I still need to ad Vestmanna and the airport, but I think you get the idea.
More to come.
Sunday, December 16, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
The things a president has gotta do!
The 2012-16 Presidency starts off with
- Eastern seaboard hurricane recovery.
- Winter housing for Sandy victims.
- A successive storm threat.
- Israeli threats to bomb Iran.
- Israel at risk.
- Iranian nuclear risks.
- A major economic recovery.
- Global climate change.
- An approaching energy crisis.
This list is independent of who would
have been voted into office. If this isn't enough for any presidency,
both Obama and Romney had their own agendas. Obama will be dealing
with his own to do list for the next four years, but what would have
Romney's looked like? I think it would have gone something like this.
The Romney administration would have
- Worked to dismantle Obamacare at the federal level.
- Dedicated federal funds to overturn a Supreme Court ruling.
- Cut taxes to all groups.
- While still giving special exceptions to the middle and lower class.
- Pass a legal definition of personage.
- Expand camp X-Ray.
Obama on the other hand, will
- Expand Obamacare.
- Expand legal immigration to the US.
- Expand Federal powers in detainment of individuals.
I cannot see any major difference,
since the tasks either would have had to take on is a hell of a
burden and personal projects should be set aside. Ron Paul was right
about the important things being set aside for minor desires. Have a
happy 4 years!
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Mission Statement - Believing in what you're doing
One of the major differences between business in America and Scandinavia is the mission statement. How business men relate to this concept can determine the success of a partnership. Understanding how your partner relates to the mission statement, how he or she thinks, can be the most valuable tool in cooperation. It can help you determine what props will need to be on the stage, what everyone needs to do their job. In these props, you find a representation for our motives, the goal and the activities to reach those goals. Understanding what motives a person has will help you have some idea what a partner will do with a prop, and how.
Of course the goal of any business is to make money, but this is unstated, understood with a nod between colleagues. When it comes down to what you and your company talks about at meetings and what you do, it will center around your mission statement. A basketball team is motivated by competition, by the fun in being the best in their region. That is the motive behind their activities. But a basketball team will become a professional team for the money it can make through ticket sales. If there was no money in playing basketball, the team would meet up for a weekend game and have a little fun before returning to their daily lives. In this example, the team's motivation for turning professional was monetary gain. With this goal comes activities, such as daily training, team management, marketing and ticket sales. Understanding the motives represented in each prop will help a partner to the team understand what part of these activities are motivated by the players having fun and what part is motivated by money and necessity. Like wise, understanding the differences in motivation between an executive at IBM and LG can help you understand what each will be willing to do for a partnership.
In the US, money is king. It is not to knock the US or the business culture there. People want to live the good life and are willing to work together to achieve great things in exchange for a bit of luxury. It can help settle differences between two rivals or two bitter combatants. People will believe in a mission statement if it brings them prosperity. An engineer at Boeing loves what he does, but he studied hard and took on professional manners for the prosperity it brings him. The same principle applies at all levels of employment in the US. You are a factory floor worker at Ford for the prosperity, not the love of what you are doing. You are an executive at Disney because you have a large paycheck, not because you love animation. The love either has for what they do is found in the activities that drove them to pursue these careers, but if they can do what they love on their time off with a paycheck, the larger the paycheck the better. In the end, money talks more than the profession and either would work in any other career if it gives them the financial and qualitative freedom to do what they want.
In Scandinavia, the motivations can be in broad strokes the same, but because very few are very rich and very few are very poor, the incentive in money in dampened. What drives people to follow a mission statement is more often the mission itself. If an engineer or designer can make the same amount of money as an artist, people will choose to take what would be a hobby in the US and turn it into a career. People want to see their own visions fulfilled more than earning a little bit more money, since the difference in prosperity is often too small to make a difference to one's motivation. This pronunciation of the mission statement's significance doesn't change the bottom line, but how you sell something should take this difference into consideration and focus on what you want to create and how you want to do it. If you understand the motivation of your audience, you can save yourself time on pitches that will fall on deaf ears.
- Servus
Of course the goal of any business is to make money, but this is unstated, understood with a nod between colleagues. When it comes down to what you and your company talks about at meetings and what you do, it will center around your mission statement. A basketball team is motivated by competition, by the fun in being the best in their region. That is the motive behind their activities. But a basketball team will become a professional team for the money it can make through ticket sales. If there was no money in playing basketball, the team would meet up for a weekend game and have a little fun before returning to their daily lives. In this example, the team's motivation for turning professional was monetary gain. With this goal comes activities, such as daily training, team management, marketing and ticket sales. Understanding the motives represented in each prop will help a partner to the team understand what part of these activities are motivated by the players having fun and what part is motivated by money and necessity. Like wise, understanding the differences in motivation between an executive at IBM and LG can help you understand what each will be willing to do for a partnership.
In the US, money is king. It is not to knock the US or the business culture there. People want to live the good life and are willing to work together to achieve great things in exchange for a bit of luxury. It can help settle differences between two rivals or two bitter combatants. People will believe in a mission statement if it brings them prosperity. An engineer at Boeing loves what he does, but he studied hard and took on professional manners for the prosperity it brings him. The same principle applies at all levels of employment in the US. You are a factory floor worker at Ford for the prosperity, not the love of what you are doing. You are an executive at Disney because you have a large paycheck, not because you love animation. The love either has for what they do is found in the activities that drove them to pursue these careers, but if they can do what they love on their time off with a paycheck, the larger the paycheck the better. In the end, money talks more than the profession and either would work in any other career if it gives them the financial and qualitative freedom to do what they want.
In Scandinavia, the motivations can be in broad strokes the same, but because very few are very rich and very few are very poor, the incentive in money in dampened. What drives people to follow a mission statement is more often the mission itself. If an engineer or designer can make the same amount of money as an artist, people will choose to take what would be a hobby in the US and turn it into a career. People want to see their own visions fulfilled more than earning a little bit more money, since the difference in prosperity is often too small to make a difference to one's motivation. This pronunciation of the mission statement's significance doesn't change the bottom line, but how you sell something should take this difference into consideration and focus on what you want to create and how you want to do it. If you understand the motivation of your audience, you can save yourself time on pitches that will fall on deaf ears.
- Servus
Friday, November 2, 2012
The value of a friendship
I tried a little experiment on FaceBook the past couple of months. With a few friends, I stopped initiating conversations. I didn't ignore my friends. I decided to let them come to me instead of me going to them. What happened? Well, I haven't spoken with them, at all, since the experiment started, until one of them sent me a link to a page about letting go of attachment. Her whole point was about how she didn't need any connections to me, so she was formally severing them. To be honest, she was among the friends I picked for that experiment because I honestly questioned the nature of that friendship before I even designed the experiment, so severing connections with her was not a real problem, which was un-friending her on FaceBook, but I do need to reflect on the past here and derive some sort of lesson. The lesson in that one case, don't be of endless utility to your friends. In fact, it is best to be of no need to your friends. Mega Tokyo put it best, when Largo replied he didn't need Erika either, tossed her a beer and continued on without blinking. If people are around you out of utility, then you are going to get hurt.
But I also haven't spoken with a couple of people I thought were going to message me within a couple of days. Seems like I misread those friendships. My concern is, that I am more of an annoyance than a pleasure for people. I don't want to waste time around people who don't enjoy my company. Annoying people is not a good way to build a positive reputation. Now I need to be oh so very careful with my other friends and figure out what the nature of those friendships is. Thing is, I actually value some of those friendships, so this part is actually gonna hurt.
Moral of the story? Be careful of who your friends are.
- Servus
But I also haven't spoken with a couple of people I thought were going to message me within a couple of days. Seems like I misread those friendships. My concern is, that I am more of an annoyance than a pleasure for people. I don't want to waste time around people who don't enjoy my company. Annoying people is not a good way to build a positive reputation. Now I need to be oh so very careful with my other friends and figure out what the nature of those friendships is. Thing is, I actually value some of those friendships, so this part is actually gonna hurt.
Moral of the story? Be careful of who your friends are.
- Servus
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Know your town's networks
Living on the Faroe Islands helped taught me the importance of informal conversation and interaction in business. Business isn't the big sale and best offer on the table. Business is a chunky concept, but the two corner stones for business is managing your professional work's relationship with the public, and making your profession a profitable one. Looking back, it is clear there are differences in both cornerstones when America and Scandinavia are compared and companies that try to enter from one market to the other can experience difficulties in managing relationships and profits. Here are some fine details any business should keep in mind.
Work ethics in blue collared jobs are radically different. For the Dane in America, some sound advice is sorely needed. Any stereotypes of lazy teamsters you carry with you will fail you when it comes time to start production. Americans are hard working individuals who want to provide for their families and with the current economic environment, competition for work is fierce. Asking an employee to slow down and take a break can cause friction. Worse still if you take it easy as a foreman, manager or director; if you are visibly driven to meeting your goals, your employees with slowly loose respect for you and in the end, resent you a tad little bit. American workers may work hard for the money, but take pride in their work and you need to show faith in what the company is doing. Just as important for an American in Scandinavia, pushing people to work faster and perform better will more likely result in a strike than increased production. Rules and ethics are well defined by the work-unions and it is hard to fire someone for under performance. The work ethic is more formal and requires you to use more time to consider your position with care than in America. That said, nominal results are the best guide in deciding if someone needs to be let go or kept on board.
Work relations over beer is a bit of common ground between Scandinavia and America, but keep in mind to how much business in done over a glass of beer. Business lunches are out right common, but don't order that beer if you are in America. You need to return to work afterwards and it is frowned upon to drink before you clock out. There are exceptions at the executive level; informal business is done on the golf course and a bit of brandy isn't uncommon at the club house, but this is rare if the interpersonal relationship is all business. A glass of beer is more common when you leave the office with your co-workers or the guy you think is good for a conversation and also happens to have a great project you want to get your hands on. Again, we are focused on the interpersonal relationship between you and your drinking buddy. In all other occasions, you need to abstain from 'Den Grønne'. The case is different in Scandinavia. It is actually common to enjoy a bottle of beer, or few, at lunch and chat a bit. If you want to your negotiations to take on a relaxed tone, invite your perspective partners or clients to a café, enjoy a light lunch a offer a round of beer.
Formality is a tripping point for many. There are dress codes and then there are dress codes. Individual style has a greater foothold in Scandinavia, because businesses are focusing more on your production, not your personal stylistic tastes. It was common for my managers to wear a pair of blue jeans with a button down shirt. The executives would wear sports jackets as often as suit jackets. It is completely acceptable to come to a formal meeting wearing slacks, suit jacket and no tie. In the US, the situation is far different. Dress codes put employees in uniforms. A tie is always a must and more often than not, a white shirt with black dress suit and shoes are required. If you know the Mærsk company well, you can compare the dress codes in that one Danish company with most large corporations in America and see little difference. Before stepping on that flight, make sure you can meet the dress code of most companies. They enforce it even on partners to protect their professional image.
These are some rules of thumb for the cornerstone of business that represents your relationships in business. A good lawyer will help you sort out the second stone, but business relations is all on you partner.
- Servus
Be careful not to insult a cop
My experience with the police in Denmark hasn't been outright friendly. They are nosy, bossy and rather impolite, but drop any ideas of complaining to the department. They are protected by law and can demand you answer questions that are otherwise private on the spot. If you refuse, for example, to give them your name, they can detain you, without a right to be put before a judge, until you tell them what your name is. They can arrest you if you offend them. They can stop you and lie about why they stopped you, just because. And the population is okay with that. There is a certain submission to authority in Denmark, and a certain sense of authority over others. If a psychologist says you are a and b and you feel you are b and c instead, the psychologist can add d to your file and make a and b stick. If you act according to b and c, the psychologist can add e to your file and prescribe a treatment for a and b, and e and d. Point is, you can end up not being allowed to define yourself, be told how you are supposed to act sick, and depending on your point of view, be punished for being yourself instead of what a psychologist says you are. The authority of the psychologist in this case comes from a degree the state recognizes. Of course it is over simplification and doesn't apply to every case or happen every day. It is a way of depicting the extent of authority and nature of it in Denmark. If you earn a degree, you are given authority that cannot be challenged without difficulty. With it comes a certain arrogance.
In the case of a police officer, it can be difficult to shake an officer. If an officer thinks you are a criminal, your time is going to be wasted by this officer when ever the two of you run into each other. It is like a cold you can never really shake off. If something bad in town happens, the officer might come to see you, in the middle of say, a lecture at a college that you need to note down for your finals. An officer in Denmark can easily become a bully without any course of appeal for relief as long as they stay within a set of defined administrative actions.
When you meet an officer, be exceedingly polite. Say nothing if you can, but for gods sake, smile! Say nothing offensive and show your love for Denmark. If you don't consent to any searches, you are going to be searched anyways and be on that officers 'best buddies' list.
- Servus
In the case of a police officer, it can be difficult to shake an officer. If an officer thinks you are a criminal, your time is going to be wasted by this officer when ever the two of you run into each other. It is like a cold you can never really shake off. If something bad in town happens, the officer might come to see you, in the middle of say, a lecture at a college that you need to note down for your finals. An officer in Denmark can easily become a bully without any course of appeal for relief as long as they stay within a set of defined administrative actions.
When you meet an officer, be exceedingly polite. Say nothing if you can, but for gods sake, smile! Say nothing offensive and show your love for Denmark. If you don't consent to any searches, you are going to be searched anyways and be on that officers 'best buddies' list.
- Servus
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Friday, October 12, 2012
I can do it all....except that little detail
Okay. Let me start off by building myself up with a bit of bragging.
I am a North Atlantic - North American business relations consultant.
I am a Scandinavian business relations consultant.
I am a Communications consultant.
I am a Logistics analyst.
I love Physics and Astrophysics and study Biology at the national university on the Faroe Islands.
I can explain entropy to a 10 year old in a way the kid understands.
As an autodidact, I have studied...
I speak three languages and understand five.
Now that I built myself up, I can cut myself down.
I, the smart ass up there, cannot for my life understand Acid Base titration or Acid Base relations.
A concept kids half my age understand without a problem.
As soon as I hit Brønsten-Lawry, I loose it. I memorized the relations, but this one little chemical reaction. I just can't relate what I memorized to how NaOH enters into the equation and changes the concentrations in a predictable way.
Seriously, is there anyone that can help me out here?
CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) + H_2 O (uparrow) %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + H_3 O^+`
newline
NaOH + CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) + H_2 O (uparrow) %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + left ( binom{H_3 O}{OH^-`} right ) + Na^+`
newline
H_3 O + OH^+` = 2H_2 O
Newline
NaOH(uparrow) + CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) + H_2 O %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + Na^+` + 2H_2 O
Newline
NaOH(uparrow) + CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + Na^+` + H_2 O
I am a North Atlantic - North American business relations consultant.
I am a Scandinavian business relations consultant.
I am a Communications consultant.
I am a Logistics analyst.
I love Physics and Astrophysics and study Biology at the national university on the Faroe Islands.
I can explain entropy to a 10 year old in a way the kid understands.
As an autodidact, I have studied...
- Organizational Theory
- Regional Cultures and Languages
- Human Relations
- Economics
- Leadership Skills
- Advanced Mathematics
- Policy Studies
- International Laws for
- War
- Trade
- Space
I speak three languages and understand five.
Now that I built myself up, I can cut myself down.
I, the smart ass up there, cannot for my life understand Acid Base titration or Acid Base relations.
A concept kids half my age understand without a problem.
As soon as I hit Brønsten-Lawry, I loose it. I memorized the relations, but this one little chemical reaction. I just can't relate what I memorized to how NaOH enters into the equation and changes the concentrations in a predictable way.
Seriously, is there anyone that can help me out here?
CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) + H_2 O (uparrow) %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + H_3 O^+`
newline
NaOH + CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) + H_2 O (uparrow) %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + left ( binom{H_3 O}{OH^-`} right ) + Na^+`
newline
H_3 O + OH^+` = 2H_2 O
Newline
NaOH(uparrow) + CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) + H_2 O %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + Na^+` + 2H_2 O
Newline
NaOH(uparrow) + CH_3 OOH (Downarrow) %Ux2194 CH_3 OO^-` + Na^+` + H_2 O
Friday, August 3, 2012
Emotional Numbness
There is a point, when a person feels such extreme emotions, that the ability to feel emotion at all is temporarily lost. One can try to explain it through neuroscience, theorizing the synapses have gone through a chemical exertion, leaving parts of the brain non-functional, or use psychology to state the come back leaves a person confused without a reference point that is comparable. Think of a time when your hand received a shock, similar to when you strike a metal pipe against a hard surface. You lost sensation for a short period of time, except for a weird kind of pain. This is a numbness I have felt a few times before.
Before moving to the Faroe Islands, I visited several times before to see my children. It always is emotional, because I never really want to leave. Because I am scared of what I will miss when I do leave. I never really have any sort of comfort, so I am on my own with my emotions. When I was in a relationship, it was expected I dealt with my own problems. For the longest time, I put that down to Scandinavia, but that is besides the point. When you have no one to help you own, when you do become emotionally numb, you will be lost. Coming back, the first emotions I felt were all cold. I didn't have much of a plan ahead of me day to day.
One the return from one trip to the Islands to see my children, on the train home, I admitted to being emotionally numb, and the reaction I saw from her was, in hindsight, shocking. At the time, I had only my intellectual capacities to tell me what I should or should not feel. Her messages to me did not have much emotional impact. I just could not recognize any feeling of caring inside me. Of course after a few hours and some sleep, I was able to answer back, but I doubt any words from my side could explain how I was feeling to someone who hasn't felt the same. The emotional numbness lead to a deeper depression than before.
The ability to continue after feeling numb and the following let down is something I suspect is rare. It is a spiral, where my isolation lead to jealousy, which lead to anger and mistrust. People who can interrupt that spiral, even temporarily, are well equipped to handle stressful situations over long periods of time. I do not know if they can psyk themselves into feeling happy, but it is still an interesting feat of emotional maturity. Still, I will avoid numbness in the future and currently seek people who can catch my fall if I ever do so again.
- Servus
Before moving to the Faroe Islands, I visited several times before to see my children. It always is emotional, because I never really want to leave. Because I am scared of what I will miss when I do leave. I never really have any sort of comfort, so I am on my own with my emotions. When I was in a relationship, it was expected I dealt with my own problems. For the longest time, I put that down to Scandinavia, but that is besides the point. When you have no one to help you own, when you do become emotionally numb, you will be lost. Coming back, the first emotions I felt were all cold. I didn't have much of a plan ahead of me day to day.
One the return from one trip to the Islands to see my children, on the train home, I admitted to being emotionally numb, and the reaction I saw from her was, in hindsight, shocking. At the time, I had only my intellectual capacities to tell me what I should or should not feel. Her messages to me did not have much emotional impact. I just could not recognize any feeling of caring inside me. Of course after a few hours and some sleep, I was able to answer back, but I doubt any words from my side could explain how I was feeling to someone who hasn't felt the same. The emotional numbness lead to a deeper depression than before.
The ability to continue after feeling numb and the following let down is something I suspect is rare. It is a spiral, where my isolation lead to jealousy, which lead to anger and mistrust. People who can interrupt that spiral, even temporarily, are well equipped to handle stressful situations over long periods of time. I do not know if they can psyk themselves into feeling happy, but it is still an interesting feat of emotional maturity. Still, I will avoid numbness in the future and currently seek people who can catch my fall if I ever do so again.
- Servus
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Taking Photos
I at one point had a ton of photos from IPC on a digital camera. Funny thing is, it made it far too easy to loose the picture. A hard drive dies. Technology moves on. Early image storage services died out. Services close. When you upload a photo that is important to you to a service online, you expect the service to last a life time. I was taught differently when I kept photos of my first born son in my inbox. I thought it would be there for life. I was wrong about that though and in the end, the only photos of my oldest child right after birth are lost. So is a story of my stay at IPC, including that of a rubber chicken.
But photographs are not the only place where images are stored. I still remember those photos of my son and hope I always will have a clear memory of them. If I do not, I still cannot complain. We may live in a time where taking photographs is as simple as pointing your phone at something, but there was a time when we only had our memories, when photographs weren't even a luxury item. It is because of how short lived documents can be, notes written in class, pictures of that night out or letters from the president, that I do not do much to create these documents in the first place, but they still have a certain power to bring a shard of a memory to others.
When my dad was dying in 2009, I rushed to his bed side and took with me the pictures I had of my children. I printed them out at a local shop from my USB stick. He had never seen them before and I regret that. I honestly do. I did what I could and showed my dad pictures, a facsimile of a memory, a point in time, for him to at least see what they look like. The regrets I feel still haunt me to this day, but at least he had this small consultation. But the expression on his face, his honest interest in my children, told me more about my dad than I had learned in the seven years I had been away.
Documents can provide a common ground, something for people to connect with. It can be a photograph of loved ones, or it can be a story of fantasy, allowing people to loose themselves, together, in a world that doesn't exist anywhere else. The expression 'You had to be there' only states there is a lack of common experience, a valley in between two people, but a photograph can create a bridge between two people who would never see eye to eye without it.
Photographs in the news have become more violent and actual, as people document what is happening around them. Dictators and government may seek to control the distribution of these pictures, to prevent any common ground forming between opposition to a regime or policy. Propaganda, an attempt in political manipulations, is an age old tactic in politics. In times of war, looses are under reported. Unpopular acts are suppressed. The image of the good guy fighting for everything right against the worst depiction of the enemy possible is shown repeatedly. Free distribution of images is the strongest possible counter measure to such propaganda, undermining the intent of those who seek to control your opinion. It is because of the strength of these images, that dictators fear the camera-man, the writer, the newspaper and broadcaster. It can lead to understanding and common ground between those who support the government and those the government opposes. It can lead to peace.
But photographs are not the only place where images are stored. I still remember those photos of my son and hope I always will have a clear memory of them. If I do not, I still cannot complain. We may live in a time where taking photographs is as simple as pointing your phone at something, but there was a time when we only had our memories, when photographs weren't even a luxury item. It is because of how short lived documents can be, notes written in class, pictures of that night out or letters from the president, that I do not do much to create these documents in the first place, but they still have a certain power to bring a shard of a memory to others.
When my dad was dying in 2009, I rushed to his bed side and took with me the pictures I had of my children. I printed them out at a local shop from my USB stick. He had never seen them before and I regret that. I honestly do. I did what I could and showed my dad pictures, a facsimile of a memory, a point in time, for him to at least see what they look like. The regrets I feel still haunt me to this day, but at least he had this small consultation. But the expression on his face, his honest interest in my children, told me more about my dad than I had learned in the seven years I had been away.
Documents can provide a common ground, something for people to connect with. It can be a photograph of loved ones, or it can be a story of fantasy, allowing people to loose themselves, together, in a world that doesn't exist anywhere else. The expression 'You had to be there' only states there is a lack of common experience, a valley in between two people, but a photograph can create a bridge between two people who would never see eye to eye without it.
Photographs in the news have become more violent and actual, as people document what is happening around them. Dictators and government may seek to control the distribution of these pictures, to prevent any common ground forming between opposition to a regime or policy. Propaganda, an attempt in political manipulations, is an age old tactic in politics. In times of war, looses are under reported. Unpopular acts are suppressed. The image of the good guy fighting for everything right against the worst depiction of the enemy possible is shown repeatedly. Free distribution of images is the strongest possible counter measure to such propaganda, undermining the intent of those who seek to control your opinion. It is because of the strength of these images, that dictators fear the camera-man, the writer, the newspaper and broadcaster. It can lead to understanding and common ground between those who support the government and those the government opposes. It can lead to peace.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
My Drug Use
I have tried a few joints while living in Denmark. I am happy my experience has been rather poor and a good aversion to future drug use. I am lucky in one aspect. Open access to MJ and hash allowed me to experiment without first developing contacts to a criminal underworld or addicts. I believe it is the association with people who have little concern over themselves or second thoughts on committing crimes to pay for their addiction that draw young kids into a life of crime. I was able to buy a joint, a white widow, at a stall from a man I never met before who did nothing to conceal his business or embrace thuggish methods in business. I left Christania as a faceless individual, an unknown person who nobody gave a damn about. No one would come after me to push more drugs or press me for money. I was free to come and go as I chose, and this choice was important.
I was staying with friends of my mother who had given me room and board. I had dinner with them and was open about me experimenting with this drug. I had an idea of creating a documentary about the open drug culture in Denmark and drug use around the world. I needed this experience so I could have a common ground, knowledge which I could share with others. I sat in their living room, lit up the joint, took two puffs and went to bed to have a trip from hell. I remember laying on my side, looking at my hand. My vision had turned to shades of gray with sharp contrasts between black and white. Looking at my hand, it moved in a most unnatural manner, robotic and comparable to watching frames of movement under a strobe light. My head was spinning, dizzy and clouded. At no point was I happy or excited. It was uncomfortable in the same way one feels on a ship.
This experience, confirmed by a few other occasions when I was willing to try it, with similar feelings of discomfort, has been my strongest argument against me smoking MJ or doing most other kinds of drugs. It would be duplicity on my part to claim drugs are evil and no one should ever do them. I also do take Ritalin to treat ADD and enjoy the focused mind set and the results I can attain. What I can learn, what I can read. My brain is sharpened, and I enjoy that. I cannot therefor tell others they are not allowed to do it or are stupid for doing so, just because I had bad experiences with that drug. But I am thankful for the experience as a moment where I was taught why I shouldn't, and thankful for the safe environment I was provided.
- Servus
I was staying with friends of my mother who had given me room and board. I had dinner with them and was open about me experimenting with this drug. I had an idea of creating a documentary about the open drug culture in Denmark and drug use around the world. I needed this experience so I could have a common ground, knowledge which I could share with others. I sat in their living room, lit up the joint, took two puffs and went to bed to have a trip from hell. I remember laying on my side, looking at my hand. My vision had turned to shades of gray with sharp contrasts between black and white. Looking at my hand, it moved in a most unnatural manner, robotic and comparable to watching frames of movement under a strobe light. My head was spinning, dizzy and clouded. At no point was I happy or excited. It was uncomfortable in the same way one feels on a ship.
This experience, confirmed by a few other occasions when I was willing to try it, with similar feelings of discomfort, has been my strongest argument against me smoking MJ or doing most other kinds of drugs. It would be duplicity on my part to claim drugs are evil and no one should ever do them. I also do take Ritalin to treat ADD and enjoy the focused mind set and the results I can attain. What I can learn, what I can read. My brain is sharpened, and I enjoy that. I cannot therefor tell others they are not allowed to do it or are stupid for doing so, just because I had bad experiences with that drug. But I am thankful for the experience as a moment where I was taught why I shouldn't, and thankful for the safe environment I was provided.
- Servus
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Intimate relationships at IPC
We knew she was coming; her school ID was in her pigeon hole before she arrived. We knew her name and where she was coming from. She was Faroese. A few snide comments from the Brit highlighted a conversation I had never seen before at IPC; the students were taking an interest in a student yet to arrive and did some actual research on where the Faroe Islands were. The evening she came, I was the first person to talk with her. She was sitting outside the main entrance, because the door was locked. She was shy, like me in many ways. We spoke shortly and I helped her into the school.
In that period, I changed. I before was making a deliberate effort to become extroverted. I colored my hair blue and tried to be more forward, which was a hit and miss process, but mostly miss. By the 12th week, I gave in and decided to just go back to who I was before coming to the school. I wondered from room to room, place to place lost in my own thoughts. The Russian from Ukraine, or was it the other way around?, titled me the ghost of IPC. I wrote my poetry and I may have forgotten to close the file one or two times. A teacher had asked me about that and I put down any concerns. What I didn't notice myself was the Faroese girl following me room to room. She stopped me in a stair well one evening and asked me if I was avoiding her. That question surprised me, because I at that point came to accept the idea of any woman being interested in me was a fantasy. Yet, she still asked the question. I assured her I was just wired that way; I get lost in my own thoughts and do not take notice of what is around me or even remember where I just was. It still didn't come to me that she was interested in me and I was more worried about offending her.
The following weeks, we would go out to play pool and I took care not to make any mistakes, mindful of my hands and what I said. It still didn't cross my mind that we were becoming an item. On a trip to an art museum, I took some teasing from my fellow students that she had become my girl friend; I rejected the idea, thinking her and I were friends and not much else. That weekend, walking with her to a local bar to play pool, I asked her what we were, and we agreed we were a couple at that point. It didn't really sink in until later how much of a couple we were becoming. A night before the fireplace, after playing pool, struggling to keep the wet wood lit, was a turning point for our relationship. With the wood cracking and hissing, she embraced me in the common room, and there we sat for, maybe an hour, before returning to my room. I wasn't too sure of what we were doing, my inexperience talking for me. Funny enough, despite the implications, we did not consummate a carnal relationship that night.
As the weeks passed, the relationship changed to romantic in nature. I tried to romance her with picnics of fresh fruit, roses and more. I am that clumsy fool who never really gets it right. If it were not for my hair being blue, maybe the relationship would not have started. Yes, I was that kind of spaz with dyed hair, yellow glasses and jewelry in an attempt of coolness. Seems to have worked, at least once.
The relationship I started wasn't the only one at IPC. It was common for such romantic unions to form, and a couple of marriages each term. It isn't predictable which cultures will find each other in a romantic relationship, other than homogeneous cultures are the exception. To Asia alone, I can count three nationalities and two marriages from my term. Africa formed three relationships and at least one marriage that I know of. The Eastern Bloc has two marriages to its count and a few more relationships and Western Europe has one marriage, four relationship and at least six children. Please note though, I am counting some couples more than once in my tally.
So while IPC is meant to be a cultural exchange on the diplomatic and academic level, it also has become the melting pot for cultures as families find their inspiration at her parties, classes and before the fireplace. Romance is common at colleges and university, but most often, the culture is homogeneous; IPC creates an environment where cultural diversity is the rule and if you are looking for romance with a different shade of human culture, it is the best place to look.
In that period, I changed. I before was making a deliberate effort to become extroverted. I colored my hair blue and tried to be more forward, which was a hit and miss process, but mostly miss. By the 12th week, I gave in and decided to just go back to who I was before coming to the school. I wondered from room to room, place to place lost in my own thoughts. The Russian from Ukraine, or was it the other way around?, titled me the ghost of IPC. I wrote my poetry and I may have forgotten to close the file one or two times. A teacher had asked me about that and I put down any concerns. What I didn't notice myself was the Faroese girl following me room to room. She stopped me in a stair well one evening and asked me if I was avoiding her. That question surprised me, because I at that point came to accept the idea of any woman being interested in me was a fantasy. Yet, she still asked the question. I assured her I was just wired that way; I get lost in my own thoughts and do not take notice of what is around me or even remember where I just was. It still didn't come to me that she was interested in me and I was more worried about offending her.
The following weeks, we would go out to play pool and I took care not to make any mistakes, mindful of my hands and what I said. It still didn't cross my mind that we were becoming an item. On a trip to an art museum, I took some teasing from my fellow students that she had become my girl friend; I rejected the idea, thinking her and I were friends and not much else. That weekend, walking with her to a local bar to play pool, I asked her what we were, and we agreed we were a couple at that point. It didn't really sink in until later how much of a couple we were becoming. A night before the fireplace, after playing pool, struggling to keep the wet wood lit, was a turning point for our relationship. With the wood cracking and hissing, she embraced me in the common room, and there we sat for, maybe an hour, before returning to my room. I wasn't too sure of what we were doing, my inexperience talking for me. Funny enough, despite the implications, we did not consummate a carnal relationship that night.
As the weeks passed, the relationship changed to romantic in nature. I tried to romance her with picnics of fresh fruit, roses and more. I am that clumsy fool who never really gets it right. If it were not for my hair being blue, maybe the relationship would not have started. Yes, I was that kind of spaz with dyed hair, yellow glasses and jewelry in an attempt of coolness. Seems to have worked, at least once.
The relationship I started wasn't the only one at IPC. It was common for such romantic unions to form, and a couple of marriages each term. It isn't predictable which cultures will find each other in a romantic relationship, other than homogeneous cultures are the exception. To Asia alone, I can count three nationalities and two marriages from my term. Africa formed three relationships and at least one marriage that I know of. The Eastern Bloc has two marriages to its count and a few more relationships and Western Europe has one marriage, four relationship and at least six children. Please note though, I am counting some couples more than once in my tally.
So while IPC is meant to be a cultural exchange on the diplomatic and academic level, it also has become the melting pot for cultures as families find their inspiration at her parties, classes and before the fireplace. Romance is common at colleges and university, but most often, the culture is homogeneous; IPC creates an environment where cultural diversity is the rule and if you are looking for romance with a different shade of human culture, it is the best place to look.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Photos from down town CPH
The metro underground in Copenhagen is at times a bit of a touchy issue. While Danes love public transportation, building it can bring some downsides and placement of stations is always a debate.
A historical church in down town Copenhagen. The Church of Our Lady, or Vores Fru. Kirke, is pretty impressive. It is like a temple with the focused function of providing places to sit while worshiping God. The stark contrasts of colors is done in Gimp, but the color behind the alter is true to the church's intent; they did provide the lighting, I only adjusted the saturation.
A pretty impressive plaza. This place is something like a gathering point for protests, artists and shoppers alike. Street merchants will peddle their goods here and you can sometimes find an interesting bit public art.
I have taken at least a few dozen photos of this theater. It is the movement of the car, the people walking and the bike which point out how close everything is packed together. You enter the theater in the archway. On either side are apartments, stores and a sushi restaurant.
Xenophobia and the North Atlantic
I just had a run in today with a man who goes by the name of Hans Birgir Hansen. My readers in Tórshavn may know this man, who often writes in Yggje Tíðindi and sometimes hits the nail on the head with his opinions, but not often. My 'conversation' with him started off in Nero, the local ice cream shop. I bought a cup of coffee and sat down to read my pages and write a little bit. He was going on about cheap labor by foreigners ruining the market for everyone else. I got the impression, I am not the kind of guy he likes; I wasn't born on the Faroe Islands. The suspision was confirmed on his return to the library, where he took out the paper and insisted I look at the opinion piece he wrote. He then proceeded back into Nero to confront the lady behind the counter, a lovely young woman who doesn't have the correct skin color, understood as to mean at least one of her parental lines crosses through Africa, but I could be mistaken and the line crossed another region outside of Europe. After being told he is not welcomed to enter the back room, he left, only to return again. This time, he stood in the library and it seemed he was waiting. Well. I walked back to my computer in the reading lounge and he started to stare at me. Then he took his mobile and started to talk, very loudly, about the same ol' thing, plus about how I was sitting here. There will always be people like him who will stand in my way, but I think the tide of time is against him.
But, for now, Hans Hansen has his opinion piece and his influence in the union and I need to deal with the difficulty of finding work with people like him in high places.
Friday, May 11, 2012
My mom was no devil
My dad was no angel
Lift that veil and let me see that bitter scene
And whisper in my ear those silver lies
I aint your cause of evil
I aint the reason young girl
Only one thing can make me leave
Leave everything I had
Back to nothing where I came
Back to where I was sad
I aint your cause of evil
I aint the reason young girl
My dad was no angel
I aint your cause of evil
I aint the reason young girl
Lift that veil and let me see that bitter scene
And whisper in my ear those silver lies
Let me believe you are my queen
But my soul knows this aint wise
I aint got no home to get to
And this place is full of spies
Only to one man I got to answer
When the rest of my world dies
My mom was no devil
My dad was no angel
I aint the reason young girl
Only one thing can make me leave
Leave everything I had
Back to nothing where I came
Back to where I was sad
I got my mom to watch
And I said goodbye to my dad
Lord aint got no place for me
No place for a man this bad
Rebel, revel, time to party with the devil
You aint got no time for angels
And I aint your cause of evil
I aint the reason young girl
My mom was no devil
My dad was no angel
I aint the reason young girl
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
My old friend Sade
My old friend Sade, written as a poem cum blues song.
Oh how I wish you would fadeWish you would fadePainful you areMy old friend SadeThe prices I paidThose words never saidAnd mistakes never made(Rhythm change)Oh how I miss you nowPlease forgive me for how I treated youBitter were the words I usedI’m sorry I cheated youAnd never said what I always knewYou’re still loved by your prodigal sonIn him your memory will live onOh how I wish you would fadeWish you would fadeThose sweet regretsMy old friend SadeIn my dreamsWhere I now find my memoriesTime will always haunt me(Rhythm change)I hope you found your peaceIf I only knew what little time I had leftI would have made you proudAnd love from your grandchildren you would have feltBefore you were laid to restIn every game of chessI’ll remember the good times and not the regretsOh how I wish you would fadeWish you would fadeLife bitter sweetMy old friend SadePlease fade away.
The poem is about how I will often torture myself over regrets I will always remember. Those regrets do not need to be about the things I have done, but can also be about the chances I never took.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
On my departure from Denmark, I remember sitting with my parents in the
airport lounge. My mom and dad and the last photo I have of the three of us
together. I didn't know at the time, that it would be one of the last times I
would see my dad. I left in the middle of the night, still in the wake of what
happened in New York and security was strict. Shoes were removed to be swabbed.
Soldiers in uniformed armed with rifles. Baggage checked and my carry on
searched. The telling features of our time was the frantic check for anything
that could cause somebody harm while in the air. Everyone was suspect and
little could, we though at the time, escape the barriers between those who
would harm innocent people and the plane headed to Denmark. My thoughts at the
time lead me to believe I would see my parents again just after a year. I would
return and apply for a job with Jade Dragon Tattoo in Chicago, earn a GED and
live a some what normal life. Oh how naive I was.
The trip across the Atlantic was not exceptional. I was afraid of flying however so I was constantly nervous. However, I had some nice wine and a good meal on board. I kept myself entertained with a pack of tarot cards and a couple conversations. On the flight, I had a discussion with a deeply religious man who saw my tarot cards and spoke with me about the sins of such items and my sins for not being as faithful as he. I doubt I would have remembered the conversation as well as I have if it were not for the cramped leg room, made worse by my carry on not fitting under my seat. Of popular conversation was the magician, a major card of the tarot deck. It is all entertainment, to weave a story from what cards you deal out to the person you are reading a future for. How convincing can you be when you tell this person they will meet the love of their life in a French cafe? It is a sign one is too convincing if they take a vacation just to visit French cafes, but it is still a way to prop up your own ego. The conversation on the plane revolved around what the bible says about the magician; one should be wary of him. The conversation was stuck for an hour or so and he had not convinced me to become more religious than I already am. I was more attentive to my sore and cramped legs.
Flying over Denmark, it was dreery weather. Such arrivals in movies set the mood for the rest of the story. Most movies where an American travels to Europe is up beat, sun shining and nothing but smile. The weather that day set the stage for the next ten years adequetly. On my arrival, I was met by my uncle Preben, who is my mother's cousin. He drove me back to Nestvæd to meet my extended family. That night, I met his wife and my cousin Miaken, Preben's daughter. I am sure I was a sight for them. Six foot three, 260 pounds and shocking blue hair. My appearence demanded attention, which reflected my insecurities at the time. Pictures and conversation followed. Questions about family I had recently met from Canada were for the most part unanswered. Miaken had hoped to meet them and I shared this same desire, but my own mother was steadfastly against this. I regret not being able to share information or be able to contact them myself or the family they told us about in Denmark. We shared dinner that night. If I hadn’t felt like an outside before, I did then. Conversation was ample, but I was left out as I did not understand more than a few words of Danish. I sat there and ate my dinner, quietly with little to say.
That night, I slept in the guest room, again cramped by a bed too short. When morning broke, it was time to travel to the school in Helsingør. Preben had secured a box truck and helped me load my suitcases. The trip lasted a few hours, north on the highway. The weather had become even more dreery, foggy, cold and wet. We arrived in Helsingør none the less though and I set my eyes for the first time on my first school since I was removed by my parents in the fifth grade. It is an imposing jump, from grade school to a college with nothing to prepare you, especially after leaving the United States with no degree in your pocket or knowledge of the language. To say everything was foreign will likely leave you with an impression of new foods, a new language and a social system unlike what you will experience in America. Allow me to expand that impression for you. The very social norms I grew up with in America, regarding how one treats women, one’s relationship to alchohol and how we interact with each other were all challenged from the first day.
Arriving at the school, I was greated by a teacher from Cambodia. He was friendly and polite, what one would expect from any professional in the US. This was nothing new to me coming from the Chicago area. People from all around the world live there. It is however a false sense of what one can expect from around the world. An episode of remarkable note was in the common room. I had sat down with Stella from the eastern bloc. Speaking with her, we also were greated by a south african man. Both had come a few days ahead of me and knew each other. What transpired before me I was unprepared for, because it was a solid break from the norms I grew up with in America, be it out of morals, respect for women or fear of police arresting me for such an assault. This man from south africa placed his had on Stella’s breast and fondled her infront of me. I sat there in shock of what was happening before me, for his boldness but equally for the lack of hostility from Stella. This could not be normal I had thought and expected her to slap this man and expect me to stand up for her. I restrained myself though, keeping enough presence of mind to see she was not objecting to his attention, so I sat there dumb struck.
Over the next week, I was introduced to people from around the world. Fellow students who were there for goal or another. Some wished to start careers in NGOs or the UN. Others were there for a vacation. Some later became corporate employees. Everyone has a rhyme and a reason for attending IPC. Even teachers were there for more than the simple joy of teaching. I was there because my parents had made that choice for me.
More will come later.
The trip across the Atlantic was not exceptional. I was afraid of flying however so I was constantly nervous. However, I had some nice wine and a good meal on board. I kept myself entertained with a pack of tarot cards and a couple conversations. On the flight, I had a discussion with a deeply religious man who saw my tarot cards and spoke with me about the sins of such items and my sins for not being as faithful as he. I doubt I would have remembered the conversation as well as I have if it were not for the cramped leg room, made worse by my carry on not fitting under my seat. Of popular conversation was the magician, a major card of the tarot deck. It is all entertainment, to weave a story from what cards you deal out to the person you are reading a future for. How convincing can you be when you tell this person they will meet the love of their life in a French cafe? It is a sign one is too convincing if they take a vacation just to visit French cafes, but it is still a way to prop up your own ego. The conversation on the plane revolved around what the bible says about the magician; one should be wary of him. The conversation was stuck for an hour or so and he had not convinced me to become more religious than I already am. I was more attentive to my sore and cramped legs.
Flying over Denmark, it was dreery weather. Such arrivals in movies set the mood for the rest of the story. Most movies where an American travels to Europe is up beat, sun shining and nothing but smile. The weather that day set the stage for the next ten years adequetly. On my arrival, I was met by my uncle Preben, who is my mother's cousin. He drove me back to Nestvæd to meet my extended family. That night, I met his wife and my cousin Miaken, Preben's daughter. I am sure I was a sight for them. Six foot three, 260 pounds and shocking blue hair. My appearence demanded attention, which reflected my insecurities at the time. Pictures and conversation followed. Questions about family I had recently met from Canada were for the most part unanswered. Miaken had hoped to meet them and I shared this same desire, but my own mother was steadfastly against this. I regret not being able to share information or be able to contact them myself or the family they told us about in Denmark. We shared dinner that night. If I hadn’t felt like an outside before, I did then. Conversation was ample, but I was left out as I did not understand more than a few words of Danish. I sat there and ate my dinner, quietly with little to say.
That night, I slept in the guest room, again cramped by a bed too short. When morning broke, it was time to travel to the school in Helsingør. Preben had secured a box truck and helped me load my suitcases. The trip lasted a few hours, north on the highway. The weather had become even more dreery, foggy, cold and wet. We arrived in Helsingør none the less though and I set my eyes for the first time on my first school since I was removed by my parents in the fifth grade. It is an imposing jump, from grade school to a college with nothing to prepare you, especially after leaving the United States with no degree in your pocket or knowledge of the language. To say everything was foreign will likely leave you with an impression of new foods, a new language and a social system unlike what you will experience in America. Allow me to expand that impression for you. The very social norms I grew up with in America, regarding how one treats women, one’s relationship to alchohol and how we interact with each other were all challenged from the first day.
Arriving at the school, I was greated by a teacher from Cambodia. He was friendly and polite, what one would expect from any professional in the US. This was nothing new to me coming from the Chicago area. People from all around the world live there. It is however a false sense of what one can expect from around the world. An episode of remarkable note was in the common room. I had sat down with Stella from the eastern bloc. Speaking with her, we also were greated by a south african man. Both had come a few days ahead of me and knew each other. What transpired before me I was unprepared for, because it was a solid break from the norms I grew up with in America, be it out of morals, respect for women or fear of police arresting me for such an assault. This man from south africa placed his had on Stella’s breast and fondled her infront of me. I sat there in shock of what was happening before me, for his boldness but equally for the lack of hostility from Stella. This could not be normal I had thought and expected her to slap this man and expect me to stand up for her. I restrained myself though, keeping enough presence of mind to see she was not objecting to his attention, so I sat there dumb struck.
Over the next week, I was introduced to people from around the world. Fellow students who were there for goal or another. Some wished to start careers in NGOs or the UN. Others were there for a vacation. Some later became corporate employees. Everyone has a rhyme and a reason for attending IPC. Even teachers were there for more than the simple joy of teaching. I was there because my parents had made that choice for me.
More will come later.
My first true girlfriend
I met her the first day she came to IPC. She was about as shy as I. I didn't make her swoon with my charms, not deliberately. In fact, I was barely aware of her in a lot of ways. I was and still am the type or wonder aimlessly from room to room. I wont take notice of those around me. I didn't take notice of her following me. Not until she confronted me in a stairwell one evening, asking me why I was avoiding her. After that, we went out and played some pool at a local bar. We had some drinks and we kept playing and talking. I didn't really think of her as my girlfriend, just a friend. It wasn't until this little girl from the eastern block teased me on a trip to an art museum about how I am now in a relationship. That took me back a bit. The pool games continued, but we also sat in front of the fire place after we came back. The relationship grew from there, my first relationship as an adult. It wasn't without its rough spot though. I never successfully got her to go on a picnic with me. It was always one or another reason she couldn't. I at one point did start to doubt her and I should have taken that doubt more seriously than I did. It actually heralded a pattern for the remainder of the relationship.
In the fog of infatuation and lust, you will easily loose your way and assume what you shouldn't. We both committed that sin and others paid the price with us. When I moved to Næstved, waiting for the next school to start, I kept in contact with her over SMSs. I would often forget to tell her when I would go out sailing though and I would loose reception for my mobile telephone. Days would go by where she couldn't get in touch with me and she panicked that I had left her. I would use a number of messages to assure her that it was not true. I didn't have a wandering eye like most can have and I was faithful to her.
Relationships can be tricky to figure out. I still haven't figured out the one I am in now and still don't know if continuing it is a good idea or not. I have my insecurities and concerns over what our relationship will be like ten years from now. I have plans to return to Chicago. What about her? Will our relationship turn out like the one I grew up with between my mom and dad? Will we grow old together and be happy? Or will we go our separate ways?
Between Kalø and moving up to the Faroe Islands, we both have been a bit selfish. There are two sides to everything that has happened and between her and I, it is a question about how we will move forward and if we can move forward at all, not a question of who was right and who was wrong.
- Servus
In the fog of infatuation and lust, you will easily loose your way and assume what you shouldn't. We both committed that sin and others paid the price with us. When I moved to Næstved, waiting for the next school to start, I kept in contact with her over SMSs. I would often forget to tell her when I would go out sailing though and I would loose reception for my mobile telephone. Days would go by where she couldn't get in touch with me and she panicked that I had left her. I would use a number of messages to assure her that it was not true. I didn't have a wandering eye like most can have and I was faithful to her.
Relationships can be tricky to figure out. I still haven't figured out the one I am in now and still don't know if continuing it is a good idea or not. I have my insecurities and concerns over what our relationship will be like ten years from now. I have plans to return to Chicago. What about her? Will our relationship turn out like the one I grew up with between my mom and dad? Will we grow old together and be happy? Or will we go our separate ways?
Between Kalø and moving up to the Faroe Islands, we both have been a bit selfish. There are two sides to everything that has happened and between her and I, it is a question about how we will move forward and if we can move forward at all, not a question of who was right and who was wrong.
- Servus
Monday, April 2, 2012
Difficulties in leaving
When you have a chance to leave where you are in life right now, there are always difficulties. Some are difficulties in the move itself; you have to pack things down, get them transport, unpack them. Finding a place can be difficult as well.
Sometimes it isn't what you are taking with you that causes a problem, but what you are leaving behind. In my example, I left behind a well paid job to come to the Faroe Islands. Now I am in a difficult situation; I can have that job back, but I need to leave my kids up here. Easy choice for most, but not when you are looking at a budget breakdown. I am broke, so how the hell do I pay for anything at all? It wasn't pain free leaving Coop; I had a lot of friends there. I also had no job coming up here and entered an uncertain situation.
Using that as a reference point, leaving kids behind, to a certain economic situation and stable daily routines is a hell of a lot more painful. It isn't a choice I feel I have. I feel like this is something I am being forced into by my low income.
I don't know what I should do here.
Sometimes it isn't what you are taking with you that causes a problem, but what you are leaving behind. In my example, I left behind a well paid job to come to the Faroe Islands. Now I am in a difficult situation; I can have that job back, but I need to leave my kids up here. Easy choice for most, but not when you are looking at a budget breakdown. I am broke, so how the hell do I pay for anything at all? It wasn't pain free leaving Coop; I had a lot of friends there. I also had no job coming up here and entered an uncertain situation.
Using that as a reference point, leaving kids behind, to a certain economic situation and stable daily routines is a hell of a lot more painful. It isn't a choice I feel I have. I feel like this is something I am being forced into by my low income.
I don't know what I should do here.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
My first weeks in Denmark
On my departure to Denmark, I remember sitting with my parents in
the airport lounge. My mom and dad and the last photo I have of the three of us
together. I didn't know at the time, that it would be one of the last times I would
see my dad. I left in the middle of the night, still in the wake of what
happened in New York and security was strict. Shoes were removed to be swabbed.
Soldiers in uniformed armed with rifles. Baggage checked and my carry on
searched. The telling features of our time was the frantic check for anything
that could cause somebody harm while in the air. Everyone was suspect and
little could, we though at the time, escape the barriers between those who
would harm innocent people and the plane headed to Denmark. My thoughts at the
time lead me to believe I would see my parents again just after a year. I would
return and apply for a job with Jade Dragon Tattoo in Chicago, earn a GED and
live a some what normal life. Oh how naive I was.
The trip across the Atlantic was not exceptional. I was afraid of flying however so I was constantly nervous. However, I had some nice wine and a good meal on board. I kept myself entertained with a pack of tarot cards and a couple conversations. On the flight, I had a discussion with a deeply religious man who saw my tarot cards and spoke with me about the sins of such items and my sins for not being as faithful as he. I doubt I would have remembered the conversation as well as I have if it were not for the cramped leg room, made worse by my carry on not fitting under my seat. Of popular conversation was the magician, a major card of the tarot deck. It is all entertainment, to weave a story from what cards you deal out to the person you are reading a future for. How convincing can you be when you tell this person they will meet the love of their life in a French cafe? It is a sign one is too convincing if they take a vacation just to visit French cafes, but it is still a way to prop up your own ego. The conversation on the plane revolved around what the bible says about the magician; one should be wary of him. The conversation was stuck for an hour or so and he had not convinced me to become more religious than I already am. I was more attentive to my sore and cramped legs.
Flying over Denmark, it was dreary weather. Such arrivals in movies set the mood for the rest of the story. Most movies where an American travels to Europe is up beat, sun shining and nothing but smile. The weather that day set the stage for the next ten years adequately. On my arrival, I was met by my uncle Preben, who is my mother's cousin. He drove me back to Nestvæd to meet my extended family. That night, I met his wife and my cousin Miaken, Preben's daughter. I am sure I was a sight for them. Six foot three, 260 pounds and shocking blue hair. My appearance demanded attention, which reflected my insecurities at the time. Pictures and conversation followed. Questions about family I had recently met from Canada were for the most part unanswered. Miaken had hoped to meet them and I shared this same desire, but my own mother was steadfastly against this. I regret not being able to share information or be able to contact them myself or the family they told us about in Denmark. We shared dinner that night. If I hadn’t felt like an outside before, I did then. Conversation was ample, but I was left out as I did not understand more than a few words of Danish. I sat there and ate my dinner, quietly with little to say.
That night, I slept in the guest room, again cramped by a bed too short. When morning broke, it was time to travel to the school in Helsingør. Preben had secured a box truck and helped me load my suitcases. The trip lasted a few hours, north on the highway. The weather had become even more dreary, foggy, cold and wet. We arrived in Helsingør none the less though and I set my eyes for the first time on my first school since I was removed by my parents in the fifth grade. It is an imposing jump, from grade school to a college with nothing to prepare you, especially after leaving the United States with no degree in your pocket or knowledge of the language. To say everything was foreign will likely leave you with an impression of new foods, a new language and a social system unlike what you will experience in America. Allow me to expand that impression for you. The very social norms I grew up with in America, regarding how one treats women, one’s relationship to alcohol and how we interact with each other were all challenged from the first day.
Arriving at the school, I was greeted by a teacher from Cambodia. He was friendly and polite, what one would expect from any professional in the US. This was nothing new to me coming from the Chicago area. People from all around the world live there. It is however a false sense of what one can expect from around the world. An episode of remarkable note was in the common room. I had sat down with Stela from the eastern bloc. Speaking with her, we also were greeted by a south African man. Both had come a few days ahead of me and knew each other. What transpired before me I was unprepared for, because it was a solid break from the norms I grew up with in America, be it out of morals, respect for women or fear of police arresting me for such an assault. This man from south Africa placed his had on Stela’s breast and fondled her in front of me. I sat there in shock of what was happening before me, for his boldness but equally for the lack of hostility from Stella. This could not be normal I had thought and expected her to slap this man and expect me to stand up for her. I restrained myself though, keeping enough presence of mind to see she was not objecting to his attention, so I sat there dumb struck.
Over the next week, I was introduced to people from around the world. Fellow students who were there for goal or another. Some wished to start careers in NGOs or the UN. Others were there for a vacation. Some later became corporate employees. Everyone has a rhyme and a reason for attending IPC. Even teachers were there for more than the simple joy of teaching. I was there because my parents had made that choice for me. I was there because my parents wanted me to keep my Danish citizenship. IPC was just a convenient place to plant me down for twenty weeks until something else could be found upon. This was my life growing up, but absent of my parent's influence and control, I started to come out of this shell I had hid in all my life.
It is only expected, when young men are placed in new situations that represent a major change to their lives, they will go through some changes. They will change their expectations, adapt with new behaviours and perhaps aim for a new goal in life, or they will cling onto what is familiar and adapt in what ever way lets them cling onto what they have left. What was standing before me was a change in norms among my peers, a change in my peers and a change in what was to be expected of me. This period was the start of how I would adapt and start growing from a sheltered young boy into a man wise about his own world and curious about the world around him. The lessons I learned in that period put into perspective for me the spectrum of what can be considered normal behaviour, including rude or inconsiderate behaviour.
Over the first weeks, we chose our classes and schedules. I had little regard for my development of professional skills and went with what was fun. While I did take NGO I, I only did so to keep the number of hours that was required of me up. When NGO II came around, it conflicted with classes I truly wanted to attend, such as globalization, drama and yoga. The changes in me were mostly personal and I still had my sights on returning to the United States after that year and starting a career as a body artist. I remember one conversation, when I chose out of respect to the teacher of my Globalization class, not to come to class since I had woken up late. The teacher had come out to me while I sat in the common room, enjoying the sunlight falling on my face through the winter air and commented, I had started to come out of my shell. It was the first sign that I recognized my own development. While it may seem trivial, every journey starts with a small step and every change begins with the smallest of adjustments. One such adjustment, noticed by everyone, was my rapid weight loss. I still have the jeans from the time and now they are the perfect over sized fit to hang half way down my boxers.
Not all the adjustments were comfortable for me. I saw my time, at the start, as a chance to fall in love and do everything one sees in the movies. Like almost all young men my age at the time, I was thinking about sex and the shortest way to find my first lay. Around valentines day, I can say today I was hopeless, but not romantic. I had little understanding of how one flirts and my inexperience in conversation meant I was a sore thumb at the parties. After, perhaps ten weeks, I gave up on the idea and tried to adjust to a sexless youth. However, just as I gave up on finding love, love found me.
The trip across the Atlantic was not exceptional. I was afraid of flying however so I was constantly nervous. However, I had some nice wine and a good meal on board. I kept myself entertained with a pack of tarot cards and a couple conversations. On the flight, I had a discussion with a deeply religious man who saw my tarot cards and spoke with me about the sins of such items and my sins for not being as faithful as he. I doubt I would have remembered the conversation as well as I have if it were not for the cramped leg room, made worse by my carry on not fitting under my seat. Of popular conversation was the magician, a major card of the tarot deck. It is all entertainment, to weave a story from what cards you deal out to the person you are reading a future for. How convincing can you be when you tell this person they will meet the love of their life in a French cafe? It is a sign one is too convincing if they take a vacation just to visit French cafes, but it is still a way to prop up your own ego. The conversation on the plane revolved around what the bible says about the magician; one should be wary of him. The conversation was stuck for an hour or so and he had not convinced me to become more religious than I already am. I was more attentive to my sore and cramped legs.
Flying over Denmark, it was dreary weather. Such arrivals in movies set the mood for the rest of the story. Most movies where an American travels to Europe is up beat, sun shining and nothing but smile. The weather that day set the stage for the next ten years adequately. On my arrival, I was met by my uncle Preben, who is my mother's cousin. He drove me back to Nestvæd to meet my extended family. That night, I met his wife and my cousin Miaken, Preben's daughter. I am sure I was a sight for them. Six foot three, 260 pounds and shocking blue hair. My appearance demanded attention, which reflected my insecurities at the time. Pictures and conversation followed. Questions about family I had recently met from Canada were for the most part unanswered. Miaken had hoped to meet them and I shared this same desire, but my own mother was steadfastly against this. I regret not being able to share information or be able to contact them myself or the family they told us about in Denmark. We shared dinner that night. If I hadn’t felt like an outside before, I did then. Conversation was ample, but I was left out as I did not understand more than a few words of Danish. I sat there and ate my dinner, quietly with little to say.
That night, I slept in the guest room, again cramped by a bed too short. When morning broke, it was time to travel to the school in Helsingør. Preben had secured a box truck and helped me load my suitcases. The trip lasted a few hours, north on the highway. The weather had become even more dreary, foggy, cold and wet. We arrived in Helsingør none the less though and I set my eyes for the first time on my first school since I was removed by my parents in the fifth grade. It is an imposing jump, from grade school to a college with nothing to prepare you, especially after leaving the United States with no degree in your pocket or knowledge of the language. To say everything was foreign will likely leave you with an impression of new foods, a new language and a social system unlike what you will experience in America. Allow me to expand that impression for you. The very social norms I grew up with in America, regarding how one treats women, one’s relationship to alcohol and how we interact with each other were all challenged from the first day.
Arriving at the school, I was greeted by a teacher from Cambodia. He was friendly and polite, what one would expect from any professional in the US. This was nothing new to me coming from the Chicago area. People from all around the world live there. It is however a false sense of what one can expect from around the world. An episode of remarkable note was in the common room. I had sat down with Stela from the eastern bloc. Speaking with her, we also were greeted by a south African man. Both had come a few days ahead of me and knew each other. What transpired before me I was unprepared for, because it was a solid break from the norms I grew up with in America, be it out of morals, respect for women or fear of police arresting me for such an assault. This man from south Africa placed his had on Stela’s breast and fondled her in front of me. I sat there in shock of what was happening before me, for his boldness but equally for the lack of hostility from Stella. This could not be normal I had thought and expected her to slap this man and expect me to stand up for her. I restrained myself though, keeping enough presence of mind to see she was not objecting to his attention, so I sat there dumb struck.
Over the next week, I was introduced to people from around the world. Fellow students who were there for goal or another. Some wished to start careers in NGOs or the UN. Others were there for a vacation. Some later became corporate employees. Everyone has a rhyme and a reason for attending IPC. Even teachers were there for more than the simple joy of teaching. I was there because my parents had made that choice for me. I was there because my parents wanted me to keep my Danish citizenship. IPC was just a convenient place to plant me down for twenty weeks until something else could be found upon. This was my life growing up, but absent of my parent's influence and control, I started to come out of this shell I had hid in all my life.
It is only expected, when young men are placed in new situations that represent a major change to their lives, they will go through some changes. They will change their expectations, adapt with new behaviours and perhaps aim for a new goal in life, or they will cling onto what is familiar and adapt in what ever way lets them cling onto what they have left. What was standing before me was a change in norms among my peers, a change in my peers and a change in what was to be expected of me. This period was the start of how I would adapt and start growing from a sheltered young boy into a man wise about his own world and curious about the world around him. The lessons I learned in that period put into perspective for me the spectrum of what can be considered normal behaviour, including rude or inconsiderate behaviour.
Over the first weeks, we chose our classes and schedules. I had little regard for my development of professional skills and went with what was fun. While I did take NGO I, I only did so to keep the number of hours that was required of me up. When NGO II came around, it conflicted with classes I truly wanted to attend, such as globalization, drama and yoga. The changes in me were mostly personal and I still had my sights on returning to the United States after that year and starting a career as a body artist. I remember one conversation, when I chose out of respect to the teacher of my Globalization class, not to come to class since I had woken up late. The teacher had come out to me while I sat in the common room, enjoying the sunlight falling on my face through the winter air and commented, I had started to come out of my shell. It was the first sign that I recognized my own development. While it may seem trivial, every journey starts with a small step and every change begins with the smallest of adjustments. One such adjustment, noticed by everyone, was my rapid weight loss. I still have the jeans from the time and now they are the perfect over sized fit to hang half way down my boxers.
Not all the adjustments were comfortable for me. I saw my time, at the start, as a chance to fall in love and do everything one sees in the movies. Like almost all young men my age at the time, I was thinking about sex and the shortest way to find my first lay. Around valentines day, I can say today I was hopeless, but not romantic. I had little understanding of how one flirts and my inexperience in conversation meant I was a sore thumb at the parties. After, perhaps ten weeks, I gave up on the idea and tried to adjust to a sexless youth. However, just as I gave up on finding love, love found me.
Monday, March 19, 2012
How to: Create a political relation between your host country and the US
This is a how to of sorts, detailing how I help create connections between Illinois and Scandinavia. It will take you through the important steps you must take to prepare you for acting as a liaison and conduit for information and knowledge. The goal of this how to is to give you the competence to contact political groups and politicians in America, declare yourself a liaison, aid or consultant and correspond with your contacts to facilitate the exchange of information and knowledge.
- Servus
- Educate yourself
- Learn the language of the country or region you seek to serve in. If you are unable to speak the local languages, you will find interviewing experts or authorities difficult and the knowledge you send back State side lacking. Sources of information will often be in the language native to your host country. Your research will be hampered if you are unable to quickly assimilate information.
- Take a few courses in the local culture. It will reveal cultural effects on the conclusions you reach in your research. For example, does religion play a part in the decisions politicians make and how religious is the community?
- Before you go off the deep end about how your ideal model must be implemented because it bears some resemblance to what is found in your host country, take a year or two to research the subject you are most interested in so you know what you are talking about.
- Compare
- Compare what you have learned about your host country to others in the region. Can you formulate a benchmark? What are the key differences? Knowing how models and systems compare in the region can provide some contrast to the picture you are painting.
- Compare your host country to the States. In what ways are the two alike? How are they different?
- Compare the attitude your hosts have towards other countries and the States. It may not be a bad thing if French men hate Americans if they despise the rest of Europe even more.
- Find representatives relevant to what you know
- Go to Google and search using the key words Senator or Congress and the state you are most interested in. Alternatively, you can search for a State House, such as the Illinois General Assembly and locate a senator you like.
- Find the official website for the political body you wish to aid and search for the committee relevant to your expertise.
- Write a letter
- Be formal and concise. Say you wish to be of assistance by making yourself available for consultation or witnessing. Be clear on what you can speak about and give an example of your knowledge.
- Write letters to several, if not many, politicians and bodies. You shouldn't expect more than a few to be interested in contacting you. Throwing a wide net is the only way you will find a politician who will use you to facilitate any exchange of knowledge.
- Do your research on who you are writing to. If you write to a Democrat while espousing the Republican ideology, you will have the door shut on you.
- Be responsive
- If you do receive a reply, do not wait with responding. Reply imediatly, acknowledge the email and get to work.
- Start researching the material related to what ever question you were asked or steps required to fulfill a request right away. If you are not timely, then you will not be of use in a dynamic political landscape.
- Keeping your correspondent informed on your progress by planning your work will show you are serious about rendering aid. Tell your correspondent when you expect to submit a final report.
- Speak with the locals
- Most information requested can be fulfilled by speaking with local people. Experts in their field or situated better than most. What cannot be fulfilled by speaking with local can still require a friendly local relationship to gain access to the information or resources needed.
- Sometimes, the request is only to act as a liaison between local officials and your correspondent back home.
- Servus
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Something Familiar
I have a few choice for where I study. I can study in Denmark, Sweden or Norway if I so choose. So, why not check out what each offer? Well, I was a bit surprised when I learned Norway, with its free university education, does not offer financial support to students as in Denmark. Instead, cost of living is covered by bank loans, not unlike college loans in the U.S. I feel more at home already. I filled out a calculator with my information and I found out, with three kids and living together with the mother, I could loan up to 120k NOK for eleven months of study. If she made 100k NOK that year, my part would go down to 80k NOK.
So, for seven years of education, I would need to saddle myself with 640k NOK of debt and it might be for the best.
So, for seven years of education, I would need to saddle myself with 640k NOK of debt and it might be for the best.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
To Integrate in the North Atlantic
The North Atlantic is not a hospitable place for anyone to settle down and start a society. Any community in the region must exploit the resources of their surroundings in order to survive. In the case of the Faroe Islands, the historical resource exploited, which still accounts for over 90% of exports, is fish. The same is true for Iceland and Greenland. I can also name sheep and wool, but not much else. While domestic production has shifted to now include services, the society as a whole is still heavily dependent on nature to supply the raw materials needed to drive its economy and sustain the community. So far, the North Atlantic community has lived in the margins, carving out just enough to survive and continue. These slim pickings has a number of consequences, ranging from extremely high prices to high unemployment, both of which makes putting down any roots in the region that much harder.
Saturday, March 10, 2012
To have no room
What is it like to feel like society is pressuring you from all sides? You wont know unless you are there for something more important than the pressure. If you have no reason to stick around, then you likely will leave and find a place where you can live a life and make ends meet. I can't.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
The Faroe Islands - Anchored in Time by the Sea
I can invite you to step back in time and experience what life was a couple hundred years ago, but leave the steam punk and expectations of wooden sail ships. The Faroe Islands has kept itself the same over the centuries, even with the introduction of the newest technology and the knowledge that can be gleaned is in demand all over the world.
The industrial revolution saw a change in how people live in cities. Not only how you work changed, but what you worked with. You worked with machined tools and machinery. Children became a popular source of labor. Unions were forming and the first true factories were built. Few farmers were needed and fewer were employed in old trades as trades men became more effective. Little of that happened up here.
The industrial revolution saw a change in how people live in cities. Not only how you work changed, but what you worked with. You worked with machined tools and machinery. Children became a popular source of labor. Unions were forming and the first true factories were built. Few farmers were needed and fewer were employed in old trades as trades men became more effective. Little of that happened up here.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The Annoying Part of Getting a Job
Whoohoo! I just got a job!
Ohhh nooo! I just got a job!
When we are employed, we always must change our schedual to fit our employment. Unfortunately for me, my schedual has kept me out of the school room. Now that I was unemployed, I was looking forward to actually meeting my teacher. Now that I am suddenly employed, I must miss another day of class.
How so very annoying.
Ohhh nooo! I just got a job!
When we are employed, we always must change our schedual to fit our employment. Unfortunately for me, my schedual has kept me out of the school room. Now that I was unemployed, I was looking forward to actually meeting my teacher. Now that I am suddenly employed, I must miss another day of class.
How so very annoying.
Sailing in Denmark
Sailing is big in Denmark. It is difficult to overstate that when comparing Denmark to countries such as the United States, any South American or African country or even the U.K. There are about 406 islands according to Wikipedia and economic factors have lead to only 70 of them remaining populated in recent decades. Add onto those 70 the Faroe Islands and Greenland and you start forming a picture of a maritime culture. That culture has historic roots that rivaled the U.K. during its greatest periods.
While I was crashing with my mother's cousin, who I will refer to, incorrectly, as my uncle from now on, I sailed with him on several occasions and became repeatedly sea sick. But, I must admit to a certain attraction with sailing. The freedom. The peace. How cool it is to say you have your own yacht.
While I was crashing with my mother's cousin, who I will refer to, incorrectly, as my uncle from now on, I sailed with him on several occasions and became repeatedly sea sick. But, I must admit to a certain attraction with sailing. The freedom. The peace. How cool it is to say you have your own yacht.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Father Knows Best - When Government 'Helps'
Welfare isn't something I view as shameful. If you have been on the public dime, I wont look down on you and say you are a dead beat living off of my hard work, because I have been there. If you are a social worker who deals with the unemployed on welfare though, I will think of you as a waste of public money who should go out and get a productive job.
That is not what most people expect from a tax paying citizen, but I said it and I mean it. I say it because when I was on welfare, the case worker did nothing to help me and threatened to take away my welfare if I tried to find a job on my own. Well, not directly threaten, but made clear she was not happy when I left for a job interview when she had nothing planned for me job wise. It was around that time I changed my view on government. I went my own way, as I said before, and turned things around as soon as I started ignoring the social worker, kommune and governments 'demands', which really were empty threats.
That is not what most people expect from a tax paying citizen, but I said it and I mean it. I say it because when I was on welfare, the case worker did nothing to help me and threatened to take away my welfare if I tried to find a job on my own. Well, not directly threaten, but made clear she was not happy when I left for a job interview when she had nothing planned for me job wise. It was around that time I changed my view on government. I went my own way, as I said before, and turned things around as soon as I started ignoring the social worker, kommune and governments 'demands', which really were empty threats.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Næstved - Distant Family
After IPC, I honestly did not have anywhere to go. I crashed with my mother's cousin, who had a small house in one of Denmark's historic cities. I saw plenty of it before hand. I was more or less ordered to use all the money I was given for my stay in Denmark on ticket to visit him every weekend. It was worth it though. The family is nice and welcoming. The city is not that bad a place.
My stay with him was always a period of transition. From IPC to language school. Language school to agricultural school. Agricultural school to an institution in Lolland... That I will cover later. Reflecting on his help tells me the importance of family. Without him, I would be no where and I owe him a lot. Not just for putting me up in his home for a while, but also connecting me with resources in Denmark, mentoring on Danish society.
My stay with him was always a period of transition. From IPC to language school. Language school to agricultural school. Agricultural school to an institution in Lolland... That I will cover later. Reflecting on his help tells me the importance of family. Without him, I would be no where and I owe him a lot. Not just for putting me up in his home for a while, but also connecting me with resources in Denmark, mentoring on Danish society.
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