In the dark on the train. I've let go of the transportation issue. Yes it is inconvenient. No it won't be changing in the near future. Get on with it.
I have a list of things to get on with. I've had a few days now of impotent anger and futile emotion. It comes from not knowing or understanding the "Why". Why must the world work contradictory from what one believes or supposes, or even what one has learned? Why does the bad guy win? Why does the skinny girl get to be popular and not the smart one? Why does money rule and not common sense?
All the why and how and WHAT?!
Once again, I am engaged in a discussion as to why I don't speak Danish. I met someone new at work so of course, without fail, it becomes a short lived curiosity quelled with disappointed and indignant looks. I don't expect anything better really. I am compared to every example anyone has experienced and I fall short. Iv'e been called lazy, stupid, typical american (or english speaker), manipulative and expressions I didn't understand and don't remember now. It's personal.
When I meet people and they turn off and away and into Danish it feels personal. I'm told time and time again that it isn't. I don't know how to be impersonal when I'm interacting with a person. I suppose I would fit in better if I treated people like objects to maneuver around, don't take it personal, its just a bus driver, just a grocery clerk, just a pedestrian, just a co-worker.
It makes me feel like when I was five and my best friend invited me over to spend the night at her house, a huge mansion.. I remember my mom pulling into their drive to drop me off and how uncomfortable she was. It was just an amazing, huge structure in my eyes and I knew there would be no running inside and many other rules but really, for the most part, I didn't think of it. The arrangement was for one parent to deliver the child (me) and the other to return, share the responsibility. I was so excited to be spending the night over at Amy's. I remember having a fun time, and going to school on monday. I remember she didnt talk to me all day though we were in the same class and usually played together during recess. I thought I had done something wrong and she didn't like me anymore.
I suppose I never would have found out if she had not liked me as much as she did and gone againts her parents. No she wasn't mad at me and no, I didn't hurt her feelings. She was sorry but she was not to talk or play with me anymore because my parents didn't make enough money. I was too poor to play with and I didn't understand what it had to do with me. I cried when I got home and told my mom even though I didnt understand what the problem was. I didn't know then and I now that I do, I still don't see the problem.
I don't speak Danish, and yes I have been living in Denmark for a long time but I don't understand why I'm looked down on, less of a person, not worthy of conversation. I only know I can see it when I meet people and I can feel it when I open my mouth. I have had conversations with people that have very little english or none at all and have enjoyed the pantomime and excitement from simply wanting to interact. It's irrelevent to strangers why I don't, or can't when I explain my efforts to learn it; 2 schools and 3 private tutors in the span of 9 years. It's not that I haven't made the effort, it is that I didn't succeed, or maybe it's easier to disregard those outside the heavily guarded circle. In the end, it is simply taken as an excuse and I'm somehow less.
Because of previous choices and current situations, picking up and moving back to the U.S. isn't that easy. I don't think I could ask that of my husband, put him in my shoes so I can be more comfortable. I would fit in but he might stick out, might have the same problems and struggles. He would have to go without family, without hearing and using his own language, leave his friends behind, his whole country...
No, it's not that easy anymore. And all the while I can hear the chant: "Now you have to learn Danish", "just learn it", " bare, lige, det er kun"...
End of the line.