oh i should not be blogging. when i finally went up to start work on my paper last nite (granted at like 11) i found the doors barred against me and my procrastinating ilk. at least my time was well-spent: i wrote lana’s rec, successfully concealing my dislike for the institution and for her sake even cuddling up to it a bit (couldn’t hurt, eh?) reminded me of my interview, all this telling people what they want to hear. i’m going to need an honesty hour soon to help me recover.

will came down, droopy, and talked to me for 45 minutes which was also fun. told me stories of his past. actually that functioned as sort of an honesty hour — i like certian people to whom you can ask straightforward questions and who will give you in response straightforward answers. none of that curvybackwards or sideways shit, oh no. no sir.

so i went home satisfied, accompanied on the bus by a man with the largest smile i’d ever seen, a jaw-bridge of a smile, who sat next to me. with english as fractured as his smile was continuous, he told me he’s from kazakstan (sp?) in copenhagen studying scientology.

my blanket is a tempermental thing. some mornings i wake to find it next to me, looking like it too is curled up and dreaming. some mornings it’s on the floor like a sulking child. beds in this country are narrow and strange, and i guess it takes a while to fully earn the trust of ones covers.

this morning, from bed i went to the national musset with my myths class to admire ironageiron and bronzeagebronze, skeletons with preserved curls and wellcut amber. teacher morten described thor as the anti-Christ. not the antichrist, mind you. i love ancient religions. the modern ones, by the look of the gory front pages, india, israel, afghanistan, aren’t doing quite so well. well. one can always escape into history.

you could, dear readers, have been treated to a rant this evening. restlessness and anger hit this afternoon, as i speedwalked the fifteen minutes from my pointless dk pol activity to the russia orientation in an attempt not to be too late. the russia orientation only made things worse. fortunately as soon as i got home eric called, extending an invitation for homemade sushi. we sat cross-legged on the floor with the sushi laid out before us, water glasses to one side and candles on the other, and the atmosphere (read: wasabi) chased away my demons.

enuf whining. it’s time to analyze the viking conversion to christianity and how it affected their storytelling. besides, there are always wonderful movies i can go to alone at the cinemateket, whose schedule for march makes me wish i could spend money nonstop (my brother i hear is doing just that in australia right now, with the justification that buying alcohol for females is the custom.) at least i got a free membership so each film is only 30 kr, instead of the 50 it could be.

and even if i’m not with ideal people in russia, i’ll still be in russia. the simple fact of that will make up for a lot.

yeehaw baby now i can write in black. i’m not sure why i switched the background color; i think i like it. if not i can always go back. nothing online is permanent.

about to work with my crime group. we have to agree on alternative sanctions for criminals which we’ll present tomorrow at our teacher’s house. our reward is a free byob dinner with her, and she’s one of the coolest adults i’ve ever met.

latest development on my own quest to be cool: helped mel make dinner for her host family last nite, as well as the long-awaited gingerbread scones (verdict: eh; better once mel lathered them with whipped cream [which i whipped]). and tonite i made a more successful stirfry. actually if i do say so myself it was damn good. pat pat, ester. pat pat.

last nite eric explained dungeons and dragons to me, the rules as well as the appeal, during my second teaparty in a row. my teaparties hug midnight with both arms and usually involve digestive biscuits, or will anyway until i run out. yesterday’s featured sliced green apple as well though granny smith, you can tell, prefers to be on her home soil.

i hadn’t expected either teaparty, particularly not last nite’s. earlier i went out to meet heather, cindy, will, and will’s visiting ex-something; with the added company of two more we finished off the Finishing Touches and dropped in on student house, a cheapass crowded colorful bar near the round tower. bad music, yet again: fat t-shirted men with long hair screaming with electric guitars. really, two things on the Danes Cannot Seem to Do list, make music and take care of their garbage (more cigarette butts than i’ve seen in any one place, except possibly vassar.) recycling redeems them.

despite all the snow when i ventured out this morning to buy bread for mel’s host family, hosting me tonite for dinner, i heard birds singing encouragingly. a reminder that it’s unlikely to stay winter forever.

in true female fashion, three of us yesterday evening adjourned to the bathroom. katie, me, and a girl i’d silently nicknamed the russian princess for her slender aloofness, pearl earrings, white-as-the-skin-of-a-lightbulb skin, and occasionally frightened expression as though she weren’t used to dealing with the rabble of the world. i doubt i’ve said a word to her despite her occasional presence as an associate to the partners of my group; she’s in classes with some of the others and none with me. still, she smiles at me usually and i smile back. who am i to spurn royalty?

suddenly she says, “you know, with the two of us here, we make up everything that is america.” words to that effect — i’m startled and it takes me a moment to process. we had been discussing our different colleges at the table before; i assume she’s referring to that. “you mean,” i say slowly, “that the two of us have within us the representative spectrum of young people in our country?” she rewarded my rewording with a beaming nod. “hmm,” i say, still processing. “we’re missing the alienated, disaffected punk or apathetic segment,” i point out. she returns a blank stare. “okay,” i say, “maybe that’s an east coast thing.”

i sent off my proposed curriculum to the cty-guy who’ll be interviewing me, titled “Everyday Things”. now i’m about to go back to my room, roll up my sleeves, and try a recipe i bookmarked a few days ago in the frayed Family Circle cookbook previous tenants left, alongside women’s magazines and the bible, in our kitchen cupboard. if the result is any good, i’ll bring to share with folks at the georgia o’keefe exhibit we’re heading to this afternoon.

three funny searches led to this blog recently: “jewish+blog+jew” ; “sexy mature danish women” ; “journal of the identical lunch”. well, that about sums me up, eh?

dammit: tinka is hosting an oscar party while i’m in russia. there’s much confusion/discussion about travel here. we only have so-many weekends good for gallavanting; everyone has different priorities and different obstacles. andrea doesn’t want to go to anyplace the nazis have been. or, well, i mean, substantially, like germany or austria. i used to be of that opinion. somewhere along the line i developed an itch to see berlin — becca and i are meeting there before i leave on the study tour.

where else? i’d like to see spain. maybe brussels. where do you put the ‘x’ in brussels?

one of the kieslovsky dekalog films this morning, number 6, left me unaffected. we’re watching another, number 8, later on. indonesian food tonite, georgia o’keefe tomorrow.

waiting for laundry to finish spinning. laundry never looks to me like it’s having fun in there. i’ve heard people suggest it; i just don’t agree.

ho-hum. saw velvet goldmine today as planned. well, it was a combination of plan and luck, actually. i’d assumed it was in the evening and happened to casually check the schedule when i stepped out in the sunshine at 3:45. playing at 4:30, as it turned out. made it to the dfi, registered for membership but fumbled with the form when i realized i had neither my address nor my phone number with me and couldn’t remember either off the top of my head. i’m a doof.

enjoyed the movie, though not as much as hedwig. the latter is more substantive. has more glitter per glam, you could say. i wonder if “curt wild” is a conscious nod to kurt veil. toni collette is incredible in everything she does. there’s something riveting about her, she commands attention; and on a screen full of beautiful naked men, that’s quite an achievement.

stopped briefly on the way home to buy groceries, then boldly, as though i had every right in the world, i made pizza. after i ate some and put some away for lunch tomorrow, i realized i felt fuller than i have in a while. not gross i’ve-eaten-one-too-many-digestive-biscuits (what pass for cookies in this country) full, but hot-food-satisfied kind of full. mmm.

sorry that last one was in such an offensive color. speaking of color, jesse and william have dealt with race recently. very different starting points, of course; both really insightful. being out of america, i’d nearly forgotten it was black history month. but maybe these posts are coincidental.

more linkagely, my latest find: baraita. lovely fluid and relatable, apart from the buffy/angel references, and not because i’m denied television in this place. i’ve never watched either show. please, tell me i’m not the only one. is it really as smart as all these people seem to believe?

right. so the stirfry wasn’t great. liz who called, blessed liz, gave me tips for the future. orange juice? what the hell, in the true nonme spirit, i can try it.

off in a moment to see gosford park — yes, again; i said from the start i’d have to see it more than once. cranky miserable weather outside, just the perfect kind to escape. this morning i woke up after a few hours sleep on my makeshift (god i love that word) alburtsland bed on andrea’s floor to meet my class and walk two minutes to the most secure prison in denmark. as you’ll perhaps recall, my crime class visited an open prison last week in jyderup.

on the way out, i notice butterfly stencils on the wall. i can’t tell, and i still don’t know, whether they’re ironic.

managed to celebrate purim more successfully today. after a ridiculously long series of classes (film, 8:45 – 11:45; mythology 1:50 – 3:10; danish politics, 3:30 – 6:30 — lecture and then group presentations, with a free-pizza break/apology towards the end from our teacher) and a dash back to my dorm to exchange my bag o’ books for a bag o’ clothes, heatherwill mel katie andrea and i went to selena’s, this cool two-floor cafe that’s becoming a haunt, for drinks. i got a snowball — too banana-y, not very strong — and then mel and i split five-shots-for-100-kroner of cuba caramel. so good. on demand, i told the story of the holiday and afterwards was complimented with what is possibly the highest praise i can receive nowadays: that i’m a good storyteller.

when i was done basking, i solicited stories of embarrassment. a slow, steady start (cops interrupting hookups, skirts tucked in underwear) followed by a landslide (alcohol-related reputation injuries, public urination) left us laughing all around the table. we parted reluctantly. i’m spending the nite at andrea’s as tomorrow morning early i’m going to the maximum security prison minutes from her dorm with my criminal justice class. so far it’s been a much better week than last.