zird is the word (lizardek) wrote,
zird is the word

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I need to translate my resume and cover letter into Swedish. I could swear that I'd already done this not so long ago, but since I can't find the damn things anywhere, I guess not. argh. Yes, I'm fluent in Swedish, but that mostly means reading and speaking. I can write Swedish, but it's embarrassing, all my grammar faults and literal translations right there in black and white for people to snicker at, so I've managed to avoid it as much as possible since leaving Swedish For Immigrants. Time to suck it up and do the necessary here. Argh argh argh. Another job opening in the paper this weekend that fit my abilities, so I've fired off a resume (in English) along with a cover letter (in English) explaining why I am the best person on earth! for this job! Hire me!

I'm beginning to understand why the word for sigh in Swedish is suck.


Despite having gotten a job in Sweden, I've never done any serious job-hunting here, and am feeling my way forward like a blind person. I've asked others who HAVE been out there and gotten a list of websites to register with and publish my resume with and search jobs on. I've been extremely lucky in my life and have never had to search for a job the way I'm searching now. I'm also up against 3 other people that I CURRENTLY work with, for much the same jobs.

I'm sure that I'm somewhere within the 5 stages of grief or bereavement, even though this is a job and not a loved one that is passing, but I'm not sure where I am. Even though I'm taking positive steps, I feel a bit numb, and keep expecting someone to come in and announce that hey! no! it's okay! Ericsson changed their mind! I guess that qualifies as denial, right? Next up: Anger.

Upon googling the "5 stages of grief" I found an interesting article that insists the 5 steps are bogus and that the real work of resolving grief needs to start with Acceptance. The article insists that we go through these 5 steps every day, sometimes several times, and that it is not until we reach the Acceptance stage that anything can be done. Whatever.*

Saturday was a crazy day. My brother and I took the kids and went to a Stone Age Village in Höör (try pronouncing THAT one without a) giggling b) spitting) with the AWC. We had a good turnout and Morgan, an AWC member who has worked there for 2 summers did the tour in English. We also had a Stone Age dinner, which was really interesting, if somewhat marred by the modern notes of safety considerations that arise when one is cooking with firepits and stones. The entire "village" is a re-construction, since there is so little archaelogical record of stone age life that they consider nearly 80% of their knowledge to be educated guesswork.

The food preparation was interesting, and the meal turned out quite good, although considerable cheating had to be done to make sure it was ready fast enough for us to eat in a 2-hour time period. We had pork brushed with honey and salt, wrapped in birchbark and rushes, and then with aluminium foil to foil those wily ground bacteria, and then buried with hot stones underground for 2 hours. In addition, we made cabbage and leek soup, and had small bread patties baked on a firestone, along with hazelnut & honey cookies.

There were 4 activities for us to play with as well: bow-and-arrow shooting, flint knapping, making a stone age "cellphone," and making a round rope with string which turns out to be perfect for those friendship bracelets that were all the rage not so long ago. Surprisingly, it was Karin that wanted to make the bracelet, while Martin went off to knapp flint. He was fascinated with the flint and collected quite a pile of stones that luckily I didn't have to persuade him were not going home with us by the simple expedient of reminding him that the next visitors to the stone age village might like to see them.

The strings for the bracelet were tied to 4 wooden dowels and then hung from a post above our heads. Karin and I stood facing each other with 2 each of the dowels in our hands, 1 with blue string and 1 with white. We had to simultaneously release and catch opposing dowels in turn, which is not an easy task, especially when you're 5 years old and shaky on the whole left-hand-right-hand thing. But we managed admirably, despite a couple of bobbles, and settled into the swing (hee!) of it after I switched to saying "Blue! White! Blue! White!" instead of "Left! Right!" We ended up with a long enough braided rope to make into 2 double-wrapped bracelets so Martin got one, too.

In the meantime, Martin and John made the "stone age cellphones:" bull-roarers, consisting of a small, beveled, flat piece of wood and a length of string looped through the hole in the end and then twisted up. When swung in a circle, it makes a curious roaring humming sound that can be heard for up to 1 kilometer away. John tried to call Germany to talk to Simone with it, but apparently there was no signal. :)

Afterwards, we raced home to a crayfish party hosted by us, prepared by Anders while John and I were out playing. 2 other couples had arrived just before we made it home, and we had a blast on the tent-and-tarp-enclosed porch with crayfish and quiche and snaps and much hilarity with the Beaver Leader jokes.

Now, party season is over for awhile, and singing and club stuff take center stage. I dropped my brother off this morning at the ferry terminal so he could head home, which was a bit of a drag since he's a great houseguest and really livened up the last week and a half. I wasn't successful in talking him into getting his own LJ, though, more's the pity.

Something Dreadful in the Mail Each Month to Brighten Your Life: Bunny of the Month Club
(thanks to lonita for the link!)

*hahaha! me so funny! :D
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