The I hate dr. Steiner, part 2

"Jag tänker börja med att gå igenom varje teori och presentera dess viktigaste postulat för att sedan ställa de olika grundsatserna mot varandra och jämföra deras olika syn på människan, staten och internationella relationer. Med hjälp av detta kommer jag att göra en utvärdering med fokus på frågeställningen Bra eller Anus".

Man har inte roligare än man gör sig.

The I hate Dr. Steiner weekend

Getting more and more convinced that he is secretely sadistic, my professor. Can actually imagine him sitting in the privacy of his own academic library, in his old reading-chair, cutting himself with the pages of Theories of International relations while formulating the next task for his terrified students. His hairless cat is sitting beside the fire and watch him in silence. Suddenly, his wife knocks on the door.
- Honey, the dinner is ready!
- Oh, ok! I'll just finish... erhm work.

Hmm. This probably says more about me than Kristian Steiner.

The future

I had just managed to chill down over my books and all the other shit when it came today. The newspaper.
Picked it up and started reading in the elevator (when you're living on the ninth floor you can easily squeese in some reading time) and there it was. Högskoleverket made their annual report of wich are the hottest future jobs and wich are the schools most likely to lead to those jobs. Guess who's school or career didn't have a place in neither one of the categories?

I know. It's way to early to start fussing about this. But somehow, it will always lie in the back of my head. And it's hard to work up an enthusiasm if you know that your chances to get a job are 50-60%.

Maybe I should just approach my brother's relaxed attitude to life. When you ask him what he would like to do in the future, he simply responds: "pensioner". That way, he can continue living for his passions here in life, playing computer games and eat noodles.
It's not that surprising that his favourite song is Bidragskungen by Las Palmas.

kungen av bidrag bryter inte mot nån lag
han äter sig mätt varje dag
han får och han tar, ja han är kungen av bidrag

The thing Bob Dylan saw coming

He's pretty smart, Bob. I think I've underestimated him. Maybe cause I was force-fed with him my whole childhood until I learnt to hate that grumbling, whining and singing old man who was the love of my fathers life.

But today when I was visiting the new exhibit at Malmö Museum, I saw him in a new light. Some photographer had made it his mission to collect and take photos from the whole world to illustrate every single phrase in Hard rain.
There was also an explanation of the project and the song and the hard rain that Bob saw coming some years before it became fashionable to care about the växthuseffekt. We could here him sing from a tree in the yard where the photos were hanging.

Very good idea, Malmö Museum. Thanks to you I might give Bob a new chance, now that I'm older and wiser and have the ability to appreciate music that isn't collected on an Absolute Dance 1999 record.

And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

The I told you so

The sad part is that I'm not even surprised.
But I thought it was going to turn out differently, when he approached me and said hi with that ironic ghetto style handshake, to mark out how close we were.
But it didn't, so I spent the rest of the evening being wonderfully bitchy to the freak from Slöinge who misstook it for something else.

After spending a good part of the weekend with a massive hungover, I'm now going to continue my state of bitchyness and mark every single text that my classmates made for the seminar with small red commentaries. And I will bring em' all down on Tuesday. I will make them wish they were never born and I won't stop until they're all on the floor.

Bad grammar makes me more upset than anything in the world (Marilyn Manson)

Status- panicattack

Don´t have time for this. Gonna have scary presentation today about Sierra Leone. 50 people+ the cute guy will be watching. And it´s the worst presentation ever. It´s seven in the morning and in one hour I will be in school. Why couldn´t I just have stayed in gothenburg?

To have, or not have a freak-friend

I've been thinking about it for a while and today I reached the conclusion that three out of four people in my reading group are freaks. And, may I add, not in a good way. I have nothing against freaks in general. I am one myself. But I like to think of myself as an extraordinary, amusing and eccentric freak. Like Phoebe in Friends. But the freaks in my reading group are mainly just fucking annoying.
Let's start with the red-haired freak. She thinks it's completely natural for men to breastfeed ( why not? they have milk glands!) and likes difficult movies by someone polish. She talks extremely low and smiles to herself every now and then while looking down in her pashmina.
The other freak, surprisingly her friend, also likes difficult movies. Preferrably by Roy Andersson or David Lynch, because they give him a certain "emotion". He likes France because it is "dirty and people make art" and tries oh so hard to be bohemian that it's not even funny.
The third freak is a complete opposite of the two others. He is thirty years old and comes from Slöinge (no judgments). He hates difficult movies and states that he could very well erase all french movies, because they are all about the same thing "some hairy women with hanging tits". He thinks it's ok to ask a girl for her age and in the same sentence ask whether her boobs are fake or not. He thinks it's too much talk about poor Africa nowadays and say they should be able to solve their own problems by now.
The question is. Should I make friends or not with this people? Is some friends in your class better than no friends in your class?
Maybe the problem lies in me. Do I, somehow see myself as superior (ye yes yes)? And with what right? Maybe I'm just to difficult and judgemental. Maybe in one month I'll be sitting there, wrapped in a pashmina, passing the waterpipe round a second time while discussing the latest Kaurismäki- movie.
Time will tell.

And then I studied torture

So I take up my books for the fourhundredandfourth time and wonder how come they know everyting and I know nothing, how come they they´re so smart and I´m so stupid, HOW COME I fucking chose this fucking program by my own free will????
And then I think that maybe I´m no meant to be studying, maybe I´m more suited to remain a cafébitch anyway. For one thing, it´s something I know I´m capable of. (If you dont belive me, I can bifoga my work references on my cv. On Facebook exclusive. Apparently that´s considered normal. And then you can see for yourself, that I´m a very skilled and legitimate milk-skimmer.)
For another thing, I discovered that I actually enjoy doing the dishes. It´s simple! It makes dirty things clean! And I don´t have to fuss about Critical Theory and the genocide in Rwanda while doing it!
Or maybe, I could become a cafébitch with a twist. Like, the one that only got through the first course of Peace and conflict and therefore has to spend all her working time proving that she´s actually studied. Whenever someone wants to order something, I can say: "If you want your latte by half price, you can hear me quoting something from Thukydides. Yes, no?"