Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Am I a lunatic?

Recently, I had an interesting comment on one of my posts. Well I have had quite a few interesting comments, but for now we will focus on this specific one. The commenter wrote:

You're so twisted and you have so many mental issues.

Now actually this is quite an harsh statement, but is it wrong to proclaim so? Because lately I have begun to wonder. You see my sister and her husband went to Bulgaria during easter, and as bigger sisters are suposed to she bought me a gift. The gift probably says a lot about me. This is what I got:


Grenade2

Grenade1

Yes, you are quite correct. This is a small purse where I can keep my hard earned cash. And yes, it is shaped as an handgrenade. Now you all think "Is the sister of Ole a lunatic? Who would buy something like that?". Well I can tell you about one person who would buy something like that. Me. I was actually quite happy for this gift.

Of course I can never use it. Imagine going into the bank, draw up a portemone like that and say, in your most polite voice: "Can I change some money please?" I promise you, the anti terror squad blowing your head off will not be that polite. My sister would never have something like that in her house, but clearly she knows me to well.

Another incident happened not long ago as me and some friends where out having a joll. One of my friends stated: "It's quite weird. I know of none persons who are proclaiming to be a pacifist who has such an interest in the military as Ole." He benchmarked this statement by reassuring all the others that he had been in my apartment and seen some strange shit. I would say this is not so strange stuff actually. I mean his only reason for proclaiming so is that I have decorated my apartment just a tiny bit. This is what he refered to:

Military

I mean this is not unormal things to have is it? (If you wonder the nazi helmet is real. It was taken by my grandfather from a german which he had to strangle with his own bare hands. At least according to his own story.)

Another incident which even made me wonder more was with my ex-girlfriend. I was lying in bed and I had just finished an exam on propaganda posters during WWII. I wanted to read a bit before sleep so I picked up the book "History of a German" by Sebastian Haffner. My ex stated loud and clearly "Oh! Are you never getting tired of that shit!" I did not get laid that night for sure, and probably my affection for history on war was contributing to the stop in our relationship. So maybe I am a lunatic?

But all this made me remember an incident way back in time, and this is the real story which I was going to tell you. Back then I did not find it amusing, but now it is quite funny, though it says a lot about my mentality.

This happened like 14 years ago. At that time I was 11-12 years old. And I promise you I was looking quite different back then. Now I am looking quite cool. I mean, nowadays, every man want to be in my shoes and every woman wants to be in my bed. It's quite exhausting being me somethimes.

mready

Anyhow, when I was 11-12 I was not that cool. I was on the other hand an innocent looking kid. The smallest one ever and with the longest blond hair any boy have ever had. It was, for some people who should have gone to an eye doctor, quite hard to tell the difference between me and girls at my age. One time I was even thrown out of the boys changing room by the caretaker at the gym. I cut my hair shortly after. To help on your imagination here is a pic of me taken at that time:

meyoung.0

At this time we where suposed to do an assignment at school, and this is the point where my insanity came alive I guess. We where not suposed to do any retarded assignment like math or grammar. No, we where told: You can write on any topic you want to.

That is just like a master without all the boring method and theory and about 115 pages shorter. I went into the task like it was my christmas gift. This was before the Internet so I had to go to the library to get my information. I promise you, the people working ther started to look weird at me after I had been there for the sixht time in a week. In the beginning they probably though I was loaning some books for my father, but in the end their eyes got a bit sceptical, and I believe one of them was about to call the child care service. What I loaned? Wait a bit, I will get to that in a second.

Anyhow I wrote my report, a quite good one I would say, and the day we where going to hand it in the whole class was sitting in a circle. The teacher, one of them nice one which all the girls thinks are their "favourite teacher ever". I though she was quite ok. She was also good looking if I remember correctly, but my memory at that point might be confused by my pre-pubertal mind a couple of years later. Anyhow she tells us that she wants us all to read a bit from our report for the rest of the class to enjoy.

I was so happy about this. Finally someone would have to listen to the fantastic work I had done. But first I had to listen to a lot of boring stuff. And I mean BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORING. Any normal kid at that age would pick a topic like "Dogs which I like", "My favourite football team", "Horseriding", "My beat friend" and other armbreaking topics. Armbreaking because one would fall asleep, fall of the chair and break an arm before you could read one sentence of that stuff. Think about the poor teachers going through such stuff written by hand by a twelve year old kid. They all need a pay raise I would say. And of course my class mates were mostly normal.

But then it is finally my turn and I am so exited as I have finally found the passage which I will read. Now I bet all of you are waiting to hear about my topic. It was:

Nacht und Nebel Prisoners

Now I suppose that all of you know what Nacht und Nebel (NN) prisoners was. For all of you who have a lack of history I can tell you that this were prisoners, mainly from the resistance, which the Germans had to get rid of without anyone knowing. This ment that they where all sent in secrecy to a consentration camp where they were suposed to die (yes short story dad, I know). Talking about history, I can tell my American readers that the Soviet Union was on the allied side during WWII, but Americans and their understanding of history deserves a post for themeselves so no more of that for now.

Now you can imagine, I am sitting there in this circle with my class. I am twelve years old, got long blond hair and I am nearly tripping of exitement. Finally I got the attention of the whole class, at least from the ones who are still awake, and my teacher says, with her sweet voice: "Your turn Ole, read us a bit from your work." This is what followed: Ole, bright with exitement, takes up his paper and starts of, with a strong childish voice:

"One of the most normal methods the Germans used against their prisoners was to hang them up from the ceiling. Usualy with a rope attatched to each arm which both were bent backwards. As you hang there you would slowly feel your muscels tear apart and your shoulder would eventually get ripped loose from the rest of the body. Meanwhile gestapo agents would tear out your tonail, slowly, with blood pouring down on the floor, until you faint of exhaustion. As you wake up by a bucket with ice cold water getting thrown at you, washing some of the blood away from your body, you would slowly get to your sences. The read vision in front of your eyes would slowly open and the gestapo agent would look at you with a grin on his face before he beat you up with his baton. The ones who survived this treatment would be caried away to their cell as a slack hot dog with a bit to muck ketchup on. (That last description I actually stole from one of the books I had read, but don't tell my teacher.) Here they would wait in agony before the gestapo once again came to get them"

torture

After this the classroom went quite silent. The ones who had been drifting away in their own mind before I started were now quite awake. All the girls in my class looked strucked by lightning, one guy said "Hehe hehe, thats cool." My teacher was gone green in her face, but she managed, after a while, to say: "That was.....eh....interesting. But does it have to be that gory?" As I saw it as my mission to educate all such stupid people I told her that that was how it was, and if it the history was gory it was nothing to do with it. You cannot change history, daaaa.

I did not get the aplause I had expected and this class was shortly after called off. I believe my teacher never read my work as she was quite happy to go through the works on "My favourite vacation place". So that was the end of my effort to enlighten my classmates.

I guess this proves I am a bit of a lunatic. But at least I have been one my whole life, and so far I have done quite well, therefore I guess there is no reason to change the twisted parts of my mind yet.

As a finish, while some of you go to the bathroom to throw up, I have some soon-you-come-home gifts for my little sister (and now for something completely different. The Larch!) Here are some videos for you to enjoy while you wave goodbye to the South Dakotan society:




5 Comments:

At 4/27/2006 03:47:00 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

You look like Jessica Simpson with the long blond hair. 

Posted by jedimacfan

 
At 4/27/2006 11:24:00 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

I would actually love to hear the story about "My beat friend"! Maybe your classmate was "down" with Jack Kerouac & friends, doing benzedrine and writing strange and interesting stories?  

Posted by Mr. T

 
At 4/27/2006 01:11:00 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

so now budapest is in bulgaria? 

Posted by huh!

 
At 4/27/2006 02:46:00 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Jedimacfan:

Now I understand why the caretaker at the gym was so obsessed of getting me out of the dressingroom and into his office.

Mr. T:

Unluckily none of my classmates was "down" with Jack Kerouac. But some of them where quite "down" with NKOTB. That did not make any interesting stories.

Huh!:

Bulgaria - Budapest - Hungary - Praha - Latvia - Lithuania - Polan - Purtugal - Austria - Moldovia - Sweden. It's all to the east so it doesn't matter much which countryname you choose.

It was all much easier before when it all was Soviet, why didn't they just continue with that? 

Posted by Ole

 
At 5/01/2006 04:31:00 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Talking about weird gifts, u remember the whip u gave to mr brother in law???  

Posted by Emily

 

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