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Updated... regularly?
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It has been quite a while since I posted anything on my website. So I guess it's high time I did so again.
I would promise what few readers I may have that I will update more often from now on. Truth is, though, that this would probably not be true.
Real LifeTM is a bitch and I guess I will not manage to update too regularly. Possibly I'll manage to keep up a once-a-month schedule though - if I manage to come up with something. We'll see.
Why not in September!?
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So I've finished uni - in June. So I've found a job as a teacher - in September. So now, they say I'm a trainee teacher - and I have to go back to uni, again.
Well, kind of. I'm still paid, thank God, but it's weird nonetheless. You see, the system in Luxembourg states that you can work as what they call an "Education Chargee", that is, you are in charge of pupils education. What it effectively boils down to is that you are a substitute teacher and they give you all the lessons they couldn't find any real teacher for - manpower shortage threatens us all.
What it also means is that you are thrown into the cold water. No mentor to help you out, to give you tips, to keep an eye on you. Just you and your class. With all the problems that may entail. This is the way I've been teaching since September 08.
Fast-forward to January. After a gruelling session of elimination-style exams, I am one of the few, the proud, the trainee teachers. And now, the system suddenly takes an interest in me.
They send me to education courses.
They give me a mentor who comes into class with me from time to time, and gives me feedback on what I do well - and what not so well.
However, why does this happen in January? Why not in September, when the school year actually starts? Three teachers and four classes have been affected by me passing these exams. Because I suddenly needed more lessons (as required by the law) I had to exchange one class for another one and another class was taken away from their teacher and given to me.
This is a hassle to everybody involved: The pupils have to get accustomed to a new teacher, the teacher has to get accustomed to a new class; there's a lot of wasted effort!
In the end though, changes always happen very slow. I guess I can count myself lucky to be a Trainee Teacher. It is a paid job, and it's a job I like. That's far more than a lot of people have.
Well, kind of. I'm still paid, thank God, but it's weird nonetheless. You see, the system in Luxembourg states that you can work as what they call an "Education Chargee", that is, you are in charge of pupils education. What it effectively boils down to is that you are a substitute teacher and they give you all the lessons they couldn't find any real teacher for - manpower shortage threatens us all.
What it also means is that you are thrown into the cold water. No mentor to help you out, to give you tips, to keep an eye on you. Just you and your class. With all the problems that may entail. This is the way I've been teaching since September 08.
Fast-forward to January. After a gruelling session of elimination-style exams, I am one of the few, the proud, the trainee teachers. And now, the system suddenly takes an interest in me.
They send me to education courses.
They give me a mentor who comes into class with me from time to time, and gives me feedback on what I do well - and what not so well.
However, why does this happen in January? Why not in September, when the school year actually starts? Three teachers and four classes have been affected by me passing these exams. Because I suddenly needed more lessons (as required by the law) I had to exchange one class for another one and another class was taken away from their teacher and given to me.
This is a hassle to everybody involved: The pupils have to get accustomed to a new teacher, the teacher has to get accustomed to a new class; there's a lot of wasted effort!
In the end though, changes always happen very slow. I guess I can count myself lucky to be a Trainee Teacher. It is a paid job, and it's a job I like. That's far more than a lot of people have.
Best Days of Your Life
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That's what people always say when they're referring to student days. It's such an awful cliché. However, we all know that clichés exist because there is some inherent truth to them. I do not know whether my student days were the best days of my life (who knows what's still to come), but I do know they were good days, and I thoroughly enjoyed student life.
Why the past tense? Well, student life, for me, draws to an end. I have one more essay to hand in, in a week's time, and in two week's time, I shall leave beautiful Aberystwyth and go back home. Reason enough, I think to look back on the two years that I spent here and to tell the tale.
I can fairly say that, although living in Aber (as the locals - and us student lot - call it) was not always easy, I never once regretted coming here. However, I do remember that my first year was sometimes rather dreary. I remember that I chose Aber partly because it did not really have a Luxembourg community. Places like Aberdeen for example, are awash with Luxembourgish students, you can probably get by without talking much English. Well, me, I wanted to immerse myself, and figured the best way to do so was to go someplace nobody knows you or even your country (yes, Luxembourgish is a language, and no, Luxembourg is no tax scam of epic proportions).
In that, I succeeded, perhaps more than I wanted. I am not socially inept, but being more than one thousand kilometres away from home in a city where you do not know a single person, is somewhat daunting. Especially if you are lacking the basics: an internet connection.
Those first couple of weeks, I spent an awful lot of time at the reception desk of the place I lived in. They'd promised there would be an internet connection and there wasn't. I was basically chewing their ears off, at least once a day just to get them moving. Man, they were thick-heads.
The cyber-café a few metres down the street from where I lived proved to be a life saver. In need of a volunteer to staff their cash register and give the odd basic lesson in cybernauting or computer usage, they took me in and kind of taught me the ropes of Aber. Max, my 'boss' and Penny, my co-worker taught me the basic Britishness you needed to know in order to survive: from tea with milk (yuck!) to Dalek porn, all areas were covered. Oh yes: free internet as well!
After two weeks, when Uni had started I made those first social contacts, and the ones that lasted longest led to me sharing a house this year, with seven fellow students.
Man, they're a crazy bunch. But I love them to bits, every last one of them, even if it might not always have seemed that way to some of them (you know... that spine thing... ahem).
In the end it all boils down to this: As happy as I am to get back home, I'm just as unhappy about leaving Aberystwyth and the mates I found here. If I had a good time (and I did) it was because of them.
I guess this is my thank you. To all of you.
May we meet again.
Why the past tense? Well, student life, for me, draws to an end. I have one more essay to hand in, in a week's time, and in two week's time, I shall leave beautiful Aberystwyth and go back home. Reason enough, I think to look back on the two years that I spent here and to tell the tale.
I can fairly say that, although living in Aber (as the locals - and us student lot - call it) was not always easy, I never once regretted coming here. However, I do remember that my first year was sometimes rather dreary. I remember that I chose Aber partly because it did not really have a Luxembourg community. Places like Aberdeen for example, are awash with Luxembourgish students, you can probably get by without talking much English. Well, me, I wanted to immerse myself, and figured the best way to do so was to go someplace nobody knows you or even your country (yes, Luxembourgish is a language, and no, Luxembourg is no tax scam of epic proportions).
In that, I succeeded, perhaps more than I wanted. I am not socially inept, but being more than one thousand kilometres away from home in a city where you do not know a single person, is somewhat daunting. Especially if you are lacking the basics: an internet connection.
Those first couple of weeks, I spent an awful lot of time at the reception desk of the place I lived in. They'd promised there would be an internet connection and there wasn't. I was basically chewing their ears off, at least once a day just to get them moving. Man, they were thick-heads.
The cyber-café a few metres down the street from where I lived proved to be a life saver. In need of a volunteer to staff their cash register and give the odd basic lesson in cybernauting or computer usage, they took me in and kind of taught me the ropes of Aber. Max, my 'boss' and Penny, my co-worker taught me the basic Britishness you needed to know in order to survive: from tea with milk (yuck!) to Dalek porn, all areas were covered. Oh yes: free internet as well!
After two weeks, when Uni had started I made those first social contacts, and the ones that lasted longest led to me sharing a house this year, with seven fellow students.
Man, they're a crazy bunch. But I love them to bits, every last one of them, even if it might not always have seemed that way to some of them (you know... that spine thing... ahem).
In the end it all boils down to this: As happy as I am to get back home, I'm just as unhappy about leaving Aberystwyth and the mates I found here. If I had a good time (and I did) it was because of them.
I guess this is my thank you. To all of you.
May we meet again.
Friend or enemy? Friend AND enemy?
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Today, let us come together, students of the world, and reflect a little about the greatest friend and enemy of any student anytime, anywhere. Ever.
It is a sneaky little bugger, that one day, from one moment to the next, is there and has you in its claws. No need to say that it is nigh impossibly difficult to ever break out of these claws again.
Perhaps though, it's not just there from one moment to the next. Maybe it's always there. Only, when we were young, we were protected. Our mothers were there to protect us. Who hasn't heard this sentence (or a locally, idiosyncratically inflected version of it): "No dear, first your homework, then you can go out and play."
I know I've heard it. Many a time.
Thus, this compulsorily inflicted order of things, work first, pleasure later, protects us at first. Only later, when we are older (say secondary school, 15 years old perhaps, give or take depending on your personal onset of puberty and teenage rebellion) there comes this inevitable moment when we sit at our desk and we watch out of the window. There is this world outside, this bright shining world, full of sunshine, ice cream, pretty girls (or boys if you, dear reader, happen to fancy them) and whatnot.
And what is inside the room? A desk with an open book on it. Inside that book, an exercise, grammar perhaps, or some much dreaded mathematics. It's just a short exercise, really. Maybe 10 minutes and it would be all done and finished. But that's not how we think at that precise moment, oh no.
"It's really nice outside," that's what we think. "Why should I put up with this mere trifle, when I can just as well do it this evening, after the pretty sun has set," we think. And so we go down the stairs, pass our mothers ("Don't you have any homework, dear?" - "No mother, not today.") and enter the carefree world of sunshine, frosty sweets and hesitant first attempts at sexual conquest.
This is it, the pivotal moment. Procrastination is born. An impish little monkey, it sits on your shoulder, and with binoculars it looks around you, carefully observing your surroundings. What for? Of course, it is looking for excuses.
In the beginning, we are ill-equipped in dealing with procrastination. This pivotal piece of homework may never have been written. We may have been punished by the teacher for not having prepared for class.
That however doesn't teach us to avoid procrastination. It teaches us to develop it into an art-form. The next day, there will be more homework, and again we will walk down the stairs ("No homework again?" - "Oh don't fuss, mum. It's just a little bit, I'll do it later, ok?") and out into the sun. The morning after we will be sat on the bus, eyes still sleep-sticky, and write that homework. The homework will look awful, because we have not yet learned how to deal with all these unexpected bumps but that is a skill we will soon acquire.
And procrastination grows. And grows. And grows.
All of this may sound pretty grim so far, but I don't believe one should dismiss procrastination as entirely evil. It helps build stress. And I don't mean this in a negative sense. For those who can handle stress, it is an essential aspect of any task they have to execute.
Stress kickstarts creativity, it encourages outside-the-box thinking and often comes up with some pretty unconventional ideas that you would never have employed (let alone thought of) had you planned your task well in advance.
Obviously, there is a point of no return, even with procrastination. That is the point where you know you've left your task until it was definitively too late.
I had this with an essay last year. I started it on the day it was due in on. Began at 9:30, as soon as the library opened, read some, wrote some, frantically worked until I'd finally finished and printed it, at 10 minutes to 2. The essay was due in on two o'clock. That day, I literally handed the essay into the tutor's hand as she came to pick them up. My mark was still acceptable, yes, but way lower than what I was used to.
Doesn't this teach us something, though? I'm of the opinion that procrastination, in our age (or perhaps always?), has become something of a given. I have yet to meet somebody who has never procrastinated.
There are some people though, who seem like they don't procrastinate. My theory is, that they merely have figured out a way to use procrastination to their advantage.
Bear with me: Outside-the-box thinking and creativity are good things, are they not? Why not use that kickstarter? I think people can't learn to get rid of procrastination. I think it's inherent to each and every one of us. What if, instead we learned to control procrastination. If we figure out our personal point of no return, for each task individually, we can utilise this last-minute-stress to concentrate our energy on the task and still finish well in time. There might even be time to proofread that essay/presentation/etc.
I will leave this open-ended, everybody can take their own stance on procrastination. While you discuss, I will go back to the work that I actually should have been doing while I wrote this blog.
It is a sneaky little bugger, that one day, from one moment to the next, is there and has you in its claws. No need to say that it is nigh impossibly difficult to ever break out of these claws again.
Perhaps though, it's not just there from one moment to the next. Maybe it's always there. Only, when we were young, we were protected. Our mothers were there to protect us. Who hasn't heard this sentence (or a locally, idiosyncratically inflected version of it): "No dear, first your homework, then you can go out and play."
I know I've heard it. Many a time.
Thus, this compulsorily inflicted order of things, work first, pleasure later, protects us at first. Only later, when we are older (say secondary school, 15 years old perhaps, give or take depending on your personal onset of puberty and teenage rebellion) there comes this inevitable moment when we sit at our desk and we watch out of the window. There is this world outside, this bright shining world, full of sunshine, ice cream, pretty girls (or boys if you, dear reader, happen to fancy them) and whatnot.
And what is inside the room? A desk with an open book on it. Inside that book, an exercise, grammar perhaps, or some much dreaded mathematics. It's just a short exercise, really. Maybe 10 minutes and it would be all done and finished. But that's not how we think at that precise moment, oh no.
"It's really nice outside," that's what we think. "Why should I put up with this mere trifle, when I can just as well do it this evening, after the pretty sun has set," we think. And so we go down the stairs, pass our mothers ("Don't you have any homework, dear?" - "No mother, not today.") and enter the carefree world of sunshine, frosty sweets and hesitant first attempts at sexual conquest.
This is it, the pivotal moment. Procrastination is born. An impish little monkey, it sits on your shoulder, and with binoculars it looks around you, carefully observing your surroundings. What for? Of course, it is looking for excuses.
- Isn't this brilliant sci-fi movie you've been wanting to watch on the telly tonight?
- Didn't you promise yourself to finally finish Final Fantasy X-whatever before the month runs out?
- Didn't you want to put some new posters on your walls?
In the beginning, we are ill-equipped in dealing with procrastination. This pivotal piece of homework may never have been written. We may have been punished by the teacher for not having prepared for class.
That however doesn't teach us to avoid procrastination. It teaches us to develop it into an art-form. The next day, there will be more homework, and again we will walk down the stairs ("No homework again?" - "Oh don't fuss, mum. It's just a little bit, I'll do it later, ok?") and out into the sun. The morning after we will be sat on the bus, eyes still sleep-sticky, and write that homework. The homework will look awful, because we have not yet learned how to deal with all these unexpected bumps but that is a skill we will soon acquire.
And procrastination grows. And grows. And grows.
All of this may sound pretty grim so far, but I don't believe one should dismiss procrastination as entirely evil. It helps build stress. And I don't mean this in a negative sense. For those who can handle stress, it is an essential aspect of any task they have to execute.
Stress kickstarts creativity, it encourages outside-the-box thinking and often comes up with some pretty unconventional ideas that you would never have employed (let alone thought of) had you planned your task well in advance.
Obviously, there is a point of no return, even with procrastination. That is the point where you know you've left your task until it was definitively too late.
I had this with an essay last year. I started it on the day it was due in on. Began at 9:30, as soon as the library opened, read some, wrote some, frantically worked until I'd finally finished and printed it, at 10 minutes to 2. The essay was due in on two o'clock. That day, I literally handed the essay into the tutor's hand as she came to pick them up. My mark was still acceptable, yes, but way lower than what I was used to.
Doesn't this teach us something, though? I'm of the opinion that procrastination, in our age (or perhaps always?), has become something of a given. I have yet to meet somebody who has never procrastinated.
There are some people though, who seem like they don't procrastinate. My theory is, that they merely have figured out a way to use procrastination to their advantage.
Bear with me: Outside-the-box thinking and creativity are good things, are they not? Why not use that kickstarter? I think people can't learn to get rid of procrastination. I think it's inherent to each and every one of us. What if, instead we learned to control procrastination. If we figure out our personal point of no return, for each task individually, we can utilise this last-minute-stress to concentrate our energy on the task and still finish well in time. There might even be time to proofread that essay/presentation/etc.
I will leave this open-ended, everybody can take their own stance on procrastination. While you discuss, I will go back to the work that I actually should have been doing while I wrote this blog.
Paprika
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Yesterday evening I had the pleasure to watch Paprika, Satoshi Kon's latest animé.
After Tokyo Godfathers and Perfect Blue it was pretty likely, if not obvious, that Paprika would be good. However it was better than I expected. Let's start on the storyline, shall we?
The movie pivots on a new invention, the so-called DC-mini, a device that enables people to enter other people's dreams. Its intended use is dream analysis and psychotherapy but the machine has an obvious potential for abuse.
The extent of that potential becomes clear when the DC-mini gets stolen and people start dreaming while being while awake. This, however, is only the beginning and the movie's title-giving main character, Paprika (who is really not who she seems to be) has to go deep into the dream realm and confront one person's nightmarish dream of power.
So far for the plot. What about the rest of the movie? Well, in terms of directing, Paprika sets a nice rhythm: fast-paced mostly, without feeling rushed. It leaves time for some exposition, which - admittedly - is info-dump for the viewer's purpose, but doesn't feel annoying because it is off-set by nice little imagery gimmicks that illustrate the information that the characters give you.
The animation is nothing short of stunning. In the real world it is qualitative, to the point, self-effacing. In the dream world, it is unchained. The screen is filled with more details than the eye can perceive and everything is alive, teeming all over the place.
A whole lot of imagination has gone into this movie and the plot is quite gripping, so if you're looking for something good to take your mind off the usual blandness in the animation soup, go ahead and spice it up with some Paprika. You'll most likely not regret it.
After Tokyo Godfathers and Perfect Blue it was pretty likely, if not obvious, that Paprika would be good. However it was better than I expected. Let's start on the storyline, shall we?
The movie pivots on a new invention, the so-called DC-mini, a device that enables people to enter other people's dreams. Its intended use is dream analysis and psychotherapy but the machine has an obvious potential for abuse.
The extent of that potential becomes clear when the DC-mini gets stolen and people start dreaming while being while awake. This, however, is only the beginning and the movie's title-giving main character, Paprika (who is really not who she seems to be) has to go deep into the dream realm and confront one person's nightmarish dream of power.
So far for the plot. What about the rest of the movie? Well, in terms of directing, Paprika sets a nice rhythm: fast-paced mostly, without feeling rushed. It leaves time for some exposition, which - admittedly - is info-dump for the viewer's purpose, but doesn't feel annoying because it is off-set by nice little imagery gimmicks that illustrate the information that the characters give you.
The animation is nothing short of stunning. In the real world it is qualitative, to the point, self-effacing. In the dream world, it is unchained. The screen is filled with more details than the eye can perceive and everything is alive, teeming all over the place.
A whole lot of imagination has gone into this movie and the plot is quite gripping, so if you're looking for something good to take your mind off the usual blandness in the animation soup, go ahead and spice it up with some Paprika. You'll most likely not regret it.
1st blog
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Thus the blogging disease seems to have infected poor little me as well.
Alright then, let's start on something blog-worthy: Yesterday, I was imprisoned in my tiny room for two hours, because the lock on my door broke.
A locksmith had to come eventually, but that took two hours because the guy was on a football match.
Who knows, if it wasn't for the distraction of the interweb, I might even have gotten some work done. Alas...
Alright then, let's start on something blog-worthy: Yesterday, I was imprisoned in my tiny room for two hours, because the lock on my door broke.
A locksmith had to come eventually, but that took two hours because the guy was on a football match.
Who knows, if it wasn't for the distraction of the interweb, I might even have gotten some work done. Alas...
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