Knee-Deep in Feces

This year's Majales in Hradec was awesome. I dare to say it was one of the highlights of the year for me. That's why you might find it a bit odd that ever since then I feel like I'm up excrement creek without a damn paddle. Confused? Let me elaborate.

I wasn't exactly looking forward to this event at first, as shortly after I bought myself a ticket the weather forecast told me it would rain on the day of the festival. (And rain it did, though it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be.) Just thinking about it, the whole thing seemed to be the exact opposite of the last year's Majales. See, unlike last year, the sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds for most of the last Friday. Funnily enough, I enjoyed it much more in the end than I did last year but I'll get to that later. 

We arrived some time after the party had started and it sure didn't take long for those clouds to start raining on our parade. Luckily, I went prepared. Or so I thought. I brought this umbrella with me that was… well, it was an ordinary umbrella, it did what it was supposed to – that is, bravely protect me from vicious rain. Except on that day the bastard let me down. When the puny droplets grew larger, I deemed it appropriate to whip out the umbrella to shield myself from the kamikaze attacks of the then obnoxiously huge raindrops. Little did I know the umbrella was missing a key piece of its opening mechanism, preventing me from opening it. "That does it!" I got furious like a bear when you poke it. I took the umbrella and smashed it against the ground, imagining it getting somehow broken into a million little pieces (it didn't). The sucker really got to me. 

However, things quickly took a turn for the better after I met a bunch of my friends who had this wild French guy with them. I don't really like the French but this guy, this guy was legendary. His name was Alex. He was funny as hell and he just wouldn't stop chasing all the skirts around. I hadn't had that much fun like I had with him in a long time. Really, I was genuinely happy, happy as a clam, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. And no, it wasn't (purely) thanks to all the alcohol I kept sending down my throat. I was having tons of fun, despite the sky having buckets full of water at the ready, pouring the water all over us occasionally. And yet, the best was still to come. 

Alex and I were casually taking a stroll to get something to eat to silence our stomachs' desperate cry for some food. It was then when I saw this beautiful girl, standing there with no one but her friend around. I felt like I was in an old movie. I just stood there, frozen in awe, as I knew that was no ordinary girl. Tall and slim, she had glossy chestnut eyes. Her long, dark hair was fluttering in a gentle spring breeze. I thought she must've fallen straight out of heaven for sure because she looked like how I'd always described my perfect woman. I had to go say hi. And what do you know, for once my eyes were not deceiving me – the girl turned out to be very nice and friendly, she laughed at my stupid jokes, we talked about a lot of things and in a matter of few minutes I fell head over heels for her. Everything felt just right. Naturally, it didn't last long. 

We were about to head for our favorite band's show and I was going to ask for her number when my bladder suddenly had this wonderful idea it'd be really funny if I had to run away to take a leak at that very moment. So I did because had I made him hold it for only a bit longer, I'd have exploded on the spot. I can't really describe what it felt like to take what was likely one of my longest, most liberating leaks in my entire life, but when I finally finished, I realized I was never going to see that girl again. There were thousands of people there. Yeah, no, it wasn't going to happen. 

As the last band played the last song of the night, everyone around me was cheering, savoring the last moments of that amazing night. And me? I was all alone in the middle of a crowd of dancing silhouettes, thinking of that one girl I'd have probably gone on to marry one fine day. For all I knew, she could've been standing a few meters away from me at that time. Though the chance of bumping into her once more was as low as if she were somewhere on the other side of the world.

Random Thoughts on Happy Endings

Happy endings. Right. Well, I'd be lying if I said I didn't outright hate those. By that I don't mean all I want to see are sad, tragic endings. No, no. Perhaps I should specify: I hate the 'fairytale-kind-of' happy endings. I don't mind when a story ends positively at all. As a matter of fact, it is what I tend to yearn for – that's just how we people are - we (usually) want things to end well. But I want the stories to be real, too – and this could very well be the reason why I was never into fairytales as a kid. I want stories you can relate to because good things happen to the characters and so do the (really) bad ones. And such stories don't usually result in a happy ending. I think it's debatable whether that is actually possible.

Another problem I have with happy endings is that I feel stories ending in such fashion don't generally have characters reflecting all human qualities. The good guys have good, respectable qualities and the bad guys are… well, bad. No! That doesn't happen! Things are never that simple. C'mon, we all know life isn't black and white. There's good and there's bad in all of us. Our lives take unexpected twists and turns, there are highs and lows. If at the end of it all you can say everything was awesome and you couldn't possibly wish for a better life… holy cow, I sure would envy you! But if someone wants to write a good story, they'd better not try to shove a happy ending down my throat. Because basically, for me a story loses its credibility the moment it concludes in such a manner. Not to mention happy endings are boring.

Although, if you think about it, endings don't even matter - the journey is what it's all about. You don't enjoy the path you or the story is taking, you're only bound to be disappointed with what you might find at its end. By the way I'm not sure if I'm making any sense as it is Friday night so I'm just going to pretend I am, okay? Okay.

Weird Dreams (I Think He May Be Trying to Tell Me Something)

When I dream, I don't dream strange. Well, not what you'd call strange per se. I mean, to me the dreams seem strange, sure, but what may seem strange to me doesn't have to seem strange to you. You'll see for yourself, after all. You'd also think it probably goes both ways - that I'd find other people's dreams totally cool and normal. Even if those people themselves think they're having dreams that are strange. When people talk about their strange dreams though, I agree with them - those are some super weird dreams you guys are having! Anyway, let me tell you about a dream from a series of dreams I've had some time ago. 

Just like that, I'm in a garden. However, it's not just any garden, I recognize this place. "Oh my god! This is where she lives! I'm in her garden, how did I-" Movement inside the house suddenly interrupts the stream of my terrified thoughts. "I've gotta get outta here before anyone sees me, dammit!" I'm trying to sneak out back. I'm almost at the gate. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one saw me. I turn my head back and- busted. She's standing right in front of me. I give her an awkward smile for I don't have the slightest idea of what to say. "Hi," she calmly goes. Still in dismay, I manage to get a "Hi" out of me too. Realizing I have to face her at last, I sit down and we start to talk. Well, it's mostly me talking. As I'm trying to explain why I behaved the way I did, I'm on the verge of a total breakdown. When I finally finish explaining myself the last words uttered are "Sorry. Sorry for all that. I was being an idiot."

That's it. Now you must be wondering if I'm high or something. I know I thought I was. My theory is that my brain was trying to tell me I can be a huge dick sometimes (and that I can). That I should do something about it so I don't make a complete retard out of myself in front of her, or anybody for that matter, if I ever meet her again. You see, the thing is she's real. She's as real as you can get. And it does kind of suck I'm too stubborn when I'm awake for this dream to ever become a reality. Then again, I don't think I even care anymore because what's that saying? Oh, right, life goes on.

Why the Ending to 'How I Met Your Mother' Was the Right Ending

I'm way behind schedule on this one, I know. There are several reasons for that, but the main reason is, that for the first time, I really didn't know what to write about. Then it hit me - one of my favorite shows went off air last week! With its conclusion leaving many viewers with rather mixed feelings (though it was mostly hatred towards the show's creators), it was something I had to use as a subject for this post. By the way, it should already be clear at this point that this post has major spoilers (Major Spoilers - *salutes*) ahead so if you haven't seen the finale of How I Met Your Mother yet, you might want to watch that first. Consider yourself warned. 

How I Met Your Mother, a show that was beloved by many (or at least it was right up til the last few minutes in the show's history), came to an end last week on Tuesday. The final episode spans roughly sixteen years during which it's revealed Barney and Robin got divorced after three years of (according to Barney successful) marriage, we see Barney return to his old womanizing ways, oh and yes, Ted finally meets the titular Mother. But wait, there's more! Not only is it revealed how Ted met The Mother, we also get to see them at the altar. Aaand mere seconds after that we see The Mother in a hospital gown as Future Ted gives away she got sick and died after they spent some ten years together, six years prior to him telling his story. The entire series concludes with Ted, encouraged by his kids who by now realize their father "totally has the hots for Aunt Robin", asking Robin out. It all happens a bit quickly, it was quicker than even I liked at first. But it wasn't nonsense as some "fans" might suggest. Quite the contrary.

People upset about the ending are just projecting their own version of the story based on what happens in all the other romantic comedies – you meet the One, you marry him or her, and you live happily ever after, because of course you do. The problem is, though, that stories don't typically end happily. What's more, our life stories don't end at all. And we saw that Ted's story didn't end when he met The Mother. Yeah, the final bit went by fast. Wonder why? Because the kids already knew all that. They knew what happened after their mother died so why tell them about it? Ted was telling a story of how he met their mom, a story about all the things that lead up to that moment, and eventually the moment of her death.

How I Met Your Mother was always a bit different from all the other sitcoms, it was always somewhat realistic in the whole relationship aspect because let's be honest - life isn't a Disney fairytale. The finale stayed true to that fact and it's a shame a lot of people couldn't see through that. I'm glad I'm one of those who can honestly say that this show was and always will be legen- wait for it- dary! Legendary! (You know I had to.)

I Have a Dream (Do I?)

I have a dream... Nah, I'm not going to bullsh*t you people, okay. I don't have a dream. I'm simply not that kind of guy. At least not anymore.

Like most kids, I had all sorts of wild dreams when I was little. I dreamed of going to space, I wanted to be a cop and protect people. Heck, I even thought being a trashman would be something amazing (boy, was I silly back then). It's actually not that long ago when I still had these, you could say naïve, visions of my future – things like where I'd like to be, what I'd like to do. But the truth is, there were moments in my life when I got a little scared of not being able to tell what the future holds or what it will bring. I then realized having dreams doesn't quite go hand in hand with my personality, so I abandoned them.

Me giving up dreams doesn't mean I'll discourage yours, contrary to what the quote "Those who abandon their dreams will discourage yours" says. I believe it's great when people have dreams. It's what drives them forward no matter how ridiculous those dreams may seem to be. Though, like I've mentioned countless times before, I live in the moment, not in the future. And having dreams is basically thinking about the future. Or am I just wrong?

Describing a Picture: 101st Airborne Bazooka Team

 

All right, I'll be honest with you. I had no idea what picture I should pick to describe. The reason is that I hate describing pictures. What's more, I have this feeling I suck at it. But since I obviously had to pick something, and because World War 2 warfare (specifically the airborne operations) is among the few of my interests, I chose this picture of two men reenacting a US paratrooper bazooka team of the famous 101^st Airborne Division.

The guys are kneeling in a shell scrape – a shallow military earthwork deep enough for a soldier to lie in. Like I already mentioned, these soldiers, or paratroopers, form a bazooka team. For anyone who never heard of what bazooka is, it's the long tube on the left guy's right shoulder. Seeing as the paratrooper on the right is loading a rocket into the bazooka, it's safe to assume there's enemy armor heading their way. It's a good thing they have more than one rocket – notice the bag with rocket tubes on the left.

While the bazooka team's main purpose is to fight off armored vehicles, they still have to be able to defend themselves from enemy infantry. That's what the two rifles in their position are for. The bazooka operator usually carried an M1 Carbine with a folding stock which we can see leaning against the wall of the shell scrape to the operator's right. An M1 Garand semi-automatic rifle, which presumably belongs to the loader, can be seen in the bottom right corner, albeit only partially.

Hopefully I didn't deviate too much from what we were assigned and this can still be considered as a picture description. Now that I think of it, I might have chosen this picture because paratroopers played a major role in D-Day operations on June 6, 1944, of which it will be the 70^th anniversary this year.

"Huh..?"

Such was my initial reaction when I got a call from the university's study department last week. The young lady on the phone told me I needed to put my bank account number in STAG as apparently, much to my surprise, I'm eligible for some kind of a scholarship. I say "some kind" because I was thrown off by the content of the call, considering I spend very little time on school preparation. Of course, being OCD as I am, it was bugging me till I got to check it out later.

Turns out they give this scholarship to students who did well on their entrance exam. An exam – oh I'm going to get a lot of flak for this – I spent absolutely no time preparing for. An exam – more flak incoming – I found ridiculously easy. (This doesn't mean I scored 100/100 – I didn't.) What makes this really funny is the fact that I'm being awarded for doing basically nothing. Just coming in there, taking the test and that was it. In the end I don't even feel like deserving it.

I'd like to clarify something before I forget: You might think otherwise after reading this blog entry, but I don't think of myself as a genius or a whizz-kid of any sort. Not at all. It's because I'm not. If anything, I'm more of a lucky bastard. Yeah, I'm pretty much that. And I revel in the irony that is my life. However, that is a post for another time.

Anyway, there are people who don't like me (duh). My guess is they don't like me for a whole lot of reasons. One of which is most likely my luck when it comes to passing exams. But wouldn't it be something if the university gave me a merit scholarship on top of this one? That would surely earn a big "huh!?" from me, as well as annoyed faces from probably quite a few people now. Huh.

I Couldn't Live Without...

Water. Food. Oxygen. Given most people aren't capable of living without those, it might strike you as kind of obvious stuff (which it is). But let's put such things aside, as there actually is one thing I (figuratively) can't live without. And that thing is - drumroll, please - music! Yeah, that's right. Can't see myself going through life without a (virtually infinite) number of combinations of melody, rhythm, tempo and all the components that comprise music - no way, no how.

I think I may have mentioned it in one of my previous posts already, but I'll mention it nevertheless: music is my religion. It's what kept me from going mad (more than I already am anyway) on several occasions in the past and I believe it will continue to keep me sane for quite some time in the future.

I don't know what the world - or my world at least - would be like without music. As a matter of fact, I can't imagine any kind of a world in which people didn't stumble upon the beauty of musical instruments and the things one can achieve with a guitar, drums and a piano. I sure can tell you, though, that my life would never be complete without music, and to complete the title of this post, that is the one thing I couldn't (figuratively) live without.

My Priorities

Priorities, huh. Now that's a tough one. To be perfectly honest, when it comes to priorities – at least the long term ones, like those that go way into the future - I don't think I've ever in my entire life prioritized anything. I guess I am more of a "tackle them problems as they come, one by one" kind of guy, if that even makes sense. What I basically mean by that is that I try not to get distracted too much by what the future holds.

Some people might say one of their priorities in life is school and how it's really important for you to study well and successfully finish school. Well, that's cute, but everyone knows that if you want to make it big, you don't have to get your hands on a diploma. Sure, it can help, but more often than not it just doesn't. So no, if it isn't obvious already, I don't think about school as a priority. It's great if you manage to graduate for sure, but it's not the end of the world if you drop out. (Not that I don't intend on graduating.)

Never thought of a job as a priority either. Hell, I still don't even know what I want to do yet.

Family? Give me a break! I still consider myself a kid, why would I want kids of my own? 

I only prioritize 'on the go' – that is, if something needs to be done at a given time, I make it my priority, get it done and move on. I don't care about future much, so why make it and things largely connected with it a priority?

Most Awesomest Class Ever? Quite Possibly

Well, well, well. Where does one start when assessing such a course? Anyone who's ever been a student of Mgr. Marek Vit is going to flat-out tell you how great his classes are. I doubt that's a coincidence. In fact, I've never heard a single serious complaint against him or the way he teaches English. Every time I hear people talk about his lessons, it's in superlatives only.

I dig how easy-going he is. I swear I've never seen him frown. Not once. Even if you couldn't somehow think of the most trivial thing ever at the moment, he wouldn't chew you out for not knowing it. Instead, he'll try to help you with whatever it is you got wrong and get you on the right track in a positive, uplifting manner. Respect.

The idea of blog assignments is also something that shows how studying/learning doesn't have to be the most boring process on the planet. Writing these actually gives me a chance to do something about my writing skills, which I don't exactly think highly of, and enriches my vocabulary along with it. I have to admit: I spend a lot more time on this than I ever thought I would.

I was going to complain about the fact that we don't use the coursebook enough, but hey. This is college. Self-study. That's what you should be doing anyway, if you want to really learn a language. No school is going to help you with that by having you sit in a room, going through excercises you can just as well do at home. The classes are there for people to interact, and in that regard, these classes, again, deliver.

I almost wish there was something really bad I could point out because typing this, I'm earning some major minus points in my social sphere. But I don't care. When someone's this great at what he or she is doing, especially when it's teaching, I will show my respect and admiration for the person. It should be every man's virtue, to be honest. This is a fact. And just in case naysayers are reading this: bite me. 


Disclosure: The title of this article is grammatically incorrect on purpose.

An English Party, You Say?

Throw a party mere days before finals begin? Challenge accep-... DENIED. Come on! That'd be insane! Or would it? Yeah, it probably would. That's why we didn't throw a party, and instead went for a small, peaceful, alcohol-free get-together. And it wasn't all that bad!

Rather than booze, the few of us stockpiled food (and non-alcoholic beverages). Nothing too fancy or pricey, just some candy, simple sandwiches, hot dogs, soda... basically, things a poor college student can afford. After this was taken care of, everything was ready for the most killer party ever. Only it wasn't a party. And even if it was, it wouldn't exactly be the "most killer" one ever. But I digress.

We started off by reflecting on the past few months. These being our first months in college, there was quite a lot to talk about: the differences between a high school and a university way of education (namely crying about the self-study part), the classes we take, the professors who teach us - the common stuff. It was not all about school, though, and we obviously discussed the Christmas break as well. I believe someone even brought up abortion at some point during the night, although I'm not sure I want to know why.

While the reason we got together was to have fun, it was also to brush up our English. Trying to learn new vocabulary that would soon be needed in the finals was one area we focused on, among other things. However, it was met with varying success, and honestly, I can't help but feel we're yet to realize how badly we underestimated this part of the exam when we're given the results back.

That's pretty much it for the party/get-together. It was nice to hang out with some of my new college friends and I can only hope we'll get to do this more often.