Springtime for Reinfeldt
This post is going to consist entirely of me complaining.
I miss the constant dark. I mean, yeah, it did get fairly oppressive by January, when I hadn't seen the sun in months and if I slept too late, I'd miss the two-hour window of "dark gray" sky and it would seem like the night just went on forever. And yeah, I like the sun and all, especially since I could probably throw a rock out my window right now and hit three or four topless sunbathers.
But my God, man. The sun goes down at midnight now and comes back up again at 2:30 AM. Even then, it doesn't really get dark: the sky just turns really deep blue. And of course my window is facing the direction of sunrise, so I get this apocalyptic blinding blast of ultraviolet radiation at about 3:00 every morning.
And then the goddamn birds start up! I have never heard such a mindless cacophony in my whole goddamn life. Just in case they aren't bad enough, the fuckers in Flogsta have started having rooftop parties again, with bands and elaborate sound systems, so you can hear their music as far away as Ekeby. The guitar guy who lives below me starts up his Bob Dylan impression reliably at 10 every morning, apparently unfazed by the constant noise all night, since he clearly inhabits a strange and inhospitable musical world of his own.
I haven't slept in goddamn weeks.
Been seeing an Irish girl (I know, but I'm a sucker for the accent, and damn can that girl drink) with whom I have stunted conversations like this:
Her: I miss you.
Me: Want to do something tonight?
Her: No.
Also been making my travel plans and have discovered that shitty hostels in Italy (which, of course, is the one area in which I know nobody) cost about three times what I'd expected. Never thought I'd actually miss working, but what I wouldn't give for the feeling of actually being productive and then having disposable income to show for it. Going to have to start working the instant I get home, which no doubt will entail a long commute into Sacramento proper...and I'm certain by then gas prices will be in the quadruple digits, and the nighttime low temperature will be a hundred million degrees.
Yeah, that reminds me. I was walking to ICA yesterday and found myself realizing that I'm leaving Europe to return to a place that has "Bad Air Quality Days" announced on the news to inform you that you shouldn't go outside because the air is poison. I am returning to acidic suburban hell.
And as bad-tempered as I am, the time here is dwindling all too quickly. I've got two weeks left in Sweden, then about five weeks of travel and I'm home. There are nothing but goodbye parties from here on out, and the nations have started shutting down as classes end and the Swedes are returning to whatever moderate little northern caves they emerged from. Three-Bottle Josh and his weird little brother are gone. Ludovica who always makes pasta after a long night of partying is gone. No more weekly poker games in Building 3. Going to be strange leaving here and returning to my family's house back in the States, where can I drive a quarter-mile to the store anytime I like and buy liquor and have a real television and a video store from which I can actually rent movies, and sometimes eat food I don't have to create myself.
You know what else is going to be weird? I've worked at that university-owned place on T Street every summer since 2003. Summer to me has meant long hours sitting in my car in the parking lot, smelling the pines and listening to the traffic on I-50 directly behind me, sweating through that oddly-cut shirt they gave me and waiting for the shade to mercifully fall over the car. I got paid to read a hell of a lot of books out there, and I found that if I brought a big thermos full of iced tea and a radio to listen to the Giants game, it was pretty much the best way to make money ever. Everyone else always went home by about 10 or so, so I'd be left to close up alone, and it was rather pleasant walking around the grounds on a warm summer night, taking my time throwing all the locks, and then having a peaceful drive home around midnight (since I-5 is always deserted that late) to either pick up some Jack-in-the-Box or make pizza bites and watch whatever crazy movies had showed up in my Netflix that day.
But now the place is closed, the parking lot chained up, and I doubt I'll ever get paid to sit in the shade, drinking iced tea and reading ever again. It's going to be an odd summer without it.
Yeah, all right, I've complained enough. I'm mostly avoiding writing the last few pages of this idiot final paper, and I realized I hadn't put anything up here in a long time, so here you go.
What I'm Reading
Joseph Stiglitz, Globalization and Its Discontents
Jagdish Bhagwati, In Defense of Globalization
I miss the constant dark. I mean, yeah, it did get fairly oppressive by January, when I hadn't seen the sun in months and if I slept too late, I'd miss the two-hour window of "dark gray" sky and it would seem like the night just went on forever. And yeah, I like the sun and all, especially since I could probably throw a rock out my window right now and hit three or four topless sunbathers.
But my God, man. The sun goes down at midnight now and comes back up again at 2:30 AM. Even then, it doesn't really get dark: the sky just turns really deep blue. And of course my window is facing the direction of sunrise, so I get this apocalyptic blinding blast of ultraviolet radiation at about 3:00 every morning.
And then the goddamn birds start up! I have never heard such a mindless cacophony in my whole goddamn life. Just in case they aren't bad enough, the fuckers in Flogsta have started having rooftop parties again, with bands and elaborate sound systems, so you can hear their music as far away as Ekeby. The guitar guy who lives below me starts up his Bob Dylan impression reliably at 10 every morning, apparently unfazed by the constant noise all night, since he clearly inhabits a strange and inhospitable musical world of his own.
I haven't slept in goddamn weeks.
Been seeing an Irish girl (I know, but I'm a sucker for the accent, and damn can that girl drink) with whom I have stunted conversations like this:
Her: I miss you.
Me: Want to do something tonight?
Her: No.
Also been making my travel plans and have discovered that shitty hostels in Italy (which, of course, is the one area in which I know nobody) cost about three times what I'd expected. Never thought I'd actually miss working, but what I wouldn't give for the feeling of actually being productive and then having disposable income to show for it. Going to have to start working the instant I get home, which no doubt will entail a long commute into Sacramento proper...and I'm certain by then gas prices will be in the quadruple digits, and the nighttime low temperature will be a hundred million degrees.
Yeah, that reminds me. I was walking to ICA yesterday and found myself realizing that I'm leaving Europe to return to a place that has "Bad Air Quality Days" announced on the news to inform you that you shouldn't go outside because the air is poison. I am returning to acidic suburban hell.
And as bad-tempered as I am, the time here is dwindling all too quickly. I've got two weeks left in Sweden, then about five weeks of travel and I'm home. There are nothing but goodbye parties from here on out, and the nations have started shutting down as classes end and the Swedes are returning to whatever moderate little northern caves they emerged from. Three-Bottle Josh and his weird little brother are gone. Ludovica who always makes pasta after a long night of partying is gone. No more weekly poker games in Building 3. Going to be strange leaving here and returning to my family's house back in the States, where can I drive a quarter-mile to the store anytime I like and buy liquor and have a real television and a video store from which I can actually rent movies, and sometimes eat food I don't have to create myself.
You know what else is going to be weird? I've worked at that university-owned place on T Street every summer since 2003. Summer to me has meant long hours sitting in my car in the parking lot, smelling the pines and listening to the traffic on I-50 directly behind me, sweating through that oddly-cut shirt they gave me and waiting for the shade to mercifully fall over the car. I got paid to read a hell of a lot of books out there, and I found that if I brought a big thermos full of iced tea and a radio to listen to the Giants game, it was pretty much the best way to make money ever. Everyone else always went home by about 10 or so, so I'd be left to close up alone, and it was rather pleasant walking around the grounds on a warm summer night, taking my time throwing all the locks, and then having a peaceful drive home around midnight (since I-5 is always deserted that late) to either pick up some Jack-in-the-Box or make pizza bites and watch whatever crazy movies had showed up in my Netflix that day.
But now the place is closed, the parking lot chained up, and I doubt I'll ever get paid to sit in the shade, drinking iced tea and reading ever again. It's going to be an odd summer without it.
Yeah, all right, I've complained enough. I'm mostly avoiding writing the last few pages of this idiot final paper, and I realized I hadn't put anything up here in a long time, so here you go.
What I'm Reading
Joseph Stiglitz, Globalization and Its Discontents
Jagdish Bhagwati, In Defense of Globalization
posted by Eccarius | 6:27 AM
1 Comments:
This might sound sort of strange, but I've been looking for interesting blogs to read, and I rather like yours. Do you have an e-mail address so I can invite you to read mine?
(college.girl00@yahoo.com)
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