(no subject)
Oct. 30th, 2006 07:14 pmPsychology class was amazing today. For the better part of 50 minutes, we sat about and fantasized in the autumn gloom. For those of you familiar with Nordstrand, the good old couches upstairs've been moved for the benefit of a heavy, deep-brown, beautiful dining-table, with matching, straigth-backed chairs and candelabra. Granted, it doesn't quite fit in, but it grew on me as we sat there, and it's cosy.
My psychology class consists of 8 students, at the worst, when "Kåre" (possible nacroleptic and very weird) decides to join us. Usually, we're 6 or 7, and Astrid. The first period passed without event, but as we got distracted during break and happened to see the table, we figured we'd ask Astrid about it. Following a few minutes of "Why on earth did you remove the sofas?" and "what the fuck is a dining-table doing here?" she decided we might as well be the first to use it, and so we moved there for the rest of the period.
What I like about my school is the atmosphere: the dust of students and teachers long gone seep, like ghosts, from the cracks.
Clouds swirling ominously about, seven students and a teacher poised around the heavy, wooden table: laughing at Freud, speaking of dreams and self-realization, interrupted occasionally by teachers passing by and commenting on the scene. I half-expected Astrid to stand by the head of the table and exclaim "Live forever!" We never got 'round to doing half the things we should've done, but we had fun, and I'm quite sure I was not the only one in need of motivation.
I wish I had my usual "spark" and could write something decent about this, but I can't. No matter how hard I try, I can't be creative. experience
My psychology class consists of 8 students, at the worst, when "Kåre" (possible nacroleptic and very weird) decides to join us. Usually, we're 6 or 7, and Astrid. The first period passed without event, but as we got distracted during break and happened to see the table, we figured we'd ask Astrid about it. Following a few minutes of "Why on earth did you remove the sofas?" and "what the fuck is a dining-table doing here?" she decided we might as well be the first to use it, and so we moved there for the rest of the period.
What I like about my school is the atmosphere: the dust of students and teachers long gone seep, like ghosts, from the cracks.
Clouds swirling ominously about, seven students and a teacher poised around the heavy, wooden table: laughing at Freud, speaking of dreams and self-realization, interrupted occasionally by teachers passing by and commenting on the scene. I half-expected Astrid to stand by the head of the table and exclaim "Live forever!" We never got 'round to doing half the things we should've done, but we had fun, and I'm quite sure I was not the only one in need of motivation.
I wish I had my usual "spark" and could write something decent about this, but I can't. No matter how hard I try, I can't be creative. experience