Monday, September 14, 2009
Mormonic musings
Guess what, Murphy takes airplanes-- or maybe he just never really left my side, or he has a personal assistant minion permanently scheduled for murphying my life. In any case, the commercial hiphop course that I desperately wanted to take has been cancelled. and they're redirecting me to take lyrical hiphop or LA street style. i) lyrical= my nemesis. always. ii) i TOOK LA street style. i came away wanting to kill everyone in the class for being giggly chatterboxes.

I think this is karma for me being mean to my sister, a bitch to my parents and not exactly the best friend ever. it could also be karma for me lying blatantly to my parents-- something i'm trying to remedy and which i will get to eventually in this post.
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So now I'm sitting here typing instead of getting down to my readings for administrative law or Richard III. I spent the time that would have been taken up by dance class today rearranging the furniture in my room so that I could actually hook up my speakers and have room to dance. This has of course resulted in a complete lack of light to study (what is it with Swedish student rooms and extremely low-wattage lights? Every room I've been to so far is so badly lit you could be writing on the table instead of your notepad and not realise it) but I figure I can remedy that by making use of natural light or something. In any case I have realised that I can only study by the river, which sounds terribly romantic but is terribly inconvenient seeing as it's getting godawfully cold and I always have to rush back to my room to skype my dad/mum/sister: the first two because one day without skype leads them to think i have
i) been murdered
ii) been kidnapped
iii) become hooked on drugs (my dad is convinced that I am going to go to Amsterdam and smoke weed or something)
iv) argued with a certain corridor mate about basic sanitation and was hence drawn and quartered and thrown into the river
v) und so weiter;
and my sister because she's the one who keeps me updated on what is going on back home and also is the one who keeps me sane. I whine to her far too much, I'm surprised she puts up with me at all when she's got her screwy JS project mates to deal with and her brilliant NM USP mates to live up to.

I don't even know where to start, to sort of organise what's been going on. Perhaps the easiest trigger would be this: The Book of Mormon, which is sitting on my shelf right now. Before you revile me for being a cultist I need to explain.

I complained about not getting the alcohol thing at all a few entries back, and even when my Swedish buddy (yes they have a buddy system here) asked me out for wine with her friends I was reluctant to accept; I REALLY have zero alcohol tolerance and despite my father drinking enough to singlehandedly keep Guinness in healthy business, both my parents are adamant about me not imbibing. And it's not just the personal consumption thing, it's the lifestyle I couldn't understand either. Why get piss-drunk and toss your bottles everywhere and throw up all over the streets and throw bicycles and chairs and each other into the river? More or less I was just about ready to absent myself from any and every halfway decent event.

Then one day as I was walking out of the English campus I ran into two guys. They were dressed very formally compared to everyone else-- in fact, I'd first noticed them because of the starched white formal shirt-tie-and-pants ensembles they had on. As I walked past them one of them beckoned and said "Ursäkta..." and rattled on in Swedish; I apologised and said I didn't understand Swedish. It turned out that only one of them could speak Swedish anyway-- they were Americans, in Uppsala for two years to do missionary work for the Church of Mormon. As they were talking to me about God's word and how much it had affected their lives, I found myself feeling slightly smug and ready to demolish their declamations with all I knew of paganism and so on. Then, I paused. What in the world was this?

I'd always prided myself on having an open mind when it came to religion, because for a time I was an adherent of what you could say was one of the most unorthodox practices this earth has seen (or most organic, it depends on where you're coming from). And although I don't actively practise or believe now-- some of those values stay. And one of them is to accept all, to realise that not everyone subscribes to Via Veritas Vita, that for many-- so many-- there are many ways, many truths, many lives. This was the same reason that one of my summer goals-- not fulfilled, unfortunately-- was to read the bible, which would have been anathema to a younger me. So how could I have forgotten?

It took me all of 5 seconds to think of this and to accept, with thanks, the proffered "Another Testament of Jesus Christ", add a tentative positive to the extended invitations for their Monday meetings and to wish them well on their way. They were very nice people: they didn't press me for a contact number, or an email address, and the newer guy-- who'd only been in Sweden for three months-- was wonderfully friendly.

So. If I could be that open-minded (or so I say) about religion, then why not at least see what this whole booze-fuelled lifestyle looks like, from the inside?

With that, I've been to two parties so far: one was a rather tame and very pleasant Friday night affair, hosted by my Swedish buddy Maria and her friend Jenny. I went earlier to help them cook and prepare food, and we made incredibly delicious pies: one vegetarian, to cater for my idiosyncratic palate, and one beef pie (I think!). Both looked delectable and the veg one was heavenly. The food other people brought were delicious too: Erika's pasta salad and Karen's to-die-for chokladkaka with the creamiest vanilla ice-cream my tastebuds have had the delight to sample. We played rounders or kubb, I can't remember which, in a field too cold for words and too dark to actually play in-- after a while none of us could see the ball anymore. That night I was also introduced to the concept of the bicep beer, met a German guy who was very interested in hip hop dance, and a Chinese girl who's been slowly drawing me into more of the student (night)life. I also got to know a few of my law classmates better. Maria-- my buddy-- is an incredibly lovely person; I don't have a bike, so when everyone else peddled off to dance the night away at a club she waited 15 minutes with me for a bus since I didn't bring my student ID and wouldn't have been admitted. I also have an extant invitation for a run or a walk about the Rackarberget area with her, which I will make use of as soon as I'm able.

The other party I attended was yesterday-- and no, it was not exactly wild since no one started getting it on in the middle of the corridor, but it was certainly not what you'd call tame either. But I am tired, and I need to wash my lenses and my dishes and do my readings for the week ahead. Besides no one reads such horridly long posts anyway so I should stop taxing your eyes for a while.

P.S. in case you're wondering if I'm going for a Mormon meeting, I'm going to have to say no-- somewhat regretfully, really, because they were really nice people. But I joined a dance group that has practices on Mondays, and dance always comes first.

P.P.S. my solo backpacking trip to Prague, Vienna and Budapest has suddenly swelled, because I got more and more guilty about lying repeatedly to my parents (and they have a sixth sense about when I'm lying, DAMNIT. The credit card bills for the single airline and train tickets would have tipped them off sooner or later, in any case.). So now two girls have tentatively expressed interest in going with me, and one of them is asking guys along as well. So much for journey of self-discovery SIGH. Maybe I can persuade them to all leave on the 7th-- then I will have Budapest to myself, at least. and one day of Prague. (knowing me that will be the day I get pickpocketed).

But in the meantime-- thanks to Jinglin for showing such concern (and congrats that you're Europe-bound, again!!); to Ning, Ni and Eisen for boosting my flagging morale whenever I suddenly freaked out and thought "oh shit I'll probably be murdered just like my dad's colleague" (major substantiating factor of why my parents are particularly paranoid about lone backpacking); and of course to my sister, for listening to me swear blue murder at my parents and for covering up for me. Like mad.

SIGH I REALLY WANTED TO GO ALONE.

Oh well. There's always the rest of Sweden.

P.P.P.S. I am TRYING to swear less, since Ning, Ni and my sister now all think I need my mouth scrubbed out with Chlorox. But it's so HARD.

Posted at 4:03 AM

walkonby
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you know just what you're saying
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she rings my bell
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morethanwords
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o death in life, the days that are no more
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don't look back in anger
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Credits
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