I feel the pressure of writing some kind of review of the documentary, Smiling in a War Zone, I watched this Friday, since I brought it up. So here goes.
I heard that it got some bad reviews on TV the day before but I haven't seen the review myself so I can't really object to any specific complaints. I can see how someone would be unimpressed by it, and I had a few bad reactions to the poor video qualities, embaressing "special effects" and the occasional unability to keep a clear perspective. It felt as if she wanted to say so many things with the documentary that some things became a bit redundant when she didn't take the time to explain her point thurully.
But.... to give it a two out of five? To me that just feels like the person didn't understand the point of the movie, which wasn't to do a high quality documentary but something completely different. The fact that this woman spent a year of her life, a fortune that she didn't even have and risked her own life to be able to fulfill one young woman's wish of flying is enough to give it at least three points. I mean, are we so spoiled with special effects and perfectly scripted and orchestrated documentaries that we fail to appreciate a genuin effort and inspirational message just because it doesn't come in a golden wrapper? I think it is sad.
To me this documentary represents a brave woman with a message that becomes a truth rather than a cliché through the journey that she makes. A message that you really can do anything you want if you just put your mind to it. And that's good media.
söndag, april 30, 2006
fredag, april 28, 2006
Smiling in a War Zone
About two or three years ago I went to a seminar held by a Danish woman, Simone, who was making a documentary of her "journey" to Kabul. Allegedly she had, through some news channel, heard about a young woman in Kabul who wanted nothing more than to once be able to fly a plane. Reading this, Simone got the crazy idea that she should fulfill that wish. And she did.
She bought a forty-year-old Piper Colt and made the trip, 50 hours in the air, 33 landings and one illegal flight in to Afghanistan to find the young woman Farial and make her wish come true.
The documentary, Smiling in a War Zone, premieres here in Malmö today and I am meeting up my boyfriend after work to see it. Expectations are high.
torsdag, april 27, 2006
The Horror, The Horror...
I went on an interview for a position as an international informant this morning and I honestly can't say what scares me the most; to recieve information of yet another failure or to actually get the job.
The whole experience of the interview was, to say the least, horrifying. He treated me as if I had worked as an informant for years, asking me questions that probably any qualified informant could answer in a split of a second, and demanded quick answers. I started to wonder if he had read my application at all because it would clearly tell him that I have limited experience. Then he confessed that his approach was rather agressive and that he understood that I could not possibly know these things with respect to my background. And I started to wonder why I was even there. With all of the 300 applications he'd recieved... I did not even impress myself.
I feel a bit discouraged about this informant business. It's sad because I've had that goal in sight for as long as I can remember. But everytime I get within reach of it I end up either devastated or doubting my own abilities.
I've never created an entire internal network by myself. I've never composed an actual communication plan by myself. I'm not even sure if I know what it is. I've never been a part of any board of directors or responsible for the communication of one. I've never had to defend a company in a press release...
Given the cance, I could learn and I know that. But it doesn't really matter when you are expected to master it before you've learned it.
It will be a cold day in hell before I get this job. My only solace is that whether I get rejected or, God help us, get the job, it is all me. I'm loosing or gaining this job on my own. And damned proud of it either way.
The whole experience of the interview was, to say the least, horrifying. He treated me as if I had worked as an informant for years, asking me questions that probably any qualified informant could answer in a split of a second, and demanded quick answers. I started to wonder if he had read my application at all because it would clearly tell him that I have limited experience. Then he confessed that his approach was rather agressive and that he understood that I could not possibly know these things with respect to my background. And I started to wonder why I was even there. With all of the 300 applications he'd recieved... I did not even impress myself.
I feel a bit discouraged about this informant business. It's sad because I've had that goal in sight for as long as I can remember. But everytime I get within reach of it I end up either devastated or doubting my own abilities.
I've never created an entire internal network by myself. I've never composed an actual communication plan by myself. I'm not even sure if I know what it is. I've never been a part of any board of directors or responsible for the communication of one. I've never had to defend a company in a press release...
Given the cance, I could learn and I know that. But it doesn't really matter when you are expected to master it before you've learned it.
It will be a cold day in hell before I get this job. My only solace is that whether I get rejected or, God help us, get the job, it is all me. I'm loosing or gaining this job on my own. And damned proud of it either way.
onsdag, april 19, 2006
I Have a Confession to Make
My name is Sofie, and I am a chocoholic.
Like that. The truth. The ugly truth about the habit that I apparently can not kick. Chocolate is my heroin. Simple as that.
I stopped eating chocolate for two weeks. Two whole weeks. It is hard for anyone to comprehend the nature of the situation. The nervous eye twitch, the biting of nails, the self delusions I suffered. Until time did its thing and I realized that I didn't need it anymore.
Then comes Easter.
Big Easter egg. Chocolate dreamboat. The best kinds of chocolate in a see trough delight. The kind of chocolate that melts in your mouth before you even get around to tear the wrappers. Not at all a cheep perfunctonary gift that nobody ever asks for. Just an oval shaped piece of heaven.
I was such a good girl. I didn't even touch it. Then the next day my boyfriend opens the egg and lets out a scent of chocolate my way. He looks at me and asks: "Do you want one?" Do you want one? Is he freaking kidding me?
I was lost and the addiction came back. But I didn't really understand how serious it was until today. When I went through the last remains of the egg and found three pieces of the disgusting chocolate still there. You know the hardened jell-o and marzipan pieces that no one really likes. And as one piece of my brain concluded that I hate marzipan the other part of the brain kept insisting on the importance of; covered in chocolate, covered in chocolate. It all ended with a see through egg, filled with brown paper wrappers and one girl who never knew what hit her.
Like that. The truth. The ugly truth about the habit that I apparently can not kick. Chocolate is my heroin. Simple as that.
I stopped eating chocolate for two weeks. Two whole weeks. It is hard for anyone to comprehend the nature of the situation. The nervous eye twitch, the biting of nails, the self delusions I suffered. Until time did its thing and I realized that I didn't need it anymore.
Then comes Easter.
Big Easter egg. Chocolate dreamboat. The best kinds of chocolate in a see trough delight. The kind of chocolate that melts in your mouth before you even get around to tear the wrappers. Not at all a cheep perfunctonary gift that nobody ever asks for. Just an oval shaped piece of heaven.
I was such a good girl. I didn't even touch it. Then the next day my boyfriend opens the egg and lets out a scent of chocolate my way. He looks at me and asks: "Do you want one?" Do you want one? Is he freaking kidding me?
I was lost and the addiction came back. But I didn't really understand how serious it was until today. When I went through the last remains of the egg and found three pieces of the disgusting chocolate still there. You know the hardened jell-o and marzipan pieces that no one really likes. And as one piece of my brain concluded that I hate marzipan the other part of the brain kept insisting on the importance of; covered in chocolate, covered in chocolate. It all ended with a see through egg, filled with brown paper wrappers and one girl who never knew what hit her.
onsdag, april 12, 2006
Last Friday
My boyfriend knows a guy who works backstage at various concerts here in Malmö. He managed to get my boyfriend the drumsticks after the Morrissey concert last friday. Since my boyfriend is a drummer and a fan of Morrissey he thought that was a very nice perk to the whole concert.
The drumsticks are barely holding together and they smell kind of funny. But I appreciate sentiment.
The drumsticks are barely holding together and they smell kind of funny. But I appreciate sentiment.
måndag, april 10, 2006
lördag, april 08, 2006
Renee
My father is an accountant and he finished his studies a when he was around 23 years old. He got a job right out college at a company which he is now part-owner of. The lady that interviewed him for the position was called Renee.
Renee was an old lady who had lost her husband a few years back and she now claimed that his ghost was still living with her. Once when my parents were over for a visit and they were sitting in her living room, small talking, she stopped in mid-sentence and smiled. "Now there is four people in the room" she had stated calmly. Very serious and matter of factly.
At the interview Renee asked my father for the date and time of his birth. He found it odd but gave the information to her. Months after he had started working she told him that the information he'd given her had been of signifigance to his employment. She had found that at the time of my father's birth the right planets had been aligned in the right way (though I'm sure she put it more adequate than that). That's why he got the job.
About one or two years after he had started the job I was born. It had happened really sudden, and a good one or two weeks before the predicted time and my father had to go straight from the hospital to his job, leaving a much smaller version of myself and my mother at the hospital. He was alone when he got there. Or so he thought. Because all of a sudden, Renee appeared in the doorway. "Congratulations to the new baby girl," she said, smiled at his perplexed reaction and then went away.
Years later my father and a co-worker was at a business trip in Norway and decided to take a tour at their spare time. The tour lady had turned out to be the splitting image of their now retired co-worker Renee, a resemblance so evident they both brought it up on their way back to the hotel. Later that same day, their boss, and moreover an old friend of Renee, callled my father to check in on something work related. Before he hung up he said he had some tragic news to deliver as well. Renee had passed away a few hours ago.
I've heard these stories since I was very young. My mother brought me by my father's office once when I was just a baby. Renee looked at me and told my parents her prediction of my future. A very strong statement that I prefer to keep to myself. I have never been able to decide if I should believe it or not. If she really knew these things or if she was just plain crazy. I'm not closed to such thoughts but I am extremely sceptic.
My father doesn't believe in such things, he's an accountant for cying out loud. Numbers and facts are his religion. Renee made him doubt his beliefs though. And I guess for myself, I will always wonder, unless her prediction comes true. That would be neat.
Renee was an old lady who had lost her husband a few years back and she now claimed that his ghost was still living with her. Once when my parents were over for a visit and they were sitting in her living room, small talking, she stopped in mid-sentence and smiled. "Now there is four people in the room" she had stated calmly. Very serious and matter of factly.
At the interview Renee asked my father for the date and time of his birth. He found it odd but gave the information to her. Months after he had started working she told him that the information he'd given her had been of signifigance to his employment. She had found that at the time of my father's birth the right planets had been aligned in the right way (though I'm sure she put it more adequate than that). That's why he got the job.
About one or two years after he had started the job I was born. It had happened really sudden, and a good one or two weeks before the predicted time and my father had to go straight from the hospital to his job, leaving a much smaller version of myself and my mother at the hospital. He was alone when he got there. Or so he thought. Because all of a sudden, Renee appeared in the doorway. "Congratulations to the new baby girl," she said, smiled at his perplexed reaction and then went away.
Years later my father and a co-worker was at a business trip in Norway and decided to take a tour at their spare time. The tour lady had turned out to be the splitting image of their now retired co-worker Renee, a resemblance so evident they both brought it up on their way back to the hotel. Later that same day, their boss, and moreover an old friend of Renee, callled my father to check in on something work related. Before he hung up he said he had some tragic news to deliver as well. Renee had passed away a few hours ago.
I've heard these stories since I was very young. My mother brought me by my father's office once when I was just a baby. Renee looked at me and told my parents her prediction of my future. A very strong statement that I prefer to keep to myself. I have never been able to decide if I should believe it or not. If she really knew these things or if she was just plain crazy. I'm not closed to such thoughts but I am extremely sceptic.
My father doesn't believe in such things, he's an accountant for cying out loud. Numbers and facts are his religion. Renee made him doubt his beliefs though. And I guess for myself, I will always wonder, unless her prediction comes true. That would be neat.
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