So so so so so

I title these the way I title word documents before I save them.

Today I had the final music class rehearsal before the big performance on thursday. Yikes.

Before SFF I was looking super pathetic and sleepy and the Gunilla’s miracle replacement sub felt bad for me and she insisted on giving me money for a coffee. (Yes, mother. I refused her money several times. As you know though, people tend to not give up once they’ve offered to pay for something for you.) The rest of my day went much better after that. When I drink coffee I feel like I’ve got my life together. When I drink tea I feel like my life is falling apart. When I drink hot chocolate I feel like I should take a nap or watch a period romance movie.

Religion was cancelled because the teacher was sick. surprise.

I went to the bank and they refused me because I only had a copy of my passport and not the actual thing.

I went home and got my passport.

I went back to the bank (which is a little over 30 min away, mind you) and got my $$

I bought a pair of ice skates!!!!!!! YEAHHHHH

I went home and read the Book Thief. I highly recommend each of you does the same.

The End.

Poetry

I’m not one of those girls who has a poetry journal full of “deep” thoughts and bad similes. My first class today was music though, and our project is to write a song. The group nominated me to be the lyricist because since I’m the singer it’s going to have to be in English. I wrote a bad poem (see the bottom of this post) and they all think it’s really great because I don’t think they understand it fully. They’re all really good at guitar and piano and they came up with music on the spot, so I’m the weak one in the group. Hooray! They all seem really cool and nice though, so maybe we’ll all become friends and they’ll forgive me for sucking so much.

In my SFF class Davide (the Italian boy) and I are the oldest. There are five fourteen year old boys in this class and omg I forgot how immature fourteen year olds are, boys in particular. They were disruptive all class long and it was super annoying, but Davide and I shared many meaningful annoyed looks at each other because I couldn’t understand his accent and he couldn’t understand my English. So maybe once we learn Swedish we can get past our language barrier and be friends.

My religion teacher was no where to be found (Cecil Baldwin teaches that class too) and I think he maybe went home because his daughter was sick or something, because I remember him saying something to me about just getting back from maternity leave. That’s right. Maternity leave. Because Sweden is amazing and equality reigns. This is a feminist paradise.

I got on the train and went into the city because I needed another pair of jeans and some sweaters and I got some (it was so hard to spend money, you don’t understand. I don’t like shopping that much, and I HATE spending money, but it was important and now I won’t be freezing all winter long.

After I was done shopping, I went in search of the library my school buds took me to earlier, and I was walking for almost three hours because, even though I had a map, I was lost. The map only named major roads, and I couldn’t find any. I asked for directions a few times, but every time I asked, they would point me in the opposite direction the last person pointed me in. Eventually I got there and my legs were having little muscle spasms and wow. It was all uphill and I was carrying a lot and don’t judge me.

Anyway, I picked up a million books about religion so that I can write this thesis-like thing that they want from us for Humanistics. It’s a huge paper that has to have a least ten sources and you have to explain why the sources are legit and then you have to write a companion piece demonstrating what you learned. I think I’ll write a short fiction story. In English, just to stick to them for making me work so hard.

Sorry about the lack of pictures. My camera is dead and I only have one adapter, so I have to decide what is priority in the charging queue, and the camera is dead last.

Here’s the terrible poem I have to sing in front of my class. It had to be about a key, and we couldn’t decide what the key was to, so we made it a key to a heart, house, and lock. Hooray for indecision!

We met on a Saturday night

The bus was running late, the rain was a fright

I thought you were cute so I opened my umbrella

I thought we could share, you seemed an alright fella

How could I have known how wrong I was

How could you mislead me so

Why would you go and break my heart

Say you love me,  then let me go

And I’ve been told a hundred times

That it’s not you, it’s me.

I don’t know why I thought you were different

Why I gave you my key

I let you into my house

I let you into my heart

We were always supposed to be together

I don’t know how to live now that we’re apart

We declared our love at Westbridge

Our lock still hangs for all to see

I wish I could tear it off

But you threw away our key

Though years are passed

And other lovers have come

I can’t make myself forget you

You’re still the song I hum

And I’ve been told a hundred times

That it’s not you, it’s me.

I don’t know why I thought you were different

Why I gave you my key

I let you into my house

I let you into my heart

We were always supposed to be together

I don’t know how to live now that we’re apart

Now that we’re apart

Summer in the City

Today was my first day of SFF. I got into class and there were almost thirty kids in there (I thought there were only going to be three, so imagine my surprise) and the room capacity was probably twelve, so we kept all of the window and doors open. The teacher spoke completely in Swedish which sucked. I mean, she spoke slowly and enunciated, but I still could only understand every five words, so I didn’t know what was going on. Then she wrote something Swedish on the board and I understood 4 of the fifteen words and everyone was pulling out their notebooks, so I did too.

I raised my hand and was all, “I’ve only been here two weeks. I don’t know what’s going on, can you please explain this to me?” and then she was all “Just try your best.” and I was like “I don’t know what the board says well enough to try my best. Are we writing essays? What does it say?” and then she was all “Just write an introduction about yourself instead of doing what the board says.”

So, I still don’t know what all of the other kids wrote, but I wrote a paragraph about myself and Wisconsin and I drew a picture of a cow in a blizzard that made her and the girls sitting next to me laugh. I turned in my essay and started talking to this Italian boy with an Italian name that I can’t pronounce or spell. He seemed pretty cool though. After the teacher scanned all of our essays, she gave the non-international section kids (me and a few other students) some reading material that was completely in Swedish and then told me and the Italian boy that we should go to beginners Swedish. No kidding. He wrote two sentences and I wrote six. Everyone else had a whole page front and back. She gave me the email address of the beginner SFF teacher and I’m supposed to email her to find out when and where her classes are. ??? Okay, then.

Then I went to lunch (which was rice and some suspicious looking chicken.) didn’t eat anything, and hung out with Jonatan and Aida until Farida got out of her class so that we could go see THE CITY.

It was pretty cool. We hung out for five or six hours, walking around and looking at things. They’re all super awesome and amazingly like all of the things that I like and all have tumblogs (besides Aida) and we fangirled over tv series and movies that we’ve seen, and Jonatan loaned me Miss Peregrines Home for Peculiar Children in English and they showed me around Gamla Stan and now I know how to get there by walking from my school and I want to spend lots of time there!!! (everything is so cute, you don’t understand. I feel like I’m in a coffee shop AU)

Pictures from yesterday’s science class:

FOR SCIENCE!

I am not a murderer, I am a SCIENTIST.

Pictures from today’s outing:

We passed this bridge that was covered in locks. Lovers write their names on here, hook them on and throw the key into the river. Apparently sometimes people come with wire cutters to chop theirs off when their relationships fail.

Jonatan, Farida, Aida, and I in a cafe underneath a concert hall

The acoustics in this library are so amazing! When you whisper, it echos! It took all my self control not to start singing!