Mentonymy

I've already commented on how the Danish language is a massacre of letters. An exercise in the one Danish class I attended was to go through with a pen and slash out the useless letters -brutally taking out about one-third of the characters. What's the point of having them there in the first place?

Well my favorite German, Sybille, and I had a brief discussion about this, and I wanted to jot it down before it's forgotten.
The language seems odd, yet oddly appropriate for a society of people who, stereotypically (yes, there are always exceptions -I'm friends with at least a few) don't just say it all, but perhaps withhold, and similarly stifle and massacre about half of the things they otherwise would say, you wish they would say, would open up about. She had a particularly personal experience with this that I will not divulge, but can safely say that she is a scholar on the matter.

The language as substituted metaphorically for the people. Describes, gives greater insight into the people. To be a Dane, choke half of your words.
Perhaps they're onto something.

Bedroom Eyes for Barcelona

I hope that all of the money that my parents just spent for us to vacation around Barcelona (man, it's so true, I got so spoiled. After living and traveling on the cheap all year, I can finally really appreciate how incredible a nice meal out is, let alone 15 in a row!!!), acts as a kick in the ass to their economy, reignites some productivity and creates some new jobs, including a design-based job, so that I may return, find said employment, and live there. Yes. Please.

Paella chock-full of sea creatures and delicious, spicy meats for almost every meal? Check!
Sangria for breakfast, lunch, and dinner? Check!
Sangria on the beach? Check!
A slightly-less transparent skin tone? Check!
More art and architecture than I could possibly fit into 4 days? Check!
A rediscovery of my love of the Spanish language? Check!
Strolls in gorgeous gardens? Check!
Photo op after photo op? Check!
Awesome new people? Check!
Spanish bohemian party on a farm/squatter palace with live music and space to salsa my butt off to? Check!
Produce markets made of the stuff of dreams? Check!

Seriously. Spain? I would. I would, again and again. I would make you mine, if I could. Maybe I will.

Potential Relocation

Heading to Barcelona! Mamma and Pappa Hein are on the continent, and after visiting me in Copenhagen (where they brought the BEST weather), they flew to Spain, where I am now flying to meet them. Dreamy. I've always wanted to go to Spain, and feel I may love it so much, I may never return.

I guess that wouldn't be so bad. I've gotta move soon anyway.

Restless Milk-Bottle Gams in an Office Chair

Work is impossible to get done when the weather is shitty. 

When things are gray out, so is your mind. 

When you feel inexplicable sadness, and a dark gaping whole in your life that you feel you will never fill, and you can't explain why (oh, is that you, Seasonal Affective Disorder? So aptly abbreviated SAD), writing a cheesy text about how some corporate headquarters project greatly improves the quality of life and productivity of its employees by providing ample daylight and collaborative spaces just seems like bullshit. I'm sitting by a giant window in an open-plan office, and everyone around me looks like they're about to head up to the roof to swan-dive off in an attempt to end the constant gray, landing in a splatter of carnage for the drone-like cyclists to dodge on the street below. 

Ok.That's a mild exaggeration. But, only mild. 

Well, it turns out you can't win. 

Now the weather is incredible. I decided to blind the office and let out my milk-bottle gams today (these bad-boys haven't seen the light of day in about 8 months. Not even once in 8 months. Thomas just demanded that I spray-tan before letting them out again. Super rude! And that would just be cheating!), and spent my lunch break poured over a lawn-chair, soaking up every lick of sun possible. All we could talk about was where the sun would be strongest when we get off of work, so we can plan our "boozing in the park" accordingly. I'm supposed to be reading a brief about some urban-regeneration housing project in London right now, but all I can think about is sun, summer, beers, BBQing, bikinis, swimming, tennis, laughter, going for a run, cycling around, and damnit, that's not productive either! Plus, the sun is so bright, it's blocked off about half of my computer screen

Get me out of this office! I've got 4 hours left to go before it's acceptable to leave. Maybe 3, if I really push it today. 

I'm clearly the worst employee ever. Look, I'm blogging on the job (I hope my boss sees this post. I'm so sorry! I've never done this before! Ever ever! I swear!). I can't help it. I take no responsibility. I blame it on the weather.