Ups and downs...
So, there I was, during orientation week at school, happily fingerpainting, playing namegames, babbling on in Danish and trying to get to know my classmates, only to find out today that I have to migrate to the 3rd term no later than now and show up for every class from here on in - oh yes, there's an attendence requirement. The only thing besides the fingerpainting that made me feel that I was back in playschool, or poss. elementary school was precisely that little clause - attendence requirement. But hopefully that'll guarantee that I'll learn something. And now I get my B.A in 2 years instead of 3 (assuming, rather arrogantly, that all will go according to plan), which is great.

I had the most supremely awful day yesterday. Sadly. It started well, with a kick-ass training at Crossfit, but it was just steep downhill from there. I felt like I needed a parachute at one point. My time was wasted over and over again, I went to places where I needn't have gone and during most of the process I was left hungry and tired, and reminded that even though some of the less-than-entertaining events of the day weren't my fault, others were. There's nothing worse than dissapointing yourself.

But I got my new courses today and even though I'm already behind and some of the books have sold out, I'm happy as a camper (apart from missing my classmates, some of which were on their way to becoming good friends). I'm doing Grammar, which honestly scares the living daylights out of me since that was the subject I parrot-learned there back in the day. I'm also doing Postcolonial studies which are promising, a course on Shakespeares male heroines (if you're confused by that title I was too, until I read the course description and it makes sense - really), a course on the effects two world wars had on Britain in various social and cultural aspects, which sounds great, and then a translation course which is scary as hell, but will be extremely beneficial!

But enough about school-for now.

We celebrated Freydís's first birthday on Saturday (she acctually turned 1 on the 2nd). I had a grand master-plan for making all sorts of culinary masterpieces and my piéce du resistance was to be a chocolate cake shaped like a pony, with frosting to highlight the features of said small horse. Well, attempt one was a total fiasco. I call it freestyled chocolate cake, because it was so far of the chart it almost came back on on the other side. It didn't sit right, it came out of the form in pieces - but it tasted great. However, I didn't quite feel like covering the broken down horsey in delicious icing, so I made another batter at breakneck speed, feeling like I should've gotten a speeding ticket or something in the process. But it was utter perfection, right until I put the bloody frosting on. I'd made 3 different-coloured frostings. The white was perfect, but the pink and blue were runny and weird, so instead of a graceful pony, gracefully gallopping along the lengths of my dining table, I had a white blob with indestinct, runny, pink and blue features, mysteriously blending in with the white. Luckily, I saved face with some decorations out of a packet. Phew.

I also have a fun cup cake story, but for the full, exciting details, go to Freydís's webpage. I get a feeling I'm speaking too much 'Housewife Weekly' for the people who stumble in here.

So. Back to the fingerpainting. Yes, I'm serious. I fingerpainted at University. But it all served a greater purpose. My X-class (cry) had the job to select a themesong and create costumes and a skit, meant for performance at the Faculty Orientation Party last Friday. After some very democratical elections, where each class member got 2 votes (1 more than you get at General Election, so I was thrilled), we selected The Clash's London Calling, and had a giant master plan for splitting the group up into Punks and Coppers and planned a great big riot on stage, blending cleverly in with the audience. And so we got to work and fingerpainted our arses off. Of course, all this happened in Danish so I wasn't all there all the time, but I did my best. Then on Friday, I went to the before party armed with a packet of smokes, a couple of beers and my décored tee worthy of Hermés and decided to go and have a good time. And it was great. Even though I didn't understand half of it and probably looked like a complete arse staring vaguely into nothing with a fixed smile on my face. And the performance - well, it was epic. Mostly it must have looked like a bunch of rioteers throwing empty milk cartons around rather aimlessly with some coppers trying to do something about it, but it did earn us 2nd place in the competition. Good times.

So now I've just finished reading up on Commonwealth Literature and Postcolonial Literature and feel like I have something to show for my day, which is what I've missed lately. I'm also looking at the big pile of books I've acquired over the last couple of days and have to admit that I really don't want to return any of the books that I bought for 1st term! I seriously want them all and think theyr'e all terribly interesting and irreplaceable and what not. But I have to return some, or I won't be able to afford the absolute tidal wave I must acquire for my acctual courses. Bloody bloodies.
So, over the next couple of weeks I'll be seen around campus at KUA, carrying heavy bags around, nose in a book, trying to catch up. If you want to go for coffee, give me a hollah!

Until next time,
-EddaK