Sometimes I have felt I wish my life was like in a book. Not necessarily because of the good chance for a happy ending, but rather the ability to steer the speed of things yourself. The ability to move to the next page and shorten a certain period to the time it takes to read: “she was zapping between the 3 channels of the old TV for the rest of the evening”. And slow it down as life is sometimes extra enjoyable: “she could hear the wind in the trees and saw the sun glitter in the sea before she slowly looked into his eyes. Thoughts and memories from the last time they had been standing like that upheld her mind for a while as he slowly laid his hand on her arm and cleared his throat. He looked thoughtful as if he was formulating his thoughts before finally open his mouth.” The words to read doesnt correlate with the time it takes for them to happen. Its like built-in fast forward and slow motion buttons at the mercy of the author.

om pushiness

Being forward is good if you want to achieve something, we have all learnt that growing up. Showing what you can, taking initiative and marketing yourself well, ok. But the pursuit at all cost, speed and pushiness needed to succeed with just everyday things, can just feel a bit too much sometimes.

Called on an ad for a second hand thing I was interested in. I was the first to call; well I am a bit busy right now, have my kids in the car etc, replied the guy when I asked if I could come and visit - but call back tomorrow between these hours and we can discuss a good time to meet. I called at the exact given time. The thing was sold; sorry, someone came and took it straight-away yesterday... Well looks like I missed out by not pushing my own business rather than respecting his supposed schedule.

In the job-search market this pushiness is a real decisive factor. Pushing your contacts, making extra calls and lobby for yourself is necessary – up to that perfect point where it can also be too much I guess (but who knows where that is). Selling yourself is key, claiming that you are ok at something + willing and quick to learn, is rarely enough to give you a chance at a personal interview. So it seems better to say that you are great at it and then try to charm them anyways when it appears that you weren't as good as you said you were..? in my book someone with a fair judgement of their own character and qualitites would be a better choice employee rather than people bringing less in real life than in their marketing. But humility rarely goes far in the highly competitive environment of our every-day.

Talking about recruitment processes, I did the EU concours for new administrators lately. A newly developed fancy multiple choice exam with the standard comprehension, calculation and logic tests. Less than one minute per question. In your second language. Obviously the selection will be of those who guess very well - as reading carefully, checking your facts and making a careful selection was not an option.

So as I bump the frustration hills on jobsearch road, I feel that it is all a notch too hung up on the fastest and the most assertive. And "making sure to get what you want in life" overrated as a crucial trait for hireability - or for being able to live an independent happy life in society for that matter.

om Frankrike

France is a big country. A country which fits a lot of differences. A country that seems kind and accepting to excentricities - at large at least. I have never seen so many crazy/bum-like people in such a short time anywhere else. In the middle of society. In the restaurants with a glass at mid-day, in the shops or walking around town asking for cigarettes and talking to themselves. And people treat them well, polite, friendly with a smile, patiently. In Partheney there is a village bum who since 30 years walks around dressed up in all his medals and talk nonsense. Everybody knows his name, and people say bonjour, talk a couple of sentences and gives him a cigarette. In Lyon there was this old vagabond in the mobile phone store orange. It took him a really long time to understand the instructions for his abonnement or whatever he was doing, the sales lady was patient, the people in line were patient, he said he was sorry to the others after 20 min, with a smile, very slowly. And things were fine, no signs of irritation. And there are some other examples. Maybe it is because we have been around Emmaus and their companions so much so we have seen disproportionally large amount both of old, scrubby ex-alcoholics and of strong values of kindness and humanism. Maybe there is notion of acceptance and respect for original people in the French culture? A further opposition to American mainstreaming and conformity? Of course there are the hardknackered and extremely conservative socialists with their constant strikes. There is the rightfully critizised, expensive and crazy CAP to feed the regional pride and keep the living standard up for the highly held farming class producing all that small-scale local specialities. Of course there are the real Sarkozists, racists and pure elitists around keeping the status high in everything from fashion to fancy cars and the riviera lifestyle. And you for sure meet the occassional severe snobbism around narrowly defined criteria of quality. However maybe the humanism that we luckily met here often, encompasses acceptance of that too, just as we should respect the old harmless farts talking nonsense, taking up time and bumming surplus coins or fags.

Humble is not really a keyword. It was THE enlightment with its Rousseau and Voltaire. It was THE revolution with the freedom, euality and brotherhood. Napoleon who chose the sligthly different path of becoming emperor and start a lot of wars. The icons of history we all have been taught: the three musceters, that evil Richelieu guy, the Marie-Antoinettes and Bernadottes. And our times exhibitionists: Simone de Beauvoir and Juliette Binoche. Depardieu and Dior. Sartre and Sarkozy. The chateaus, the countryside picturesqueness and depression. The Paris hype. The cafes and the culinary tradition. The cheese plate after the main course of EACH meal. The wine (also to EACH meal). Hard headed nationalism, centralism and its bureaucrazy. The crazy drivers. The crazy language. But it is really rather friendly - even chatty in a good and pleasant way - when you manage the French. It has many many immigrants. And originals. So in a way you never feel THAT strange. Even if you dont eat cheese. Its interesting.

om språkets signaler

language is power. English and French comes first. Always. Then Spanish, Russian, Arabic and Chinese. I thought portugese and swahili was included too, but doesnt seem like it. And the language of choice is an important statement. It divides cental asia – a choice of english raises an eyebrow, russian is expected. What does it mean that Brazil chose to speak English rather than Spanish? And that the delegate of Turkey chooses French – a French university perhaps, or just long time in Geneva? And North-African countries choosing French before Arabic? Egyptians choosing English? And – can you believe it – an American representative choosing to speak French, and actually without that extremely thick american accent... really impressive ;-)

PS did you know that when Rockefeller donated the land for the UN headquarters in Geneva it came with peacocks and sheep that the UN are bound to take care of..?

om tid

Just stopping the clock in the head. Time that spreads out without running, you dont take notice of it. When the evening feels long almost endless in the sense that you dont reflect about when it started, how long it will last and when it may end. Everybody is doing their little thing, tasks that are needed but not pushed or required according to a deadline. Tasks that just are. And then, after a little while, you just feel how the bad wibes sinks away slowly. The calm returns, it doesnt feel calm or slow or anything, it just is. Thoughts, discourse and action just flows. That is when you recharge. That is the resting needed to perform, socialise and be able to take in.

om Polen

It was there behind the wall for almost 5 decades... and during this time the communism ripped and ripped in the social fabric (whatever little was left after division, war, soviet invasion, years of close-to-fascism and other terrifying invasions, more occupation, tension, destruction and repression) the elites were killed of in the war most of them, whoever was left fled, joined the party or struggled through.

The worst of communism was the conceit for the masses. The absolute plastic or artificial or non-existant view on human values, human connection – and like all good suppressors rule by division. People from Ukraine moved to Silesia, people from Silesia to Siberia and then the enforced forgetting of regional specialities, dialects and traditions. Left are people like animals, ready to be swooped around, scared to form opinions, robbed of information and possibilities to join, discuss, share, help each other and grow communal things. Almost at least, as some of them still managed to and that is also the strong forces that overruled it all in the end as we all know.

But the social fabric, there is no wonder that it appears ripped, even after communism is gone and has been replaced by now 2 decades of festive capitalism growing a fierce number of shoppingmalls per capita in the country, and on its way unlimited possibilities for corruption and outright robbery for the smart ones in the right position. And there we are in the second decade of the 2000s, finding the social fabric very thin, probably will take years to build, if there will ever be a day when in general will smile to you in the street, serve you in their shop with a genuine service mindedness or one does not hear complaints and warnings about "the bad and dangerous people" - ruling the parks, the streets and society in general, media and politics in particular.

The negativity about other people, the quickness to judge, the lack of smiles – that is a heavy portion to me. The sentiment remains that everybody are likely to screw you always, it does not exist everywhere and among everyone, but sipps through often enough for you to wonder what damage that feeling itself is doing to society? Perhaps even worse than the actual corruption and criminality? Believing the worst is a real legacy that is hard to get rid off, and sadly it often turns out to be a self fulfilling prophecy for years to come, on the dire path of rebuilding social fabric.