Police 411 (Part One)

“A police officer attempts to stop a car for speeding and the guy gradually increases his speed until he's topping 100 mph. He eventually realizes he can’t escape the officer trailing him and finally pulls over. The cop approaches the car and says, "It's been a long day and my tour is almost over, so if you can give me a good excuse for your behavior, I'll let you go with a warning." The guy thinks for a few seconds and then says, "My wife ran away with a cop about a week ago. I thought you might be that officer trying to give her back! The officer looks at the man in the car and says, “drive on sir, have a good day!””

For as long as I can remember I feared police officers. When I was younger I was afraid of the police because of their authoritative nature. They never seemed approachable (probably had something to do with the uniform and the authoritative vibe they give off), and why would I want to approach them? Maybe police officers were so frightening because whenever I traveled to Europe with my family I would see soldiers and police officers standing or walking around the different European airports holding their hand/machine guns. In my eyes, if I did anything wrong in their presence well, they had the ability to shoot me. And I, well, I only had the ability to cry. Who would want to hurt a cute little crying girl (or boy)? Not to mention when I was in high school, I will admit, I loathed the police. Not only were they arresting my friends for “petty” misdemeanors but they wanted to spoil all of my fun, so it seems. (Obviously now that I am older and have matured quite a bit I see things a little bit differently). However, at the time, cops were the enemy.

I remember going on a field trip to the Kenilworth Police Station in elementary school and remember being afraid to ask questions because everything about the station was frightening- the question racing through my mind at the time was: who are these (friendly, gun-carrying) robots?

For about a month now I have consciously been trying to figure out how I truly feel about the police, a task that I haven’t found to be easy, (it probably has to do with residue past impressions of police officers).

For about a week I have been trying to figure out why I find the police force (on the North shore of Chicago) so fascinating. The stereotypes’ deriving from movies and television shows aside being a police officer, in my opinion, is very respectable and interesting (something I may possibly want to pursue).

[Side note: On a not so serious note, in the last few months I have been fortunate enough to have had a lot of non-criminal activity (not that I am a criminal, I am one of the sweetest people anyone would have the pleasure of meeting. Haha. Wink wink. O:o) ) related encounters with police officers that have spawned entertaining stories and (thanks to the first season of Grey’s Anatomy) nicknames such as: McYummy, McOhHe’sSoNice, McDamYou’reMarried, McHellooooo 1+2, and McPleaseAskMeForMyNumber. I will now attempt to recapture one of the said stories…]

It was some time in November and I was out on my late night / early morning walk (around 4am) skipping around on Greenbay Road from Kenilworth to Winnetka. As I approached the 7-eleven I saw that there was some condensation on the back windshields of three land rovers at the car dealership and decided to write “love love love” on them. As I turned around to walk away, a rather good-looking Winnetka Police Officer pulled up in his patrol car, rolled down the window, and asked me to stop.

Me: Is there a problem officer?

P.O: We saw you doing something at the car dealership…

Me: Oh! Yeah, I just wrote “love” all over the back windshields of the three cars there with my finger in the condensation…

The officer gave me a skeptical look.

Me: I can go back with you if you don’t believe me!

P.O: That would be good…

As I walked the 10 -15 steps back to the dealership I chuckled to myself. The officer pulled over his patrol car and got out. He proceeded to ask me if I had ID on me. As I pulled out my driver’s license (which I luckily had on me) and handed it over to the officer when another Winnetka Police Officer pulled up in his patrol car and got out to question me as well.

P.O 1: Anything we need to know about before I run this (holding up my ID) through our system?

Me: No…although, you might find a moving traffic violation from 3 years ago…I think that’s it… but I’m harmless!

P.O 2: What are you doing out at this time of night?

Me: Oh, I’m just on my nightly walk. I always walk at this hour…

P.O 1: Well, you better be careful it can be dangerous with the trains coming in at this hour.

Me: Dangerous? Here? It’s the North Shore! I grew up in Kenilworth- I’ll be fine! Plus, I always walk with one headphone in my ear and the other one out just in case…

P.O 2: So why would you write “Love” all over the cars?

Me: Oh, I just wanted to spread a little love…

P.O. 2: You might want to consider spreading your love in a different way!

At that moment I bit my tongue. All I really wanted to say at that moment was, “is that an invitation Officer?”, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. All that came out was…

Me: Well, I know it’s the North Shore… I mean… I guess… is it really that big of a deal? Writing “love” in condensation? I mean…I’m harmless! You can ask the Kenilworth Officers, they know me!

P.O. 1: Here comes one now!

It was the weirdest thing! I had just spoken to the officer that pulled up in the Kenilworth patrol car not that long ago and when he got out of the car he gave me the “you again?” look.

K.P.O: (To me): Didn’t I just see you like 45 minutes ago?

Me: ….

I gave an innocent look.

P.O1: So you know this one? She’s not any trouble?

K.P.O: Oh, she’s trouble alright!

Me: What?!? Nooo! Come on!

The officers stood there laughing with me* (fine, they were most likely laughing at me, but what did I care?)

Me: So… um, is this the point in time where you arrest me?

P.O.2: Yeah, you’ll be in the Winnetka blotter tomorrow.

I put my hands behind my back and said,

Me: Sweet! Ok! I’m ready!

Then we all had a laugh and the three officers told me I could go. I laughed once more, smiled, and walked home.

Need I say that I slept very well that night?

TTFN - Ta Ta For Now!

76

76 days.

That is how long I have been out of Salzburg. Out of those 76 days I have spent 66 on a different continent [North America] in the wonderful city of:

Chicago. It is by far my favorite city in this world (and of course I’m biased. I was born here).

In the last four years I was never out of Salzburg for long. I think the longest I spent away from Mozart’s beautiful city in those four years was never more than a little over a month and a half. And it sure feels good to be home.

Now that a decent amount of time has past since the end of last semester (and the winter semester has started for everyone back at the university) I find myself missing Salzburg more than I had expected to. I don’t think that I under appreciate how lucky I am to be able to live and study in Salzburg, although, at times I’m sure I don’t appreciate it enough. I don’t miss Salzburg on an hourly basis. I don’t miss Salzburg on a daily basis, nor on a weekly one for that matter. I do however, miss Salzburg because of the family I have there and the number of friends and great people I have met over the last four years who are there while I am not. I hope they consider themselves missed as I miss them very much.

On the other hand, I love being home and that is my main focus at the moment, (aside from working for a finance company from 8:00am-13:30 Monday through Friday, babysitting from 15:00 through 17:30 Monday through Thursday, catching up with friends from elementary school and high school, and doing my best to be as helpful as possible to my loving and hardworking family).

76 is an odd number. Maybe I should have waited a few more days [four to be exact] before writing an entry for this blog (an entry, I might add that is long over-due).

7 + 6 = 13 (13 is the jersey # of the most talented soccer player I had the honor of playing on the same team with for six years. My jersey # has always been 14).

14 = the # of days I have been thinking about what to write for this entry.

7 = the # of days I kept putting off writing down what I had in mind.

14 / 7 = 2

2morrow is a brand new day, and I have to be at work in six hours time, which gives me 4 ½ hours of sleep until then. . . so as always,

TTFN

All good things come to an end...

And so does this blog – at least for now. And so do many other things like a seemingly endless application procedure for an exchange year. But I am happy to announce that I AM DONE. Well, actually I have been for a little while now but there was just so much to share about the whole application procedure and forms, horrors, and I always like to keep people a little in suspense.

One important lesson that I’ve learned from this whole experience is that when you think it’s over … it ain’t yet. After I had handed in all my application documents (several times, might I add) I thought I could lean back and relax. Wrong. It became obvious pretty quickly that there were more forms to be filled out, confirmations to be obtained, and a certain blogger to be kept in suspense.

Then, about two months ago, I finally received the letter. It contained the official confirmation that I would be a visiting graduate student for the academic year 2010-11 at “The-one-that-will-hopefully-work-out” (unfortunately “The-one-that-shall-not-be-named” fell through). The letter also contained pre-arrival information for international students and a form that I needed for my visa. Just imagine myself jumping up and down, laughing like crazy after I had opened the letter. I still get a warm and fuzzy feeling when I think back to that moment when all the hardship came to an end. Now the real preparations could begin.

The associate Dean of Graduate Admission also sent me the names of professors for my two majors that I should contact for the selection of my courses. After checking out all the classes offered in the fall and making lists I came up with enough classes that really interested me. And I am happy to announce that I am already enrolled for four classes, i.e. two for each of my majors. And I already have my own university web mail account from “The-one-that-did-work-out”. Next order of business was finding myself a place to live. So I signed up for a room in a graduate residence hall and recently received my room placement (I am in room number 213!) and I chose a meal plan as well. Okay, so now I have a place to live and I will be fed properly, so what else is/was left to do?

One thing was to get a student visa. So after finals were finally done I headed to Vienna on my birthday to work my charms on everyone at the embassy. And don’t worry, I already booked my flight a while ago and got a brand-new passport with a brand-new picture (I was twelve when I got my last passport). I am proud to announce that my visa application was approved and after spending a couple of days with my family, my passport with my visa actually got home before I did. Jumping up and down again and that warm and fuzzy feeling keeps returning…

Now I am counting the days (12 today) until I am leaving in the middle of August. Even finals didn’t seem as frightening this year with the next couple of months in mind. The next two weeks will be filled with work, a lot of parties (most of them birthdays – among them my own and half my family’s), starting to pack (now that’s a scary thought), and enjoying my time and the summer if it should decide to return soon.

Yours truly,

Lemon

Cleopatra, or how I almost lost my mind

Roughly one year ago, my grandparents asked me to look after their cat Cleo. They were going to Italy for ten days and wanted to drop her off at my brother’s apartment. I was staying there for a month because he was on holiday as well.
I’m a cat person, so of course I said yes. Well, another reason why I agreed was because I’m a student and, as such, always broke. Knowing my grandmother, I could also expect a hefty tip for looking after her Cleo. However, it’s true that I really do love cats. I don’t know why but there is something about them that makes me smile and relax. We have a cat of our own – more like a fixed piece of living room furniture because she hardly ever moves – so I thought it wouldn’t be a problem. Looking back I can only laugh at how naïve I was. The signs of foreboding were all there.

My grandparents dropped Cleo off on a chilly September morning. They gave me a to-do list and a bag full of toys. I was well prepared and had already bought cat food from the supermarket. I still remember how excited I was when I showed Cleo her ‘new kingdom’. I was such a fool.

The trouble started the next morning when I saw that something must have upset Cleo’s stomach. My brother’s carpet has never been the same since, let me tell you. I took a quick look at the list and saw that I wasn’t supposed to feed her supermarket chow but Hill's Science Plan. Obviously, you only get that from special pet stores – I figured that out after having been to six supermarkets – and three hours later I was finally back home. It was definitely the most expensive food I had ever bought but since it wasn’t coming out of my pocket I didn’t really care. I guess Cleo’s delicate stomach just couldn’t handle regular cat food because the next day everything was fine again and her digestion had settled down. Since the only victim was my brother’s carpet - net worth: €2 from Ikea - it wasn’t too bad.

I didn’t want another incident like this on my hands so I studied the to-do list religiously - no less than 28 points - to make sure Cleo would still be alive and kicking when my grandparents came back.
1. “Don’t let her go outside”.
She was an indoor cat so I had to make sure the door to the patio – the apartment is on the ground floor – would be closed at all times.
2. “Do not pet her belly or she will be upset”.
Some of the things didn’t really make sense to me but most of them were easy enough to follow

On the third day Cleo must have finally settled down because that was when she started to show her true colors. She basically didn’t move the entire day but the minute I turned off the light she was up and ready to go …. or let’s say, ready to bug me. It’s like she sensed that I wanted to sleep and suddenly she was all over the apartment, inspecting everything. She usually started off with the desk. Every piece of paper had to be rumpled to her satisfaction. So I had to get up and put it away. Then she decided to throw down everything in reach. So I had to get up and clear the entire desk. After that she found the garbage can in the kitchen and had a look through it. I always thought only dogs do that.
Anyways, two hours later, after I had cleared everything away – at least now number 12 made sense “Keep things out of reach” which I thought only included ‘dangerous’ things – Cleo finally seemed to calm down. That’s when she decided to use the cat pan. My grandparents brought along some – what else!? – very expensive and special cat litter. It was supposed to be super hygienic and all that. The problem was that this cat litter sounded like hundreds of little glass marbles rubbing against each other. And that was what she decided to do now. I swear she took forever to dig around and trample all over the litter in order to get the best noise out of them. At this point I was so freakin’ tired that I wanted to scream ‘Take a dump already!’. I must have nevertheless dosed off because the next thing I remember was the feeling of being crushed by something. When I opened my eyes two large glowing eyeballs were hovering inches away from face, staring at me. This was ‘pet time’ as I found out because Cleo wouldn’t let me go to sleep again.

The next day I realized that I had only noticed half of Cleo’s rummaging last night. She must have been quite busy and even decided to give the door frame a good scratch. ‘’My brother is going to kill me’’ is all I thought while cleaning away all the wood shavings.
Anyway, I had learned my lesson – or better yet, Cleo had taught me - and I stuck by the to-do list from then on. A lot of things made better sense now, like number 14 “Go for a walk” and number 11 “Play before going to bed”.
I realized that if I exhaust her enough before I go to sleep she will leave me and most importantly my brother’s apartment in peace. The going-for-a-walk thing was something I really wasn’t looking forward to. I noticed that my grandparents also brought along some sort of cat-leash. I’m usually not someone who gets embarrassed quickly and I didn’t really know any of the neighbors all too well; still, going for a walk with a fat cat was not really something I wanted to do. However, I also couldn’t let Cleo take out her restlessness on my brother’s apartment so I did what I had to do … or I tried at least. The moment we were outside – I chose nighttime to avoid as many people as possible – she didn’t move an inch. I ended up carrying her around a little and then it was her turn to walk a bit. It wasn’t fun at all … at least not for me.

On the 4th day we finally agreed on a daily routine that suited Cleo best – meaning she was the boss – and things started to settle down. I knew just how long I had to play with Cleo to tire her out. I began to notice this mischievous sparkle in her eyes when she was about to torment one of the wooden door frames … or the couch – number 4 “Keep her off the couch” sounded optional until then. I found a nearby tree where Cleo could get rid of all her aggressions. The actual problem was that I just couldn’t leave her alone. Trips to the supermarket or the library had to be perfectly timed in order to coincide with Cleo’s naps.

On the 7th day all hell broke loose. It was 2 a.m. when I heard Cleo’s excited growling – never a good sound, trust me – and some sort of squeaking sound. Cleo was standing on my bed with a mouse in her mouth. I could only see the wiggling tail which made it look like she was eating spaghetti. Not funny at that time, though. I realized I left the door to the balcony open and she must have snuck out and caught probably the dumbest mouse on earth – Cleo is NOT a ferocious hunter. I praised her and petted her head and tried to get her off my bed. However, she decided to drop the mouse, which quickly ran to the next hiding place, with Cleo on her tail. Somehow I just couldn’t let her kill the poor creature so I ran after Cleo and tried to catch her. This was a feat on its own because she turned out to be quite fast. I had scratches up and down my arm until I finally managed to lock her out on the patio. Cleo was out of her mind. She screamed like crazy with foam dripping from her mouth and her eyes glistening with rage. Ok, I made that up … but not the screaming part. She was also scratching against the glass window, a sound which sent shivers down my spine.
Now I only had to catch the mouse, something I hadn’t exactly thought through at 2:30 in the morning. I kinda believed it would still be in shock but that little bugger was quick. Half an hour later – Cleo still hadn’t calmed down – I was on my knees chasing after the mouse like a lunatic. Not my finest hour, believe me. I had to move every piece of furniture away from the wall to limit the hiding spots. I was armed with a cooking pot in one hand and a short stick in the other one, but I just couldn’t trap the mouse. I must have been too noisy – Cleo certainly was – because one of my neighbors decided she has had enough and started to bang against the wall.
So here I was at three o clock in the morning, chasing after a little mouse over a battlefield that once was my brother’s apartment, caught in the middle of a furious cat who wanted to kill me because I stole her midnight snack and an angry neighbor who had gone from muttering to shouting indelicacies. At that time I already had gone over from simply catching the little creature to smacking the pest with volume 1 of The Norton Anthology of English Literature.
I took a deep breath, cleaned up the room enough for me to get to the bed, let Cleo in, who had finally stopped screaming, followed shortly afterwards by a more relaxed neighbor and went to sleep. “Let Cleo finish the mouse off, I don’t care”.

After I was done cleaning up the next day I was beat. I couldn’t wait to get rid of Cleo and I tried to keep my distance. It was hard to not let my guard down when she crouched down on my lap and started purring. It was even harder to pretend that I actually enjoyed petting her and that I didn’t know she was deliberately trying to drive me crazy. You see, I couldn’t let her suspect that I was literally dying to be rid off her. I’m going to stop now because I’m starting to sound like the lunatic from Edgar Allen Poe’s Tell-Tale Heart.

Finally my grandparents picked her up and a feeling of relief washed over me. Am I exaggerating? Maybe, but seeing them drive off with Cleo in the back of the car was too good to be true. I swear, just before they turned left at the corner of the street she winked at me and an evil grin was on her lips.
Some time later I moved back into my dorm and my brother called to tell me he had to buy a mouse trap because he was sure he had seen one running around in his apartment. I said nothing.

What did I learn from all that? Not much I guess . . . only to never ever trust the shiny fur and the big eyes, because some cats are straight out of hell. I’m still a cat person by the way.

WHERE IN THE WORLD

Has RedShoes been?

I know that it has been a while … lots of things going on. And, as a matter of fact, I have been around quite a bit. But more on that later; now there are far more important things to talk about.

So, hello there again. Summer is finally here; hence, it’s time to talk thongs. White, black, red, blue, green, leopard print or sequined – in all the colors and patterns one can imagine. And it is really hard these days to say who loves wearing them more, the guys or the girls..

You say what? No, I am talking about shoes: flip-flops, beach sandals, or, well, thongs. These terms are often used interchangeably, since all three terms depict shoes which have a toe-separating component and y-shaped straps (that’s what makes them thongs). Another thing they share is the flip-flop sound when walking due to the free back. Sometimes, however, flip-flops and thongs do stand for two different types of shoes: flip-flops are usually made of rubber or foam – materials which tolerate getting wet and are generally pretty sturdy. Usually, these shoes are flat or may have a wedged heel and are for said reasons often less expensive than the more fashionable and elegant thong sandal.

Thong sandals on the other hand are usually made of a variety of materials and come with different types of heels and different heights. Often they can be rather extravagant and are worn with elegant outfits but they can also spice up casual clothing.

However, today I’m going to talk about the foam-type flip-flops. As long as there are flip-flops there will also be discussion about their propriety. When are they appropriate? And on what occasions? Easy question? Don’t fool yourself; it isn’t THAT easy (at least for some people – you’ll be surprised!). The most prominent example of a flip-flop No-No leads us back to the White House in 2007. The good old times? Not really. The fashion faux pas was as follows: Northwestern University's champion women's lacrosse team visited the White House to meet with President Bush WEARING FLIP-FLOPS. How could they? In this article two fashion specialists clearly state their disgust with these women’s poor sense of fashion. In this situation (meeting the president is a rather rare occasion...) flip-flops are surely unacceptable; but on which other occasions should one choose more appropriate footwear?

Here’s a list:

• restaurants (if not on the beach)

• churches (especially not at a funeral!!)
  weddings

• in your office, especially in a corporate environment or other job(except if you work at the beach)
  
• clubs or bars (yes, people wear flip-flops with dresses)
  
• concerts
  
• first dates or other, important out-of-work meetings
  
• and, most importantly, whenever your feet are not in the right condition to be presented to the world; make sure your toes are pedicured.

David Zinczenko, editor-in-chief for Men's Health magazine, even claims it best not to show toes at all, especially at your work place. According to a Men’s Health poll 55% of women said that they do not want to see men in open-toed sandals. Something I can fully relate to. There’s nothing more disgusting than seeing old men’s abhorrent toes. Atrocious! (Photos wouldn’t be appropriate here either!!)

This list doesn’t cover every occasion but surely the most important ones. Wearing the appropriate clothes is an important means of signaling respect and thus places like churches (and I’m trying not to sound hypocritical, this is serious for once), your work-place, restaurants and other meeting places with people you respect. Taking this into account we should probably go for more polished shoes at university as well but on the other hand there is nothing like a “university dress code”. To make flip-flops appropriate for a day at university one should combine them with casual clothes such as capris, shorts or skirts (casual I said) or with blue jeans, an item of clothing you can always rely on. On the contrary, the only places where flip-flops are more than appropriate and fully serve their function are the public shower, the swimming pool and the beach.

Having set straight when to wear flip-flops and when to choose closed shoes considering the situation only leaves one question left to be discussed. According to Hathorn “white people wear flip-flops all year round and with everything.” A claim which certainly holds true: A friend of mine once told me, absolutely convinced of herself, that “flip-flop season starts in March and ends in October/ early November” no matter if there’s already snow two meters high. In addition, Hathorn says “White people don’t consider weather conditions or the rest of their outfit when they slide their feet into those flip flops.” Is this true? I don’t think so; allow me to introduce you to this website, if you haven’t heard of it yet. At the same time incredibly hilarious and hideous. Sometimes I do ask myself whether people have a full-length mirror at home or do they just not care about what they look like? Incredible, really. However, coming back to Hathorn’s claim, there seems to be some truth in it. Eight of the ten comments on his post confirm his observations and his point of view; the ninth is a “year round flip-flopper who couldn’t care less what anyone else thinks of [his/her] footwear choice”. The tenth commentator, however, takes the opposite position and writes about a black man coming out of the laudromat with flip flops on in the winter though. So there’s at least a tad of proof that it’s not just us “whities” committing this particular fashion faux-pas.

The last point I am going to talk about is the question of whether wearing flip-flops damages your health. According to this article by Daily Mail Online medics claim that flip-flops may cause joint pain, shin splints and twisted ankles. Mike O’Neill, a foot surgeon, even calls this type of footwear dangerous as they stretch the calf muscles and strains the achilles tendon and the back of the foot. The “thong” presents another problem because it doesn’t offer enough support to the wearer, which is dangerous in terms of tripping over and hurting yourself. According to the statistics in the article, “55,100 men and women went to hospital with flip-flop-related complaints in 2002.” However, doctors also warn about wearing high-heels which sounds much more plausible. If you’re out and about on high-heels and a little bit tipsy and tired (you know what it’s like) you’ll be a “little unstable” by the end of the night and thus much more likely to fall over. Usually such falls often include dislocated ankles, torn ligaments or, in the worst case, a broken ankle or leg. Those doctors don’t make deciding what to wear out on such hot nights easy, eh? Your safest bet is probably staying home. Not cool.

So, what have we learned today? Usually white people wear flip-flops all year round in all weather conditions and do not care what they wear with them. Also, flip-flops can be as bad for your health as they can be for your career. Choose wisely when to wear flip-flops or more polished shoes (always taking the situation and the imposition into account), because wearing the right outfit is an important (and also very obvious!!) means of signaling respect. And, just in case you are invited to the White House make sure to wear APPROPRIATE shoes (I cannot emphasize this enough) or if you cannot get around your poor sense of fashion do it the “Northwestern University Lacrosse Team 4-step”- way:

Step 1: Wear the ugliest and most inappropriate shoes you have in your closet: flip-flops made of foam.

Step 2: Combine it with some rather appropriate outfit and pretend not to care about the way you look.

Step 3: Ignore the media discussions you have started and turn them to your benefit ->

Step 4: Calm the media, forget about your faux-pass and auction your flip-flops off for charity.

TTFN RedShoes.

Superwoman in disguise..

I cannot recount the number of times people have told me that studying English will not get me far later on in life. But I don’t think this is true. These people often think that studying English at the University of Salzburg, as at any other university, only consists of reading and writing things in English. There is much more to it than that, however, and when I’m finally done with my degree, I am sure it will suit whatever kind of job or career I move into.

Over the past four years I have mastered the skill of speed-reading and efficient time-management (Forget about those utopian to-do lists!). How else could you possible cope with the Department’s reading list in just one month? Also, every course has specific deadlines for projects and papers, which has taught me how to work under (extreme) pressure. A professor of mine once told us:

“Don’t forget that a seminar paper consumes a lot of time. You need to do research and really get into your topic before you write critically about it. A good paper takes much longer than just a week to write.”

Longer than a week? Usually I have no more than 3 days left to write a paper. But I digress.

These skills, along with what’s actually being taught throughout the year, prepare you perfectly well for life after university. Although I don’t think I can change the whole world in just one go, there are numerous things one can, at the very least, set a starting point.

I am not talking about the most obvious way of slowly but surely changing the world with my English degree (tutoring/giving private lessons), although this has already had some tangible results: Lazy as she is, my sister slept through most of the eight years of grammar school and only realized this two weeks before her final exams. My parents were not amused. What followed was two weeks of intense studying (as well as sisterly love that almost turned into pure hate) and in the end she passed with flying colours. Mission accomplished: family tensions eliminated.

However, one can change the world on an even smaller scale. Of course, I could also apply for the position of Austria’s Next Top Chancellor and then use my knowledge of English to set certain things straight. This, however, is not going to happen besides I’d much rather be the Queen of England. And, I am also not a hypocrite, so please don’t expect a moving fairy tale about me going to Third World Countries to teach English. I’d like to take a more down-to-earth approach focusing on how very little things can change a lot, even if it’s just a smile. (Or some very relieved parents.)

Have you seen the movie “Pay it forward”? If not, you should certainly watch it sometime. Anyway, Trevor, the film’s main character, has an idea I really like and I think it’d be a good way to start changing the world. (If someone does you a favor, don’t pay it back, but forward it instead – to at least three people who then forward it a further three times. This results in a chain-reaction and spreads quickly across the world. Nice idea, eh?)

And yes, the English language fits in here just fine. The other day at a local supermarket I saw this old man looking desperately lost and there were no shop assistants in sight. As soon as he’s seen me, he approached me and asked me kindly to read out loud and translate the description at the back of some canned food. He’d forgotten his glasses, he told me, and was very appreciative of my help. He hadn’t experienced such kindness in a long time. Such a small thing and so little effort involved but the old man seemed happy as he walked off. (I saw him again walking up to his car but I fled as quickly as I could before he turned the car park into a dodgems ride.)
It was good, though, to see someone happy having helped them just by knowing a language.
English is the best possible way to help people who ask for directions or any other kind of help. It is widely spoken and understood; if you have a good command of the English language you are more than fine in most countries. Now it’s up to you to change the world, even if it’s just on a small scale. And think about it, how happy you’d be in a foreign country if somebody explained to you the ingredients of what you were going to eat beforehand. (Just in case.)

The end isn’t near, it’s here . . . finally

Sounds very apocalyptic, doesn’t it? Unfortunately for all you conspiracy nuts out there I’m not going to be talking about some secret alien invasion – sure . . . I totally believe Roswell was a cover-up, too – and I also can’t offer any new insight into why the Mayas apparently foresaw the end of the world as we know it in 2012. Being a student and all, I’m talking about the end of semester.

Every student experiences the end of the semester differently. Some have no idea how they are going to pass all the exams they have lined up, while others are spending their days - and now thanks to an initiative of the student union their nights as well - writing their fifth paper on whatever. Of course, there are those among us who have no idea why everyone is stressed out, because they have no problems passing their three or four courses. Whatever group you belong to and after you have handed in your last paper and sat your final final exam, it’s time to take a deep breath and look back at ‘what went down’ this past semester.

Some of us decide that they will definitely take more courses next semester – haven’t we all said that before – and others intend to scale back on the number of classes in order to squeeze in an internship somewhere. Unfortunately, I haven’t quite reached the ‘meditating-stage’ yet, because I’m trying to juggle two full-time degree programmes and therefore still have exams until the end of July. However, sometime at 3 in the morning, after my tenth cup of coffee, hunched over a text called Radikaler Konstruktivismus und Social Constructivism, sozialpsychologische Folgen und die empirische Rekonstruktion eines Gespenstes and having no idea what it is about, I already did have visions of all the things I’m going to do differently next time . . . and of me hunting down the author of this text and demanding an explanation about what I ever did to him and why he is torturing me so. Deep in the night I came up with my top three resolutions for next semester.

#1 Fool me once, shame on you . . .
The biggest problems I have to face – like usual – are the ones I create myself. One of them is that I tend to take too many courses. I know that we can decide for ourselves just how many classes we think we can handle in one semester, but I still blame PLUSonline. It always reminds me of shopping at Amazon. You always seem to pick up one or two items you had NO intention of buying. PLUSonline is the same for me. I always end up adding more courses to the cart a.k.a. the timetable that I had initially planned. Oh, how I see myself sitting in front of the computer, shiny and new after a long break, excited that I’m going to be so studious this semester.
So why don’t I drop some courses then? Well, similar to Amazon, PLUSonline only offers a two weeks ‘return and refund policy’ for most classes. After that you have to stick with them to the bitter end . . . which is the end of semester – now. If you drop out after that, you fail the course and I don’t necessarily want that on my record.
I will definitely try and hold back a bit next semester even though I know it probably won’t work. A typical New Year’s Eve resolution one might say.

#2 Same ol’ same ol’
Sleep is another thing I have to approach differently next semester. It’s just not possible to always be tired, and getting up in the morning is a daily battle for me. I know everyone has this problem and I already tried out the usual suspects – another ten minutes, setting the alarm an hour early and so on – but nothing worked. I blame my bed on this one. We definitely are what nowadays the cool kids call ‘frenemies’.
A friend of mine is studying psychology and she told me that apparently I’m what they call a ‘visual learner’, so I should simply buy bed sheets with prints of something that freaks me out. I’m not sure how serious she was – beer and other alcoholic beverages were involved – but I started thinking about it nonetheless. The only thing I came up with is that I used to find The Kelly Family rather scary back in the days. However, I’m not sure how that would look like whenever I have friends over. Anyways, I will think about that one over the summer break.
Another friend of mine suggested changing my eating habits and this led me to my next end-of-semester resolution.

#3 Food
The first thing my brother told me when he started to study in Salzburg was, “Keron, food is going to be a problem”. He was right.
There is nothing I loathe more than cooking. My usual diet consists of two things: pizza and “Leberkässemmel”. Maybe this is the source of my apparent lack of energy. I didn’t check, but I guess the 1,5 liters of cola that usually go along with my meal don’t contain that many vitamins.
When I was still living at home I always was fed properly. We had someone to do the cooking for us and every carefully balanced meal came with a salad. I assume my body wants something like that again, so I will definitely brush up on my non-existent cooking skills. Today I even ate an apple. One step at a time.

These are my top three resolutions for next semester. Now it’s your time to let me know what you plan to change.