we got a whole host of new employees who don’t have this ability to sense the mood yet. They are where I was, down in the nitty-gritty trying to cope with the information overload that initially comes your way. They are still reactive (rather than proactive, obviously). The problem is, I can’t put them behind the bar either, because the drinks were coming way too hard and fast. I couldn’t do it all and I felt the service was suffering as a result.

And that pissed me off; especially since I worked so hard over the summer to improve our service.

Normally I can put myself past that. I can get positive, happy and content relatively quickly and this is where the other things are paying a factor. I’m once again learning to cope with a new environment and a way of thinking that I haven’t employed in a long time, indeed. My brain once again has to be re-tooled and that always takes energy, concentration and time. In a few weeks time I’ll be able to take the strain of working and studying at the same time, but right now I’m mentally strained and it seems that then I can’t completely control my anger nor my annoyance.

What can I say? I am human. I have my limits and I will continue to try to transcend them. Since I can’t get out my own way, hopefully people will be smart enough to get out of the way when I fail to be more than I am.

Arcane Mutterings

A few hours ago I sent in my first assignment for my master’s program. It was a short essay. In fact, it could be compared in length to one of my blog entries. In many ways that’s where the comparison ends; for the simple reason that the university essay is a completely different animal from the blog entry.

Psychology claims to be a science (is it? I’m not sure) and therefore requires a great deal of precision. The problem with precision, however, is that it means that terms and expressions should vary as little as possible. This can make the average university essay a rather dull affair.

This point is being rather admirably driven home by the reading I’m being asked to do. I will immediately say, in the readings defence, that the more recent articles seem much more interesting; though whether this is because they actually are more interesting, or because I’m getting used to the format is not clear.

The danger I see now is that my writing here will be influenced by my reading there. I’m hoping I can separate the two; because quite frankly I abhor the tendency to try to write so cleverly that your writing becomes almost unintelligible and this is something that I’ve long accused scientists of. Of course, there are a number of reasons why they might do this. The first is that they aren’t very good writers (which is very possible, since writing is only one of the skills that a scientists should possess and not one of the most vital ones at that). The second is that they write the way they do because they think it is actually perfectly clear. A third reason I have only just discovered is that they do it because they don’t see writing like I do. Perhaps they see it more as mathematical prose.

I’ve realised (largely through an article that I just read) that I’m going to have to learn an entirely new set of skills and – possibly more importantly – a new set of values. Entertainment, for example, is not very high at all on the list of important things to consider when writing scientifically.

I think that’s a shame, but I can understand why. If you want to be entertained, you don’t read science, you read science when you want to be enlightened.

So once I’ve learned to write to enlighten (or maybe just convince) can I still write to entertain? Well, the thing is – I think that a piece of writing is far more enlightening (or should I say convincing?) when it is also entertaining. For one thing, you manage to keep your audience far more present and attentive. After all, you need your audience to be attentive in order for them to be convinced of anything you propose.

So in my quest to learn how to write enlighteningly (oooh… five syllables – university’s working!) I should never lose sight of my attempts to entertain. Losing the latter will negatively affect my ability to do the former.

Or, in plain English, if nobody’s going to read what I write, who cares what I’ve got to say?

What I want

I’m in the middle of my first week of university. So far I’ve been assigned about 15 articles and two essays to write, all to be finished either during this week or by Monday or Tuesday next week. It’s obviously going to be a piece of cake.

The first thing I’m going to have to get used to is being forced to read. I mean, the reading that I’ve been assigned (and the essay writing as well) is not something I haven’t done in my own time before. I’ve easily consumed as many pages in written text and filled as many empty pages as they’re asking from me now. The only difference between then and now is ‘want to’ and ‘have to’.

My first lesson in psychology is the fact that ‘have to’ and ‘want to’ are often inversely correlated (or, in layman’s English, when one goes up the other goes down). I’ve now got the material, I’ve got the reason, all that is partially missing is the desire. I have to finish this article because I still have to read three others before tomorrow. I have to write this essay because tomorrow I’ll have to be working on the other one. I have to understand what I’m reading because tomorrow I might have to answer questions about it.

I have to learn to want to.

And I will, I’m sure. It will all become easier. After all, I haven’t worked like this in a long time (well, for ever. I never did all my assigned reading when I was last in uni.) so I’m sure that in a few weeks time I’ll adjust. After all, I adjusted to my job managing a café. In the beginning I nearly approached a burn out and now I can manage it quite easily. I’m sure the same will happen with this new stage.

Still, it’s quite a system shock. I hope I can live up to my own demands. I’ll have to. After all, I worked way to bloody hard to get into this damned program to now fail while I’m in there. Besides, the professors pretty much already admitted that I’d already completed the hardest part; namely actually getting into the program.

Of course, the hardest part for me isn’t that I want to finish the program, its that I want to finish the program with the highest honours. I’m making rather high demands of myself. But, as they say, if you don’t aim for the stars you’ll never reach very high.

I don’t just want to get very high (I’ve done that often enough in my life) I actually want to get to the burning bastards in the sky. I want to etch my name across the sky and burn my initials into the moon.

Originally I wanted to be God, but then I realised I should aim for something slightly more attainable; so I’ve set my sights on complete world domination.

Completing my Research Masters Cum Laude will be a good start.

Stage(d)

My summer of work is over. The Dutch summer has been over for quite a while, of course; but that’s secondary. For me it’s all done, I just did my last shift of my last full week at the place I work. From here on in I’ll be down to three and I’ll somehow have to make ends meet that way. Hopefully I can quickly find some extra freelance work. Let’s see what happens.

Still, I’m very happy that the next stage is about to start. My ‘getting my life sorted out in Holland’ stage took all of four months. Of course, it’s not completely sorted, some of the tail end of this stage might have to be dealt with in the next stage, but the line is definitely five days away; for then the stage ‘What the hell am I doing at university again’ will begin.

Hopefully that stage will quickly be followed by the ‘ah, so that’s what I’m doing at university’ stage, but nothing is certain. Well, that’s not true, one thing is certain, the Dutch are very good at pulling cash out of you any way they can.

I experienced that again today when I called about getting insured. You see, in the Netherlands you have to be insured. It’s THE LAW (did I mention that already?). So I called them up (because I have to get insured within four months) and asked about how much it would all cost, what the benefits would be and so forth.

They told me that they would love to insure me and they would need my bank details so that they could take the cash for this month, oh yes, and the cash for the last four months as well (seeing as you need to be insured, as that’s THE LAW (did I mention that already?) and therefore they would kindly insure you retroactively for the last four months. Somehow if I’d got into an accident in the last four months I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be so keen to insure retroactively).

So that is yet another attempt to extract cash from one of my bodily cavities. There’s a saying in Dutch that I rather liked when I first came back (I hadn’t heard it previously) and it roughly translates to ‘you can’t pull feathers of a naked chicken’. They might have the saying, but unfortunately they don’t pay it much heed. They’ve definitely managed to pull feathers from under my armpits and other ‘a’ areas (now my cheeks chaff).

I know this sounds very feathery (no pun intended) but it would be nice if they would sometimes let some of the down grow into full fledged plumage.

Of course, that’s not their primary ambition. They are probably also getting plucked by yet other organisations and their primary ambition is therefore to survive. And as we all know, to survive you need money. I just wish they wouldn’t need my money!

On loneliness

Last night – for a moment there – I was overwhelmed by that bitter sweet feeling of loneliness. Sweet because it’s such a strong emotion, such a physical emotion; bitter, well I guess it’s pretty obvious. After all it isn’t the nicest of emotions.

I haven’t felt lonely for quite a while there. I’ve been quite happy living a half-cloistered existence. I’ve purposefully been keeping to myself because a) it’s cheap b) I’ve really been enjoying doing my own thing and c) I see quite enough people at my work every day, thank you very much.

But yesterday was different. My boss’ son turned 20 and had a party in the café I was working in. That meant I was pouring drinks and making small talk with a big group of boisterous, loud and (after I’d poured a bit too much alcohol into them) quite drunk early 20 somethings.

Then – when I closed shop – they all left to do their own thing.

I was left behind and that warm social feeling just dropped away. Suddenly it was just me left to lock the door bike home alone, return to my (quite literally) empty room and my crumpled bed.

I think the thing was that I had no control over when the social thing ended. Or maybe I did (after all, it was my choice when to close the shop); but my responsibilities today played through my mind yesterday and forced me to hold back – forced me to act responsible.

Generally I dig that entire acting responsible thing. I enjoy having the feeling that I’m not wasting my life away. That I’ve got a purpose and a reason for doing things. That I’m building towards something. Still, it’s hard to let go of all those irresponsible thoughts and deeds that clouded my past. Being irresponsible is so much fun!

Have I finally truly grown up?

That’s a scary thought, isn’t it? Maturity even for the likes of me. Not to worry, though. It can never truly claim me. I sometimes forget that I have to be able to laugh at myself, but when that happens, life always conspires to teach me that lesson again – possibly even more roughly than last time. For he who can’t laugh at himself is in for a world of sorrow. I think all true humour comes from being able to take yourself with a grain of salt. I hope I never become so old that I forget that.

I also hope I never get so old that I become truly lonely. It’s a great emotion to feel every so often, just for the strength of it; but it could destroy you if you felt it every day, waking and sleeping.

I think loneliness is worse than depression. If you’re depressed you can share it with other depressed people and gain some traction. If you’re lonely; well, you’ve obviously only got yourself.

Help(ed)

I’ve been thinking about it and I have realised that I’ve been living an incredibly blessed existence since I’ve come back to Holland. Yes, things have been tough; but that’s largely been because of my own mistakes, loose ends and carelessness. Everything that’s come my way seems to have come from others.

People have been truly kind to me. My parents, my sister, her boyfriend, my ex(?), my colleagues, even the people at the university (who would have ever thought that?). The people on this blog, on face book and on e-mail have also been supportive and kind – it doesn’t matter that it was only in words, all that matters is that it was there.

Why am I this lucky?

If the Luck Factor is to be believed (a book that I read quite a while ago, now – but that I still refer to often, as you’ve probably noticed) luck is of our own making and in four specific regards 1. Maximise your Chance Opportunities 2. Listen to your Lucky Hunches 3. Expect Good Fortune 4. Turn your Bad Luck into Good Luck.

I’ve definitely been trying to do more of the first and the third has come by itself (I expect things to work out for the best and for some reason that actually seems to work!) But I can hardly say that I’ve changed my life around so much in the last year and a half that I deserve everything that has come my way.

Of course you can never say you deserve anything somebody else gives you of their own free will. I think that’s one of the big dangers. When you start expecting things, you become ungrateful; when you become ungrateful people don’t enjoy giving you those things anymore; and when they don’t enjoy giving you those things anymore, there’s a great likelihood that they will stop giving.

So I will not expect and I will truly appreciate. In a way this entry is an attempt to show that appreciation. It is an attempt to let those people who’ve helped me know that I am grateful for what they have done and that they can always come to me to ask something back. I know not all the people that have helped me read this blog (though quite a few do) and I will make certain that I tell every person again in person how I appreciate what they’ve done for me.

What’s more, I will gladly help anybody else that needs it. I believe that you don’t always need to give help back specifically to the person that’s helped you. I feel that it is okay to help others instead, if the first person doesn’t need it. After all, if everybody followed that rule then the person that helped you would end up getting helped by somebody else when they needed it as well, though long loops of helpfulness.

Of course, not everybody follows that rule; but it’s a start if I do and we’ll have gone a long way if you do too.

See Saw

A few days ago I tried to find the website that I originally used to sign up for my university degree, as I wanted to know the exact amount that I would have to pay. I remembered that it was somewhere around 3000,- Euroes for two years, but I wanted to be sure. I entered a number of searches and couldn’t find the website. Then I checked through my bookmarks and my e-mail and found the link. I clicked on it. It led nowhere.

The link was dead.

Alarmed I started searching for other websites about the research master I had just subscribed to. I soon found one, but there was one significant difference. The cost was 5000,- Euroes per year.

There was, of course, no way that I could possibly pay that amount. With my heart hammering in my chest I contacted the university and asked how much I would have to pay. ‘5000,-’ they informed me. I explained what had happened and the lady at the other end of the phone said, ‘well, the best thing you can do is write to the head of the department. There’s no guarantee, but he’s in charge of scholarships and finances.’

I wrote the man a letter in which I explained my predicament. I wrote emotionally, honestly, and frankly. I admitted my mistakes (it was quite a list) and then admitted that if I didn’t get any help, all my hard work would be undone.

I didn’t snivel; but it did come quite close to begging (in a face-saving manner, mind you).

Then I left for the city and wandered around in a daze. I pretty much admitted defeat. I said, ‘if they can’t help me. Well, then obviously it wasn’t meant to be. I will accept my fate and postpone my studies by a year.’

That night I came back (I watched ‘The Dark Knight’ to console myself) and I checked my e-mail. I’d already received a response and the response amounted to a 2500,- Euro scholarship.

I literally punched the air (something I thought was only a literary device, until then) and did a little jig. They’d kindly placed the study within reach again.

When I told a friend what had happened she said, ‘well, they must be really desperate for students’. I retorted, ‘maybe they’re just really desperate for me!’

‘Maybe,’ my sister said later, ‘it’s a little bit of both. Maybe they’re desperate for high quality students, which means they’re desperate for you.’

I liked that interpretation.

Trees and Forests

University starts in about 20 days and I’m in no way ready. I just got my first e-mail about what books to buy, with the helpful hint that I might want to think about pre-buying and pre-reading.

The book I’m supposed to be pre-reading is a book about methods and statistics. Right now I can’t even generate the energy to read about stuff I /want/ to read about; how the hell do they expect me to find the drive to read about methods and statistics?

The first and foremost problem ghosting through my mind right now is still very much ‘how am I ever going to pay for all of this?’. I’ve told the people at work that I’ll have to go back to three days of work a week. My study will take four days. That leaves me zero days to raise extra money, and as things stand right now I will only be making just enough to cover my base expenses. No fat, except for the little bit of extra money I’m raising this month.

How can I be thinking about methods and statistics when that’s all hanging above my head?

What I really need is some kind of fund or scholarship to help me out, but those don’t come knocking on my door either. I have to go out and look for them myself. The people at the government department that help most students with funding (Except for me, of course) helpfully compared finding a scholarship like that to ‘finding a needle in a haystack’. Oh boy, oh boy, I’m really looking forward to that.

Am I whinging? Yeah, I’m pretty sure what I’m currently doing is whinging; but then I’m terrified. I’m scared of the years ahead, I’m frightened of the poverty, I’m worried about whether I can do the degree and I’m deeply concerned about what further snakes are creeping through the savannah.

I must say, the people around me have been really supportive and I’m incredibly grateful for that. As always, I wouldn’t have been able to make it without those people. They feed my soul, they nourish my willpower. They take my annoyance, my frustration, my fear and let it wash over them without a sound, without a complaint. I owe them big time.

Maybe one day soon I’ll be able to repay them. When that light’s there at the end of the tunnel I might have a chance to do something back that will make their lives better. Till then it’s just a matter of looking at my own two feet and willing them forward a step at a time.

Don’t look too far ahead, because you’ll lose heart. A book has chapters so that we have a feeling of progress, a journey has steps so that we feel we’re getting somewhere. Just like a piece of text without chapters, pages, paragraphs, lines or breaks we’d rather not begin, in the same way will power is all about looking at the trees and not the forest. Just doing that little step now and worrying about the rest of those steps only when this little one is done.

And of course wisdom is keeping track of the entire forest. The big picture. That’s why they call people with too much of the first ‘stubborn’ and too much of the second ‘hesitant’.

So what if you’ve got both? Are you then ‘stubbornly hesitant’?

Films

Over the last few months I’ve watched some fantastic films and I’d thought I’d share a few with you here, in no particular order.

Air Guitar Nation
Yes, it’s a docu, but you have to watch it. This has been one of the most entertaining, uplifting and just plain weird films I’ve seen in years. It’s all about the Air guitar world championships and the people involved. Air guitar is where you act like your playing guitar, while you’re not holding anything. Kooky, strange, bizarre and ultimately fantastic.

Lola Rennt
A German flick that retells the same story a number of times through the application of chaos theory. You know the one ‘if a butterfly flaps its wings…’ Lola does run a lot – which might irritate some people – but she’s got fabulously red hair, which makes up for a lot. It’s good and I advise it to anybody looking for something different.

Stardust
There’s been a lot of children/ adult fantasy movies in the last year or so, but Stardust has been head and shoulders above the rest. I admit I might be biased, as I rather like Neil Gaiman’s work, but then everybody around me loved the film as well (and they don’t know Neil Gaiman). Plus Robert De Niro puts down a fantastic atypical performance.

Das leben der Anderen
Another German film about East Germany before the fall of the Iron curtain. Great colours, original story and deeply moving. This is one of those films that proves that there are other styles except for the ones done in Hollywood and they can work at least as well.

Paris je t’aime
A French film about love in Paris, told through rather a lot of short stories. The great thing is that each short story has been done by a different director and as a result affects a completely different style. Of course the individual quality of the short stories does vary (different directors and all) but overall the quality is very high.

Miller’s Crossing
I’ve watched a lot of Coen Brothers lately and I think that Miller’s Crossing (along with the Big Lebowski and Fargo) has to be one of my favourites. Great characters, good storyline and deeply engaging.

The Darjeeling Limited
Odd. Beautifully shot and entertaining. It gives an idea of what India might be like and the types that get lost there. The stylised, colour saturated shots make the film a visual feast, while the flawed characters are a great glimpse into your own family’s screwed up relationships.

Screaming

Apologies ahead of time, but I need to vent for a bit. A great deal isn’t really going my way right now and screaming it out into the cyber world might be better than screaming it at some random passer by on the street.

A lot of stuff isn’t going my way right now. You know, the usual; bills to pay when you really don’t even have enough money to eat; a mounting wave of incoming financial obligations with no real idea of how you’re going to deal with them; exhaustion and a complete lack of interest in reading, writing and other intellectual pursuits; a university education that’s going to take a huge amount of time that I don’t really have; a job that’s so tiring that I don’t have the energy to search for another one and to top it all off a place where I’m starting to enjoy working less and less.

It’s that last one that I’m going to talk about. More specifically it’s the last one yesterday that I’m going to talk about. Yesterday was probably the worst day that I’ve had at my job.

It was gay parade in Amsterdam. That meant that the city was flooded – not just with gays, but also with tourists who wanted to go and see the gays break loose. Of course, this meant that it was incredibly busy. That’s nothing new, though. Busy we can deal with. Unfortunately not just was it busy, but nothing seemed to work.

It started with the computer system. We use these mobiles to take orders on the terrace. Unfortunately, we’ve only got one left (after two died horrible deaths in the last couple of days). This means the main responsibility for taking the orders falls on one person. The first person to take this role was lax. When the second person took over and walked out onto the terrace they were basically attacked by mobs of coffee desiring, apple pie demanding and hot-chocolate craving customers.

I was standing bar and trying to give these people what they wanted, but there were no coffee cups (the washer didn’t think it was necessary to pick up his pace). Then there was no apple pie because the kitchen didn’t think it was necessary to listen to my insistent beeping on the intercom. Then I had apple pie, but no whipped cream (because the canisters hadn’t been sent down to be refilled) and of course everybody wanted whipped cream.

Apparently the customers all took it in good stride – but I certainly didn’t.

And then there was dinner. Already frazzled from the afternoon of madness we went into dinner hoping that things would be better. We got to close the terrace because of rain (bad for business but good for overworked staff) and run the insides as a restaurant. All was going well until suddenly food stopped coming up. Thirty minutes passed and customers started looking at us expectantly. Suddenly I remembered the pink stripes that had come up on the food order tickets that had last been sent up.

They weren’t that stupid, were they? Downstairs I went to ask if they had replaced the paper roll in the printer, seeing as those pink stripes meant the paper was nearly out. ‘You need to replace the paper rolls?’

Fucking idiots.

It’s a Saturday night, prime time, during a festival and they don’t even think ‘hey, we haven’t had orders for quite a while, maybe something is wrong’.

We rewrite out the tickets, by hand and get them back to work – then we go out to the floor and offer all the affected tables drinks on the house. The peace is restored. New tables walk in and take orders.

These new orders come up before some of the old hand written orders are finished! These people get their food in ten minutes, while the table next to them has been waiting for an hour. How, pray tell, do you explain that?

I told the rest of the staff that if something like this happens again I’m running away screaming. I’m not sure if I was serious.

Friend Wheel

There’s this application on facebook that’s called the ‘Friend Wheel’. It’s an interesting little app, in that it shows how all your friends are connected. Who knows who among your friends. The important thing being the ‘among your friends’ part, as it doesn’t show anything more than that.

This screwed me up, originally. You see, quite a lot of my friends don’t know each other. There are quite distinct groups, where every friend might have met within that clique, but the only connection between the individual groups was – obviously – me.

This meant that I had lots of white space in my friend wheel. The connectivity simply wasn’t that great. I saw this as a bad thing. I looked at other people’s friends circles and everybody seemed to know each other. I thought ‘am I doing something wrong?’

But I’m not. You could say they are.

Let me explain that. The fact that their circles are incredibly interconnected means that all their friends know each other; which basically means that they are all the same group. The group may be very large – but the person with the very interconnected friends wheel is basically not very good at meeting new people by themselves. They are reclusive and depend on others to meet new people.

The less connected your friends circle, the more you are the one to go out and meet new people (and the less these new people you meet meet your former friends, of course, but I’ll get back to that). The outgoing extrovert with the large social network that can get them things done, because they always know somebody who can help them is the facebook persona who knows a lot of people, while these people barely know each other; the friend circle with lots of entries, but few spokes.

Of course there is another good reason that the people I know don’t really know each other (there’s always as second explanation) and that’s distance. I move around so much that the people I know will have trouble knowing each other. So that deflates my extroverted outgoing bubble a bit.

Still, it just shows that our instinctive desire (many lines between all the people) is not necessarily the right one. Ultimately the network with fewer spokes will be more useful (as there will be far more people from different walks of life in it – giving you both more fulfilment and more resources).

Yes, I’ve just spent an entire entry on a facebook application.

Homeless

I’ve got two Hungarian ‘kids’ sleeping on my couches. A boy and a girl. It’s funny how you start seeing everybody that’s a bit younger than yourself as kids. These two are around the 20s and they’ve just become homeless.

That’s not the smelly, begging for money kind of homeless; nor the drug fucked sleeping in your own vomit kind of homeless either. It’s the kind where even though you’re working you can’t pay the rent and your land lord kicks you out – then you end up squatting in some cellar (with no running water and no electricity) to be chased out in the middle of the night by a man and his madly barking dog kind of homeless.

I’ve never had it that bad. I’ve never had to squat in a place with no running water and no beds before. I’ve had it in a bad way, but I’ve never let it get that bad. Maybe it’s because I’m more careful, or maybe I just have more of a safety net (that I call in earlier).

The quote that comes up in me is, ‘an intelligent man can get himself out of problems that a wise man would never have let himself get into.’

Or is that just being arrogant?

Maybe it’s because I’m a little older. When I was in my twenties I was safely tucked away in university. I had food every day, I had a roof over my head and I had classes to attend. I still made some big mistakes (the debts of which I’m in the process of paying off now), but I never really had a chance to fuck it up badly.

Of course that isn’t exactly true, as the overdose of one of my fellow students testifies to (Heroine, for the interested ones among you), but still the scope for mistakes was relatively limited.

These guys left their country to try and find work here. It’s pretty admirable. I don’t think they’ll be able to stick around much longer, though. Not having a home (or a shower, or clothes) makes life a bit of a challenge. Possibly more of a challenge than it really needs to be.

If you’ve got people back home that are willing to pick you up, get you going again and give you a fresh start, maybe you should take it.

But then, maybe I’m not as brave (reckless?) as them.

Sleeping Out

A couple of days ago I was forced to sleep at my work. The reason? The keys to lock up with had been lost. You see, there’s only two sets of keys. One is always with the owner and the other set is passed to the opener in the morning and thrown into the mailbox at night – when everybody’s out. This second set of keys was somehow split and the most important keys lost (they ended up being behind some beer kegs in the owner’s hallway).

So we tried to find the owner and, by extension, the first set of keys. It was, however, a Saturday night – her kids weren’t home and she’s smart enough not to give us her mobile number (then she’d never be left alone!) So the result was that the first set was also not to be found. There was two choices. 1. Close the door, but not lock it and hope for the best. 2. Stay till the cleaners show up.

The problem was, option one, if it would have gone wrong, would have cost the owner a fortune. Imagine the damage that a couple of drunken louts could do to a café that they found open and unwatched? Especially one stocked with a wide variety of liquor bottles and a number of beer kegs? And that’s just assuming the people that found it open were drunken Brits (mind you, I have nothing against the English, but in Amsterdam they do seem to form the vast majority of the drunken tourists).

So I ended up drinking a few at the neighbours (who stay open much later) and then passing out on the couch, till the cleaners woke me up with rather surprised looks on their faces. I assume they thought I was a drunken tourist that had wandered into the open café (We never meet the cleaners, they start after we finish and finish before we start). I mumbled some explanation to them (I doubt they got it, their Dutch wasn’t very good and my explanatory ability at 4:30 in the morning isn’t very good either), got my stuff and left.

But not before writing in till when I had been forced to stay as hours; l though that was only fair. After all, it wasn’t me who had lost the keys and yet it had been me who had suffered the consequences. A couple of extra hours of pay seemed a fair exchange for my discomfort. Besides, I can now say that I was once paid for sleeping. That is most certainly another item off my ‘Bucket List’.

So how do I feel about the experience? Ambivalent, I guess. Which means that no doubt in a few months it will be a very positive experience. It was no fun waking up in the middle of my sleep cycle to bike home (which took longer than necessary because I lost my way), but on the other hand I did meet the neighbours – who seem young but cool (but? Am I getting that old that I need to use the word but there?!) and I did get paid for sleeping.

And, most importantly, it will make a decent story. ‘You know, I once had to sleep at my work’. Okay, maybe I need to work on my opening sentence a bit, but it’s a story and, as all of you know, I do love to tell a good story!

Lying in the rain

It was only when it was too hot today to wear my sweater that I realised ‘You know what? I’m wearing an awful lot of sweaters lately.’ Which isn’t really saying much, seeing as I hadn’t worn a sweater for about seven years, minus a short (or should I say skinny) interlude in Australia.

And this is the middle of the Dutch summer. Hurrah, I get to take off my sweater for one day, while I was forced to wear it on and off for months now. I didn’t even have sweaters a few months ago!

People always ask me, ‘so why did you leave?’ and I have always answered ‘the weather’ and then they laugh and I laugh and the question is generally over and done with (unless you’ve got somebody really persistent, or really bad at the social thing – which is often the same thing). It was an easy way out. It was a quick, off the cuff answer that didn’t take a great deal of thinking, or explaining. After such a long time away, though, I wasn’t certain if it was true.

Well, I’m starting to suspect that it was really a vital part of my departure. I have this memory of standing in front of this big window in my room at university (I lived on campus) staring out at the drizzle which hadn’t stopped for weeks and saying ‘that’s it, I’m leaving’. The memory continues with me then boarding a plane a few months later and heading out to warm, warm Thailand. Of course, it’s not a very accurate memory because I had already been out of university for six months when I did leave, plus that room (which was my nicest room in university) was a room I occupied in my second year and my entire university education took three years.

Still, sometimes it’s okay to stuff the truth in the broom closet for a while (just as long as you feed it the occasional crust and bit of water) and let aesthetics take the reigns. For example, when you get yourself a daughter and she says she wants to be a princess, you don’t really want to sit down and explain to her that princesses can only really become princesses in two ways, one of which is obviously closed to her in all our cases (unless royalty has started reading my blog, which seems unlikely because then directly afterwards there would have been a jump in other people reading my blog, as the paparazzi try to figure out why royalty is reading my blog) and the other which isn’t really inviting, as she’d have to marry a pompous ass – which is not all that unusual in all countries where women have to marry men, but royalty does have the added disadvantage that the royalty's pompous assishness is thrown all over the front of the tabloids.

Another good example of where the truth should be embroidered is taxes.

No, that’s it, no witty remark, no clever jokes about taxes. Taxes are boring and I’m not going to waste anymore time on them here.

So where does that leave us? I have no idea really. I think I can sum it up as: when the weather sucks, lie like hell to get somewhere where the weather is better.

New Couch

I’m sitting on the couch in my new home. The entire place is empty, seeing as the owner (who I’m renting from) left on holiday yesterday morning for three weeks. It’s certainly quite a turn around from living with all my stuff in one corner to spreading it all over a house. It’s also quite a difference from being in the centre of it all. Now I’m about five kilometres from the heart of things. I feel like I’m living among the tribes.

Quite fitting really, seeing as most of the people out here are of definitely quite non-Caucasian skin tone. Does that sound racist? It’s most definitely not PC, but then I have no problem with being un PC. Fortunately fewer and fewer people enforce PC. The majority has long since accepted that PC talk taken too far actually becomes an attack on freedom of speech.

I rather like freedom of speech.

On the other hand, I also fully accept that some things should not be said. There is a balance that has to be struck between being able to say what you want and not provoking hardship, violence and hatred by saying those things. It is, of course, a very difficult balance to strike. Who gets to decide what is necessary and what is inflammatory? It would be great if the individual could monitor him or herself. Unfortunately each individual’s judgement differs about what belongs to the first and what belongs to the latter.

So that creates the necessity for an overarching organisation to administer a general standard. The problem is then; how is this general standard arrived at? The obvious answer would be to take an average of the people at large. What the people at large find acceptable or not should be taken as a standard for what the overarching organisation would find acceptable or not. The only problem with that is that people are rather fickle. That is why the PC rage first took off, for example. That was also why if you look at movies from the sixties and the seventies you could see naked women and sex – in the eighties and nineties that suddenly disappeared (thought the violence heavily increased) – and now it’s back again.

What’s really necessary is an objective measurement – applied by people trained in applying such a standard. The big problem with that is that the people as a whole will feel disenchanted and ignored. They will say, as they always do when the academics disagree with the common man, ‘what special powers do these people have that I don’t personally possess? Why should I believe these people and not my gut instinct?’

And in many cases they’d be right. After all, the trained people are still people – liable to be biased, corruptible and easy to trick. They will make mistakes and they will be influenced by trends. You’d hope their standards would be slightly more objective, but that too is created by man and therefore not completely safe from subjectivity and bias. These people might exhibit less extreme fluctuations of applied standards – but they would still fluctuate.

And then, what is so bad about that fluctuation? Yes, on occasion it might draw people to an extreme, but if these standards do not fluctuate, then before you know it what is being said and what is allowed to be said will be in different eras. Then people will get hassled by the organisation – while the people at large have no qualms with what is being said.

I really don’t actually have an answer. These were just my musings while sitting on my new couch in my new home. All I do know is that it’s better to err on the side of caution and give too much freedom rather than too little. After all, it seems to be much easier to take freedom away than to give it back.

Fragments

For the final papers to get into my new university I needed a certified copy of my university degree. I tried showing them my actual degree, but they said that that wouldn’t do; as they wouldn’t accept that as it could get them into trouble if they lost it. So I said, well I’ve shown you my original copy, can I just let you photocopy it and then you have a copy? No, it needed to be certified. Okay, I asked, so how do I certify it? Well, only the university can certify it.

So I contacted my old university. They said they would send me a copy. Then they told me they couldn’t two days later. They apparently didn’t have a copy of my degree on file. I had graduated too long ago. So how do I get a certified copy from you when I have the only real copy? Well, you need to come here. I wish I could at this point admit that I lambasted them with a clever retort and they visibly cringed, but I did it over e-mail, so I couldn’t see them, besides I’m not all that brave (After all I still needed that certified copy). Instead the strongest word I used was ‘inconvenient’.

It took all of five minutes, once I was there. Getting there and back cost me a grand total of three hours. Three hours and five minutes for a stamp and a signature, not bad for a bureaucratic process – but still pissingly annoying on a personal scale. No wonder people can only work such short weeks here, they need the rest of the time to deal with the red tape and the paper pushers!

Tomorrow I’m definitely moving into my new house (I hope) the greatest obstacle currently in my way is not having a bicycle. In the centre of Amsterdam you don’t need a bicycle (it’s handy, but it’s not necessary). So far I’ve survived without a bicycle for two reasons. Walking worked and I already had my feet and hadn’t yet bought a bicycle. Now one of those reasons falls away. Walking will no longer work, as the bicycle ride to and from the ferry will already take 10 minutes, so the walk would be at least twice as long. I’m not that rich in time.

I might have lost my poetry book. I possibly left it on the train. The idea of thousands of good ideas disappear into the world of the lost and found is quite agonising. I do have a lot of final or near final copies of the poems on my laptop, but it wasn’t just the end results that were in that poetry book, it was the actual process. How I got there.

Hopefully the book will shop up somewhere during the move tomorrow. Otherwise I’ll have to contact the central NS office in Utrecht. Fortunately the title of the book is unusual (brutally honest, might be a better way to describe it). What’s more, I doubt anybody else will really be interested in what the book contains. It’s a treasure for me, but nothing more than an oddity for another.

Let’s hope it comes back because it’s probably one of my most treasured possessions.

Dance Valley

I’m not allowed to say ‘Sorry for not writing for so long’. It has been forbidden. So I won’t say it. Instead I’m going to say ‘It seems that my life has got a bit too busy for me to post every other day, but I’ll try to post when I can’. So here goes, it seems that my life has got a bit too busy for me to post every other day, but I’ll try to post when I can.

Yesterday I went to Dance Valley. It was my first electro festival ever. You see, as far as I know they don’t really do these kinds of festivals in Asia. Not on this scale, anyway. There was something like 40,000 people there. About 39,999 were drug fucked. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration; I think there were two other people in our group who didn’t participate in that aspect of the party.

It was all sunglasses, rectus smiles, huge pupils and endorphins. There was also a great deal of vomiting, nonsensical mumbling and people who no longer knew their heads from their asses. Yes, even if you didn’t like the music you could still have a great deal of fun just people watching. In my case I consumed a huge amount of beer. I like beer. Have I mentioned that before? Well, if I haven’t, I like beer. Hmmm…. Beer…

Right, where was I?

Anyways, we decided that the weather was as shite as it was because otherwise the first festival I went to would have been too good and it would have made all the following festivals have to try to live up to too high a standard. It was better this way as then the next time I went to something like this I could look forward to a festival in the sun and out of the mud. Small consolation.

It was the worst just when we arrived. The sky opened up and drizzled us (it never really drenches outside the tropics – what ever the Dutch might think) just as we walked into the ticketing office. Then we walked onto the terrain and were made aware of one of the biggest problems with valleys, namely that water collects in them.

It was disgusting. There was only one entrance that everybody had to use. The result was 80k feet crunching up the sparse grass and the soggy ground underneath. It wasn’t even good enough for pigs.

Fortunately, we soon found a dance hill that was slightly more to our liking and stayed there for the rest of the festival. The sun only broke through once, but nonetheless it was spectacular seeing about 20 thousand people (there were several stages) enjoying computer generated sound. It made the parties we organised in Goa (which were quite big already) look like dinner parties.

Will I go again? I’m not exactly sure. The getting to and from the party was absolutely terribly organised. We ended up spending seven hours to get there and away again – while we were only at the party for a total of nine hours. Was the fun worth the price in travel time and ticket costs? Apparently for 40,000 people it was.; but then I’ve never really been one for going with the majority.

Sunlight and Frostbite

It’s such a cliché, he remarks, as overdone as a sailor in deep space. Find something different, find something worthy. Leave this to the creatively underdeveloped, the cranially restricted, the emotionally retarded.

He sneers

Hunched up, my voice conveys pain by tone alone. I scream as I do battle – a civil war between north and south.

Shall I remain a prisoner in this gilded cage? Shall I seek freedom in the desert of the lone? Lune, Lunar, Luna – goddess of the temptation – your servant seeks absolution from your sins.

Thought plays chess while Feeling dances. They compete with each other according to different rules. They both believe they are winning – they both believe they are in control.

Trembling skeletal branches reach towards the writhing sky. For a moment sunlight spills through the cracks; then the clouds close rank. It ought to be a paradise – it remains a waste land.

Cocooned in razor wire.

As soon as the stirring stops oil and vinegar separate. These feelings will slip away. Dead leaves on the autumn wind. Then what? Why try to change each other, when we know we can’t even change ourselves? Sacrifice today to tomorrow.

His footsteps fade. Her mascara runs.

Home

I’ve started to explore Amsterdam proper. Friday night I went out with a colleague from work to this weird ass club for an hour – where I proceeded to drink too much (that seems to be my specialty) and meet the brother of one of the few friends I actually do have in Amsterdam, which is quite amusing. After all, it was the second time I went out in this town and I really do know only a handful of people, yet right there, into my path, stumbles one of them. I’m pretty sure that if I wasn’t hung over today I could say that in a much more flowery way, but I’m hung over today as well.

But first Saturday.

Saturday I was going to go home early (as it’s not a lot of fun working on a hangover) but then this dude suddenly stopped outside of my café just as I was closing shop and yelled my name. I didn’t recognise him, but I assumed (fairly I believe) that if he knows my name I might well know him as well. I did. It turned out to be my cousin, who I hadn’t seen in seven years. They were going out. It was rather hard for me to say ‘naw, I gotta work tomorrow in the afternoon, so thanks but no thanks’. So I went out again. Again came back at some unspeakable hour, again drank too much.

Then Yesterday was supposed to be the day where I got to go home early. I had all my work done at a quarter past twelve and was really looking forward to hitting the sack. I go down into the kitchen and ask ‘how much time do you guys still need?’ the answer was ‘another hour and a half’

Apparently the look of defeat on my face was quite comical, I was told later. You see, I can’t leave until everybody is finished. As the guy in charge I’m the last out of the shop. So I had to hang around and wait. Fortunately, some of my serving colleagues decided to wait with me (with friends) and we sat around and talked shop. I didn’t drink too much – but with the exhaustion from the other two days added up (and the problem with still sleeping in other people’s living room) I am as good as hung over today.

It is nice though that I’m slowly, but certainly meeting more and more people. I hadn’t really had the time for that when I first arrived and now I can finally start to build up a proper life here. After all, a house, a job and an education are nice – but they don’t make a town your home. It’s the people that you know that make it your home. If you don’t know good people, then you won’t really have a good time. It’s also ultimately the people that get you where you want to go.

Right now I’d really like to go back to sleep. I go snooze on the couch.

Boundaries

Does anybody else ever have the feeling that their lives are divided into chapters? That you could really sit down with a pen and your timeline and draw lines where you can say ‘there is a boundary here, this is where things change’? Obviously I do – otherwise I wouldn’t be writing about it.

And obviously I’ve just passed such a line. Of course, it might be easier for me to have these lines since moving from country to country is a very good way to close one chapter and open another. Still, the line was there and I passed over it – pretty specifically when I crossed the border from India into Holland (yes, Germany is getting ignored in this case, but I invoke poetic licence plus – obviously – that it’s Germany and they can be safely ignored as Mr. Chamberlain proved so aptly just before the second world war).

This line has made my life a great deal more serious. Suddenly it’s all about money management, people management, debt management and career management (and I’m not even really in management!) You could say I managed to pass a management line. (I obviously didn’t pass any humour line, but thanks for pointing that out Bradley).

I have to say, I actually enjoy it. Slowly I’m getting into the swing of actually doing my ability some justice. Or rather – I think I’ve always done my ability justice, but now I’m slowly starting to get other people to sit up and take notice. I’m starting to learn how to sell myself.

People are actually starting to listen to me.

Scary, isn’t it? Well don’t worry yourself too much, though some people might be listening to me now – most still laugh sardonically directly afterwards. So the big question now becomes, will this trend continue? Will I someday in the future actually have an audience when (if) I have something important to say?

Secretly I always hoped that this blog would be a place where slowly but certainly more people would accumulate and read my ideas. That didn’t happen. My audience has stopped growing and hovers now continuously just below the 10 hits per day. No complaints, of course. I’m happy that it’s above zero. At least my ideas and adventures have always been at least interesting to some.

Still, as I reiterated a few days ago once again (not here, mind you, but I did reiterate it) my ambition is to make a difference in this world and the only way that I can ever make a difference is to have people listen to me. I realise now that the best way to accomplish that is to not just be good at what I do, but excellent. It is that drive towards excellence that has been sharpened by my journey back ‘home’.

That breakthrough I’ve been waiting for might happen in a moment, but it takes decades of work. I started late – so I have to work twice as hard to catch up. I’m willing to put in the hours every day, let’s hope that therefore people will someday soon give me the time of day.