Donnerstag, 25. März 2010

Dear Mr. A. Darling

I don't know you (well, I know Alistair Darling, the Chancellor of  the Exchequer but not Alistair Darling the person if you know what I mean) but you do give me reasons for not liking you.
First fo all, you are Scottish (well, you're not Scottish by birth but since you were elected to the Scottish Parliament and live in Scotland, I consider you Scottish). In general, Scottish people are a bit weird; I mean, your accent is horrible and the cities you live in are loud and dirty.
Secondly, there was this incident called 'Child benefit data scandal' (what an expression), remember? Wikipedia tells me:

"Darling was Chancellor when the personal and confidential details of over 25 million British citizens went missing while being sent from his department to the National Audit Office. A former Scotland Yard detective stated that with the current rate of £2.50 per person's details this data could have been sold for £60 million. The acting leader of the Liberal Democrats, Vince Cable, put the value at £1.5bn, or £60 per identity."

Furthermore, "In May 2009, The Daily Telegraph reported that Darling changed the designation of his second home four times in four years, allowing him to claim for the costs of his family home in Edinburgh, and to buy and furnish a flat in London including the cost of stamp duty and other legal fees."

Any excuses?

Finally, what I heard on the radio and read in the newspapaer this morning, I didn't like at all. YOU RAISED THE TAXATION ON CIDER! Not that I'm  particularly into cider ( I actually don't really like it) but my friends do and I really don't want my friends to be upset (that might spoil our nights out, I'm sure you get my point).
I was wondering if you could call the whole thing off, so everyone could be happy again.

Yours faithfully,
the girl who doesn't know you (I prefer to stay anonymous since you might get  abit angry at me)

Montag, 22. März 2010

Brave warriors

That's what they call Emelie and me - German-Swedish Überpower! :D
We are the only two (insane) persons to take CPE (Cambridge Proficiancy) in June (and maybe also the only ones from Bath College who have ever tried to pass it). CPE is the next and last step on the 'ladder' of Cambridge exams. It would entitle us to study at any British uni and would mean that we're more intelligent (concerning grammar, use of English...) than lots of British citizens. We showed Matt (Em's boyfriend) and his friend Max some of the practice papers and they were unable to solve them. But fortunately, we were!
A costumer of Colonna and Small's Espresso Room, a former English teacher amde the following comment: 'You're two brave girls. It's the hardest English exam ever'
First, we were like 'Uhh, what have we ourselves gotten into?' but after we'd given it a few thoughts, we realized that if we passed the 'hardest English exam ever' we'd achieve something great.
I'm still up for it and so is Em. Study groups are b eing set up and planned already, the grammer and vocab books are waiting on our shelfs, ready to be used. Can't wait to get started and inject a bit of razzmatazz!

Donnerstag, 18. März 2010

Tobacco kiosk

by Fernando Pessoa ( Portuguese poet, 1888-1935 )

I am nothing
I shall always be nothing
I cannot wish to be anything.
Aside from that, I have within me all the dreams of the world.
Windows of my room,
The room of one of the world’s millions nobody knows about
(And if they knew about me, what would they know?)
Open onto the mystery of a street continually crossed by people,
To a street inaccessible to any thought,
Real, impossibly real, certain, unknowingly certain,
With the mystery of things beneath the stones and beings,
With death making the walls damp and men’s hair white,
With the Destiny driving the wagon of everything down the road of nothing.
Today I am defeated, as if I knew the truth.
Today I am clear-minded, as if I were about to die
And had no more kinship with things
Than a goodbye, this building and this side of the street becoming
A long row of train carriages, and a whistle departing
From inside my head,
And a jolt of my nerves and a creak of bones as we go.
Today I am bewildered, as one who wondered and discovered and forgot.
Today I am divided between the loyalty I owe
To the outward reality of the Tobacco Kiosk of the other side of the street
And to the inward real feeling that everything is but a dream.
I have missed everything.
And since I had no aims, maybe everything was indeed nothing.
What I was taught,
I go down from the window at the back of the house.
I went to the countryside with grand plans,
But all I found in it was grass and trees,
And when there were people, they were just like other people
I step back from the window and sit in a chair. What should I think about now?
I have dreamed more than Napoleon did.
I have held against the hypothetical heart more humanities than Christ.
I have secretly created philosophies no Kant has ever written.
But I am, and perhaps always should be, the one from the attic
Although I don’t live in it;
I shall always be someone not born for this;
I shall always be the one who just had qualities;
I shall always be the one who has waited for a gate to open next a wall without a door
And sang the song of the infinite in a poultry-yard,
And heard God’s voice in a blocked-up well.
Believe in myself? No, not in me and not in nothing.
May Nature be dissolved on my feverish head
Her sun, her rain, the wind that ruffles my hair,
And the rest, let it come if it must, it doesn’t matter.
Hearts in thrall to the stars,
We have conquered the whole world before leaving our beds.
But we were awakened and it was opaque,
We rose and he was strange to us
We left the house and it was the whole world,
And also the Solar System, the Milky Way and the Indefinite…
Eat chocolates!
Know there are no metaphysics in the world but chocolates.
Know that all the faiths don’t teach more than confectionery.
Eat, dirty one, eat!
If only I could eat chocolates with the same veracity you do!
But I think, and when I lift the silver paper of a leaf of tin-foil
I let everything fall to the ground, as I have done to my life.)
Musical essence of my useless verses,
If only I could face you as something I had created
Instead of always facing the Tobacco Kiosk across the street,
Forcing underfoot the consciousness of existing,
Like a carpet a drunkard stumbles on
Or a straw mat stolen by gypsies and worth nothing.
But the Tobacco Kiosk owner has come to the door and is standing there.
I look at him with the discomfort of an half-turned head
And the discomfort of an half-grasping soul.
He shall die and I shall die.
He shall leave his signboard and I shall leave my poems.
His sign will die, and so will my poems.
And soon the street where the sign is, will die too,
And so will the language in which my poems are written.
And so will the whirling planet where all of this happened.
On other satellites of other systems something like people
Will go on making something like poems and living under things like signboards,
Always one thing facing the other,
Always one thing as useless as the other,
Always the impossible as stupid as reality,
Always the mystery of the bottom as powerful as the mysterious dream of the top.
Always this or always some other thing, or neither one nor the other.
But a man has entered the Tobacco Shop (to buy tobacco?),
And plausible reality suddenly hits me.
I half rouse myself, energetic, convinced, human,
And I will try to write these verses in which I say the opposite.
I light a cigarette as I think about writing them,
And in that cigarette I savour liberation from all thoughts.
I follow the smoke as if it were my personal itinerary
And enjoy, in a sensitive and capable moment
The liberation of all the speculations
With the conscience that metaphysics is a consequence of not feeling well.
Afterwards I throw myself on the chair
And continue smoking.
As long as Destiny allows, I will keep smoking.
(If I married my washwoman’s daughter
Maybe I should be happy.)
Upon that, I rise. And I go to the window.
The man has come out of the Tobacco Kiosk (putting change in his trousers?).
Ah, I know him: he is Esteves without metaphysics.
(The Tobacco Kiosk owner has come to the door.)
As if by a divine instinct, Esteves turned around and saw me.
He waved hello, I greet him “Hello there, Esteves!”, and the universe
Reconstructed itself for me, without ideal or hope, and the owner of the Tobacco Kiosk smiled.

Donnerstag, 11. März 2010

another Orange Wednesday

Thank God for inventing the Orange Wednesday thanks to which you get 2 for 1 ticket in cinemas!
So what to do on Wednesday evenings? Exactly, go to the cinema instead of getting bored alone at home.
 Mirko and me, we went for 'Crazy Heart', an amazing, oscar winning, heartwarming movie, filled with country music and subtle romance. Missing out on Johnny Depp ( as 'Mad Hatter' in 'Alice in Wonderland' ) wasn't too bad. It's going to be his turn next time. (btw, instead I got Collin Farrell, Jeff Bridges, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Robert Duvall...)

Sonntag, 7. März 2010


Not one of these boring chewing gum Sundays, no.
A pretty good one.
A fabulous one actually.
I watched some friends runnign the Bath Marathon, standing on the sideline and cheering. It kind of made me become quite ambitious too. Why shouldn't I be able to run a few miles ?(well, actually a bit more than 21 kilometres, but anyway) So now I'm thinking of entering the Swimathon which is going to take plac on 17 April. Mirko, Matt and me might even start as a team and swim 5 kilometres for charity. Should be possible.

The exams on Saturday went pretty well - they weren't too easy (as expected) but what's the point in easy exams anyway!? I'm confident and am looking forward to the speaking part next Saturday. I'm sure Mirko and I will rock it! hihi (although we'll have to be careful to not use to many swear words :D )

Take care & Até breve!