Klokken er 10:32 en alminedelig onsdag aften
Jeg har lige fået min godnat-smøg, og nu sidder jeg her med en kop varm instant-kaffe, så hvorfor ikke lige skrive lidt på min "blog."
Lektier. Dem er der dejligt mange af, til tider bliver det også for meget af det gode, men det kender du vel alt til ikke? Jeg har lige læst noget om formanalyse, som er en metode hvor du går ind og ser...
............... Ja, kedeligt.
Klokken er nu 10:38 og jeg sidder stadigvæk her, nu med mindre kaffe i koppen, og mere viden i knolden, eller mindre, jeg er lidt i tvivl. Nej, jeg vil ikke begynde at klage over alt for mange lektier, og alt for lidt tid, det vil jeg lade jer om. Næh nej, jeg vil hellere skrive om en hvis person, russeren. Du troede nok ikke at den kom, men nu er han/den her, endelig. Jeg her bevidst ladet det trække lidt ud, for nu er der lidt mere mystik om ham, håber jeg.
Rune Hansen er en helt normal mand, som underviser i matematik, og en smule historie. Han er omkring de fyrre år, men jeg ved ikke om han er gift eller noget som helst andet om hans privatliv. Dog ved jeg at han godt kan lide at gå i hans æggehvide bomuldstrøje.
"Hvor ved han det fra?" spørger du måske dig selv, men det er ganske enkelt, han er ruseren.
For at det lidt mere mening, så må jeg hellere starte fra begyndelsen:
Jeg har kørt med bus i skole i laaang tid, siden fjerde klasse så vidt min hukommelse rækker, og den kommer vidt omkring. Rundt omkring tredive minutter hver vej, så man skal jo lave noget. Gratisaviser bliver meget kedelige, efter, at man har læst dem gennem længere tid, så noget nyt må man jo finde på. Så jeg fik den gode og/eller dårlige vane at kalde folk navne, og forestille mig hvordan de er. To som jeg husker ekstra godt er professoren og russeren, to som jeg så mange gange i bussen.
Rune, hvis navn jeg fandt ud af senere, fik tilnavnet russeren, fordi han er... Meget stor, og så kunne han sagtens gå for at være russisk, meget simpelt, men jeg gik jo også i fjerde. Jeg forestillede mig ham som en lidt arrig mand, med et stort temperament, med en hyggeligere side, i korte træk.
Indtil for 5 uger siden, hvor jeg var på Egholm. Han var en af lærene, og det var ham der stod for det løb som vi var på. Jeg havde jo en gammel forestilling om at han snakkede flydende russisk, og drak vodka (come on, jeg var 10) Så jeg blev meget, ikke overrasket, men forundret over at han snakkede dansk, og egentlig var en meget rar person. Jeg havde heller ikke forestillet mig ham som en lærer, og slet ikke gymnasielærer.
Så, ikke mere kaffe
Rune Madsen, matematiklærer
Det er ikke fordi, at det er nogen vanvittig, helt igennem sindsoprivende, overdrevet episode, men den var nu lidt, ja, pudsig. Jeg blev kort mindet om det med at have fordomme eller forestillinger om folk. Det kan bare få os til at opsætte nogle barrierer som vi slet ikke behøver. Ikke, at det er dårligt, for det er nogle gange nyttigt at have fordomme over for nogle, det kan få os til at være ekstra opmærksomme på personerne. Det kan få os til at tagesærlige hensyn til de personer.
Til sidst et lille post scriptum:
Hvis du har læst min forrige post, og tænkt "fin historie" så har du ikke fanget budskabet, den skulle jo skrives som Ernest ville, ikke?
Underforstået, smid en kommentar
onsdag den 23. september 2009
mandag den 14. september 2009
The fruit of Spain
Vi skulle skrive en tekst i engelsk, skrevet ligesom Ernest Hemingway ville, som skulle læses højt for klassen. Jeg fandt senere ud af, at vi kun skulle skrive en halv side med halvanden linjeafstand, jeg havde skrevet halvanden side med enkelt linjeafstand... Jeg fik aldrig læst den op, og da jeg er ret glad for den, så synes jeg ikke, at den skal gå til spilde. Jeg ved godt, at jeg har sagt, at jeg vil skrive om russeren, men det her passer lige så godt, så næste gang, det lover jeg.
Jeg håber, at I kan lide den.
The town of Olite, in the Basque country, is a small working town of no more than 40 families. It had been lying there for many years, silently sleeping. The church tower would ring every morning, but not to wake people up. Every day all the fathers would go to work, taking care of their families. When they got home, their wives would have made dinner, as they always did. It was a town were nothing seemed to change, but a few years ago the town finally woke up. It wasn't the church tower, for it had been laid to rest, only to peal on Sundays, no, it was the people itself.
Travelers had started traveling to the town, wanting to see how this small town was doing, what it was made of. Wanting to see some more of Spain. Amongst them was Edward A. Carter, and his traveling companion Oliver Law. They'd found Jorge, a small planter. He had allowed them to stay, if they were willing to help him gather the fruit, it was that time of year.
From their room, they could see Jorge working the fields.
“They've got a great nature here, don't you think Oliver?” Edward asked.
Carter, still looking down his newspaper, replied “It's quite alright, I guess.”
“But it's sad that he has to do so much of the work himself.”
“Hnn.. Well I don't...” He mumbled the rest with his nose down between the pages.
Edward walked over, and sat in the chair beside him, and looked over his shoulder “But I guess you're more interested in the news, aren't you?”
Carter looked up, and looked out the window “I just find them more... relevant at the time.”
“I'm going out to help him, if you don't mind.”
“Be my guest” Carter said, leafing through his paper.
The professor went outside their small room, and headed over to the plantation, where the planter was getting rid of some weeds. At the look of it, there was plenty of it. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, making it uncomfortable for many. The professor stopped a few yards from Jorge, and waited for Jorge to notice him.
“Hola amigo! I see you've come out of your cave”
The professor replied “I thought it was about time, and on a hot day like this, what's the point of staying all bottled up?”
Jorge tried to dry of some of the dirt in his face, only to smear even more on. “I guess you're right, is the big guy coming out too?”
He laughed briefly “No, I think he's got some important things to take care of.”
“Too bad for him, hombre.”
The professor walked over to one of the trees, taking a closer look. “So, is it going to be a good harvest this year?”
Jorge also walked over to the tree “I hope so, I wouldn't mind it, you know. We haven't had this many fruits before, I mean, we did get some the past years, but amigo, this...”
“This is so much more.” He ended his sentence for him.
“Si, this is so much better, you want to taste one of them? They're not ripe, but they're close.”
“Sure.”
Edward plucked a big one, hanging near the top, even though it was harder to reach. He weighed it in his hand, it was a bit heavy for its size. The skin still looked a bit moist, as if the sun hadn't dried it completely. Jorge plucked one for himself, and they tried to make something that resembled a toast. He took a big bite, but spat it out again, and so did Jorge.
“I think mine is rotten, it sure looks as if it is.” He said, while trying to get rid of the taste.
Jorge threw his fruit away “Oh amigo, I think we picked a bad tree.”
The professor looked at the man, who was now checking the tree, cutting down other fruits, to see how they were.
“I really don't hope it goes for all of your trees, do you want me to help?”
Jorge continued his search for rotten fruits “No, just go inside again, I'll call you when the food is ready.”
The professor went inside again, and found his colleague still reading the same newspaper. He sat down in the chair opposite his colleague. Carter coughed, and dried of some of the sweat on his upper lip, when taking down his hand again. He didn't look up this time either
“Was it to hot for you out there?” He asked, and put his paper down into his bag.
“No, it was okay.” Edward replied, looking at his feet.
“Well, it's a bit cooler now. I hope the supper is ready soon, I'm starving, aren't you?”
“Not really, I got this bad taste in my mouth, if you know what I mean.”
Carter stood up “I know exactly what you're talking about, I always get this weird taste in my mouth after eating chili.”
“Yeah.” Edward stood up too, he could hear Jorge calling.
Carter smiled “Finally.”
Jeg håber, at I kan lide den.
The Fruit of Spain
A story, the Ernest Hemingway, way
The town of Olite, in the Basque country, is a small working town of no more than 40 families. It had been lying there for many years, silently sleeping. The church tower would ring every morning, but not to wake people up. Every day all the fathers would go to work, taking care of their families. When they got home, their wives would have made dinner, as they always did. It was a town were nothing seemed to change, but a few years ago the town finally woke up. It wasn't the church tower, for it had been laid to rest, only to peal on Sundays, no, it was the people itself.
Travelers had started traveling to the town, wanting to see how this small town was doing, what it was made of. Wanting to see some more of Spain. Amongst them was Edward A. Carter, and his traveling companion Oliver Law. They'd found Jorge, a small planter. He had allowed them to stay, if they were willing to help him gather the fruit, it was that time of year.
From their room, they could see Jorge working the fields.
“They've got a great nature here, don't you think Oliver?” Edward asked.
Carter, still looking down his newspaper, replied “It's quite alright, I guess.”
“But it's sad that he has to do so much of the work himself.”
“Hnn.. Well I don't...” He mumbled the rest with his nose down between the pages.
Edward walked over, and sat in the chair beside him, and looked over his shoulder “But I guess you're more interested in the news, aren't you?”
Carter looked up, and looked out the window “I just find them more... relevant at the time.”
“I'm going out to help him, if you don't mind.”
“Be my guest” Carter said, leafing through his paper.
The professor went outside their small room, and headed over to the plantation, where the planter was getting rid of some weeds. At the look of it, there was plenty of it. The sun was shining from a cloudless sky, making it uncomfortable for many. The professor stopped a few yards from Jorge, and waited for Jorge to notice him.
“Hola amigo! I see you've come out of your cave”
The professor replied “I thought it was about time, and on a hot day like this, what's the point of staying all bottled up?”
Jorge tried to dry of some of the dirt in his face, only to smear even more on. “I guess you're right, is the big guy coming out too?”
He laughed briefly “No, I think he's got some important things to take care of.”
“Too bad for him, hombre.”
The professor walked over to one of the trees, taking a closer look. “So, is it going to be a good harvest this year?”
Jorge also walked over to the tree “I hope so, I wouldn't mind it, you know. We haven't had this many fruits before, I mean, we did get some the past years, but amigo, this...”
“This is so much more.” He ended his sentence for him.
“Si, this is so much better, you want to taste one of them? They're not ripe, but they're close.”
“Sure.”
Edward plucked a big one, hanging near the top, even though it was harder to reach. He weighed it in his hand, it was a bit heavy for its size. The skin still looked a bit moist, as if the sun hadn't dried it completely. Jorge plucked one for himself, and they tried to make something that resembled a toast. He took a big bite, but spat it out again, and so did Jorge.
“I think mine is rotten, it sure looks as if it is.” He said, while trying to get rid of the taste.
Jorge threw his fruit away “Oh amigo, I think we picked a bad tree.”
The professor looked at the man, who was now checking the tree, cutting down other fruits, to see how they were.
“I really don't hope it goes for all of your trees, do you want me to help?”
Jorge continued his search for rotten fruits “No, just go inside again, I'll call you when the food is ready.”
The professor went inside again, and found his colleague still reading the same newspaper. He sat down in the chair opposite his colleague. Carter coughed, and dried of some of the sweat on his upper lip, when taking down his hand again. He didn't look up this time either
“Was it to hot for you out there?” He asked, and put his paper down into his bag.
“No, it was okay.” Edward replied, looking at his feet.
“Well, it's a bit cooler now. I hope the supper is ready soon, I'm starving, aren't you?”
“Not really, I got this bad taste in my mouth, if you know what I mean.”
Carter stood up “I know exactly what you're talking about, I always get this weird taste in my mouth after eating chili.”
“Yeah.” Edward stood up too, he could hear Jorge calling.
Carter smiled “Finally.”
tirsdag den 1. september 2009
Inglorious Bastards
Jeg ved godt at jeg sagde, at næste "blog"-indlæg ville handler om russeren, men det kommer det ikke til. Bare rolig, det kommer, men ikke nu.
Jeg har, som titelen måske har afsløret, været inde og se Inglorious Bastards i biografen.
Nøj, hvor var den god, så jeg kan kun anbefale dig at se den! Jeg er, som du måske, måske ikke ved, stor Tarentino-fan, og jeg ejer stort set alle hans film, så den her var jeg jo næsten nødt til at se. Til dig der ikke ved hvad den handler om, så er det en film om anden verdenskrig, dog med et nyt twist. På det seneste er der kommet mange film, især tyske, som giver et nyt billede af krigen, nemlig det som tyskerne havde. Der Untergang og Des Leben der Anderes er gode eksempler. Det er ikke længere dumme nazi-svin, men stakkels tyskere og stakkels sindsforvirrede Hitler. Ikke, at det er dårligt, men det er skønt at se en film, hvor tyskerne er nogle svin, og de skal bare nakkes!
Quentins film handler om en specialstyrke, som, i bund og grund, skal dræbe så mange nazister, som overhovedet muligt. Filmen bærer dejligt meget præg af, at det er Quentin, som har instrueret den. Der er den klassiske scene hvor alle begynder at skyde, og alle ender med at dø, skønt. Det er ikke fordi at det er fantastisk at se en masse mennesker dø, men det er jo Quentin, ikke?
Hitler er igen blevet til det stereotype onde monster, som amerikanerne så ham som under, og efter krigen. Nazisterne dræber jøder, og amerikanerne dræber nazisterne, og de nyder det. Det hele er selvfølgelig ikke blod ogskalpering, der er også en god omgang humør med i filmen.
Jeg vil ikke afsløre for meget, så jeg kan egentlig ikke fortælle dig om min yndlings scene i hele filmen. Jeg kan dog afsløre, at det helt sikkert er den næste film, som sniger sig ind på min hylde!
Næste gang er om russeren, det er sikkert, uden tvivl, tusinde millioner procent!! Right...
Jeg har, som titelen måske har afsløret, været inde og se Inglorious Bastards i biografen.
Nøj, hvor var den god, så jeg kan kun anbefale dig at se den! Jeg er, som du måske, måske ikke ved, stor Tarentino-fan, og jeg ejer stort set alle hans film, så den her var jeg jo næsten nødt til at se. Til dig der ikke ved hvad den handler om, så er det en film om anden verdenskrig, dog med et nyt twist. På det seneste er der kommet mange film, især tyske, som giver et nyt billede af krigen, nemlig det som tyskerne havde. Der Untergang og Des Leben der Anderes er gode eksempler. Det er ikke længere dumme nazi-svin, men stakkels tyskere og stakkels sindsforvirrede Hitler. Ikke, at det er dårligt, men det er skønt at se en film, hvor tyskerne er nogle svin, og de skal bare nakkes!
Quentins film handler om en specialstyrke, som, i bund og grund, skal dræbe så mange nazister, som overhovedet muligt. Filmen bærer dejligt meget præg af, at det er Quentin, som har instrueret den. Der er den klassiske scene hvor alle begynder at skyde, og alle ender med at dø, skønt. Det er ikke fordi at det er fantastisk at se en masse mennesker dø, men det er jo Quentin, ikke?
Hitler er igen blevet til det stereotype onde monster, som amerikanerne så ham som under, og efter krigen. Nazisterne dræber jøder, og amerikanerne dræber nazisterne, og de nyder det. Det hele er selvfølgelig ikke blod ogskalpering, der er også en god omgang humør med i filmen.
Jeg vil ikke afsløre for meget, så jeg kan egentlig ikke fortælle dig om min yndlings scene i hele filmen. Jeg kan dog afsløre, at det helt sikkert er den næste film, som sniger sig ind på min hylde!
Næste gang er om russeren, det er sikkert, uden tvivl, tusinde millioner procent!! Right...
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