Moelker Math

Cramming, pore over, read, read up on, swot up on, hammer away at, bone up on, burn the midnight oil on, cogitate, apply onself to etc, etc. Plain and simply put; studying. Yay! *waves the little sarcastic sign up*. I have one day left till my first test, thankfully a listening test, French. Pourqoi Francais? Pourqoi tu torture moi??

Besides the obvious anxiety I am feeling for this week I am secretly not very worried. two of the tests will be listening, and another will be a writing exercise where you'll have to write either an argument, an informative texts or a consideration tekst. I have already written all three of them as the subject has been known for a few weeks now. All that I have to do now is memorize the whole damn thing, thrice.

What does worry me, what makes me curl up and weep in a quiet corner of my mind is math and Chemistry. Math feels like doing anal with an eleven inch strap on. It really is like ''THE FORCE OF MAAHHT COMPELLS YOU, BIATCH!". A friend of mine who is in the same math class as me came up with the eleven inch strap on thingie. I Always said to him when we walked to class: ''Please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for mental rape''. I had an interesting conversation with another friend of mine who isn't in the advanced math class. We were talking about the difference between regular math and Moelker math. Moelker is the last name of my math teacher. That man can kill a man with his math, not his thumb, but really like masacre you with the exponentiol growth of a function. There is normal math, then there is advanced math, and then there is Moelker math. In our class we Always say that we vermoelkerd our test. If you've vermoelkerd your test you will not have an F or a zero, but your grade will be a negative figure. But anyway my friend and I were comparing the two and we came to the conclusion that regular math is equal to the safety dance and Moelker math is the flight of the bumblebee on the piano, played with your litte toe.
I am worried about Chemistry as well, but that's just learning, as I do understand it when I have actually learned it. Moelker math on the other hand...

This exam week I want to have outstanding grades. Only sufficient or more than sufficient marks. Even for math. Whether it will work? no idea. Will I'll be shitting myself during the test? Most likely, yes. Being realistic here I want to have at least a six for math. It's higher than my average score and it's a sufficient mark. I'll hang that test on my wall if it's a six. 

For now I am just going to sleep as I am tired as fuck. I skyped with a friend of mine till five in the morning, got three hours of sleep, went to a workshop and made the most awesome game in existence, went home, studied till twelve in the evening and just listened to some music and though about some deep shit till now. I am going to make my game available in a few months for people to download for free. It's a really simple concept. But simple can be good. 

Yours faithfully,
Claire Quiem 
 

Dutch High school

The Dutch high schools are not comparable to the ones in America. What I’ve seen in the movies and heard from Americans themselves doesn’t come close to the standard high school here in Holland. Don’t think now that shit doesn’t go down here. It’s just that we don’t have metal detectors at the school’s entrance.

What we do have here, what probably every high school has, hell every school everywhere in the world is the quirky teachers. On my school alone there are some messed up teachers. You know, like the ones where you seriously question whether they bribed themselves into a teaching permit instead of getting it the legal way.

There are also, of course, the perves. We had a priest here at school who taught religion. Yep, he liked them young. I’m not saying that I am prejudice against priest, or that all religion teachers are perves. Just an example. Also, an old friend of mine had lessons from him. He threw his bible in the bin while yelling ‘’Hail the almighty Satan!’’. The first and only time the priest got pissed.

Another kind is the one that can never keep things under control. The teacher where you can just keep on yapping because he won’t stop you anyway. I feel sorry for those teachers. They get crushed. But there are two types of no-control teachers. The ones that just don’t give a crap and the once who can really not do anything about and have sudden nervous breakdowns in front of the class.

There is also the psychotic teacher. You really don’t want to piss off those ones. They always have this cold face of indifference. And when they get mad…Those people are bat shit crazy and should never be angered if one values their life. Period.

The boring teacher…Yawn. Their lessons are just an extra nap hour. It can be their voice, face or the way they talk. They are just plain boring.

The almost last kind of teacher is the passionate one. They LOVE their subject or another specific thing. If they could they would marry it, have children with it and grow old with it. They talk about it like they want to make sweet love to it. And then you have to listen to it. It’s just verbal pornography. If you feel like not doing anything that class just ask that teacher about his beloved fetish. He/she will explain everything about his precious beloved and you can just lean back and enjoy the story.

And the last kind of teacher, the kind of teacher I love the most; the witty teacher. Just brilliant. One of my teachers lives in Amsterdam, a diehard Ajax supporter, but he works in Utrecht. He glorifies Amsterdam every chance he has. One time he was talking about Europe’s hundred most beautiful cities and that Amsterdam was in the top ten or something like that. Also that he couldn’t find Utrecht anywhere on that list.

Someone in the class yelled back ‘’Than why do you come here every day for work?

The class became quiet. All listening to the one who said it.

‘’Why don’t you just find a nice job in your precious Amsterdam?’’ someone else yelled through the silence.

We all looked at our teacher waiting for his response, thinking ‘ha we have you there!’.

He just smiles back at us and said ‘’You know, I like to do development aid’’

*Pin drop silence*

Those teachers are the best.

Yours faithfully,
Claire Quiem 

Bicycles

One of the first, perhaps maybe THE first thing a tourist will notice is the god awful amount of bicycles. They are everywhere. Chained to fences, street lights, bicycle racks and parked against other bicycles, walls, buildings or even just standing on the streets. I have no idea how many bicycles there actually are in Holland but as almost every Dutch person owns at least one bike, and seeing as there are around seventeen billion people currently living in Holland…Well let’s just say we have a lot of bikes.

It’s not like riding a bike in Holland is difficult or unpleasant. It’s perfect here for cycling! No mountains or hills, only flat landscape make cycling a good option. Also because Holland is so very small everything is easily accessible with a bicycle. You usually never have to cycle far to get to school, work or the store. And because of the coldish weather cycling doesn’t get uncomfortable cause of sweating.

There are a lot of bicycle paths here. Cycling in Holland is very safe in comparison to countries like England or France where the cars and busses dominate the road. Especially in England! When in London you can see a select group of people cycle like crazy pigeons through the maze of giant red busses. The warrior cyclists of London. The Dutch are no warrior cyclist. Here we cycle in big lazy groups through the big cities. No rush, just taking it easy. If the British are the fast pigeons you always see flying off just in time, than we, the Dutch are a fat flock of ducks just waggling through traffic like who gives a fuck.

The cyclists are king here. I see it all the time. People on bikes have all the power, you are basically completely immune. The only people more holier than the cyclists are the pedestrians. In Holland we have this thing that the most vulnerable person in an accident holds no blame. Whether this is legally correct as well, I don’t know, but the accepted rule by the non-law upholders goes like this: Pedestrian-cyclist-car driver-anything bigger than a car on the road-train-plane.

So if you are standing in front of a red light as a cyclist just keep on going, the bus that’s coming at you will stop as you are of course a God-send gift from heaven on your bike and everything that’s bigger will have to yield to your almighty power! Except if it’s a pedestrian coming your way, than your fucked.

Most Dutch people start learning how to ride a bike at the age of four or five. We use tiny bicycles with side wheels on them. The moment those little side wheels where allowed to be taken off you would be a true person. It feels like an initiation to childhood. From that moment you don’t have to sit in the kid’s seat on your parent’s bike anymore, you are your own person now!

Yours faithfully,

Claire Quiem 

 

Knetterzak's derp shit

So my sister found out I have a blog as well. In ten minutes she had already made a link to my blog from her's, that's really nice. On the other hand she also posted an anonymes poste saying my entries were like a wall hitting her in the face because of the lack of space between the paragraphs. I guess she's right about that though. But still! She made me believe some random person did it for three hours so she could take over my blog for a moment and make a link to her blog on my page. I didn't even know she has a blog, and now I have a link to it! So you might as well check it out. It's actually pretty good, nice post and even an entree named after me! I am returning the favour with this entree.

So, everyone check out Knetterzak's derp stories, it has fun entrees and even pictures. I haven't read it all myself, but I'm going to. Tonight..or maybe tomorrow morning..or..Fuck it I'll see when. Right now I'm about to be brutally murdered for being late for dinner. This is a short entree, but great things come in small packages! Exept for my other entrees of course, for them the bigger the better! Wish me luck on the battlefield, otherwise known as the dinner table..

Yours faithfully,

Claire Quiem

Maybe I could call this home tonight...

Like a runaway! I have this habit to repeat the shit out of all the songs I really like. Than after listening to it a hundred times in a row I ignore them for a few weeks and the process starts again. My all-time favourite is Sia-My love, the piano instrumental. I love it! It’s so touching. I like music which makes me feel. Songs that I can relate to. However that one is put on hold because of my new addiction. Thriving Ivory-Runaway. I can’t stop listening. I can really relate to this song. I ran away a few times, was always back in a few days because I didn't want to fuck up my education, but just listening to this song...I wish I could. If I was certain I was not able to study medicine, or study at all I would pack my bags and go to England or France.  The last time I had my bags already packed, not to run away to a foreign country, but to stay in the woods nearby to avoid my home. The tension between me and my mother was a bit too much...Luckily that’s much better now. I worked too much and became insufferable. So three weeks ago I quit my job, dyed my hair, almost cut it short and just said ‘’Fuck the world!’’. Thank Buddha I didn’t cut my hair short though! I like it long, it’s a bitch in summer, but it keeps me warm in winter. Not that short hair doesn’t suit me, I had it two years ago. It’s just once it’s gone it takes a while to grow back.

Concerning my job I heard there are two new girls, quiet young, only sixteen or so. I’m one to talk I’m seventeen but still. I did the dishes, made smoothies, baked bread and scones, cleaned the kitchen and what not. I was the all-round interior culinary caretaker. In other words, don’t fuck with the kitchen, it’s mine. I worked in the basement and the cook worked upstairs in a much smaller kitchen. All the food was made and baked in my kitchen, it was also where all the machines are like the oven, dough thingy and cutlery. And of course my awesome sink and dishwasher! Whoohoo! The building where I worked was really huge. Looking in through the windows it looks really small, but once inside you can really see how big it actually is. There is a ground level, where the bar is at with the little kitchen behind a corner in the back behind the bar. The bar is also the first thing you see when you come in. Next to the bar there was a little isle to get to the kitchen nook and next to that was a staircase which leads down to the larger kitchen. There was also a staircase going upstairs to the first level that stretched out from the end of the bar to the little kitchen nook. A meter from the going up stairs there was another staircase which also went up to the first level. The two first levels were divided by a wall with a column that supports the roof. Next to the second going up stairs there was a going down stairs, but only a few steps. Not into the basement or anything. It was just a lower part. The bathroom is also there. There is another loo in the basement, but that’s for employees. And that’s about it! Wait, there are also a few rooms downstairs in the basement. In the old days those rooms were cellars. The ceiling is really low and roundly curved. I’m not that tall so they’re perfect for me, but one of the cooks has to duck all the time. My kitchen on the other hand has a normal ceiling. There are four cellars down there, the kitchen not included. And two of them are next to the water of one of the many little canals in Utrecht. In Dutch they’re called ‘’grachten’’ and I don’t know a single English-speaking person who can properly pronounce it! Just like Scheveningen, it’s a beach in Holland. I always say just puke out the word. It’s a really harsh sound. Grrrragrrrrten! I had a colleague from New-Zealand and he sometimes asked certain phrases like ‘’De broodjes zijn klaar’’ (=The sandwiches are ready/done).

It’s fun hearing people struggle with the Dutch language. The truth is though that most Dutch people can’t even speak it properly, especially grammar. Dutch grammar is a real bitch. There are so many rules, and then there are so many exceptions to those rules. It’s maddening! Also the spelling, exceptions everywhere! Luckily I have a spelling program on my computer… Another thing is that I don’t find the Dutch language overly flattering. It doesn’t have this melodic flow of French, where you can shout out the worst curses and it would still sound beautiful, or the opposite with German where no matter what you say it sounds as if you are going to strangle someone. One of the most funny languages I’ve heard so far is Maori. It’s the native language of New-Zealand and the sound of the words is absolutely fabulous! My old colleague speaks it and he taught me a few words. Most of them I have already forgotten but I do remember how to say hello and goodbye. Kia ora is hello and ka kite is goodbye. I have no idea whether the spelling is correct but mheeh. 

Yours faithfully,

Claire Quiem

Adventure chess

One of my absolute favourite hobbies is chess. I just love it. The strategy, the suspense of the match, the brain work. Love it! The beauty of chess is that you don’t have to be physically strong to do it. Brawl won’t help in this game. Ha! I told you PE teacher I am good at a sport! Chess is a legitimate sport so it counts! right? Fuck it, it does!

I went to England last summer for four weeks with a friend of mine. We both love chess so I brought my little glass chess set with me on the boat so we could play. I bought that set with the same guy when we visited France. We stayed in this really big hostel near Rue de Rivoli. They had woman's rooms and men's rooms so we stayed in separate rooms, for the first night at least. No funky business or anything between us, but a schizophrenic woman shouted biblical verses into the bathroom mirror at night so yeah..I felt more comfortable at his room. And in each room fitted four bunk beds so plenty of room. The first night I met this Canadian girl, Olivia and we chatted for a while. In the middle of the night we woke up because of the crazy lady screaming in the bathroom and we were like ''Holy shit what's that noise?! We first thought it was coming from the hall way, then suddenly the bathroom door opened and we looked at each other from across the room, didn’t say a word and just ducked and pretended we were sleeping. Holy hit!! That was scarily awesome. Olivia went to England the next day and I gave her my mini toothpaste, thinking she would need it more than I would this week I was staying there.

But anyway. My friend and I played chess on the boat and this English couple sat across from me, and behind him. He had to go to the loo and the guy asked about the game we were playing and asked if he could play against me. He saw me win the last four games. The guy I travelled with is 50, a lot older than me he wanted to have a go at it too and see if I could win. He didn't ! At least not the first match, the second and third he did win but only after the second he admitted being a professional player, being in a team and all. I felt kind of awesome having won from him once. When my friend came back from the loo he started talking to Nigel’s wife, the guy is called Nigel, and it turned out they own a large air-conditioning business that supplies to ships, planes and large buildings. When the three matches had been played we were already boarding.

During our stay in London we played all the time. We stayed in the London School of Economics and Political Sciences, LSE for short. Really nice place. We were there when the summer school students were there as well, so no tourist or anything. The food was excellent, and the lunch lady was also really nice. I first though she was Irish, but turned out she was Polish. My friend's in a wheelchair so we had to walk the entire thing! At least 10 km a day. I had a few places I really wanted to visit which were the natural history museum, the Sherlock Holmes museum and fleet street where Sweeney Todd used to live with misses Lovett. When we went to the Sherlock Holmes museum we had to walk the entire length of Baker street. Baker street is really awesome! I first thought there was only the Sherlock Holmes museum there, but they have a spy shop and...yeah here it comes...The bridge and Chess shop! We were in chess heaven. My friend immediately bought a new chess game for himself, one with a plastic board you can roll up. It was really cheap, only ten pounds. From then on we used that one because it is easier to play with as the pieces are bigger and not made of glass. And every time my friend would go away for the loo I would sit there with a chess game and people thought that I was challenging them. I played with an entire Italian family, at once. The son, and his little brother both were on the chess club at their school and their mom is a chemist. I almost won but they were two moves ahead of me so they could checkmate me first. It was really fun! I also played against a guy from Chile, and a guy from Sweden.

The places where my friend and I played were also awesome. We played INSIDE the Guild hall even though it was closed for public, we played next to the Lewis chess set in the British museum, and pretty much in front or inside all the famous places! We made a picture every time we finished a game at a famous place so you would see this chess board with the London Eye in the background or something. It was brilliant! We later went back to the chess shop on Baker street to buy replicas of the Lewis chess set which I now have in my room. I have a small room...Small room + big board...but hey it looks good!    

The term ''adventure chess'' was actually a bit of luck. We were walking home from Fleet street and we saw two students playing chess on the street. We started talking and we told them about our chess habit. We didn't have a proper name for it so we just called it ''playing chess at random places and making a photo of it afterwards'' We were just about to resume walking when the guy said ''blabla can't remember blabala adventure chess'' Eureka! So from then on we've always called it adventure chess. It's better than planking and fun!

 

Yours faithfully,

Claire Quiem

 

 

Christmas teppanyaki

Merry Christmas everyone! Okay now that being said get ready to hear my boring Christmas dinner story. The tradition in my family has always been that on the first day of Christmas we would go to my grandmother´s and gourmet or teppanyaki some stuff with the family, all together. That´s mostly the reason why I love Christmas so much, these family gatherings. On the second day we would spend at home or at friends. A few years ago the second day would be spend together with my father’s family, but fuck him. Some dads are good at parenthood and others are just not. This year however we have spent the first day at my mother´s best friend and her boyfriend's and son's house, who was my best friend two years ago. Then some shit went down and now we have just started talking to each other. It was kind of awkward at first, as in okay can I just please die right now on sight or something, because we have to celebrate every holiday and birthday party together as his mother and my mother are best friends. So today I was at their house, last year they were at our house, as well on new year´s eve and this year we celebrate everything at their house. The constant awkwardness between him and me aside it was an absolutely awesome evening. My mother, sister and me arrived around four or five and we talked till around six or seven and ate till nine. Then him, my sister and me went upstairs and played GTA 5 for two straight hours!  That was kind of awesome. Him and me were both sort of recovering from the night before. Let´s count...one bottle of wine,  a quarter of drop shot, more whine, whiskey and beer...yeah He drank the other quarter of drop shot and an entire bottle of amaretto and some beer, also some whiskey I think..Anyway be were both wasted as fuck but felt fine as shit. I honestly didn’t feel drunk or something.

Usually when I am drunk I feel dizzy and very impulsive. I would blabber on about random stuff. With good friends, or people you have never met before you would sit down, or sag down and share some really deep shit, never acquaintances though, than it's just weird because you already know them and would have to face them the next morning. Last night I felt..normal. Nothing else really. No weird stuff flying out of my mouth, no falling over or stepping on invisible wire. I was actually quite proud of myself! We started drinking at around four so at around nine we were pretty much done for. There were also these workastayers. A workastayer is  someone who works to stay in the hostel. They were these Brazilian guys who begged to date me, but my mother was there and she had something to drink as well and just said NO!  I forgot to mention that we were having a dinner party at my old job, my mother´s and his mother's current job. They do the cleaning business. I used to do that too, as well as reception and breakfast service so I still knew the boss and his father which was really nice. 

It is a hostel/hotel and the guy who runs it was also my boss in the old restaurant where I used to work as a kitchen aid. The hostel is directly on top of the old restaurant. Sadly that went bankrupt so there's a new restaurant there. I used to work there too but eventually quit because of the new fuckface boss. We had a disagreement about the working hours and amount of work I had to do. He was just an asshole really. His loss really! I'm fabulous. I am the most epic kitchen aid of awesomeness you will ever come in contact with, hallelujah! After that shit face I began working, again as a kitchen aid, at a lunchroom only 200 meters away. the business partner of the guy who owns the business also had a café across from the restaurant and hostel, that went bankrupt as well sadly. I decided to take a break from the lunchroom work and focus on my studies so as of a week ago I am unemployed. Not that my grades are failing, it’s just because I could do better if I would focus more. I'm actually happy to not have to work anymore!

Back to the Christmas dinner. Like the years before we had the griddle thingy on the table and just dropped on whatever we wanted to eat. I prefer it to normal meals, mainly because you can just keep eating without feeling embarrassed. If you would have a normal plate with pre-scooped food on it, it would look a bit odd to have a second helping, or a third... a fourth. I was whatsapping a friend of mine. We Always sent each other pictures of what we are doing and he was also doing the griddle thing! But it’s really weird, we have these weird things in common. Like his grandmother's house, its EXACTLY the same as my grandmother's house right down to the water faucet! 

It seems that griddling is becoming more and more popular at Christmas. Yay! It really is just awesome! What else can I say?

Yours faithfully,

 Claire Quiem