It's 8:19 pm and it seems that there won't a better time for writing something about my music, not that I have much to say. I listen to so much different, so much unrelated genres of music that any attempt to classify it is pointless, thus this post will be rather short. Hmm... and now, I am trying to think of some names, bands, etc...
and I can't
ok:
- VNV - bonobo - thievery corporation - classical music - all sorts - trip hop- all sorts - best rock classics ever - anathema - tool - vavamuffin - bob marley - świetliki - czesław śpiewa - placebo - rammstein - massive attack - mesh - lao che - mike oldfield - interpol - cool kids of death - and many many many more.
thank's for attention. should u have any questions you know that I won't hesitate to answer. :-)
Beneath you've got two chapters of my story. I've been working on that and adding bits of but I didn't know that the date wasn't refreshed. So, if you feel like, just read it and leave a comment if u wish.
'Ok, Time's up. I should be going guys.' it's late Sunday evening. The previously lit windows of the remote buildings behind the river has now faded away, all fast asleep. There is no way of escaping this, I have to face the truth, the time is passing by. Someone kicked the pendulum aeons ago and gave the clock its fatal momentum.
Deep in shallow thoughts, I am trying to handle the issues of tomorrow ... was there anything to do, anything to remember to take, yes.. perhaps the CDs? I will type them in to my mobile.. just in case. Huh... damn burden of the momentum.
I feel like eating something. How I detest my habit of eating that late. I can't help it. Physiology versus rationality. The former wins, no exception.
Nestled in the fluffy duvet... the recollection of the day on its way. The well-known feeling of self-unfullfilment dwells in my mind. I planned so much, I did so little! How come?I didn't talk to the neighbours about the turns in cleaning the staircase. I didn't tidy up the kitchen and my flatmates will get furious about it. There it comes. The fear of the unknown. The fear of tomorrow.
The regularity of my heart beating goes hand in hand with the rhythm of the music. The computer switches off. Cleaning the staircase, Where is she? A new wobbler would make a do. ..frowned with anger and conf... . Freedom. . Where am I? … yes. That's it. My eyes glitter with the morning light. It's me.. driven by the momentum.
Shhh... the eyelids open up and the mortal daylight inevitably comes inside. What's the time? The right hand fell down to the floor, circled around twice and reached the mobile. It's not that late, 7:43. How come I feel so good? I get up with a rapid movement and feel the world reel in my head. 'I must have drunk something yesterday'. Yes.. probably yes.., and maybe this is why I feel this horrible, so much physical desire for a glass of water. Something is striving to tell me that I boiled some water ahead of going to bed. I won't believe in this until I can see it with my own eyes. How strange is this? I do not believe my own eyes. They saw the kettle yesterday, didn't they?. Were they the same eyes? There it is, waiting for me, waiting to be drunk, to flow into the depths of my alcohol dried throat. Sensation of life coming back to my body.
Ropelike tram terminus tightens around your neck, out of depth. Constellations of glittering lights spinning in your eyes. Whatever you say will sound stupid. One step further – railway; the barrier bows to the trains. The wagons drag through your brain with a deep rumble. Now's the time to walk.
On the other side of the street, stooped down, a hood, dynamic walk, hands in pockets. The church tower sticks out like a monstrous 'fuck you'. You pass blocks of flats, the fire brigade, you walk across the lawn. The scent of wet leaves, damn slippery. The staircase welcomes you unwillingly. You know you have to rush, though you do not realize why at the time, but but an unclear premonition hints it might deal with the bladder. You climb up the stairs, wrestle with the lock. The victory comes not easily. Not taking off muddy shoes you dash into the room, open the balcony door, look upwards and downwards. Stars and pavement. You wonder where it is closer and undo your fly.
Piotr Rogoża (I translated this from Polish to English),
To find out more, type in his name to google search engine and something will surely show up.
For those who do not know where I am from, I suggest visiting www.maps.google.com and typing in 'Bartoszyce' into the search field. There will come up my hometown, which for you is a place only, and for me is a way more than a place itself. 13 kms from the Russian border. Lots of illegal cigarrets and vodka, cheaper petrol. Lots of affluent people. Yet, there is the other side. Even more of destitute people. But this is not I am going to talk about. I 'd rather say something about the Bartoszyce that I see through my eyes. (take notice of the words say and tell, they do not sound the same but they mean the same; not like bow and bough - Monty Python. I really recommend some of scatches of theirs).
First of all, I wish to point out to the differences between the two words: home - house. My house is the very building where I was, sort of, brought up. My house is a part of my home, but not the opposite.
My home is all where I feel secure, my town is one of these places.
Bartoszyce is a town that gives me a sort of shelter. Lot's of nodding accquaittances. If you have a problem, there is always someone to turn to. In my town, there are some special people, my family, mummy and daddy :-). My brothers moved out some long time ago. With my father, I often go angling. Nice thing to do, btw, there are lots of lakes and a river so you can enjoy yourself if you are a fishing fan.
OK, it's 9:44 PM. The right time to go on with the description.
It's really difficuly to verbalise the notion of my hometown, the one that I see trough my eyes. It's a bunch of feelings and emotiones that are attached to it and there seem to be no way of getting them across in writing. I'll try.
When I think of my hometown, I can see my girlfriend. Whenever I am home we meet.
To be continued, I have to read linguistic stuff.
Published on Teaching English | British Council | BBC (http://www.teachingenglish.org.uk) Discipline problems by Nina M. Koptyug, Ph.D., Associate Professor of English,
Lyceum # 130, Novosibirsk, Russia
In her article,the author examines the causes ofdiscipline problemsin class and possible solutions to them. She goes on to say that there are a few stages that must be followed when trying to deal with students' misbehaviour in class, the first of which is identifying the causes.
The author quotefrom someone anonymous,"For every person wishing to teach,there are thirty persons not wishing to be taught". Next, Nina M. Koptyug comments that different types of learners may depend on the their families' well-being. Besides, students may come to classanoxiousaboutan upcomingtestin anothersubject,which,bythe author,willinfluencen establising good rapportwiththem.
As statedinthe article,another reasonfor discipline problems occuring is students' inability to cope with the tasks.According to the article, the second stage is identyfing the ringleaders. The author goes on to say that it is vital to keep ringleaders busy. Whereas the third stage is varying traditional tasks. By the author, it is beneficial, in terms of discipline, to praise students' for their achievments and alternate tasks which cover skills that students have difficulty with.The author gives an example of working in a computer lab as a good means of enhancing students'writing and pronunciation abilities.
Another stage, mentioned by the author, is increasing students' motivation, which, according to her , can be attained in a variety of ways depending on the students' grade level.
The last stage,which is elaborated on in the article,is what the author calls establising the priorities. Nina M. Koptyung points to the role that the teacher play in a classroom. According to her, it is the teacher that is responsible for everything that goes on and who has the power to restore good rapportwith students.Yet,the author claimsthatthis cannotbe achieved without the feeling of self-confidence.
My opinions,
Nina M. Koptyug gives an account for discipline problems, but in my opinion this explanation is too shallow. Apart from the family situation of a student and the timetable clashes, there are a few more causes of classroom problems, in my opinion.
One of these can be the peer pressure and the trends of the day. For some it can be undoable to work in class because of their feeling that no one should command them. Some students reject the notion of school as such as they do not want to feel subjected and this does not have to be any related with student's family's hardships.
As to keeping the ringleaders busy, I would like to say that this should be done with a possitive approach, meaning, not to treat learning a language as a tool of repression. I do believe that such motivation for working in class can lead to disastrous results. From psychological point of view, once external motivation seizes to exists people do not feel motivated at all. I think that this rule would apply to teaching just perfectly.
Talking about motivation, I am a supporter of the idea that students should find the point of learning languages only by themselves. Of course, teachers can help them do it, but this should not turninto a teacher's endless talking about the need for learninglanguages due to final exams coming up.
Finally, I would like to express my doubts about the role of teacher in class presented in the article.The author wrote that the teacher must be the boss and the students will feel it. In my opinion,what students need to feel foremost is that they are responsible for their learning, theirachievmentsetc.WhatImeanbythatisthatitismuchbettertoevokeinternal motivation in students rather than the external one.
What could I be doing at 1:30 p.m. on Monday? Well, I should be listening to the lecturer attentively but I was not. Instead, at 1:30 p.m. I was already at the lake enticing the monsterous fish with my toys. To see a hunter at home, priceless. Wasn't it ?
Was it a giant nail screeching glass ocean? No, it was a communist locomotive pulling 6 wagons, with Dominika on board. She got off the train... and went to sleep.
Now, now it's the time to tell you something about fishing. The first post's been already published and nothing on fishing. The story must take a twist.
Today I woke up at 6; the alarm clock didn't have to wake me up, I got up at more or less 6:15 and had quick breakfast. I grabbed my angling stuff and went to the lakes to see if there was something waiting for me in the water. The outside welcomed my with a chilly breath of the morning air. I couldn't see the buildings in front of me, foggy as though it'd been November already.
Pedalling hard, I was getting closer and closer to the destination of that time. I covered the distance of about 5 kms in about 17 minutes, and got off the bike, put on my overalls and did what I should have then, but the damned creatures dwelling in the depths of the lake gave it a shit.
At 8:45, I was beggining to think that it was time for going back home, a few last casts and fishing was over for that time.
The trip back was a good one. Nothing bad happened. None wanted to assasinate me or to rape me (which could be not that bad actually), or to drive me over. I got home and rearranged the contents of my rucksack and went to TTC. The lecture, as you may know, took its ordinary course of action, let's speak of it in that mild way.
The history repeats itself.
I went to the lakes again. One pike must have been a bit attraced by my bait. I was reeling hard and it still didn't move. I tried harder and it gave up a little. The distance between me and the fish was shrinking slowly but smoothly. Last 2 meteres. I can see it, I can see it. Already thinking that Domnika would appreciate my booty.... the toothed suprise said good bye. Easy come, easy go....
A day like any other. I woke up at 8:30, getting off the bed came with a great effort. Then I had a ussual bike ride to school.
A couple of long hours spent at school, breathing in jelly air. And here you are. /hier ju ar/ i.e. I am, sitting in front of the screen, trying to arrive at something worth mentioning. Nothing comes to my mind. Mission not accompilshed.
You may wonder why I write a blog. The answer is: I have to.
