Alex's Alliterative Adventures

You have to watch it to understand.

I had to take a break from studying to share this with all of you. This is my new office.

Conducting international, multi-hour phone interviews on a cell phone is not a fun experience. I’ve had a bunch of calls that just had terrible quality and an interview that died abruptly. To remedy this, I decided I’d ask Lund for some kind of small room with a phone in it. Nothing special, just a landline that I could receive calls on so that I could make a good impression on potential employers and avoid the hassle of a 1 second delay while speaking.

You know what they did? They helped me. They didn’t just say they’d think about helping me, they didn’t make me sign 26 forms in triplicate, and they didn’t refuse on the grounds that helping students would be unfair to all of the other students the university shafts (I’m looking at you, UW). I had a legitimate concern, and it was within the university’s power to help me, so they did. In fact, not only did they help me, but I have access to the room at all hours for as long as I need it and Lund doesn’t need the space, which is going to be awesome when scheduling calls between California or New Zealand. Waterloo, you should be taking notes here. Satisfied graduates = good recommendations & fewer losses due to property damage.

I was debating between “Ask and ye shall receive”, “God helps those who help themselves”, and “Waterloo’s a giant turd”, but I had to go with the title that best expressed my feelings.

Tomorrow: 1-2 interviews.
Thursday: 5 hour exam, potential interview.
Friday: 5 hour exam.
Saturday: 2-6 hour programming test.
Sunday: 24 hours of alcoholism. I mean, bible study.

As usual, I’m telling you guys that posting will be sparse for a while. As usual, I’m trying to convince myself that everything will be less busy in a couple of weeks. As usual, both of those things are probably complete lies.

In imitation of Mr. Kelso, I decided that I’d attempt a video blog.  I don’t think this is the sort of thing that I’m likely to do again, but who knows. You can download my flapping lips in wmv format, if you’d like.  The rest of this post is going to be a reasonably long one, so feel free to fall asleep here.

We boarded the train at around 23:15 on Friday night, where I surprised myself by actually falling asleep for a couple of hours before arriving in Stockholm at 6am.  When we finally awoke in the foreign and surprisingly chilly city, we dropped our bags at our floating hostel and started touring the streets.

We spent the day marching, riding, photographing, laughing, eating, and napping.

We saw the Vasa, a ship from 1628 that sunk on its maiden voyage and was recovered less than 50 years ago, primarily due to 3 years of effort from one man and his home made core sampler.

We also saw a museum devoted to the fictional Swedish character Pippi LÃ¥ngstrump (North Americans would better know her as Pippi Longstocking) and took a recorded tour through dozens of miniature models carved in excruciating detail.

Since we were all poor students, we decided that dinner was a dish best served cheap: pizza. If Colin had been with us, we would’ve been banned from the pizzeria for life.  Instead, I think we got away with a few months, maybe a year, tops.  We walked in at around 8:15 and ordered our 10 pizzas.  By 8:30, they had served us all but 3 of our pizzas.  We were understanding, though, they obviously weren’t used to serving such large groups. We should’ve taken the fact that they started turning customers away from their still-open store at 8:30 as some kind of warning, but we were stupid and engrossed with delicious pizza.  I thought I’d be able to resist pineapple, banana, and curry thrown on top of dough and sauce, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.

By 8:40, we got a bit impatient, and pointed out that 3 of our battalion were going hungry. They apologized and quickly rushed 2 pizzas to our seats. They started getting pissy at 8:45, trying to explain to us in broken English that since they closed at 9pm, we clearly had to leave as soon as possible.  Preferably now. We kindly explained to them that we weren’t going anywhere until they gave our friend the pizza she’d already fucking paid for. With a grumble and a chip on his shoulder, the guy did his god damn job and finished the last pizza by 8:50. He took the water and salad away and started yelling “Slut!  Slut!” (Closed! Closed!).  We put our best diplomatic hats on and pointed out that since he forgot our food, we were going to stay here as long as it took for everyone to finish their dinners, especially since the store didn’t close for another 10 minutes. At 8:55, he shut the front door and started stacking chairs on the tables, muttering “slut!” the whole time. We were out the door by around 8:59, and I swear he was going to spend the night scribbling “DON’T SERVE THESE INGRATES” signs with our pictures on them and taping them to lamp-posts around town.  We drank our unpleasant encounter away at a little Irish number described as feeling “more like a medieval dungeon than a pub”, and headed back to our hostel to remember what beds felt like.

One of the things I like the most about this whole travelling thing is the reminders it brings you of what’s really important in life. I’ve had access to closets bigger than the hostel room shared between 4 of us, but it was a place to rest our weary heads, and that’s all that any of us wanted or needed.  We woke and ate our breakfast in near silence, rendered speechless by the majestic view from our cabin windows and our half-chewed mouthfuls of banana.

Being served scrambled eggs in a bed swimming enough duvets to coat a small country is nice and all, but there’s something that just feels right about rolling up your sleeping bag and using a pocket knife to slice the cheese and bread you packed two days ago and combining them into the ever-so-delicious cheese on bread while trying to narrow in on what amazing experiences life will bring you today.

Our second day was spent touring the city’s attractions and cafes.  The Kaknäs tower was only 155m tall, so the CN-Tower virgins were a little more impressed than I was. Aquaria and Skansen were a lot more entertaining, especially Skansen’s zoo. Apparently Swedish people consider elk, bison, foxes, otters, squirrels, and bears to be exotic animals.  I almost bought a few postcards to show all you North American types their silly ways, but then I realized that a Canadian would be pretty underwhelmed if they received a postcard with a moose on it from Sweden.

We met the most interesting Hungarian while resting at a local cafe.  He was insistent that Einstein’s theory of relativity was complete bunk, and he gave us copies of pages and pages of equations which, if I understood them correctly, were a proof of how the speed of light could be broken. Well, they were a proof in the sense that I hand in proofs to my professors all the time, and they hand them back and point out that proofs are generally expected to be correct, and they have a friend who runs a burger joint, at that I should feel no shame in devoting the rest of my life to “an honest day’s work”. The Hungarian obviously had some mental issues, and he spoke with an eagerness and intensity that was all I understood from his German explanations of the Doppler effect. My German speaking physics major friend told me that she couldn’t translate what he was saying because it simply didn’t make sense.  She was saddened that a man could be so disconnected from the world and yet Sweden, the welfare state, wasn’t doing a thing about it.  Sadder yet was the thought that perhaps there was nothing that could be done. Most curious of all was the thought of yourself being in that same position: when convinced that everyone else is crazy, would you be willing to consider that obvious, self-evident things were simply wrong because the rest of the world disagrees?  Does your answer make you a coward that lacks principles, or a mature and wisened individual who can learn from and admit to your own mistakes?

A number of us wanted to end the evening at the Absolute Ice Bar, a permanent bar that’s made entirely of ice and kept at a cool -5°C, but it was full by the time we tried to make reservations. That’ll just be something to expect pictures of the next time I return from Stockholm. As a replacement, we went to McDonalds. They served me Tropicana.

I just finished a phone interview that had only one technical question:

“How would you implement C++ in C?”

Jesus christ.  These people must eat mensa books for breakfast, lightly salted with raw neurons.

I’ve been less than entirely rejected by both a Swedish gaming company and one from New Zealand.  Could be cool. 

I’m getting on the night train to Stockholm in under 4 hours.  I’m leaving the computer behind, so my chances of posting this weekend are pretty low. Exciting tales, possibly of my new diseased rabbit friend, will be sure to follow.

I shared a beer with a few friends last night to give myself a long overdue break from work.  We spoke of many things: booze, academics, our cultures, gender equality, relationships, firefighting, and a cultural confusion over the word “chips”.

I really enjoy having one of my core beliefs reaffirmed time and time again: People are people, and they’re all the same throughout the world.  Sure, languages are different, cultures are different, viewpoints are different (sometimes radically so), but in the end we all really care about the same things.  We’re all just guessing our way through life, trying to make the best we can out of what we have. Some are extroverted, some are introspective.  Some don’t feel like they’re alive unless they’re a breath away from dying, and some prefer to shape their surroundings until their every need is met. Some try to experience as much as they can with every waking moment, others find their focus in life and devote themselves to it unquestionably.  In the end, though, we’re all just looking for good times, good friends, good memories, and a little peace and comfort now and again, wherever we may find it.

I also had the pleasure of witnessing the most Canadian bar fight I’ve ever seen.  A random Swede jokingly jumped in front of my Canadian friend in line for the bar, and my Canadian friend gave him a friendly shove on the shoulder.  They then turned and faced each other and insisted that the other ordered first.  I think that only a mix of Swedes and Canadians could stage such a polite brawl.

The Swedes are a notoriously bureaucratic people.  Personal numbers must be submitted, receipts must be accounted for, and if you use the wrong cover in your TPS report, you should expect a stern reprimand from your six bosses. From this cultural observation, one can infer that managerial positions are highly coveted among the Swedes; the master of bureaucracy is the master of life itself.

The Swedish word for manager is “chef”.

The project was handed in this morning.  Interviews are (presently) done for the week. I have one assignment and one test, and then it’s stockholm time.

It’s almost like a physical weight has been lifted from my shoulders.  Also, pictures of “me, wookie, and cookie” amuse me to no end.

I’ve played Coldplay’s “Fix You” from the X & Y album at least 10 times today, and it’s going on 20.  There’s just something about that song that really captures a feeling of being complete defenseless and broken, and having a helping hand pull you to your feet. That might be its use in Scrubs, but who knows.

I don’t understand.  Coldplay is usually at best tolerable. The guitar solo is a stereotypically shitty Coldplay guitar solo, and yet… that descending vocal melody perfectly incites the feeling of falling to your knees in utter abandon.

My world is breaking apart. Also, I hate the internet here.  I’m tempted to start drawing a comic each morning, because it would be faster than waiting for my morning funny pages to load.

PS. latex (the document preparation system, not the anti-baby system, that stuff is awesome) sucks monkey balls, and don’t let anyone tell you any different.

edit: It has been pointed out to me that my post seemed melodramatic.  The reason that my world is breaking apart is because I like a coldplay song, nothing more.  Although, that IS a fairly significant thing.  Overall, life is pretty kickass.