...is the name of the band I just saw tonight. I have really enjoyed listening to them ever since a Mr. Bob Boilen (NPR's All Songs Considered) introduced a couple songs and later a live concert.
This is a weird mental image, but their music makes me think of drinking hot chocolate and eating tofujerky while it snows out. It is something about the bizarre but beautiful collection of sensory stimulation. Some of their music is almost folky religious in the Cat Stevens or the 'Spirit in the Sky' sort of way.
The concert was so good! There were a number of Americans and also a running joke about JZ and Coldplay doing a collaboration. At one point the main singer called out to some loud Americans, "Are we... countrymen?" and it was quite hilarious. I was in the first row... well, human row. I could have either swatted or hugged the main singer. This was also my first concert where I could legally drink a beer! That allowance made waiting for the opening act much more enjoyable.
In the middle of the set, the main singer started strumming 'What Child Is This?' and the drummer laughed and said, "wow, poignant." I really love snarky English words, clever countrymen, and Seattle.
My last thought for the night: the fact that Germans adore indie music pleases me to no end.
I really miss playing with children while nannying or working in schools and camps. It just always feels so natural. With a child, you can be a dinosaur, and that is totally acceptable. Would you like to be a knight? An astronaut? How about a cat?
Why, of course that can be arranged! Here is your sword/space suit/tail.
Kids are so intelligent and they never really get the credit they deserve. They are so imaginative and real. When do we lose those abilities? When does creativity stop being innate and start being something to list under the skills section of your resumé?
I am in a really great mood tonight; I am over-eager, ecstatic and experiencing the pure joy that comes only from academia and class participation. I spoke up so much in class today and every time the professor grinned widely - it was a reassuring grin that at once acknowledged how difficult it is for me to communicate what I really mean articulately in German and thanked me for participating - and I really grasped the theme of tonight's class (cognition in animals, specifically corvids and apes). Although I am sure the professor thinks I perked up because one of the articles was in English, - and that is in fact partly true - it was also that the subject matter was interesting. I was frustrated though, because parts of the powerpoint were still in English, and when we explained theories, we had to use the English terms.... I wanted to know the exact translation to use for the paper later.
At the end of the class, I finally worked up the courage to talk to the guy who had mentioned in the second class that he had worked with autistic children. I asked him about opportunities in Munich and he gave me the name of a large program that I can find out more about online and can find lots of work or internship opportunities.
I absolutely believe that the feel and quality of a city is dependent on the people that inhabit it. Yet all of the cafes, shops, restaurants, festivals, landmarks and the public transportation place such an important role as well. Would Portland be the Portland we know without Powell's or the Hawthorne Bridge? It would still be incredible, true, but not in the same sense because of that difference. Everything and everyone works together in Portland - the city that, ahem... works.
I don't think I will ever find a cool Portland-esque cafe here, no matter how hard I try. Now I am starting to realize that that's ok. The chique European cafes with warm paint tones, Indian art mingled with Rothko prints and pricy drinks that come with amaretti will have to suffice.
There is still that lofty and ultimately insignificant goal of finding that cafe, and I think the coming months will provide a good time to quietly and unassumingly explore and perhaps actualize it. For now, however, I have fallen peacefully into a Monday routine. I wake up around 9 or 10am and putz for a while, eating müsli, showering, checking email and preparing lunch. Then I bike over to Deli Star, a cut corner cafe on the same street as the LC Institute. I order a capuccino - though I plan to branch out, naturally - and set to work reading the intense psychology reading. Ideally, I would have already finished the article and not have to, as is often the case, print it out hurriedly at the university copy shop that morning.
At 1:20 I bike the half a block from the cafe to the Institute, which is housed in a beautiful old apartment building covered in ivy. By that time my mood is glorious and I am oh-so-thrilled to speak to people rather than read small text and examine graphs in German. This routine is a lot like my Ugly Mug [cafe] days in Sellwood during the year, and right now it is a welcome pattern. I just hope Munich does not become too routine for me and I adjust so much that I forget to explore. I doubt this will happen, though, as there are always interesting events and conversations to be experienced.
It was interesting to watch from overseas and in German. From midnight to 7:30 am I did nothing but watch, talk, hope, chew my nails, watch more, hope more and scream with glee periodically.
My mind, body and soul are on the edge right now, racing, racing, racing. I think constantly of next Tuesday, when we will find out how the future of our country will be shaped. I am simultaneously filled with extreme sadness, anxiety and panic, and jubilation over the potentional outcome. By way of this harrowing example, I can now clearly see and understand how intermingled life and politics are.
This is not the first election that I have been physically and emotionally struck by. The depression that followed Bush's reelection was minimized by my uninvolvement in the political process due to age and being involved in only my immediate (at the time, high school) surroundings. Life for me then consisted of International Baccalaureatte courses, art, dance, theatre and friends.
My first voting experience was in my freshman year of college and it proved to be a complete disappointment. I was awkwardly registered at my brother's house in California and still had my California driver's license, although I had not lived in my former home state for a year and a half, spending a year in Arizona and then moving to Oregon for school. My ballot arrived later than it should have, as I tried to vote absentee, and even then the issues were not an immediate concern for me. Of course, I was all for funding schools and ensuring civil liberties (although that particular was fairly routine and did not have any striking issues), but California was no longer my state to lay claim to. I hadn't had a official (read: not under-the-table) job by that point and so I was not even paying taxes. I am fairly positive that my ballot arrived too late, and I was left disillusioned, wondering what good my voice could do and why I saw myself as involved in the process.
After settling in at my college, exploring Portland and getting a feel for the place, it started to feel like home. Home. That was a geo-emotional relationship I had not formed with a place since childhood. I became an Oregonian, I started to get informed about Portland politics and like, a many liberal arts college student, about domestic and international affairs. I was old enough to vote, had developed the interest and the passion for it, and now all I needed was an election to excercise my new-found citizenship and treasured status as an Oregon resident. I strongly believe that I needed to establish this sense of home in a regional sense before I could begin to consider myself or act in the interest of other Americans. I had a job and witnessed the way that taxes swallowed up a portion that appeared significantly large to me, a low-earning college student. But then I saw the measures and the individuals, schools and small businesses behind those measures, and my tax contribution, as well as my opportunity to have a voice in how those taxes were spread out, made it all matter.
When Sam Adams and Sho Dozono went head-to-head earlier this year, I was watching eagerly from the sidelines. I was a Portlander, through and through, and this was my election just as much as it was any other Multnomah County resident's. I developed what was to be called a "political cry" which I will readily admit to be the epitome of cheesiness. Think JFK kissing babies as onlookers sob... Only not that bad. I watched Sam Adams' campaign videos constantly and kept tabs on his website. I growled under my breath at "Sho Gets It. Sho Gets It Done." lawn signs. "What did that even mean?," I thought. What is that weird get 'er done mentality? I would much rather "Move Portland Forward," thank you very much. I looked at polls, read [alternative] weeklies keeping tabs on the campaign, and then... I voted.
I voted in the fantasic Oregon way using a ballot by mail. This system appeals to me on so many levels, as a voter can actively research and contemplate his/her outlook and the politician or measure involved. There is no standing in a little booth circling options nervously but rather a crucial thought process and frequent democratic debate. That is what voting looks like for me. That is how I believe it should function.
Seeing Sam Adams' victory made my heart swell with pride. "Look!," I though, "Look! He was successfull and I helped! I played a role in electing who I, and many others, felt was most fit for the job." Since then I have been convinced time and time again that I, and that we, the people of Portland, made the right choice. I frequently went to art openings and events at the city hall, where I saw Sam Adams (and subsequently got star-struck... each and every time) as well as in a quirky North Portland parade. Yes, he is absolutely right for the job.
The election that is now at hand, and in which I have already cast my absentee vote, is one that can implement change on a much, much, much grander scale. As liberals, we have faced numerous disappointments and realized some of our worst fears over the past eight years. Eight years. Think about that. I was twelve when George W. Bush came into office. My teenage years and begining of early adulthood have been claimed by that government. I do not want to be a disillusioned American, although I do find the gallows humor that many other liberals use to ease the pain of the situation rather hilarious in a soviet fashion.
So now, my thoughts are consumed with this mantra: "Please Obama. Yes, Obama. This nation needs Obama." I have voted, I have debated with others, and I have researched my views. Aside from offering time or money, what more is there to do?
Please Obama. Yes, Obama. This Nation needs Obama.
I had a really good day and participated in my Psychology course at the university by speaking up in discussion and talking to the professor after class. I got the impression that he really supports my taking the course as an international student and is eager to have me in the class to provide a slighlty different perspective. My current experience with intercultural communication and the reaction of the Germans I talk to is that no one expects me to be perfect - except for myself, due to unrealistic expectations - and that they are more interested in the content within my sentences. This, of course, is a relief, although I do wish I could articulte myself more clearly and professionally.
It is interesting to observe how the university system and class structure here work. I am so used to speaking up in class all the time and would do so more often here if the language barrier didn't exist. This reluctance to speak is something only around native German speakers, because at my LC courses, I always say things in class, which is maybe because I feel comfortable speaking in a familiar group that is composed of people who are also at the intermediate level in German.
I had a hard time realizing that although I am younger than all of the students in my class, I have had more semesters of college than many of them. What's more, I found it very weird and shocking how the students sometimes just stared dumbly at the professor when he asks a question. Yet there are a few really interesting people who always have commentary, and after the initial lag in discussion, people contribute insightful thoughts. I was surprised however, when the professor mentioned an experiment or theory with which the students were unfamiliar, and it made me realize what a good education I am getting in the US and how I take a lot of the things learned in my classes there for granted.
On another note, I had vegan sushi today, it was remarkably good. I think it was also raw... hah, different meaning when there is no fish involved. Two friends and I had a late lunch at Saf, a delicious vegan restaurant near Marienplatz. We all moaned with delight at the quality of food, sampled one another's dishes frequently and switched rapidly back and forth between English and German. I also rode my bike again for the first time in far too long. I often miss the freedom and quirkiness of the Portland bike and cafe culture.
