Was stressed

Ok. Well idk if I even want to tell you about the ever constant homework serenades. You've all already heard them multiple times, and aside from minor deviations, they're always the same. Therefore, I'll keep it short. The most noteworthy instance was that I ended up turning in the last of my math hw in front of the new building at about midnight when there were a number of drunk students on all the other benches. Makes you kinda feel hardcore. Everyone's partying, and you're studying equations of mathematical physics. We totally rock. NOT!
Well so that was over and exams went as usual. Got a 5/10 on economy, which wasn't hard. Then barely passed those equation thingumses. And gave the final blow with the state exam on mathematics. So, aside from the exam I'll have to take to get into the masters program, I'm finally done with math!
Another interesting instance was how I passed my elective course. Here elective is meant in such a way: we got to pic between molecular biology, or 2 weird craps, that are not only boring as hell, but also a pain in the behind. So, needless to say I picked molecular biology, which as so many things not math or physics were a simple repetition of the SCAHS curriculum. I think went to 5-6 lectures of like 16, so I slept though almost half of them on location, which is quite the accomplishment. But the fun was how the final happened. The teachers gave us the option of doing a 5 minute presentation on a virus instead of actually having to answer questions pertaining to the material. Everyone, including myself jumped at the opportunity, of course. Now, for the epic story:
The night before the due date. I'm of course making the presentation. Once done at around 1 am, I find it's twice as long as it should be. Must. Not. Sleep. Must. Sift. Through. Hep. A. Virus. Info. Shorten. Pres.... well, you get the idea. I went to bed around 5 probably, and at 8 I had to get up. Lucky fro me, the window was open, and some workers decided that 10 am was a great time to make a hellish noise dragging metal stuff over asphalt. that woke me up. My first thought. @#!$##$%#!$#$%!#@#~#@$%&*&**%$##$%^(*&^%$##@~~#$%!!! My second thought: action! I got dressed in record time, and almost rand to the lecture hall, where I arrived at the very very end of my group. a minute later, and I'd have had to learn stuff! Think of the peril! I rattled off the presentation extremely quickly, (I made the 5 min limit although I had more like 7 mins of material) and even better got a full mark on it, and the whole course. Basically this was an exercise in awesome. For once in my life!


Now to bigger and better things. but first, I'll tell you the sad sad story of failure and idiotism, that killed much fun-ness. 'T was before the computational mathematics test. As you may or may not guess, I know nothing of computational mathematics, and thought that it would be good not to fail the test. To do that I supposedly need to study. (note the conditional clauses.) Unfortunately, just before the test there was this field trip thing. kind of like a sports/competition festival sort of deal. And, if you know me, then you know that I'm a sucker for these things. I love them to death! but, being the studious, good girl I am, I decided not to go in favor of cramming some more. Well, how do you think that turned out for me? Well, like 80% of the people who bothered showing up, i also totally failed it. Ergo: not only did I miss something I would have remembered for the rest of my life, but also totally f***ed up the test. yay me...

NOW, on to bigger and better things. Namely, the circus!!! I'm sure I haven't written about this yet! Winter (it was March 14th, but I say winter because it was still cold as f***.) Well, as you can see on the picture, I went to see Cirque Du Soleil. I went with my mom and dad. Dad didn't like it of course, because he's way to conservative to appreciate showmanship, but my mom and I liked it a lot. Very spectacular, to say the least! The music was interesting, and the costumes were the very best part. They had these weird white people in the most bizarre guises running around everywhere all the time. Their clothes were often wildly exaggerated, and each one was completely different and totally silly.


I'll stop here for today, since I'm tired of writing. (And I haven't even gotten to the most interesting part yet!!!) but more is soon to follow!! 

Issues

I know it's horrible to say you hate someone, but don't they also say that there's a very fine line between love and hate, and one that's far too easy to cross at that. It's not always true, I think. But sometimes there's no other way to describe what's there.

I hate that he's the one person in my life that can make me cry with a single phrase.
I hate that everything I do, I do with thought to what he will think of it.
I hate that almost every conversation, even about the most common an seemingly unrelated topics ends with me being inadequate in some form.
I hate that he would do anything for me without regard for himself.
I hate that he's planned out my life for me.
I hate that I actually think that it's a good one.
I hate that I have no idea how to talk to him about things that really matter.
I hate that he doesn't know how to do that either.
I hate that I am afraid to tell him the truth.
I hate that I'm afraid to disappoint him.
I hate that I need him.
I hate that he feels he can't rely on me.
I hate that he's always right.
I hate that there is nothing I can do about any of this.
And most of all I hate that he's never angry with me.

OMFG! A POST!

So, it's been quite a long while since I last posted. I even broke my one post a month rule, which I am extremely sorry for. on the up side, i'll be writing a number of posts in the coming weeks, I think, to recap everything. I'll start with where I left off, or at least what I remember from so long ago.

You might recall that a rather important question was supposed to be answered: namely, which f the sixteen base institutes will be mine. I don't remember if I have already explained this, so forgive me if I repeat myself. This is such an important question, because it basically determines what I'm going to do with my life, even to the extent that the base is probably going to be my job for like forever (though not necessarily, but there's much time to speculate about that yet. many many years.) I might have told you about the center for photochemistry, that I liked a lot. This is so for quite a number of reasons: 1) it's interesting 2) it's extremely easy 3) they pay well 4) (and most importantly) my dad thinks it's a good place, so he'll leave me alone about it.
Well, as luck would have it, I was assigned there, and more interestingly; the only other people there are two boys from my current group, one lazier even than me at times, and the other a bit of a, eh, how to put this, 'questionable' individual. On a side note: this is actually extremely unusual, just so you know. =)

Well, once that was cleared up, I had to start doing all the homeworks, which as always is the biggest pain in the behind in the world, but I'll tell you about that next time =) 

of singing and parents

As far back as I can remember I really liked to sing. I knew every single kids song by heart, and sung them all the time. I had song books, and CDs with kids songs to which I would sing. Then I stared going to school in Dresden, and there we had this horrible music teacher. He was in his 40s divorced and had a failed music career behind him as a flutist, which is why he started teaching. He wore leather pants and made tons of painful music jokes that we counted, because the lessons were so excruciatingly boring otherwise. He also made us sing in front of the entire class twice a year. Each person got their solo performance, and I'm sure you can imagine how terrified a 7th grader is of singing in front of your friends, and getting graded based on how good you were. With his policy he managed to make everyone hate him and music. Also, he convinced me that I really really suck at singing. Since then I only ever sing when I know that no one's listening, so as to not embarrass myself and spare the delicate auditory apparatus of everyone around me. 
Well, since then some of my more musical friends ave told me that I sing well, and that I've got good hearing. but i tend not to believe them. But it also makes me very sad that my dad is way too much of a scientist. You see, when I was little, he didn't want me to learn an instrument, because apparently it's pointless. I've actually always wanted to learn to play some instrument. It doesn't really matter which, I guess. But as I get older, it seems a progressively unlikely thing. I guess my only chance is that when I'm standing on my own feet, earning my own money, and living by myself, I'll be free of his oppressive presence, and I'll start to do the things that he kept me from doing.

On that note, I actually suspect that he thinks I'm like him. I think like him, and want the same things. Basically he thinks I wish to go into science professionally, and work with him. He keeps trying to pull me towards that, and I don't think that's either fair, or right. It's like he's got me confused with a younger female version of himself, if that makes sense. But it's really just delusion on his part. I'm interested in far more things than molecules and quantum mechanics, and I don't think I'd be able to live the way he does, with his calculations being his one and only ambition. I need to be able to draw, and write, and take photos, and write, and be with people. He seems to do none of that. The only time I've heard him speak of other people was when he was saying how good or bad a scientist that individual was. Or how some bureaucrat made his life difficult, because he and the government are idiots... It's kind of sad when you think about it. and I don't want that to be my life.
It's also kind of funny how most of my life my mom has been trying to teach me not to listen to my dad. It's usually the other way around, isn't it? I guess the fact that I turned out t least half way normal is because of my mom. Now that she's been away in the US for the third year now, I'm starting to understand that I've severely under-appreciated her for most of my life. I'm really sorry for that. I wish she'd come back...
On and end note: it's finally spring! look at the pretty rocks =) (Also I think I'll try putting more pictures up here, but I'm not making any definite promises)

wtf? it's april!

Ok, so I want to take a little time to rant about the weather here. Believe it or not, I took this picture this morning when I was returning to the dorm after a morning lecture. I mean, yeah the snow has been a bit less (it was more than knee deep not three weeks ago.) But still. it's freaking APRIL! Where are the FLOWERS?! On the up side it's at least always above freezing, and you can put away the really really warm fur boots, but that's not really the issue. This April Fools our pranksters even had trouble finding puddles to color green (it's a traditional prank.) because all the puddles are still in solid form rather than liquid. I'm tired of this Russian weather. snow from November till April. and then excessive heat from June to September. You only get 2 months of tolerable weather. I need to move back to Europe...

WARNING: RANT!!!

Scenario: It's a holiday, a big national one, you even get off school, and you and a bunch of your friends spend the day together to celebrate it. The plan: go sledding and horsing around in the snow. Well you do that, and then one of the couples there who lives with another one of the couples there says: "Hey! We have food!! Let's eat!" So you go eat. As always, it's not too great, cause you're the pickiest eater on the entire freaking planet. But, overall, everyone is happy and the day was well spent. No second thoughts, right? WRONG!
A few weeks later, one of the girls from that selfsame couple, comes up randomly and says:

"Hey, you owe us $15."
me: "wtf?"
she: "Remember, we fed you?"
me: "Yeah."
she: "So you owe us 15 bucks."
me: "...ok... I guess...." Said I

now every time she sees me something like this happens:

me: "Hi, how are you?"
she: "Hey, you owe us $15."
me: "I know..." 

followed by me going away and muttering curses under my breath. If the b**** had told me that her fodder was worth $15, I wouldn't have touched the stuff. I'd much rather go to an actual restaurant and eat what I actually like! Or better yet: make something myself! Of course, half the stuff was left over. so they got themselves a week's worth of feed for four, for the price of a day. And now you know a great way to cheat honest people out of their f***ing money.
I feel cheated, and lied to. And as I didn't like her before, she managed to actually make me dislike her. Good job! I have only two words for her:
Fuck you!
Oh, and in case you're wondering: yeah I'll pay up, cause that's what honest people do.

Re: Farewell

Man, I just read this wonderful post one of my best friends wrote. He's been pining over a breakup for a really long time, and he's one of those people who pour their souls out onto paper and aren't actually afraid to show it, and I respect him greatly for that. I don't think I'd be able to do that. I generally look for the smallest darkest corner that no one would even think of looking in, and hide until I compose myself.

He talked about this myriad of guys who have been disappointed somehow in such a way, that they  have lost faith, so they drive away any girl who might actually care about them. and just generally treat them as disposables because they are afraid to get "attached." but at the same time they want to find the one that will make it all better.

But isn't it the same for us girls? We get curious, so we start dating, and fall in love with that first guy. The unforgettable one, that inevitably breaks our heart, but we forgive him anyways because he kind of opened that door that we were afraid to open. Then comes guy after guy, some of them jerks, others something else, but all of them wrong in the end. And we loose faith too. There comes that "slutty" period, the time when everything goes, and nothing matters. Of course the magnitude of 'everything' depends on the person and situation, but the general tendency is the same. Usually, at some point you get tired. for some it's earlier, for others later, but you start looking for something real. Now, the real trick is where to find that.
Just like every guy, every girl wants to find a man to balance her life. Someone, who'll accept everything about her, and make her feel just like that. One who would come to her rescue when she needs to be rescued. Or just one whom she can love with all her being and who will love her back the same way. But when you look around, all there seems to be are those disillusioned jerks. (and disillusioned jerk-ettes.)

all of this raises the question: Why the hell do we torture each other, if all we want is the same thing?