I hate to say good bye. I hate it when friends leave. I hate to be left behind. And I gave up counting all the farewell diners, lunches, parties, drinks and whatsoever I had in recent weeks. Oh, yes, I forgot the farewell breakfast. Obviously, there are some more to come today and tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and… No, stop, the weekend, I’ll go home after saying good bye but without any farewell stuff. After all, I’ll be back in Brussels by the end of August and start a new life with a new job* and a new flat**. Hah, take this Farewell-melancholy-I-do-not-want-it-to-finish-mood.
Quand même, la puce
* & **: Still needs to be found.
IV: Obviously, I understand and speak Frech, English and even German only when it suits me. I do not understand a word in situations like a policemen shouting after me because I crossed a red light or if selling, NGO and other money-wanting people in the city centre are bothering me.
V: For German this works only as long as I do not have to show my passport. And, something I cannot longer is to speak French or English with a German accent. I am just not able to do so. This is really a pity since I used the excuse “je ne suis pas française, je ne peux pas savoir” together with a smile and a sligthly desperated attitude for years to bumble through administration. There was a deadline? Je ne savais pas…
VI: Something else I am not longer able to do is to ignore French or English in situation people are annoying me with brainless talking and chatting like in the metro or tram. This is actually something I am really missing, was rather enjoyable not to be bothered by other peoples c***talking.
VII: What I rather like is to dream in other languages. So far I dreamt in English, Spanish, and French but no Dutch. The strangest dream (regarding language) was when I was in England in a Spanish class. Actually, I just knew that it was the Spanish class but I was not able to understand one word, paniking and the teacher wanted to through me out of the class room.
D’autres questions? Toujours à votre service: la puce
I have an excellent memory for things I never wanted to know.
Done. I watched the Simpsons movie yesterday and it is great. No doubt. First I was a bit afraid that 90 minutes instead of 22 might be a bit long for the yellow folks but it is just enough. The story is basically that Homer makes one of the biggest mistakes of his life [his life so far], putting not only Springfield in deadly danger but also his marriage the rest of love and respect his kids have for him and himself.
What I really liked about the film is that it takes time to develop the characters much more than it is possible in the usual 22 minutes. It is a pleasure to observe the different characters, to try getting all the references to other films and to just relax and let the film take you along.
- I had to get used to the original voices, hearing them for the very first time. But I liked them even if especially Homer and Marge did not sound how they are supposed to do.
- The only thing missing was an end to Spider Pig’s story line.
- Maggie speaks her first word.
- Itchy and Scratchy is as suited for children as usually but a good starter.
Definitely one of the
yellowhighlights of this cinema summer.
La “Simpson” puce
In Belgium, the film is starting today. FYI.
Whenever I can work the way I like, my performance is much better than usual. Normal working days and hours are a bit frustrating for me because I am not really efficient the four/five hours after getting up. Not to speak about the first hour after getting out of bed when I am hardly able to answer the easiest questions. A hm (= yes) or a hmhm (= non) is the maximum.
Anyway, as I always noticed, my performance is better when I can work when I want. My master’s thesis, I did it entirely between 4pm and midnight. I usually got up around 11 am, went to university to check my emails (no Internet at home at the time), came back home, ate and started working at 4 or 6 pm. Then I worked quite frequently until midnight or even 2 am before going to bed – I got a good mark at the end.
So whenever I can work as I want it, mostly on weekends, I do it exactly that way. The story about body clocks and what a friend told me that human beings should get out of bed with the sunrise is not written for me. My body clock clearly tells me that the later I work, the better I do. If only general working hours could be adapted to this, would be great. Thank you for your understanding,
During our great German-Austrian football party, I was wearing a football shirt my British flatmate* had given me for the evening. The day before he left, he did something I would never ever had expected: He offered me the shirt so that I can proudly announce now to owe a football shirt.
* He is now back to the UK, Birmingham, very handsome and single, furthermore the most football addicted person I ever met and reading here