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  • Frustration

    About the end of the POLIS programme and about the busy summer school while we are stressing out about our thesises.

    About the thesis.

    About the grumpy and sometimes antipathetic Estonians.

    About the disappointing city of Tallinn.

    About being stuck here while wanting to start fieldwork in Brussels and Paris.

    About not being able to play music with my band, knowing that the first gigs are already planned.

    About not having the time for continuing writing on my novel (or: a work in progress that might end up becoming a novel).


    About leaving my classmates behind.

    About leaving behind that somewhat superior odour of the cosmopolite bum.

    About replacing this rather exciting way of life for the treadmill of a job.

    About it being the last days of going to sleep at 4 and waking at noon.

    Mild fear

    For actually going into the field and trying my ideas out.

    For possibly finding out my ideas don't work.

    For the hard contact with what we are supposed to call 'reality'.

    For the hard crash on the asphalt of no cash.

    For the looming terror of applying for jobs.

    For the battle with pickiness. And self-respect.


    For the end of this programme.

    For the end of group-work assignments.

    For the beginning of a summer full of hard working, rehearsing, love-making, beer-drinking and friends-hugging.

    They told me this was going to be an adventure. Visiting cities, sleeping under bridges, living the life.
    They never told me it was only an adventure to take place in my mind, in my body, nerves, muscles and stomach.

    I survived POLIS and all I got was this lousy T-shirt.
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