Petrol in a Puddle

Inactive

2011-12-03T20:37:00.001+01:00

Well... I think we can all agree that there's not much going on here. I refuse to take this blog offline though. I keep planning to write stuff and I have documents full of half-formed ideas, it just never really happens. I am going to keep the blog, and if I ever post I'll link to it on Facebook or something I guess. My dad keeps telling me I can't have a blog if I'm not going to update it regularly. To that I say: Oh yeah? Watch me.

The man in my neighbourhood

2011-07-10T15:52:00.001+02:00

There's a fascinating man in my neighbourhood.

It is, of course, entirely possible that there are several fascinating men in my neighbourhood, but I don't know about them. I know about this one. He walks very slowly. It doesn't look like it's caused by a handicap of any sort. He just... saunters. Slowly. And he observes things, or it looks like he does. Possibly his mind is just very preoccupied. He often stops at the most random places (to me, anyway). and he just stands there, apparently doing nothing at all and apparently giving a fiddler's fart what other people think about that. And enjoying it. I think.

It's rather calming, really. I wonder if he is calm. He looks calm. He looks completely and utterly serene.

And I wonder if he's all there. Isn't it strange how his behaviour should make me think he is senile or somehow mentally challenged? Isn't that rather sad? He doesn't bother anyone. In fact, he makes me smile when I see him (he doesn't seem to see me). He is clean and shaven and well-dressed and all sorts of proper to the outward eye, and sometimes I have wanted to talk to him, but I never do. He doesn't strike me as the small-talking type. Even if he was, I don't know if I want to talk to him. I don't want to disturb him. I just like seeing him around.

I never saw him this winter, and I was afraid something might have happened to him - he's rather old. I realised that I missed him, even though I've never spoken to him. I don't know whether that is pathetic or kind of nice. I think I'm gonna go with the last alternative. He's back now, though; I've seen him every day lately. Maybe he just likes spring and summer better, like I do. I smiled at him the other day, but he didn't see me; he was looking at a tree. I hope he's happy.

Belated bragging

2011-06-28T22:01:00.007+02:00

I ROCK as a daughter! Look what I did for my mother's birthday in May (yes, I blog way too seldom. Sue me).

These are the presents from my sister, her boyfriend and me. I wrapped them up and decorated them with pretty little ribbons in cute colours that I thought my mom would appreciate. She did.

She wanted a medium-sized suitcase, and I thought this apple (or is it olive?) green color fit her well. It's supposed to be a good one anyway. And it has a five year warranty, which can always come in handy, I guess.

She also needed a frying pan. I came over this amazingly cute pink one with red dots, and I couldn't help myself.

Wow. I'm not usually one to blog about these kinds of things. My cousin does, and many others with her. They're home-makers, and clever ones, too. I'm not, and I never will be. I've never been "housewife material" - I never wanted to be. On principle, I think. I refused to even try for things like that; the things that have traditionally been considered feminine, or at least in the female domain. I have always hated it when I felt like I could fit into a stereotype. But I'm growing up.

I brought her coffee in bed at 5:50 in the morning! I never get up at 5:50 in the morning. I never get up in the morning at all, really. More often it's closer to noon by the time I hit the shower.

I made lasagna with salad and garlic bread, and I set and decorated the table. Like THIS:

Isn't it pretty?! Isn't it?! YES IT IS (Sometimes it's better to answer your own questions, so you're sure you get the right answer). My grandmother came over together with my brother and his family. It was a nice day, I think.

And here's the dessert!

She deserves it though, my mother does. She should have parties thrown for her more often, because she's one of the greatest women alive, I'm pretty sure.

She wanted to go abroad with the whole family for her birthday, but we were all busy in May, so the trip was postponed until June. We went to Spain together, and it was fantastic. My mother gave us all the tickets for Christmas - another reason she should be celebrated way more often; she is (sometimes too) generous. I should put some pics out here from that trip, so I can show everyone just how fantastic it was.

All dressed up

2011-05-18T22:21:00.004+02:00

Yesterday was Norway's National Day, our Constitution Day. I thought I looked real pretty in my bunad*, so I thought I'd show you. And my grandmother's flowers all look so happy and hopeful! The view behind me is Jæren (the rural area where I grew up) on a spring day. Yay for Norway! And yay for spring!!

* This specific apparell that I'm wearing has not been approved as an official 'bunad' as it was created in more recent years, but it is based on the bunad-principle, imitating the folk costume based on old-time garments. Also, it's still just as expensive... Its embroideries and patterns are meant to symbolise Jæren. I'm betting it will be qualified for bunad-status in not too long. ;)

Footsteps in sand in fog

2011-04-30T18:26:00.003+02:00

It kinda looks like I edited and removed the colours. I didn't.

Fog

2011-04-28T04:15:00.005+02:00

See if you can spot the sun. It is there.

Ølberg Sunset

2011-04-25T14:04:00.000+02:00

Ølberg beach, April 2011

Brave lillies

2011-03-27T13:21:00.000+02:00

The first flowers I spotted on my street. There was still snow on the sidewalk outside this unkempt "garden."

Just to keep things going...

2011-03-01T16:43:00.000+01:00

I think I'm going to keep posting pictures instead of words for a while. Because nowadays I seem to have more of them. I guess if it's true that a picture says more than a thousand words, that must count for something. At least I won't forget I have a blog. I like Blogger.com's terms of service better than Facebook's for pictures, so I might as well put them here. I also like the ocean better than a lot of other things, so many of the pictures will be sliiightly influenced by that.

So here's one to begin with. Taken at Reve beach, August 2010:

A blog in the dressing room

2011-02-09T15:59:00.006+01:00

Because of my reduced eyesight I often use audiobooks. During spring and summer I often go for walks while I "read." Lately, however, this has not been tempting, not only because of the cold, but because of the icy roads making it difficult to move around. So lately while listening to my books (of course after finishing all the useful things such as dishes, dusting and laundry... heheh) I have started messing around with color combinations and some very simple graphics. I've never had any instruction and I'm not good at it, but it's fun. So if the layout on this blog randomly changes, that's just me experimenting while I read. There's little activity here otherwise, though. Maybe if I finally think I have a really pretty blog, I'll become inspired and actually start writing stuff in it.

Well, so much for that resolution

2011-01-20T17:50:00.001+01:00

I ate the rest of the chillinuts.

Going nuts on chilli

2011-01-19T21:39:00.000+01:00

You know how there was a great big bag of chillinuts in the kitchen drawer? No, you don't; you don't live here. Although now that I told you, you do. Well, it's not there anymore. That is, it's there, but it's almost empty. And I have no one else to blame, since I was alone all evening. Dammit! Do you know what eating almost an entire bag of chillinuts does to one's digestive system? Hopefully (for your sake) you don't. And I'm not gonna tell you either, cause I was raised better than that. I'm not gonna eat chillinuts again for a looong time.

Right, then...

2011-01-17T13:25:00.004+01:00

All right, so where were we? Oh, right, we were nowhere, because I haven't updated since September. Right then, let's get on with it.

I just used the word "right" three times in less than two lines. That's just not right.

Today I got the message that I can rent this place for another year. That will be the third year I stay here, which will be the longest period I've lived anywhere since I left home twelve years ago Settle down? I know not this term of which you speak. It will be nice, though. I decided to fix the things I have been putting off fixing, since now I know I'll be able to actually enjoy their state of... fixedness.

What? Am I supposed to use words in their right meaning? What am I, an English student or something?

Oh, right.

Wordless Watery Sepia Wednesday

2010-09-08T18:44:00.010+02:00

(See Sepia Scenes, Watery Wednesday and Wordless Wednesday)

I guess I'm a trivialist. Or something.

2010-09-06T14:22:00.000+02:00

There's not much going on here, really, is there? When I occasionally do blog, it's mostly just a photo with a half-assed attempt at a clever comment. That is because whatever I write comes out sounding like a bad sitcom or drama show. You know, the kind where there are some "deeper" observations about life towards the ending, summing up the main message of the episode.

I do like sitcoms and drama shows, though. Even the bad ones, sometimes. Maybe I should just get over myself and write what I know, however trivial it might be.

Oh well. Until then, enjoy September!

A Tribute to the Summer of 2010 - part 2

2010-08-21T13:26:00.004+02:00

I think summer felt bad when it saw my autumn-post. It came back! I hope it's planning to hang around for a little while longer after all.

The two mermaids on the pic there is me and my dad's girlfriend. She is one of the few people who go in the water with me.

My first swim in the ocean was on the first of June. Some of my friends had their first dip in the water last weekend. Most of them still haven't been in. I can not for the life of me grasp that. It is one of the best things in the world. I am determined that I am not done for the season yet. Last week I went swimming despite cloudy skies and rain. I should keep it up for as long as I can, I think.

A Tribute to the Summer of 2010 - part 1

2010-08-20T22:16:00.004+02:00

To me, this first picture is one of the ultimate summer photos. I know it's not of anything in particular - it's nothing fancy. There is no ingenious angle or lighting or anything like that. I shot it mostly, I suppose, because of the bright colours. Still, to me, it reflects a lot of (and about) summer. There is colour, there is light, there are a few drinks, and there is the dress on the girl you can just glimpse on the other side of the table.

First Fall (of) Rain

2010-08-19T17:55:00.005+02:00

(I promised pics to some of you, and they will come, just not right away)

Well, summer is over. It seemed to experience some cramps there at the end; last weekend was marvellous. I think it really wished it could stay. So did I. It hesitated for a few days until it left. Yesterday it was as if autumn had been waiting, tip-toeing just outside the door, and now it noisily barged in, very inelegant, but very determined to make its presence known. "It's my turn now, goddammit!"

It's not cold yet, but it's chilly. In Kristiansand it's raining like a cow pissing on a flat rock (I just learned that expression and I really wanted to use it. Evidently its a cliché. I never heard it before, probably because I'm Norwegian). Yesterday a woman told me "I swear, If I just had a bottle of shampoo I could have washed my hair on my way over here!" I liked her way of wording it. She was laughing. I, on the other hand, was pissed off (and pissed on, too, if you take seriously the image of the cow). And soaked. I had a singing gig , but my shoes were so wet I had to take them off. So on stage I opened with the line: "I'm only wearing socks today, because I'm half blind and so I stepped in every puddle of water between here and the other side of town." They laughed (which, of course, was intended, but I was still pissed off). My shoes were still wet when I put them on to go back home.

I did have an umbrella, and a raincoat. My rubber boots are missing, though; someone threw them away. That's what happens when you move nine times in the course of eleven years, and sometimes leave stuff (supposedly temporarily) in the care of your old roommates with whom you expect to still be acquainted. They throw away your boots.

What's up with me and the weather? I bet I could make a new label on weather and that would top the list of blog posts. If I didn't know myself better, I'd say I was superficial.

Sepia birdie

2010-06-30T18:15:00.006+02:00

A little worried but hungry birdie just before it dared to snatch a piece of bread.

For more pictures in sepia visit Sepia Scenes.

Glimpses of June

2010-06-29T15:54:00.028+02:00

Hmmmm.

So I thought that summer would afford me more time to catch up on things like this blog. Now June is over already, and the only post I made was a video (although that is definitely worth watching/listening to). But I'm not sorry. June has been incredible, and if I had to prioritize all over again, I would mostly make the same choices regarding how to spend my time.

These were some of the best moments in June:
(I am also adding this post as my entry to this week's Ruby Tuesday, because I'm proud of the pics and the fact that I finally blogged. Not every photo has something red in it, but some do!)

On the first of the month we were a few people who took a trip to an island outside Kristiansand. The view from the top of the island was amazing

Below is an attempt to take with me home the fairy-tale feeling I often get whenever I'm in a forest during summer. The leaves cover the paths like a roof, and... Well, you all know how it usually creates this dusky light that shimmers all over and is cool. I failed at capturing it, but it's still a nice and calm little picture.

I like it when I catch people off-guard and it makes a nice photo of them - sometimes even a portrait. This one is of my friend looking contemplative, the light of the sunset on his face. I was sitting at the dock with my feet dangling just above the water. I love summer-nights. Look at the pretty sunset!

This next picture I just thought was very cute; three generations having a quiet time reading. We had a really cozy time on that couch. (Baby's face is blurred in respect for parents' wishes).

We took a drive with my grandmother to put flowers on my grandfather's one month old grave. It was sad, but nice.

Jæren is the perfect place for peaceful Sunday drives or walks.

The second (below) picture was taken during Easter, before the grass turned all pretty and green. I just thought it illustrated the area nicely and wanted to put it in here.

About twenty minutes from where I live in Kristiansand is this little beach, which one evening I found I had all to myself.

Normally there are more people around in that area during summer. It is one of my favourite places regardless of the seasons. It's windy, but very beautiful. And, well... It's the ocean. It's supposed to be windy. These last few weeks it has still been warm enough that we could sunbathe and swim. So of course I do that. Several times a week.

This is Matilde (And here I mean the below photo - not the above; that's Martin). She is smiling at me; I think she likes my humour (Matilde, not Martin - although I hope Martin does too). I can't wait to get to know her. I'm pretty sure she will grow up to be an awesome girl, just like her mommy, who is my best friend (and who also likes my humour I think... God, I hope she's not just pretending).

Yesterday I spent the whole day outdoors, all by myself, even without my mp3-player (may it rest in peace). I did have Bente on the phone for quite a while though. We talk for free, and she was sick - and envious of me. She was right to be; it was lovely.

I don't know how to express my love for summer and the ocean in words. I have tried several times, but never succeeded. I hope the inspiration will come one day and that I will write a truly wonderful song about it that can explain exactly how great I think it is. For now I'll just enjoy it. Have a great summer, everyone!

Sir Ken Robinson

2010-06-16T23:42:00.005+02:00

If you have 18-20 minutes, take a look at this guy. Or rather; have a listen. He is awesome. His name is Ken Robinson, and he is a specialist in creativity. He talks about education in a really entertaining and refreshing way. I wish I had additional thoughts to add in here, but his stories and points are good enough that I'll just leave you with him as he is.

No, I would not, but thank you anyway.

2010-05-30T17:48:00.007+02:00

The term is over, the term paper turned in, and I finally have the time to do things I have been obliged to put off for months. I started reading a novel I've wanted to read for ages; Daniel Defoe's The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the famous Moll Flanders (I'm betting none of my friends who know what I'm writing about, and what that book is about, can ever guess why I want to read it). I also borrowed Prison Break from Ørjan quite a while back and only now got the chance to start watching it. Which, by the way, was probably a good thing, because it's addicting as hell and I'm hooked. I have several more books lying around, and several more things I want to watch. I also have lots of things I want to do this summer, people to see, places to go. I think it would take a lot for me to get bored this summer. But then it usually does. I am very rarely bored.

The people at the gas station across the street are doing this weird thing these days where they have to ask every single customer if they would also like a burger and a coke for 79 kroners along with whatever they buy. If they forget to ask, the customer gets a burger and coke for free. Of course they never forget to ask. And so several times a week (whenver I have forgotten to buy something at the store) I have to reply with a negative to the question of whether I would like a burger and a coke . It is very frustrating. They are forcing me to lie. I have to stop forgetting things, so I won't have to go there anymore.

A winter coat on the rocks! (shaken, not stirred)

2010-05-03T21:13:00.007+02:00

For me, the first day of spring this year was Wednesday March 24th. It was the first time since September that I could remove my winter coat outside, and not feel too cold.

Of course there has been several ice cold days since that (there is a quote that I don't remember about the weather in April and the moods of women. I suppose it's a Norwegian one. I can't find it though. Anyone know it?) - in fact it even snowed on the very next day - but I knew, then, that spring was on its way.

I didn't have anything particularly important to do that afternoon, so I walked to the ocean to see if I could sit even there without my coat, or if that would be too windy.

I sat there for a while. It worked just fine. It made me feel so happy, even sort of triumphant (isn't that funny; as if it was my doing). Norway is so dark in the winter. Now I knew brighter times were on the doorstep. I was dying to prove it to everyone, so I put the (red) coat on the rocks and took pictures, planning to post them on my blog. Then I was distracted by life (silly life), and never quite got to it. Spring is definitely here now, and has been for a few weeks (although people still complain, but they always will). I still want to post the pictures, because they were the first lovely proof that I shot. And also because they make a nice contribution to this weeek's Ruby Tuesday, hosted by Mary T at Work of the Poet.

Weeeeeeeeee!!!!

Windy Sepia

2010-04-20T21:44:00.008+02:00

I grew up in the south-western part of Norway, on the countryside, by the coast. It is a very windy area. So much so, that people have made jokes about it. And poems.

This photo was taken not too far from where I grew up, only a bit closer to the ocean.

The trees tell their life story in this picture. At the time it was shot, there was no wind.

(This was my contribution to this week's Sepia Scenes. Click to see other entries!)

An apertif

2010-04-19T06:29:00.005+02:00

I keep putting off blogging in favour of other things. To be fair (to myself), I have handed in an essay and held a presentation, so it's not like I haven't been prioritising at least somewhat correctly. Although I doubt watching two episodes of "Colin and Justin's Home Heist" is really considered correct prioritising. Unless you're an interior designer.

I was planning to do a series of pictures from Jæren during Easter. It was lovely to spend time by the ocean. I think I got some nice shots. But since that takes a bit of time (at least some editing and organizing as well as the actual post), I am putting that off for a bit longer.

However, mommy told me I had to blog. And I am a very dutiful and obedient daughter. So here is a little sample:

Ruby Tuesday - Flower!

2010-03-01T22:23:00.003+01:00

I have no idea what kind of flower this is, but it's pretty, isn't it? It reminds me a little of red lillies, or amaryllis. And it's red, so it does well as an entry for this week's Ruby Tuesday. We found it in Spain. Anyone have an idea?

The somewhat less red, but still very pretty "flower" beside it, is my sister. Actually, I don't really know whether she's pretending to be a flower or if it's a butterfly she's imitating. She does love butterflies. I can't keep myself from imagining her fluttering off into the shrubbery. Most likely she's not thinking of either; she's just striking a pose. She's good at that. Usually. Anyway, gotta love them - her and the flower!

Our Sleep-talking Kitty

2010-03-01T08:23:00.004+01:00

Our cat talks in her sleep. My sister told me about it before, but I always thought it was just the occasional sleepy "don't disturb"-sound. This is something else entirely. She responds to my sister's coughing and/or sharp intakes of breath. Not to mine. I tried to do the same, but there was no reaction. I have no idea why. The only reason I can come up with is that there might be some sort of high-pitched noise coming from my sister's lungs or something? Beats me.

Anyway, it's cute, and it makes me smile. So I uploaded a little video yesterday. You might wanna crank up the volume a liittle. It's more muttering than talking, really. Anyway, check it out:

Chaos and monotony

2010-02-28T17:29:00.000+01:00

I suppose it's time to update this thing again.

There are so many things I could write about, and so many pictures I'd like to share. It's numbing, in a way. Like shopping at "Maxi," which is one of the largest grocery-store types in Norway. It's like... only a fraction of American Costco and I still find it paralyzing.

The trip to Tenerife was amazing. Magical, like in a dream. I've had so many great experiences lately, and so many impressions. The result has been an avalanche of thoughts, questions and ideas that all remain unfinished. Chaos, but very enjoyable chaos. And lots of energy. I made some decisions, initiated some changes, and I basically felt revived in every sense of the word.

Then I came back to Kristiansand. It's very quiet here. I guess I needed the contrast a little, at least for a while, but it's not only chaos or great variety that has a tendency to lame me. Monotony does as well. I need to make sure that doesn't happen. I have made a new friend, though. Which is nice. And my best friend's pregnant tummy has gotten huge while I was away! It's surreal. Another surreal thing is the amount of snow outside. They drove away loads of snow a couple of days ago, but before that the piles outside my building were as tall as trees. No kidding.

I also managed to fix the digital decoder so that I now have a ridiculous amount of tv-channels. I don't think that's very wise, though, not really. Not for a girl like me, having lived without a tv-signal for six years on end. I am well aware of my (sometimes unfortunate) inclination towards the illusory; constantly popping away from reality and playing around in my air castles. As my mother says, I have "a rich inner life." The price of creativity, I suppose. The price and the prize. :) But at any rate a good reason to discipline myself when it comes to tv-routines.

God, I'm horrible at disciplining myself.

I've been good today, though. I studied quite a lot, did the dishes, dusted, and now I blogged. I deserve a pet on the head. Yes, I do. I'm gonna go pet myself on the head now. See you later.

Looking at the sky

2010-01-29T19:57:00.007+01:00

This photo of me staring at the sunset was taken by my sister a few years back.

In fact, that day was Queen Sonja of Norway's 70th birthday. I remember because I made fun of myself after saying "Looking at sunsets like this makes you wanna sing hymns." My mother never liked it when people talk like that. "It makes you want to..." or "One is tempted to..." And I agree with her, really. If you mean I, say I, not "you" or "one."

It is an old tradition in Norway, however, for royalty to speak like that. It's passing now, but it was very normal in earlier days. Queen Sonja does it still occasionally, and she did it in the interview we watched that evening. She talked about herself in third person. "One enjoys spending time with one's family."

One does. I mean I do. And that was what we were doing that evening. My mother, my sister, my brother and I, by the ocean. It is one of my most cherished memories.

I love the sunset by the ocean. Or anywhere for that matter, but especially by the ocean.

(Go to CrAzY Working Mom's meme Looking @ The Sky on Friday for more upward views)

Shovelling!

2010-01-25T19:22:00.004+01:00

Before Christmas, on the evening the first load of snow arrived, my neighbours were out visiting friends. The air was thick with snow all night, so when they came back home, we - nice and helpful as we are - popped out to give them a hand in getting their car to the garage. Ørjan and I used hands, feet, and whatever else we could get our hands on, to remove as much snow as possible from the driveway. Mom and sis found their cameras. I thought, for those of my friends who live in warmer climates, that it might be fun to see. So here's a little comic-strip for you. That's me in the red coat.

I think they were grateful. And we (or at least I) actually quite enjoyed it. I loved having a white Christmas.

It's enough now, though. I'd like spring now, please. Thanks in advance.

(For more pictures of anything red, go to Mary T's Ruby Tuesday!)

A Sepia Kiss

2010-01-13T16:54:00.002+01:00

This is my entry for this week's Sepia Scenes. I wanted to try and go for the old style blurry frame with sort of an almost faded glow to it. I'm not really overjoyed with the result, but it did turn out to be kind of a nice picture still. They're cute, aren't they?

Haha!

2010-01-09T19:12:00.002+01:00

I was just out on the balcony, and someone walked by on the street below me and (thinking they were alone, I assume) farted really loudly. It made my day better.

Sepia Scenes #65

2010-01-06T19:46:00.003+01:00

This is my addition to this week's Sepia Scenes. My sister comforting my nephew.

Man, it's cold.

2010-01-05T20:15:00.002+01:00

Before I moved here I wrote a post where I listed signs that you've been alone for too long. It has worked much better than I had feared. But you know you've been social for too long when two or more of the signs from that list occur within less than two days after coming back home from Christmas holiday.

Also: You know it's too cold when some lady who thinks herself locked out goes ballistic, starts pressing all the doorbells in the building, yelling and screaming hysterically, and then when she's let in tears down the notice that reads "Lock broken. Use the back entrance" and rips it to shreads while crying loudly.

On the train

2010-01-04T21:15:00.003+01:00

So this is what 2010 is like. So far, so good.

Christmas was wonderful, as always. Good times, good people, good conversations. Good food. I feel bloated now, and poor. But I supppose that is what the start of January is supposed to be like. Normally this is the worst time of the year for me. The fun is over and all that's left are two months of cold, dark moderation; spring seems eons away. This year, however, it's different. As a Christmas present my sister and I got a trip with our mother to Tenerife (thank you, mom!), which means warm weather and sunshine. I have that to look forward to. I have a little nephew who will be baptised in March. I have a nice place to live. And I am very curious about the course I'm taking this semester; it seems incredibly interesting.

It is sad – of course; it always is – when something good ends. But we made some great memories. And I took some nice pictures. I finally have a photo camera again (thank you, dad!), so now – hopefully – I can post some of my own shots now and then. I got a lot of great presents. And I gave some, too. Christmas is expensive! And fattening. I need to lose weight fast as hell if I am to wear a bathing suit in a month. Dangit.

So I'm staring out the train window at the black shadows of trees against the dark blue sky and the snow behind them. It must be freezing in my apartment now. I'll have to huddle up under a blanket with my hot water bottle while I try to heat it up. I'll have to take down the Christmas ornaments and change all the red candles for white ones. I'll have to go to the grocery store and find some cheap and healthy food (if I can find anything fitting that combination). I'll have to log on to my school's website, get an overview and pay the tuition fee. I'll have to do some laundry.

But I can watch tv and listen to my audio-book or play music and write. I can make myself a nice salad or edit and play around with the new pictures on photoshop. I can bombard people with messages on facebook, read up on the blogs I have missed lately and surf the web in general. And I can light candles and hum hymns and daydream on the couch. I will be cold. And I will be alone. And that's okay.

And then I'll get to see my friends again. Thursday is the first day of school and then service where Øyvind is back from Vietnam, and after the weekend Lene will be back in town.

I'll be fine. And I will be sooo healthy this month! But I still have two 'Reese's Peanut Butter Cups' that mom put in my purse. I need to eat them. Yes. I do. Vacation isn't over until this train-ride is.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2009-11-26T01:51:00.003+01:00

I know, I know. Celebrating Thanksgiving Day on the fourth Thursday of November is mainly an American tradition. In Canada they celebrate it in October. We don't really celebrate in Europe at all. We should. We do have a particular Sunday in the Church year that marks gratitude for the harvest, but that's it.

And though the holiday has developed into a more secular one in the States, and is often connected to the country's history and even its National pride, it is still about giving thanks, not only for the year's harvest and for a great country, but for all good things. And why should not Europe have a similar holiday? We adopt all kinds of other American ones, like Valentine's Day and Halloween (granted, Halloween has its roots in Ireland, but you know what I mean).

It's a great notion, to give thanks. Whether or not one believes in a God, gratitude is healthy, and being conscious of what we have makes us happy! Happy thoughts create happy thoughts! Yay!

Ok, I'll calm down now. I've made my point.

To create my own little Thanksgiving celebration, I decided to make a list of things I'm grateful for. It was a challenge. Not because there are few things, but because there are so many! I could go on for ages. Which would be all well and good enough for me – it's rather therapeutic I can tell you – but it wouldn't make a good blog post. So I started generalising. Instead of naming all the people I love, I wrote "friends and family." But then, after a while, all kinds of different aspects and things could be generalised into categories. So all the types of food I'm thankful for or all the things in nature etc, became "food, nature, music, humour." Very boring. Everyone loves those things, it's a given; no need to write it down, really. So then I tried to think of things that are very current and very potent right now. Which worked, but I missed some of the other things.

In the end I decided to name a selection of things I am thankful for, in no particular order. I hereby point out that I am not necessarily less thankful for whatever is left out. (People, however, are just all put in categories, because they have feelings. Food items, as far as I know, do not. Unless they are, say, a chicken that has not been killed yet. Although in that case the chicken would probably be appalled to be put on the list as something I'd like to eat, so his feelings wouldn't get hurt if he was left out.)

Dangit, now I've used up my readers' concentration already. No one will read the list anyway. Oh well, it was a good exercise!

These are some things that I am grateful for:

My family. They are a great bunch.
My friends and other loved ones
Toilet paper (just to re-establish the "no particular order" thing)
I have one exam down. I think it went okay!
Birdies!
Pasta
Movies and books. Stories in general, really
People like it when I sing
Soft things
I laugh a lot
Make-up
Feta cheese
Kittens!
This autumn turned out so very much better than I had feared
My computer (computers in general), and the internet
The sound of rain (yeah, I know. I hate rain, but I like the sound of it. Go figure)
I'm an aunt!
My imagination
I don't live in Kongo. Or Iraq. Or Burma. Or Afghanistan. Or Palestine. Or Sri Lanka. Basically I'm thankful for living in a free and rich country.
Glasses
Owls
Chocolate
I've gotten so much better about taking the bus (...there'll be a post about that some other time - I started it, but never finished)
The Cookie-monster
Christmas is coming!
Funny (and bad) words and sounds
Victorian stuff (I know "stuff" is an inelegant word in that regard, but it covers a lot)
Sleep
My best friend is gonna have a baby girl!
The ocean
Wine (and beer. Wine just sounds more sophisticated)
Laughter
My mom gave me the coolest dress ever to wear for Christmas! And another one just because it was pretty and she's nice
Wind
Red lillies
Candles
I am easily entertained and/or fascinated
Hot water bottles
There is a church just across the road from my balcony and it has a pretty lighted white cross that looks really cool against the sky when it's dark. And even cooler when it's foggy.
Glittery things!
The Norwegian Audio- and Brail Library
Some people actually bother to keep reading all the crap I write in this blog
Cellphones
I had a great week
Wrought iron fences
Quotes
I'm good at mediating and communicating. Most of the time.
Tacos
I believe in many good things (some bad, too, but mostly good. I'm thankful for my ability to have faith)
Sunshine!
Evenings
I have so many things to be thankful for that I can't name them all, or it would take a quintuple bind novel which no one would read except me. And possibly my invisible friend, Laban. Whom I am also thankful for.

Sepia-sap and baby-babble

2009-11-04T16:10:00.009+01:00

Come Friday my nephew will be five weeks old.

I don't know him. I mean, I've seen him and held him and all. But I don't know him. I don't know who he will be. Of course I'm curious about that. But right now it doesn't matter. I love him deeply, regardless. I loved him ever since I knew about him. And that he would be living for nine months inside this girl who popped into our lives a few years ago, who now loves and lives with my little brother.

My little baby brother! All grown up. A daddy.

It's all a bit absurd, isn't it? These little people... Growing inside other people. And then coming out into this big, chaotic world and they're so vulnerable, so... defenseless. Like Denis Leary says: "This cold-sober, empty little vessel... waiting to be filled up with ingredients. (...) We can fill him up with anything. Love. Or hate. Or indifference."

What a responsibility.

This baby is lucky. He will be loved. He'll have great parents and a big family, with caring, attentive and lively relatives on all sides.

And he'll have the coolest aunts EVER. Seriously. We rock.

Friends of mine who were aunts have always annoyed me before. "Eeee, here's the latest photo/video/story/drawing by/of my nephew/niece! Isn't it just ADORABLE?!" "Oh, my nephew did this, my niece said that, I was with them this weekend, it was so great, I miss them, I love them" BLA BLA BLA.

But as soon as that first text message ticked in on my phone... and as soon as that first picture showed up on the display... I knew I would be just like that. And when my sister and I went outside the next morning, she said "Gee, it's chilly out today," and her eyes opened wide in shock and she exclaimed "Oh my god, I turned into an old aunt over night!"

He's the first grandchild. Here is my contribution to this week's Sepia Scenes.
Two proud grandparents, looking just as transfixed as I feel at this baby boy.

Studiously inactive

2009-11-02T20:16:00.013+01:00

I have actually had several ideas for blog posts lately. I have wanted to blog many times. However, I have been prevented from doing so by my own conscience, because writing anything other than an essay on Keats Ode on a Grecian Urn, would have made me feel guilty. I don't want to be a lazy student! I am, but I do not want to be. And so, since reading and writing takes a certain amount of energy from a visually impaired person like me, I try to prioritize what I spend that kind of energy doing.

Last week, I got the message that I passed the linguistics assignments. Today I handed in my essay, and I held my second presentation receiving surprisingly positive feedback. I'm completely wiped, but so proud and happy! Now - as long as they pass my essay, which I am fairly confident that they will - I am guaranteed a place for the final exams. I'll have to study my ass off for one of them, but I think I'm mostly in control regarding at least the most crucial material.

Right now I'm emptying my mind with a beer, watching junk on the telly while getting ready for bed. The sandman will be welcome tonight!

And on that note, I'll end this with one of my favorite lullabies, a duet featuring Danny Kaye and Barbara Bel Geddes; Lullaby in Ragtime. Here in a clip from the movie/musical The Five Pennies (Yes, I know. I'm a sucker for those oldies). Watch the whole thing or fast forward; it's even prettier when she joins in!

Life 101. Today's lesson:

2009-09-09T18:38:00.001+02:00

When you lose a bottle of wine in the hallway with a smash so loud that half the tenants poke their heads out, you automatically also lose: Two rolls of toilet-paper, two towels, two plastic bags, half a bottle of "Jif cleaner," and a great deal of coolness and composure.

I need a glass of wine now.

...Dammit!

Wherefore art thou Romeo?

2009-08-22T08:02:00.012+02:00

I was supposed to go see Romeo and Juliet yesterday. I didn't, for various reasons, but - even though I never liked it - it was not because I did not want to. I know; it is a grave sin for a dreamer like me to not feel giddy at the thought of the two star-crossed lovers. And I do appreciate Shakespeare as one of the greatest writers of all time. The language is truly beautiful. But I never liked the story. Or the characters. Actually, on the latter, I'm not sure that Shakespeare himself did, either.

To quote another character - one of my favourites, written by Liz:
"Usually, I am told how romantic it was, and when I do not agree, I am crucified as a hardhearted man. It was a waste of both lives for them to commit suicide. Even if they were that besotted with each other, which I find hard to believe could be possible in such a short time, did they have no love for anyone else? No sense of duty, at least? It was a poor repayment of their parents’ love during their childhood to not love them enough to stay alive.”

An eloquent way of expressing some of my sentiments on the subject.

I also worked in some of my take on it in a little piece of prose I did as part of the literary roleplay I've been doing for some time. I rarely - I don't think ever, so far? - post my own prose in this blog. I guess now is as good a time to start as any. Enjoy!

(Nora is a prostitute in the 19th century. I think that's basically all the background information you need .)

Sanctuary.

Nora was on the arm of one of her clients - or rather one of her clients’ son, because technically she had never really given him her intimate services and he had never paid her; his father had. It was dark, and the two of them were sitting on a bench in the theatre park, talking. It was an exception when this happened - Nora had few clients who really cared to converse very much with her - but then Tobias Green was exceptional in many ways, to his father’s great chagrin.
”I’m sorry. You can go home if you want to.” He was a thin man, not very tall - just about Nora’s height. His hair was brown with a red tint to it, his skin pale and soft, like a woman‘s, like the skin of an eager student. At the moment he was staring down in his lap, insecurely plucking the fabric of his trousers.
“I don’t,” Nora replied. “But thank you.” Waiting with him was the least she could do for the money his father gave her, and for the free play. He smiled and blushed furiously before he took off his glasses to polish them. She felt sorry for him. “Why would I want to go home?” she asked him warmly with a gentle touch of his shoulder. “The park is beautiful. The night is mild. And you have been so good to me. I’d much rather stay.” A shadow of a smile flashed over his lips, but he looked away, as if to hide it. “…if you don’t mind,” Nora added.
”No, no, I don’t... I don’t mind.” he muttered. He was uncomfortable around people. All people, but women in particular, it seemed. Or maybe it was just because she was a whore and he knew what he was supposed to do with her, and it bothered him. Because Nora was certain that he was not the type of man who would want a woman. He was the type of man - or boy, rather, because a boy was what he still was - who was attracted to other men. She could tell from his gestures, his voice, his way of interacting with others, but most of all she could tell from the way he looked at other men - and the way he did not look at her or other women. “Didy - ah… Did you enjoy the play?” he inquired, still fiddling with his glasses.
“Oh, yes! Yes, I always enjoy the theatre. It’s so magnificent and I feel like it is the only place where play-pretending is completely accepted, you know?” He looked at her with interest, but he did not really look like he knew. “But I thought they were silly, though. Those lovers.”
”Wh - Romeo and Juliet?”
“Yes.”
”You thought they were silly?”
“Yes. Childish. Selfish.”
He stared at her, wide-eyed, and put his glasses back on. She looked down, rather ashamed of herself. She shouldn’t be so honest all the time, it just made it apparent how stupid she really was. “I’m sorry.”
”Don’t be sorry. But… You did not find it romantic?”
“Oh… Was I supposed to?”
He laughed. ”Well, you are a woman. And it is Shakespeare!” She just looked at him, blankly.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. She had not meant to make him upset.
He studied her for a while, clearly with newfound curiosity. He seemed to relax a bit more now than before. ”Why?” he asked after a while, and Nora bit her lip. She couldn’t discuss art with such a learned man! She couldn’t discuss art at all!
“Why do I not find it romantic?”
”That too. But why are you sorry?”
“Oh!”
”Are you of the opinion that one should feel the same as everybody else, or one is wrong?”
Oh, hell. What had she gotten herself into this time?
“I… think that…” She tried to read him. Was he vexed with her? He looked calm, but many people did look calm even when they were angry. “No, not one. One is not wrong, but I usually am. I don’t know very much about… things. You, sir, you are probably right most of the time, even when you don’t think the same as everybody else. You seem very… knowledgeable.”
His hands had long since stopped fidgeting. Now they were lying still in his lap and he cocked his head at her, looking surprised and a little sad. ”Are you afraid of me?”
“Nono, I… No.”
”Yes, you are.”
“I… I’m sorry.”
”I assure you I am not a man to be feared. I am not like my father.”
“I… know. I’m sorry.”
”Please stop that.”
“I’m sor-… Um… Allright.”
”So why did you not find it romantic?" Now it was Nora’s turn to anxiously fiddle with the fabric of her clothing. ”Go on," he urged her. "I won‘t be offended, I just like to hear other people‘s opinions, and I‘ve never before met a woman who did not absolutely adore Romeo and Juliet.” Nora looked down and shook her head, cursing herself for ever having opened her mouth on the subject.
“I don‘t… know…”
“Please… Do try?” He had noticed that she was afraid and that seemed to make him feel more confident, because he took her hand and squeezed it. He knew what it meant to feel insecure and this was an opportunity for him to be the strong one for once. Nora looked up at him and found him smiling at her. She smiled back.
“Um, well… I… think that… well, to live for another person only is like… worshipping someone besides the Lord. And - and... they hardly even knew each other, really. And they were so young!”
He nodded. ”But you don’t find it to be a powerful proof of their love that they could not bear to live without each other?”
“No. It’s pathetic!” she erupted, sounding a bit sharper than she had intended. “…And… choosing to die because the other person dies and you are afraid of suffering is… cowardly.”
”Are you as strict as this in real life as well, Miss Nora?”
“Hm?”
”What if someone were to tell you they could not live without you?” Nora laughed heartily, but Mr. Green continued unaffected. ”Would you simply find them pathetic?”
“No one would tell me that and mean it,” Nora assured him, recovering from her fit of laughter.
”What if they did?” he insisted. She shook her head, but he went on. ”Use your imagination, what if they did?”
“If someone could not live without me,” she smiled, pointing to herself with raised eyebrows to remind him who he was talking to. “…then yes; they surely would be the most pathetic person alive.”

He leaned back on the bench, contemplatively pinching his chin. She wanted to ask him what he thought of the play, but was not sure if she dared.
”What about other romantic tragedies then?” he wanted to know. ”Have you read…Let’s see…”
“I don’t read, sir.”
”Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Quite allright.” They were quiet for a while. He had been reminded that they came from different worlds. She could see him blush again. “I would love to,” she said. “I just never learned. I love stories, and… yes.”
”Oh!” he exclaimed, straightening up on his seat, his face bright with enthusiasm. ”I just thought of the most splendid idea! - If you would like to, that is…”
“What?”
”Well, every time we are to spend an evening together, I can bring a play or a poem or… something. And I could read it to you, and we could talk about it.”
“Oh, Mr. Green…” Nora brought a hand to her mouth. She doubted he would really follow through with it - why on earth would a man like him want to discuss literature with someone like her? - but oh, wouldn’t that be something if he did!
”Would you like that?” She nodded, speechless. ”Really?!” He looked as excited as a small boy on Christmas. “You’re not just saying it?”
“Oh, no! I would like that very much, sir - I would love it.”
”Capital!” He took off his glasses again and polished them carefully. ”Capital,” he repeated to himself, looking very pleased - almost relieved, and he probably was, too. This would make the evenings he had to spend with her so much more comfortable for him. And it would make them extremely pleasurable for Nora. She smiled towards the fountain and again they sat in silence for a while, waiting for the time to pass.

(For anyone who wants to read more about Nora (the earlier parts of the story, that is), click here.)

And I'm gonna live by myself...?

2009-07-20T21:40:00.004+02:00

You know you've been alone for too long when:

- You freak out because you net connection fails and you take the streetcar three stops just to check facebook and chat on msn
- You've watched almost an entire season of Nip/Tuck in one weekend
- You've cried over nothing during several of those episodes
- You start talking to the bean bag and yelling at the remote control, and you ask the bag of chips where it thinks you might have put your glasses
- You bring your cellphone with you to the bathroom just in case someone will call
- You feel like you've been social because someone smiled at you in the grocery store
- You text people you don't normally text to ask them irrelevant questions
- You make lists like this
- When someone finally does come home, you get hyper, talk their ears off and spend every living moment in their room, even while changing clothes.
- You smoke way more than you normally would, because you want to join them when they go out for a smoke - and then you can't resist.
- The next day you agree to go dutch on a dinner you don't really like, just because you want to eat with them

Ruby Tuesday

2009-07-07T17:29:00.005+02:00

This is my contribution to this week's Ruby Tuesday (which is about posting pictures of anything red). The girl in the photo is my friend, Jorunn, a few years ago. Her hair really was that red at the time! She was dancing, and my sister was behind her on the original picture, but she insisted that I cut her out. So I was messing around with it, which resulted in this. Sort of pretty, hm?

Unplugged

2009-07-06T21:48:00.000+02:00

Earlier today we had to disconnect the tv, the phones, and the computers due to thunder. And my sister wasn't home. And my mom was sick in bed. And I don't have any friends (who live here anyway). This may not seem very serious to everyone else, but to yours truly it was a very traumatic experience.

I could possibly have picked up a book and read it like normal people do. But that usually gives me a headache, and I already had one. So I couldn't read or write or escape into any sort of alternate reality except by means of my own mind. Normally this would be fine by me, but my mind has not been acting very compliant lately. It simply will not follow instructions or in any way adhere to my wishes. It keeps... thinking. It keeps reflecting, musing and contemplating, and - contrary to what some intellectuals might tell you - that is rarely a good idea. At least not for those of us who care about keeping our mental health - the little we have left of it.

I tried listening to music. It didn't help. I even considered going for a walk. In the rain. Seriously. But then I'd have to take an umbrella, which wouldn't be a smart move during a thunderstorm. The cat wasn't much help either; she was in a bad mood and let me know - in a rather rude fashion, by the way - that she needed some alone-time.

It was very distressing.

I have a newfound appreciation for airwaves.

So right now it's good.

2009-07-04T16:28:00.005+02:00

I'm not going to blog about the weather again. Far too many of my posts have been about that, and it gets boring in the long run. I'm just gonna mention that we've had a heat wave lately (I guess those of you who live in Norway might have noticed by now) and it has been awesome and exhausting. A very new and strange experience to actually be relieved and grateful for a rain-shower.

I had visitors from California last week, and we did lots of touristy things. I feel like I had a bit of a vacation myself (I mean the type where you go away. Vacation I actually do have). And since the weather was all warm, almost tropical (to me, anyway...), it strengthened the sensation of being somewhere else. It was fun having visitors for ten days. I very easily get tired from being social a lot, though, so there was a few times where I couldn't seem to fend off my own crap, but I hope my guests weren't too horrified. I liked the break from normality.

And then reality came along and hit my in the face with a hammer, like it so often does. Stupid reality. Stupid money troubles, stupid rent-market, stupid things I don't know how to fix, stupid weaknesses and shortcomings and worries. Stupid future.

So I went home to my mommy. Again.

Everything is the way it is supposed to be. The wind (Oslo doesn't have much of that - at least not compared to the west-coast) is refreshing. The conversations are relaxed. The house is clean (!). The food is good. The evenings are safe and warm and they remind me of everything I love. The cat is cute and soft and furry. The office chair is creaky. My sister is noisy. The candles smell good. My mom is wise and funny both at the same time. Not many people are. I am proud to have her as my mother.

I like it here.

Oh, and Happy 4th of July to all my American friends, both here, in England, in Iraq and in the US!

Easy on the Cuddles

2009-06-16T19:35:00.007+02:00

My head does not have many words in it today. Sometimes that's okay, at least as long as there are memes urging you to post photos. That way you don't need words. I'll follow up on my plan to "get with it" blogwise, and so today I'll do a Ruby Tuesday (Post RED stuff!).

I miss my birdie on days like this; its warm, feathery head leaning towards my nose, its sleepy eyes and contented prattle. I'm not really a very physical person. People who get too close are scary. Dogs who do are annoying. Birds and cats do it just right. I want someone's forehead against my nose today. Nothing more. Anyone volunteering?

My Favourite Sepia

2009-06-14T15:03:00.008+02:00

ThroughFelisol's blog I found the memes created by MaryT, and I figured I'd join in (at least now and then). I've seen so many beautiful photos! It's fun, and gives a good mood-boost. The most recent one I discovered was Sepia Scenes, where the bloggers are prompted to post sepia pictures.

Here's my favourite:

This is me and my sister on our uncle's Mardi Gras celebration in February 2008. She was a mobster and gambler (hence the card on her sleeve), and I was her laaady. We didn't arrive with all those beads, mind you; they were thrown around our necks during the course of the evening. I only had one initially. Aren't we pretty though? We won the costume competition! Hurrah! I thought the picture looked nice in sepia; it got that old-fashioned look, as if we were really back in the day.

Don't drink my milk!

2009-06-06T15:18:00.008+02:00

I knew a schizophrenic person once. Well, I've known more than one schizophrenic person, but this lady kept muttering to herself, over and over and over again: "Most people don't have money, most people don't have money, most people don't have money..."

She's right, you know. At least when it comes to my circles. I don't think I know a single student who does not have serious money issues.

Oh, wait. I do know a single one. But she's not single. She's married. To a guy who works full-time. Pah. Anyway, they're both boring.

The situation around here lately has been ludicrous, bordering on absurd. We actually got into an argument the other day about whose turn it was to take the empty cans and bottles to recycling. Not because we didn't want to do it, but because we all did. We all needed the money (yeah, I don't know how that goes in the US, but here you pay like half a buck extra for the material, and then you get it back when you take them to be recycled).

I also got into a discussion with my cousin because she asked to borrow my credit-card to go get herself a Sprite. I refuse to buy Sprite on credit.

The shower has been jam-packed with old, almost empty bottles of shampoos, conditioners and soaps that are mostly impossible to shake anything out of unless you mix a little water into them...

We fight over everything. Who last bought bread? Toilet paper? Who lent who money for the subway? Which one of us has sponged the most off the others? Why can't Seven Eleven sell cheaper coffee?

Pathetic, I know.

We don't get too angry at each other though. We are not oblivious to the humour in the situation. And we all know we could have done better. We shouldn't have had that barbecue that Monday the weather was so nice, those beers those weekends in May, that pizza that Saturday night. We shouldn't have bought that movie and we certainly shouldn't have bought food at the gas-station to take to the beach. Gas-station prices are ridiculous. We shouldn't have this and we shouldn't have that. There are always "shouldn't"s. God, I hate "shouldn't"s.

So yeah, we've treated ourselves to some luxuries, especially when spring came and the school-year was over and my sister had a birthday and it was the National Day and... Well, everyone (in fact, the whole city) seemed to be all: "We have an excuse! Let's go buy ice-cream and other good things! Now!"

It's hard to resist, that.

On the whole, though, I don't think I've been too careless. Certainly not more than many other people I know. I eat bread a lot, because it's cheap. I hardly ever go out (I mean out on the town, paryy-style. I do go outside). I've only gone clubbing twice this whole school-year. I abhor nightclubs. The only items of clothing I have bought this year were two skirts and a bikini, and they were all cheap. Oh, and some tights. I hardly ever wear trousers, so I need lots of pairs of tights, to wear under my skirts. They get ruined easily. The tights, not the skirts. Not that you care - that was a digression.

I guess you can say that the student environment is a micro-model of society in these hard times. Which is normal, probably. And right. Students can't have full-time jobs, and so we can't expect to be rich. And we need to learn the value of a penny (I know that's not the currency in Norway - you know what I mean). I suppose it's just one of the challenges we're faced with, growing up. All a part of life, and all that.

Besides, being poor is supposed to make people even more appreciative when it comes to the good things in life, isn't it? Just like being unhappy is supposed to make you appreciate the good times.

My sister said that if she were God, she would make money grow on trees. "Together with leaves, of course; I wouldn't want to mess up the environment." I pointed out that if she had done so, money would have become worthless and something else would have taken their place. She pondered this for a moment and replied: "But I would make it so that that didn't happen." So I asked her, in jest of course, if that meant that she believed herself to be smarter than God. Of course she didn't, which she assured me, and she laughingly took the whole thing back. But I sort of wish she knew of a way...

I will end this post with a quote wisely spoken by one of my favourite individuals of all time:

"Me wish there was cookie." - Cookie Monster.

You're Nobody

2009-06-05T14:16:00.000+02:00

(First of all, a note: My friends/family in Norway do not know the person mentioned in this post. She is simply an acquaintance on the web. Also: She does have professional people helping her, so there is no need for advice about having her institutionalized etc.)

I know this girl who is considering taking her own life. We have discussed her options in a rather calm and sensible manner lately, at least we do when she seems to have her wits about her. She says that she often does enjoy life, and that at times she is even happy, but she does not know whether or not those times are "worth it." Whether or not life is "worth it."

"It" being all kinds of different things that I will not delve into in this post, but one of them being an extreme case of self-loathing (seemingly in almost every single area) and no hope of any sort of success in/at life.

She says that very often there are really only two things keeping her from making the decision and acting on it. One of them is her fear of going to Hell. The other is her love for certain people in her life. She thinks she might have gambled, if desperate, and hoped that there was no after-life at all, of any sort. That everything would simply be over.

I tell her there are many people who care for her. She gets angry and tells me she very much dislikes my attempts to "guilt-trip" her into living, thank-you-very-much. I ask her if that is not the only thing keeping her alive, the thought of these few people who will be miserable if she goes away. She says I might be right. She says she would do anything for them, to ensure their happiness. She says that if given the choice between eternal damnation and their misfortune, she would choose eternal damnation. So I ask her how she can even consider leaving them behind when she knows they would be crushed. I call her a hypocrite. I call her selfish. That is harsh of me, I know. But she is not being consistent.

She agrees with me. I curse myself for having contributed to her own self-deprecation. I ask her to explain.

She says that if there was nothing - if it was all over, and she no longer had a consciousness - she would not know that they suffered. She would not be able to feel bad or even care for them. She says she knows that it's selfish, but that it is how she thinks.

So the damnation she says she would suffer for them, she would only endure because of the knowledge that it had made them happy? If she had to give up her memory and not know the reason for her choice... Would she still make it? She says she hopes so. I don't believe her. If that was the case, she should not be in doubt about whether or not to end her life. It should be obvious that she could not, by her own reasoning.

Also by her own reasoning, she risks being damned and making them unhappy. That is quite the lose-lose situation.

Is this how it is? Is this how we are? It hurts us to see the people we love suffer. We want them to be happy. We feel good when they are happy. Do we want them to be happy for us? If we were not here to see their agony, would it not matter at all? Are we all that selfish?

It is like the age-old question of the falling tree that no one is around to hear. If no one is around to care about someone's suffering, their suffering becomes insignificant.

How cold. How pointless.

I do hope there is no Hell. Sometimes I agree with her on preferring the nothingess to eternal life. But I do hope there is a God. Or something. Something that proves wrong the song-title "You're Nobody 'till Somebody Loves You."

It would be cold of me to say I do not care what she chooses. I do care. Though it will not affect my life, really, I do hope she decides to live. Do I hope it for my own comfort? Do I hope it because I don't want to feel guilty? Because I don't want to feel sorry for her loved ones?

No matter the reason; if you believe in prayer, please pray for her tonight. Thank you.

I know, I'm depressing you. I'll stop that now. I promise my next post will be less... emo.

(And lastly, another note: Don't get me wrong; I am aware that suicidal people are not necessarily reasonable and logical. She has seemed to be, most of the time, which is why I have challenged her. However, one never knows when reason will slip - hence the prayer-request.)

A Letter That Will Never Be Sent

2009-05-27T23:27:00.002+02:00

I used to cry about it when I was little
It used to mean so much when I was weak
Now I know what you took is not worth the spittle
I would have liked to drop at your feet.

I will never cry about it
I will never cry for you
You were wrong to blame your sorrows
For things you should not do

What you took, you did not keep
I found it, I stole it back
I have no more reason to weep
There is nothing, now, that I lack

But if things don’t go your way
I’m not sorry
If it ends bad for you one day
I’m not sorry
You had no greater cares than me then
You do now
I’m not sorry

Let's give this another go...

2009-05-23T22:11:00.011+02:00

Summer is on the doorstep – in fact it has already started stepping over it – and I am hereby making it official: I have come out of hibernation.

I have written several posts earlier on this blog on how I feel about spring and summer, so I'm not going to bore you with it again, except to say: YAY!

Right now I'm all alone in the apartment on a Saturday night, and I don't mind it at all. I often dread moving to a place all by myself, but I cannot bear the thought of moving in with strangers again. So I have to choose between two evils, and I think living by myself is the lesser one. I think. I hope.

I've got a bachelor's degree. Finally. It took me six years, but I got there in the end. I worked hard for it, too. And the expert from Bergen that I talked to before I started my studies said that no matter which way I chose to go, I would have to expect to use twice as much time as a person with normal eyesight. So I suppose he was right, although my aim was originally to prove him wrong.

Now my aim is to try for a master's degree. I can not take just any job, and so I have no work-experience to show to. I need a rather long education to be able to compete on the job-market. So I'm moving back to Kristiansand to continue at Agder University. It will take time – again – and effort, and I am not at all sure whether I will be able to do it. But you can't do much else than try, really, can you?

Oslo has been a useful experience, I think. I have loved living with my sister and my cousin. It has been safe and familiar, and it has given me a sense of having a real home, a contrast to the years I lived with people I didn't really know or at least was not close to (that excepting the year with Alf and Bente, of course). There are several things I like about Oslo. There are even some things I will miss. I will miss the feeling of being anonymous wherever (or almost wherever) I go. There are so many people here, in so many different shapes, sizes, nationalities and styles, that you sort of disappear in the multitude. Going out, I don't expect to meet anyone I know. I don't really even expect that people will give me a second glance. They're too busy for that, and there are too many other things to look for (or look out for). It makes me feel invisible. In a good way.

I will miss the way you never have to wait more than ten minutes for a bus, subway or street-car. You can basically get to anywhere in the city in about half an hour. It's very practical.

I will miss my doctor. She's great. I'll miss some of the people at the city mission, too. I'll miss the sense of being urban and maybe even a little bit cool, just because I'm living in a big city. Where "everything happens."

Hilde is staying in Oslo. I will miss her a lot.

But that's about it.

I will not miss the crossings. The lights are red for ages and then green for two seconds, so you have to run like hell over the road to get to the other side before the green man stops blinking. And many of them don't make the beeping sounds that tell visually impaired people that the coast is clear. If you miss the green lights you have to stand there for another eon. And I often miss them.

I will not miss the fact that the city is too huge to get to know well. I an not only almost blind, but my sense of direction sucks, and I have no orientation skills whatsoever. If I find myself in a part of town where I don't normally venture, I have no idea which way is which and how to get from A to B. I know that's a problem for most people. But at least my friends seem to have some sort of grasp on the situation. Where is the subway station? Where did I come from? Have I seen that sign before? Is this street familiar? Even the places I should be accustomed to, they're confusing and crowded and everything moves too fast. People, cars, buses, street-lights, electronic signs... Chaos.

And I hate the central station, vehemently. I want to burn it.

I will like being able to walk almost everywhere in town again. Not that I'm fond of walking. I'm not. But it's nice to know that things are close. That you can get there without too much fuss. I will like knowing where everything is again. I know all the good places to eat or drink, which ones are expensive or cheap, which stores have what and where to go to get even special items you don't regularly buy. I know the town, I know the names of the streets and which places I like or want to avoid. In Kristiansand, if a new place or store opens, everyone usually knows about it within days. And whether it is a nice place or not. I like having that kind of control. It's... calming.

And it's closer to home. I'm a mommy's girl all the way.

So yeah. I think it'll be good. I just have to find somewhere I can afford. Yup. This will work. It has to. I'll make it work. Yes. Good. Okay. It's settled then.

But first: SUMMER!

Autumn Report

2008-10-02T01:48:00.004+02:00

It has been a long time now, since I last blogged. There are many reasons for this. One of them is that I have not had regular internet access, another is that I have not had a computer for some time, but the most important reason is that I have not had anything to say. There are so many bloggers with important things to write about, and they say it so well, too. I have no such eloquence, and nothing important to say, really. For a long time, this made me decide against blogging whenever I considered it.

I have realized that several people missed my blog. That's nice. It's nice to know that someone reads what I write and appreciates it even if it's often just bullsh*t. I got a mail a few days ago that made me decide to start blogging again. Someone who used to read my blog regularly, started missing me and wondered how I was doing. Someone besides my father actually missed my blog! That warms my heart.

So here I am.

A lot has happened since I was last active online. I moved, among other things. To Oslo, the capitol of Norway. It's different here. Bigger than any other city I've lived in - excepting, of course, New Orleans, where I only lived for three months - and scarier because of it. But I think I'm doing well so far. I've learned how to get places by subway from our house and back again, mostly. I freak out as soon as I have to do anything important alone, but I've been pretty good at doing it in spite of the "out-freaking." I like living with my sister and my cousin, Hilde and Bente. They're such cool girls, both of them.

We had a really lovely summer this year. Maybe it's because I was in California in March, but I felt like it lasted for a long time. It might also have something to do with the non-existant summer the year before. We needed every ray of sunshine we got. I was at my mom's house for most of the summer, except for a few weeks in Kristiansand when she helped me put all my stuff into boxes and clean my room before I moved out. Thank you, mom! My father built a summer-place on Hidra - the island where his girlfriend is from - and we went there to see in August. It's so pretty! The picture shows the view from the docks by the house.

Lots more happened of course (Hello, I have a life!), but I don't want to overwhelm anyone, so I'm gonna stop here. For now.

Joni Mitchell and the Ocean

2008-06-04T03:27:00.006+02:00

Today has been such a good day that I can’t sleep. I’m sitting in the dark, listening to Joni Mitchell. Which is great too. I don’t mind not sleeping right now.

I have never really been able to describe what the ocean means to me. I wish I could write a poem about it – or a really great song. I always try, when I’m by the coast, to think about some ingenious phrase that just gets it all. It’s impossible.

The wind, the smell, the sounds. The movements. It all makes me feel small and important at the same time. There is something so mighty about it. So grand. It’s awesome.

We went by boat to an island outside Kristiansand to barbecue. I swam in the ocean – I was the only one who did, but that’s okay, it wasn’t lonely. We sang songs and stayed until the sun went down. That’s when my day got even better.

Sitting in the very front of the boat, my feet almost touching the water, while the sun set all around us and the waves lightly shook the boat now and then, I listened to the boys singing and chatting behind me. Or not really. I didn’t listen, I just heard them. The stunning surroundings had my attention, and the wind had my hair. We went past little houses with boats outside them and I imagined living there, or at least having the chance to go there now and then.

Then I remembered that my dad is building a small summer-place on the island where his girlfriend grew up, and I will most likely be able to go there once and again. Hopefully.

I’m so spoiled and lucky it’s not even funny.

Anyway, the point was... What was the point? Oh, yes, that the world can be really, really beautiful. I just thought maybe we need to remind each other of that now and then.

(This is not my photo - I forgot the camera. The picture is borrowed from Nesnakroken)

Spring Report

2008-05-29T11:34:00.006+02:00

It’s my favorite time of year. Summer is on the doorstep. Everyone notices it and most of us love it. There has been so little rain lately that the plants outside need to be watered. That is quite a change, seeing as during the last year it has been raining almost seventy percent of the time. Now the sun’s out. People are out, and their faces look content. People-watching is even more fun when the people you watch look happy and are active.

I have been doing very little writing lately, mostly because I have been doing lots of other things, but also partly because I’ve had one of the longest brain-farts in history. Sometimes it leaves off for a while, but seemingly never for long enough that I can squeeze out something useful. Very frustrating, that. My creativity is at a pathetically low level.

This Friday I am going to see – or rather hear - Bob Dylan. Woot! My father and his girlfriend got me the tickets, so we are going all of us. I think it will be fun. I never really listened much to Bob Dylan before – except of course the great ones that everyone heard – but I know enough to be aware that he’s one of the greatest musicians of all time, so I figure it has to be good.

Other than that, I made a decision a few days ago. I am leaving Kristiansand this fall and moving to Oslo. My sister Hilde and our cousin Bente are both going to move there too, so we’re all looking for a place to live together. I’m thinking this will be one of my life’s great adventures. I’ve never lived in a big city before, excepting my three months in New Orleans. Now I know Oslo is nothing like New Orleans, but it’s bigger than both Stavanger and Kristiansand anyway. It’ll be fun and scary, but most of all exciting, and I think I need a little bit of excitement in my life now.

I promise not to let months go by before I blog again.

Get around, get around, I get around!

2008-03-26T05:30:00.013+01:00

I'm in California! For those of you who are curious, here are some glimpses from our trip so far. More will come in time, I'm sure. Right now I post only pictures and a few comments, as I have little time to sit and mess around on the computer.

The first picture shows Hilde with Liz and Jess' family's two parrots, Sweet Parrot and Kiki.

The second shows the view from the Giem family's house, where we are staying.

We went for a few nice walks the first days we were here. Here are some more pretty view pictures.

Us by the entrance to the Japanese garden in at Huntington Gardens.

We went to Castle Park and took some fun rides. This is Hilde and Jessica in one of the many I didn't dare go on.

Vegas, Baby!
Took us only some four hours to drive, and as you can probably tell from the photos, we had loads of fun.

The hotel Mirage had a place called Sigfried and Roy's Secret Garden, where there were lions, tigers, leopards, panthers....

...and DOLPHINS! :) Aren't they CUTE??!

Here's Hilde balancing on the wall outside Caesar's Palace, and drinking in public (which, by the way, was completely legal).

Oceanside in the sunset. We ate at the restaurant on the end of the pier.

It's SNOWING

2008-03-05T14:05:00.003+01:00

What the frak is this all about? Quit it! We're in March now.

(also: I decided that blogger sucks at picture-collages so I'll make one on my homepage and link to it when I'm done - that will be the whole Canada-trip, if anyone was interested)

Christmas in Canada

2008-02-10T17:24:00.014+01:00

Once upon a time, there was a mother
who decided to travel to Canada
together with her oldest daughter
and her youngest daughter .

This is the illustrated story of their journey, told from the perspective of the oldest daughter, seeing as it’s her blog. It will come in two (possibly more) parts, the first (this one) being about Christmas and the next one about the rest of the trip, and of course the wedding. Click the images for larger versions.

Ukay.

The year 2007 was The Year of the Weddings for my uncle in Canada’s family. His three children all got married within seven months, and we were invited to all three weddings. Of course we had to choose one, and most of our relatives chose the weddings that were in the summer and early fall. We chose the third and last one, which was on New Year’s Eve, and thus we were invited to spend Christmas in Canada as well.

On the 21st of December we were up ridiculously early, because we wanted to avoid the lines at the airport. Hilde knowing the routines (since she works there) and all of us knowing about Christmas chaos resulted in us arriving at the airport three hours before our plane was supposed to take off.

Three hours later, our plane – of course – did not take off. Three hours after that, the nice lady on the speaker told us that we now had a plane and a pilot but no crew. They had been held up in the capitol, where the weather was foggy and freezing; the entire air traffic was in complete and utter chaos, as was the departure hall at the airport.

Seven and a half hours after arriving at the airport, we were finally on the plane and ready to go. Of course our plane in London had already left by then, so we had to stay the night at a hotel. We kept spirits up, however, and had fun even when we were stuck.

The rest of the trip over was full of more lines, more security checks and more delays, but we did finally end up in Edmonton. We had a lovely dinner and ten minutes to change before my uncle Roar, my aunt Marilyn, my three cousins and their spouses, all took us to see Dickens’ play "A Christmas Carol." It was a very good play, even though we were all tired as socks.

The next day we took off for the cabin at Pidgeon Lake, where we would be celebrating Christmas. A guy in one of the neighbouring cabins was surprising his wife on her birthday with a hay-ride, and we got to come along! There was a bonfire and hot chocolate with bailey’s in it! >>>>>>>>>>

The 24th was a clear and sunny morning, and we were up bright and early and out on the ice. We got to ride the snow-mobile and went for a nice little walk. The picture to the left shows us in front of the cabin.

Roar cleared snow off the ice so that the guests could go ice-skating if they wanted to - which they did, of course.

Here are some picturesf rom our Christmas celebration that same day (these people do it – or try to do it – the Norwegian way, seeing as they’re of Norwegian origin).

As you can see it was not just us. Close to thirty relatives of Roar and Marilyn’s usually celebrate together. They meet early in the day, some make food while others fool around on the ice. We all had our own chores that could be found on a list on the fridge. Hilde’s and mine said "put ice + water in glasses" so that one was pretty easy. Why don’t all Norwegian kitchens have ice machines?! I have developed a heartfelt and loving relationship to those things.

There was a combination of Canadian and Scandinavian foods, the traditional Norwegian "lefse" being one of them (only they eat it for dinner - It’s a dessert, but they can’t seem to get that into their little Canadian heads), and Swedish meatballs being another one.

We sang Christmas carols, and got to join in some other family traditions, like the annual "Christmas play" that was produced by Ben and Eric this year. The three of us played the family of King Winseslas, who was played by Roar. It was a bad play - or rather the actors were bad; we sucked - but hilarious none the less.

Santa Clause joined us! Unfortunately Marina (my cousin Eric’s wife) missed out on it, but she said she met him outside, so I guess that was okay then. Eric kissed santa on the mouth though (the bastard), while his wife was out!

I didn’t expect any presents at all, but I got them anyway; perfumes from "Santa" (possibly Roar and Marilyn had something to do with that), a book from Sarah and Chris, chocolates from Eric and Marina, a gift certificate on HMV from Ben and Tina, and from Roar and Marilyn I got money to spend on boxing day! I was totally overwhelmed.

I Still don’t think I’ve thanked them enough for all the nice things – not to speak of the great experiences – they gave me, so I’m hoping this blog-post can repair some of that. I had the best vacation I've had for years. Everything was so lovely and everyone was so nice. I'm also now officially thanking my mother for paying my ticket, and her and Hilde for being great travel-mates. More will come from this trip (since I know you're all dying from curiosity), but picture-stories like this take some time to make, so keep your panties on.

Nobody Panic

2008-02-06T19:46:00.001+01:00

Ren recently wrote a post where she mentioned sliding doors.

People who don’t read her blog on a regular basis should definitely start doing it; the woman is a genius.

I have the same problem with sliding doors that Ren has, namely that they don’t seem to notice me. So when I, a couple of weeks back, was on my way out of a shopping mall and the doors did not open, I figured that it was just my normal "miss cellophane" bad luck that was the problem. Only when my friend and cousin Bente came up beside me and the doors still did not open did I realize that we were trapped. We tried to go back, but there were two sets of doors (why, by the way?), both locked, and we were in between them.

What do you do in a situation like that? Call security? Call the hairdresser you just walked past where you saw several people still at work?

Nope. You panic.

We pounded on the windows and yelled for help. I did take out my phone, but sending a text message to get a phone number was too much for my nervous fingers, and my mind wouldn’t wrap itself around the right number to which I ought to send the text message in the first place.

Fortunately for us, a security guard walked past outside and let us out. He was probably doing the rounds and we should have known he would come from the start.

I'm normally a very calm person.

No, I’m just kidding. You all know I'm not.

I normally cry about everything and anything. I practically hyperventilate at the mere thought of taking the bus by myself. I’m never calm. Ever.

But I don’t normally panic when others do. When my sister crashed my dad’s girlfriend’s car, I was able to stay close to calm – I knew I had to for her sake. When I almost drowned in Egypt, I was able to think clearly and follow the instructions we had been given earlier. When my mom broke her nose and there was blood all over the floor, I kept my wits about me even then. Maybe it’s because I’m used to the adrenaline? I don’t know.

I do, however, panic if the situation is claustrophobic. That was clear the other day, and also on the plane to England when we were taxing for over twenty minutes before our gate was free. My mind becomes foggy and my breath shallow.

How is it that most horror movies don’t scare me, while a select few films frighten the wits out of me, and some of them are not even horror movies? How is it that some people love scary movies but become extremely uncomfortable watching romantic comedies?

Well, it’s obvious, really. We are different. We fear different things. But I wonder what it is that makes us all so different? What creates our fears? Is it only our childhoods – our experiences - or are we born with some of them?

I have a friend who has always had an inexplicable phobia of small round things. Peas. Playmobile canon-balls. Berries. Marbles. Pearls. What’s that about? She doesn’t know. She’s had the fear for as long as she can remember. Her parents don’t know. They sent her to therapy at the age of nine to try and get rid of it (I’m not sure that was necessary. How often are you really confronted with these things?) but nothing helped. She still cannot handle it if I leave a pea on my plate and maybe play around with it with my fork (which, by the way, I love to do). She’ll go "Aaah! Kristin! Please!!!"

People are weird.

I’m including myself in that, though. My fears are no more rational than hers. I know the world would never suddenly be empty with only me in it. I know the people in the bus would not have a conspiracy against me and I know they would not all point and laugh as I came in. I even know that had I been trapped between those doors for an entire night, it would be a very uncomfortable experience, but I would be let out again in the morning. I would be fine in the end. But my fears can at least be explained. I know why they became my fears - at a certain point in my life they were very real and authentic. I know why I have them, and that helps me convince my mind – sometimes – that they are, in fact, irrational fears. What do you do when you have no idea why the fear took hold of your body in the first place? You’re pretty much screwed, aren’t you?

I hope someone has the answer to that question. Not so much for my sake, or for my friend’s sake (she’ll live), as for many other people with far more serious problems.

Happy New Year

2008-01-06T16:41:00.000+01:00

Hi.

I spent my Christmas in Canada. It was lovely.

I'm sorry for leaving this place so inactive all the time. It is quite possible that I'm not really a writer at all. Jumbling words around has lately resulted mostly in over-emotional crap that no one would want to read. I never really did have too much of a talent, but I knew how to express myself at a certain point in time. Maybe I'm one of those people who were good at something when they were young - you know? - but when they grew up no one really dared to tell them: "You were ok for a kid. It's not really cute anymore. Give it up." There are a lot of singers like that out there (I know, cause they annoy the heck out of me on a weekly basis). Maybe there are writers too.

Maybe I just basically need to shut up more.

Anyway, let's hope for a happy - or at least a tolerable - new year for everyone. Yay.

Ahem 2

2007-11-25T22:01:00.000+01:00

That went well.

Never mind.

Since the people "over the pond" just celebrated Thanksgiving, I'll post some nice photos of the altar in the dock-chapel decorated for the Church's Thanksgiving Sunday back in October. They were taken by a woman named Brith Dybing.

Don't I look all innocence?

Ahem

2007-11-11T14:58:00.000+01:00

I need to stop reading good literature.

Seriously; it's too intimidating. It makes me unable to write.

So what I'll do in an attempt to keep this blog from withering up and dying completely is I'll post some nice pictures and quotes and stuff instead. Then maybe - hopefully - in a few days, a blurb will show up after all.

Ok, so here we go.

I think this is one of the best shots that was taken with our (my mother's and mine) cameras this summer. My sister took the picture. The bride is my cousin Maria. She stopped to offer her mother a rose before her father "gave her away" to the groom. I don't typically find weddings that romantic, but my heart felt all swollen right then. Okay, so I'm soft. Sue me.

But ain't she PRETTY?!

Because I know you read this

2007-10-11T17:14:00.000+02:00

I won't take back the things I said
I meant them at the time
But time passes, as do feelings
Don't think I don't see how hard you've tried

Don't think I don't think you love me
Don't think I don't know you do
Though you often suck at showing it to me
It still shines through

I am glad to hear you're sorry
Don't think I don't know it's true
Don't think I don't know you love me
Don't think I don't love you too

Free Burma!

2007-10-04T14:54:00.000+02:00

Today (Thursday October 4th) is the International Bloggers' Day to Support Burma. Some topics are so big and so important that my thoughts, my perspective, my words become too small for them. This evening I will be performing a song about Burma that someone else wrote. The lyrics to this song and some important links are all I will be posting for now:

The Golden Land

He is far from Nirvana
and his pulse is running high
as he is picked up from his hiding place
He knows the enemy pursues
the car that takes him through the jungle
to the border
with a classified message
In inconspicuous clothes
He is Hope's persecuted courier
He has hidden his name
in a dream of freedom
for a country that got a bloody peace

The golden land
beneath pagoda and palm
where the wide-river children of Buddha
stand strong
The golden land
Light is hiding in the shadows
and Hope's been placed in house arrest

She's adored by the people
She's a queen and a prisoner
in her own little three room fortress
But the soldiers around the house
can not stop the uproar that takes her
to the midst of the city
where Aung San Suu Kiy
cries "the country is ours, we are free!"
She is Hope,
her name is a song in every heart
that will soon be pounding gold with sorrow.

The golden land
beneath pagoda and palm
where the wide-river children of Buddha
stand strong
The golden land
Light is hiding in the shadows
and Hope's been placed in house arrest

(Written by: Erik Hillestad. Badly translated by: me. Except the good parts. Those are Ren's work...)

"Show your sympathy for the Free Burma! action and sign our list of participants, whether or not you're a blogger, website owner or someone who wants to point the way to democracy and freedom in Burma!" - www.free-burma.org

China has a key role when it comes to influencing the junta. Here you can sign a letter to China's president Hu Jintao and the UN Security Council, urging them to oppose a violent crackdown on the demonstrators and to support democracy. Please do.

A Powerful Mess

2007-09-29T22:46:00.000+02:00

Reading this week's prompt at Sunday Scribblings - and some of the other participants' takes on it - I see that many people remember their childhood and/or youth as a time when they felt powerful. This is very peculiar to me. But I have heard it before. I have heard that children don't worry; that they live in the "here and now," and that it makes them feel in control, because the past and the future is not an issue to be dealt with - only the situation at hand is, and it is controllable.

I personally think that it depends on the child. I think I was always a worrier. I can not remember a time when life did not scare me half to death (that perhaps being a weird way to phrase it, seeing as death itself never really scared me all that much). I felt safe, yes, when I knew my parents were around to shield me from the world. I felt there was no need to worry when I could hide in my games and my dreams and behind my mother's legs or under my sister's covers. I felt protected. But powerful...? I can not remember feeling powerful much, ever, and in my early childhood definitely not at all. Nobody is less in control of their life and their circumstances than a young child. Perhaps most of them are not aware of this and so it does not scare them? I don't know about that. I know that I was very much aware of it.

I have heard that because they have not yet learned of the world's evils and the limits of realism, children's imagination can take them anywhere and this makes them feel invincible. Seriously... How young a child are we talking? Or how... dumb? They know they are pretending, when they put on that cape and say they are whatever superhero is their favorite. Don't they? I know I knew. When do they first begin to wonder if life sucks? The first time some other kid punches them in the nose? The first time they see their mother cry? The first time they jump from a table and realize that gravity is inevitable - that they can not fly? The third time, maybe? The fourth? And then it is over. It's all downhill from there.

Is that it?

Youth has repeatedly been described in literature - and by grown-up people in general, at least the ones that I know - as a time when one is cocksure in one's beliefs, unafraid of the world and immodest regarding one's own abilities. I see why, when I look at many kids. I do. But I remember my own teenage years as nothing but insecurity and agonizing doubt. Even at my most argumentative; when I was what I like to call a Jesus-propeller, I was not as certain as I let on. My take on it is that the more confidence and faith we have in our own beliefs, the less threatened we feel by other people's. When we are willing to listen, to reflect on new arguments and look for nuances in our own without putting up that instant defense-mechanism, that is when we are really feeling secure with what we stand for. And if we don't flaunt to the world how great we are anymore, that is often because we no longer feel the need for constant reassurance (that will never happen in my case, by the way. Constant reassurance is a must. It is the key to my heart). Teenagers don't necessarily seem brazen because they are. - Well, I can't speak for everyone, but I can say that at least this is not the case for all of them. Some of them put on that show of exaggerated confidence exactly because they are not confident at all.

And then there are others, of course, who are just brats.

We all want to feel powerful. Or rather: We all want to not feel completely powerless. I read a comment to another participant's post, where someone asked "why do we first think of 'control' when someone mentions power?" I found this question a tad odd, because to me the two are connected. When you have control, you have power. If you have no control, then you are powerless.

I am bipolar. Someone asked me a few days ago: "Are the highs not fantastic? Do you feel all powerful?" Yes, the 'highs' are great - or rather were, as I'm sufficiently medicated now, so my ups and downs are a bit closer to what is considered 'normal' (which is what, by the way, can anyone tell me?). They were relaxing and exhausting and funny and wondrous, and scary. They did not make me feel powerful. Because I was not in control. Maybe if I had been psychotic and unaware of this they would feel more empowering. But they would not really be more empowering, because I would be even less in control.

I felt powerful that one time at school when I hit a bully across the face with a ruler and the entire classroom fell silent - including the teacher and the boy I hit. I felt powerful when a guy who had been mean to me showed up at the pub where I was and I managed to make a fool out of him and he blushed and left. I know it was wrong of me - it was a petty revenge - but it did make me feel powerful. I think that is very human, to feel powerful when you are able to control someone, whether it be through means of violence, humiliation, fear and threats, or simply by shocking them. Something that forces a reaction, and preferably the one you had hoped for beforehand.

There are destructive ways of manipulating, and then there are more building and positive ways to feel in control and powerful. They are perhaps harder, but that only proves that whoever manages them is truly powerful, doesn't it? One Sunday Scribbler this week is an after school daycare worker who says she feels powerful when picking up one of the children from school. The little girl points her out to her teacher and comes running to meet her and give her a hug. Admiration is power. Love is power. I know it sounds totally cheesy, but it's true. My sister has an enormous power over me, as do all the people I love. I think it is Oscar Schindler who is supposed to have said: "True power is when we have every justification to kill, and don't." I wish more people would think like he did, and not only about killing, but about power over others and yourself.

I feel powerful when I am on stage and I see that I can influence people with what I say or sing. I make them laugh or cry - sometimes both, and I make them think. I love it. But that is mostly it. I very seldom feel powerful. I very seldom feel in control. But as long as I don't get too discouraged and give up, or too scared and hide away from life for ages, that's all right. Isn't it? I have accepted that I don't have that much power and I think it's okay to feel powerless sometimes. When you look at the world right now, though, I don't think very many people agree with me. Some of them are right not to.

Still, I feel more powerful now than I did as a child. I decide who I want to spend my time with so I don't have to deal with more idiots than necessary. I decide what I spend it doing and am not forced to play stupid games or do group projects or play football. I decide who I listen to and whether or not I think they are right. When I was a kid they were always right. Isn't that strange? Teachers, parents, friends, preachers, they were all right, and it was confusing. Now I am in control of my own mind (to an extent - more so than when I was a kid anyway) and my own body. No one gets to push me around. I like that about being an adult.

So in answer to my own question: Is it all downhill from that first or second or fourth time you jump off a table and gravity hits you in the face like a... well, a floor - is that when it ends? I say it definitely is not. That's when it starts. I will never be one of those people who sigh longingly and go: "ah, to be young again!" or "wasn't it all just so much better when we were children?!" It wasn't. It sucked being a kid. It sucked being a teenager. I'm going on 27 and I think life sucks just a little bit less for every year that passes. It's still a mess. I'm still working on clearing away all that crap that people left me while they were all still 'right.' It will still be a mess next year. I'm guessing it's still a mess at fifty, but at least then - hopefully - it's your mess and no one elses.

"...how Joan of Arc felt..."

2007-09-28T18:15:00.000+02:00

I have finally gotten rid of my ear infection. I think. It took me three weeks, during which I paid four visits to the doctor, tried three different kind of penicillin and ear drops with two different kinds of antibiotics, as well as almost completely exhausted both my mother and myself.

Then my mother caught it and we found out it had been a virus all along, meaning that the penicillin would not have worked anyway. What a waste of time and money. - And penicillin. I have a nice little stock now, so I'm all set in case Armageddon comes along and the pharmacies close. I'll be able to keep my friends and family alive and healthy long enough to have front seats for the world's final destruction.

I believe it was Ross from Friends who said: "And the word you're looking for is: ...Anyway.."

I asked the doctor if he thought it might be a virus. He said no. I asked him "but shouldn't you check?" He said no. The following day it had turned so bad that we called a friend of my mom's who's also an MD and he said to "go get a blood-test, see if it's a virus." So we did. It was borderline; they couldn't tell. They gave me a new type of penicillin.

I never knew how bad it was. I mean I've heard people talk about ear infections and I knew it was painful. But I never knew it was that bad. I'm not even sure that it normally is, because it lasted so much longer than usual and even the doctors could not understand why it wouldn't stop hurting even after the eardrum burst and it had been running for days (and this time the word you are looking for is "ew"). Never before have I experienced that kind of physical pain, and I hope I never will have to again, at least not for such a long while at a time. Quoting the Smiths:
“Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
When the flames rose
to her Roman nose
And her Walkman started to melt”
Sometimes I was just curled up into a ball, whimpering and breathing and basically shaking in agony. I'm not used to that - fortunately! It's times like that I realize how lucky I am that serious physical illness is not part of my daily life. I feel so bad for people who have to deal with it day in and day out. No one deserves that kind of crap.

Well, that's not entirely true. Some people do. Maybe I should send one of my drinking bottles to Than Shwe? He could do with a few weeks in bed right about now, I think.

My ear is better now, and I'm expecting that to last (wait, whaaat? Optimism?!) There's only a small itch now and then, although it still sounds funny in my head when I sing. But I'm used to things sounding funny in my head.

I want to thank my mother for being such a good one. Not everyone has been granted the privilege of somewhere to go and someone to take care of them when they are "under the weather." I don't know what I would have done without her. She "rocks my socks."

Happy Birthday, Pappa.

2007-09-23T21:23:00.001+02:00

Ok, so I look slightly psycho in this photo, but it's of me and my dad, and it was taken one year ago (plus a few days). His birthday is today, so this is my way of giving him a little extra attention. I hope you had a nice day, daddy. Love you. Hugs and kisses from Kristin.

Downtime

2007-09-19T01:18:00.000+02:00

I know, I know.

Cut me some slack though, I've had an ear infection for over two weeks. I'll be back.

The Toy

2007-09-02T04:03:00.000+02:00

(A Sunday Scribbling with the prompt "The End")

It was his favorite toy
Every day he fetched it
from its safe place
and played with it for hours
He might have loved it, even
In a way

It was a nice toy
Not worth too much,
Not great or complex,
but fine enough
And he might have loved it, even
Just a little

His friends asked to borrow it
He let them sometimes
but always observing
Guardedly, impatient
He might have worried then
Just a little

But he was careless
He was rough with the toy,
It grew fragile
and weary and weak
He might have worried then
In a way

In the end
he destroyed it
The Adults, in suits
made it disappear
He might have grieved then
Just a little

But never wept

One Fine Day

2007-08-30T15:19:00.000+02:00

You know when your mood has been way down for quite a while and you start wondering if you might not just be a tad depressed? And then, apparently for no reason at all, it gets better? Well, that was not what happened to me this time. It does happen a lot, but this particular time there were several very concrete reasons why my mood shot upwards, and it felt lovely. As you may or may not have already guessed, I am now going to list these reasons. This post might therefore look like a boasting-post (which in part it also is), and if you have a problem with that, you may stop reading now.

First of all: I went to school yesterday, despite the fact that I had slept no more than two hours and I was dead tired. I had not been there the two previous days, and get this: My classmates had noticed! Two of them commented on it, and one of them even asked me if I wanted her to send me her notes from the seminars that I had missed! I think I must have looked pretty surprised, because she assured me it was no trouble at all, and that "it's just kind of practical to have, you know?"

During recess I met Ingrid Lund in the hallway. She's the writer and researcher who got me to agree to an interview with the local paper and then on national television last year. Today (or rather yesterday) she was lecturing sixty students on normality and prejudice. The course they are taking is "Special Pedagogics," which I guess can best be compared to Educational Studies, only these people will likely be dealing with children who are not entirely normal or who struggle at school for some reason. Ingrid asked me to join her in class and talk a little about my life; about being a troubled kid and about having mental diagnoses. These are things that are not necessarily generally considered to be normal, and she wanted to give her students the opportunity to ask questions and hear my opinion on how such children should be dealt with in the school-system.

And guess what: I did it!

I stood in front of 60 students and answered Ingrid's questions and theirs. I made them laugh a couple of times. They looked interested. They asked me if I knew the great value of what I was doing; if I was aware how much it meant that we were doing this important work. They told Ingrid she should do the same thing again, for other students. They told me I was brave. And they thanked me. Ingrid said later that she was mightily impressed and that she had received lots of positive reactions.

I was in half-shock. It felt great and horribly frightening at the same time. What had I done? What did I say? I've been on wild roller-coaster ride ever since, between pride and self-loathing. I was exhausted, so I went home after school and slept.

But the day was not over yet. Anne called me to ask if I was going to the concert with Nils Petter Molvær, the famous trumpeter. Since I had a press pass for the entire Punkt-festival (I translated some text for them), I figured I might as well, so I got out of bed and dragged myself down to Kick Bar. The concert was good, but that was not the best thing about the evening. Last Thursday Anne and I had met the photographer Per Front, and he told me he wanted to take pictures of me. I thought it was just the alcohol talking, then, but Anne told me now that he had sent her a text-message the next day telling her to say hi to "her beautiful cousin" and that he wanted to take my picture sometime. I think it might be my strange eyes that fascinated him, because he kept asking about my eyesight. We met him again at this concert. We met lots of nice people. Anne has introduced me to several cultural and creative people in town. In her opinion "it's not that you're not normal; it's that you've been with the wrong crowd." She might be right.

Rolf Løvland was there, the producer who is working on my song right now. He bought me beer and told me over and over what a "pearl" of a song I had written. "It will be a hit!" he claimed. He introduced me to people by saying: "This is Kristin, she's Anne's cousin. I'm producing her song, she's written the prettiest song in the world." Dude. ROLF LØVLAND!!! I did not believe my own ears. And he had not even been drinking. This is the guy who produced Nocturne, he's the man behind Secret Garden and You Raise Me Up. His songs have won two Eurovision Song Contests and... He likes my song! He even loves it; he even produced it despite the fact that he didn't really have the time! "I just had to do it," he said.

This whole day was just so unbelievable and dreamlike.

Right. That was today's (rather large) dose of bragging. I needed an "up" now though. I'm not saying I demand perfect days like this every time I'm discouraged - a fifth would be enough! - but it certainly did help. It was like the world wanted to tell me: "You can handle this. See? You're not as incompetent and lost as you think. It will be all right."

It will.

Text-messages

2007-08-28T15:34:00.000+02:00

"All the warm thoughts in the world."
"You are sweet,"
"Thanks the same,"

I don't think she knows it, but she made my day. I guess a softer heart is just lighter to carry. Or at least it feels more comfortable.

Unreal cuteness.

2007-08-27T08:31:00.000+02:00

This was what I meant when I said kittens make life worth living. This kitty's name is Joe-Joe and there are several videos of him on Youtube. I believe he belongs to the breed British Shorthair.

I don't need any other proof that there is a God.

For what it's worth...

2007-08-22T06:26:00.000+02:00

I suppose it's no secret that I am not the most mentally stable person on the surface of this planet. I am not one of these people who keep calm and collected through life's many challenges and hold their composure through hard times. I freak out. I cry. I lock myself in the bathroom or hide under the covers or yell at someone or hit something. I do all those things that four-year-olds tend to do when they get frustrated. Some people don't do that. Some people manage to look like they handle it all perfectly; like nothing is a problem - like they are never weak, never vulnerable. I envy that.

I do believe we all have hard times. One of my friends told me once that she thought life was easy for many people. "There are those who just surf through it," she said. I don't believe that. We all struggle with our own stuff; not of the same magnitude, of course, but we all have problems, and they are big to the person whose problems they are. However, some people still succeed in appearing rather care-free. How do they do it? They make me feel like a wimp.

As an example of what I'm talking about: I just started school again. I am, as anyone who knows me will already be aware of, completely freaked out by the great big campus area and all the people there. I also hate taking the bus to school. The first day was horrible. The second day was not so bad. The third day was almost okay. I hope it will continue to go in that direction this year, as opposed to other years when it has only gotten worse. I hope it will get better. The thing is, though; I'm not the only one who hates the campus area - and the bus - at least that is what I've been told. Evidently there are hundreds of students who struggle with the same issues. But where are they?! I never see them breaking down and crying outside the main entrance (Yes, I did that last year, and I know: It's pathetic). I never see them running desperately to the toilets or one of the "quiet-rooms" to hide. I never see anyone who looks even remotely uncomfortable. People are chatting and laughing and socializing and being all capable and normal. It annoys me. I dislike them for it, many of them, and I know that's a horrible thing for me to be doing, but I still feel a strange kind of hostility towards them. Maybe it's because - or I'm pretty certain that it is because - I have this absurd notion that they can tell how weak and small I'm feeling and that they look down on me for it.

But then it isn't really that absurd when you think about it. Because that was exactly how it used to be. I was the weak and frightened one, and I was treated worse for it. I know with the sensible part of my mind that it's not like that anymore, that this is not the same thing. But my feelings - however much I try to convince them, whatever methods I keep using - do not seem to be able to believe and trust that.

It has gotten so much better though, even though it sometimes doesn't feel that way and even though sometimes it moves ahead so slowly that I feel like I'm going insane. It has gotten better. I'm a graduate student, for Pete's sake! I wouldn't have come this far if it hadn't.. And it will keep getting better, it has to.

The summers are normally a fabulous break for me, and by this time of year I'm used to feeling refreshed, strong and ready for a new year. This year it's different. I never knew I was this dependent on the weather, but I guess I am. I feel tired. The future is big and scary. But that's normal. It's okay, as long as one keeps going and don't lose hope that there will come a break soon - maybe just a few days - where worry is not the dominant feeling. And as long as we appreciate the little things, like the fact that it didn't rain yesterday and it's not raining today. Things like finding "Batman Begins" for less money than I expected it to cost when I'd been looking for it for some time and was prepared to pay more. Things like the cup of coacoa with coffee in it that I drank on the city mission yesterday while Per was prattling about his vacation.

And kittens. Kittens make life worth living.

This is a song I've been listening to for the last few days. Okay, so it's an Amy Diamond- hit and certain parts of it don't exactly apply to this context, but who gives a rat's ass? It's a pretty song with nice lyrics and a soothing melody. I like it. I think I'm going to add it to my own repertoir.

It Can Only Get Better:

Let the sun refuse to shine
It won't be long before the days are brighter
If every step's an uphill climb
Carry on until they feel much lighter
For all the clouds up in the sky
For all the teardrops in our eyes
It can get only get better

Be still my heart
It can only get better
We've come this far
It can only get better
I know it hurts
For what it's worth
It can only get better

If he should ever come our way
Dry the tears and look somewhere above him
Might be easier to say than to do
But just pretend that you no longer love him
When your back's against the ropes
When you miss someone the most
It can get only get better

Be still my heart
It can only get better
We've come this far
It can only get better
I know it hurts
For what it's worth
It can only get better

Shoe-blowout

2007-08-21T15:38:00.000+02:00

This is an appeal to anyone wearing crocs: Take them off!

Seriously: They are UGLY. People are walking around in shoes that look like huge old-fashioned clogs, only shaped a little worse, and with holes in them. And the colors are... well, psychotic! Whoever designed these things ought to be fired for being high on acid while working. Please, people: Taste?! I am hereby soliciting for some proof that some of us still have it. If you had, you would realize that these things are an eyesore on your surroundings; they make people like me - who still care about style - flinch and feel a desperate need to turn away.

Look, I'm all for comfortable shoes. But I am completely and utterly convinced that it is possible to create footwear that is pleasing to the eye as well as the footsole! This is a challenge: Try!

August?!

2007-08-10T11:45:00.000+02:00

I don't know what happened here. Do you?

Right then... Back to buisness.

Summer holidays are just about over. School starts again this Monday. Not that the first week really counts as school; it mostly consists of concerts and partying, and the entire campus is turned into a festival area with booths selling beer and advertising different student activities. But it's very odd to think that we got this far already, because there really hasn't been much of a summer this year. I can't seem to get used to the idea of it being over. My brain goes: "What?! What-what-why? When did this happen?" and I'm not at all ready for fall and winter to set in again. I waited so much for this summer! Where did it go?! Stupid Norway with its stupid weather. The papers say this has been the rainiest summer in over 150 years. I have no trouble believeing that.

I've had a nice time though. Three weeks at my mom's, a few days in a flat she rented by the beach, and almost a week on my father's boat with his girlfriend and my stepsiblings, that's the "away-from-home"-vacation I've had. Except it isn't really away from home, cause I view my mother's place sort of like home. The flat here in Kristiansand has been full of people and life all through July. I would have thought that would drive me insane, but it hasn't. I liked it. I like the people I live with.

I have big plans to update my homepage. I need to find a more reliable server (anyone got a tip?) than home.no, because they mostly suck. I had made some images to use and started editing the new colors in Frontpage, but then my computer crashed and I lost all the files that I hadn't secured. Hurray for dead harddiscs. So now I have to do it all over again and I'm not very inspired. We'll see how that goes.

I also have big plans to start blogging close to regularly again. However, my mind is extraordinarily dead these days so there is a great risk that I will just be spewing nonsense or simply stare at my screen for an hour and then go eat a carrot instead. Hopefully Jon will be online to nag me into not doing the latter. He is the one nagging me now as well, so you can all thank him for this very rewarding read.

This is an excerpt from our msn-conversation:

Kris sier:
woooorking on it
Kris sier:
oop phone
Zeak sier:
A new background is cool
Zeak sier:
I am pleased
Kris sier:
that was my student counsellor
Zeak sier:
Ah
Kris sier:
she spends half an hour saying basically nothing at all
Kris sier:
very intriguing how people manage that
Zeak sier:
Yeah
Zeak sier:
That will be outlawed when we take over the world
Kris sier:
Yes!

So now you know that. Be prepared.

Cookie Monster

2007-05-09T02:32:00.000+02:00

Oh... my God. Oh, my God!!! I took this test, and I'm MY HERO! And I DIDN'T EVEN CHEAT!!!

You Are Cookie Monster

Misunderstood as a primal monster, you're a true hedonist with a huge sweet tooth.

You are usually feeling: Hungry. Cookies are preferred, but you'll eat anything if cookies aren't around.

You are famous for: Your slightly crazy eyes and usual way of speaking

How you life your life: In the moment. "Me want COOKIE!"

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

In Memory of a Bird

2007-05-06T17:11:00.001+02:00

My cousin Anne and her daughter Andrea got a budgie a few years ago. They named him Spretten. After a while I took him over, because it turned out that Anne most likely was allergic to him. We renamed him, me and Bente, and his new name was Faffar.

It’s wild, really, how attached one can get to these little things. I loved that silly, feathery fellow so much it’s almost pathetic. But just almost. Because people do love their pets, and that’s not really a pathetic thing in my opinion – it’s kind of nice. To think that we have that in us; a love for creatures who are not like ourselves, a need to take care of them, an opening in us to sort of… let them soften us up a bit.

Anyway, Faffar flew away a few weeks ago and I was sure he was dead, until it turned out he had gotten into someone’s car and they took him to the pet-store, where we found him safe and sound four days later. I was so happy to have him back! He’s been acting a bit crazy since then though – very stressed out and clingy – and partly because of this, we had an accident today. He followed me everywhere (as usual), but I wouldn’t let him out of the bathroom, since my window was open. So I tried to sneak through the door and close it behind me. I misjudged his flying abilities, however, and he came much quicker than I thought he would. He got caught in the door as it closed, and died soon after.

Now I’m nauseous as hell and feel like the worst person alive.

So I’m trying to think like this:

- He had a great life. Not many other people would have given their budgies as much attention and love as I’ve done.

- He’s been very scared to be alone after his little excursion – At least now he’s “at peace.” A bird who is that anxious can’t be very happy. Besides, he was sneezing a lot. Maybe he was sick as well. Maybe it was even “his time to go.” Who knows.

- At least he won't have suffered like he would if he died of being old and sick. And at least.this way I know what happened. Instead of him flying away and just disappearing. It was quick and hopefully relatively painless.

- Like Hilde said: “Another little bird needs you. You’re Elliot the Dragon!

I’m sad that he’s gone, because I really, really loved him. And it was a shitty thing to happen one and a half week before my finals. But it’s a bird. Birds die. In fact we all die. It’s just how the world works. We buried him in Baneheia, where it’s pretty and green now. Bente says he’s gone to birdie-heaven. And the bible says that His eye is on the sparrow, so I guess that means budgerigars as well.

Another quote from Hilde: “Be glad it wasn’t Bente’s head. It could’ve happened, you know. Bente can be pretty clingy too."

If anyone was wondering...

2007-05-04T10:49:00.000+02:00

...what I'm doing these days, this is basically it:

Enjoying spring while reading for the finals.

And May 2nd was the date of this year's first outdoor swim. Some other people had the same idea as well, so it was quite summery up there. The water was cold, though, but it was lovely.

Hilde preferred watching. This photo is such a pretty spring-piccy, I love it.

6% of the world.

2007-04-18T19:51:00.000+02:00

I've been to these countries. Next year I'll have covered one more (Mexico). And theeen, later, when I get more MONEY, I'll travel to LOTS of places. The countries I have been to cover 6% of the earth. My goal is to reach at LEAST 30% before I die. Preferrably more. Yesyes.

create your own visited country map

Top 13 Reasons Gay Marriage is Bad

2007-04-16T18:30:00.000+02:00

As I've mentioned before, I love lists. Here's another one, written from an American standpoint, but still sort of valid anywhere and very funny!

Top 13 Reasons Gay Marriage is Bad:

13. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

12. Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why our society has no single parents.

11. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.

10. Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.

9. Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.

8. Gay marriage should be decided by the people and their elected representatives, not the courts. The framers checked the courts, which represent mainstream public opinion, with legislatures created to protect the rights of minorities from the tyranny of the majority. Interference by courts in this matter is inappropriate, just as it has been every time the courts have tried to hold back legislatures pushing for civil rights.

7. Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britney Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.

6. Civil unions, providing most of the same benefits as marriage with a different name are better, because "separate but equal" institutions are a good way to satisfy the demands of uppity minority groups.

5. Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

4. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.

3. Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.

2. Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.

1. METEORS and VOLCANOES.

You Know You're Norwegian When..

2007-04-14T22:58:00.001+02:00

(I found this list, and since I've not been posting lately, here's as good a place as any to put it. I made some edits. I think I can say with certainty that if the majority of these fit, then you're pretty darn Norwegian.)

You know you're Norwegian when...

You assume that a stranger on the street who smiles at or greets you is:
a) drunk.
b) insane.
c) an American.
d) All of the above.

You vigorously defend whaling (whether or not you enjoy consuming whale meat).

You enjoy the taste of lutefisk (jelly-like, bad-smelling fish) and cod prepared in any way, including fried cod tongues.

You can prepare fish in five different ways without cooking it.

You don't question the habit of always preparing a "matpakke" (sandwich wrapped in paper) for work/school.

You think there is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.

It feels natural to wear sports clothes and a backpack everywhere, including the cinema, bowling alley, and to church.

You think it's weird if a house isn't wooden.

You know at least five different words for describing different textures of snow.

You don't fall when walking on ice.

You earn more than you spend.

You associate Easter with cross-country skiing with friends and family in the family's mountain cabin - and crime/mystery novels or tv-shows.

You are shocked there is not 2 months of snow every year, at least!

Your confirmation dinner is embarrassing because of all the long speeches and the songs written about you to the melodies of old, Norwegian tunes.

You would rather miss your flight than miss shopping your quota at the tax-free.

You go swimming when the water is 12 degrees Celcius (53.6 degrees Fahrenheit) and claim it's "refreshing."

You can see mountains and the ocean, no matter where you are.

You expect all dinner parties and meetings to start precisely on time, if not before.

Your conscience eats you up if you're not outside whenever there's a sunny day.

You wear socks in your sandals.

You barbecue in spite of rain, cold and/or wind.

Whenever you meet a foreigner, you ask them if they've heard of Norway and what they think of it.

You pass these jokes on to all your friends!

"A dream is a wish your heart makes..."

2007-03-28T16:04:00.000+02:00

In my dreams last night I was enthusiastically debating school management politics. I don't know whether that means that:

I'm a freakishly dedicated student
I'm a socially engaged individual with a keen mind, who attempts to solve problems even in my sleep
My head is just too full of real-life-issues and I need to watch a few Disney-movies. Preferably ones where they sing songs about dreams.

...But why do I have a feeling it's none of the above?

And speaking of Disney-movies. One of them (namely Cinderella) contains a song with a phrase that goes like this: "A dream is a wish your heart makes when you're fast asleep." ...If that's true, then I'm really screwed. That would mean my heart is crazy, perverted and evil. It wants me to suffer in a number of different ways - possibly also die (my dreams are never quite clear on that particular point) - and it wishes for me to be left by everyone I love and lose my way in a strange place and be eaten by various monstrous creatures and... and... Yeah. You catch my drift (it also wishes for me to have intercourse with a varied assortment of absurd characters, but I won't go deeper into that at this point in time).

So in conclusion: Disney movies and the songs they contain are beautiful and sweet and all that, but that doesn't change the fact that they're pretty much full of bullshit. -And so are my dreams.

Naggy naggy

2007-03-28T00:21:00.000+02:00

People keep nagging me to update my site and this blog.

I know you all get spasmic and struggle with increasingly frequent panic attacks when you don't hear from me on a regular basis, and for this I am truly sorry. However, I'm working on the last bit of the last semester of the last year of my bachelor's degree. I do have to prioritize and when it comes to how I spend my spare time, my website and blog has been coming up short lately. They probably will for a while more, although one can always hope Easter will provide me with some nice, online quiet-time. I'm going to keep on trying to post now and then, but please, please don't hurt yourselves. If you miss me that much I advice you to rather give me a call.

;)

I RULE!!!

2007-03-14T16:43:00.000+01:00

Right... I am officially a genius. Look at this:

Karakter	Antall
A	1
B	1
C	3
D	5
E	5

That's the stats from the final in British Studies. Grade first, then number of students. Guess who got the A? Hmmm??? Wooooooooooooot! I ROCK MY SOCKS. Bow down and grovel.

Or at least congratulate me. Weeee!!!!

Snowy

2007-02-22T21:00:00.000+01:00

I have decided that I have a very ambivalent attitude towards snow-storms.

The last days in Kristiansand have been fascinating to witness. 3/4ths of my window is covered in snow, so I don’t see much from there, but whenever I go outside (which, however badly one might wish one didn’t have to do, one occasionally must) I see… Well… more snow. But also people. And they’re smiling! I am completely thrown and utterly amazed at how much friendlier people become during snow-storms. They smile at each other for no other reason than “Well, you’re out and about too, are you?” Today when I came out from school there was a girl shaking with a cigarette outside the door who greeted me with “Hehe, it’s a good day for smokers.” The guy in the kiosk last night kept giggling and smiling at me for no reason and Vigdis told me today that people who never normally greeted her had been chatting like they were old friends. At bus-stops (yes, some of the buses are going – if late), and in shops people who would never normally pay attention to each other are discussing the weather eagerly. It’s… absurd. But in a good way.

Yes, I will admit; I was mightily annoyed when it first started snowing – and when it continued. “Does it really need to get even COLDER?” And I am still annoyed at the many delays and at the media blowing it out of proportion and at drivers who don’t take precautions. We DO live in Norway and it IS winter. Somehow I feel that people should be aware of this by now. No point in exaggerating and telling people to stay indoors (except if said people are old or otherwise frail). A weather-woman made this wonderful comment on TV yesterday: “I would advice anyone who has to go outside to day to put it off until tomorrow.” There’s good advice for you.

That’s another thing that has made me smile though. People DO go out, even if they don’t HAVE TO. My American acquaintances talk of “snow-days” where they’ll get the day off because of (guess what!) snowfall. There’s no such thing here, no sirree! People are out riding bikes for God’s sake. Students are walking to school, even though meteorologists told people not to; everyone – including seniors – is out and about. Nothing stops. Delays, yes, plenty of them, but I didn’t hear anyone complain (not that that would help any), except for this one guy on the radio who was reproaching the road maintenance services. Oh, and me. I complained to Liz and Jess yesterday, because I was pissed at the world in general and the weather made me even more annoyed. I’m not that angry today, so it doesn’t bother me. In fact I think it’s kind of nice.

Well, except that my train is running 40 minutes late. I would’ve liked to be home in six minutes instead of 46.

As I said, ambivalent. That’s me. Nothing new there.

'Happy Valentine's Day' - Now, there's an oxymoron.

2007-02-14T06:52:00.006+01:00

"A holiday that only applies to people who are already paired up. For everyone else it's Wednesday." - Dr Cameron on House M.D.

Valentine's Day is the most crappy invention ever. At least when you're single it is. I had great plans this year, of collecting all the single people in town and holding a protest rally. And then we would storm the houses of couples having romantic dinners and we'd steal their wine and have a great big party in the town square.

But it was too cold.

So instead I decided to treat myself to a burger. I was wearing slacks and had only the absolutely necessary amount of make-up on. In other words I was looking as crappy as Valentines Day is. But who cares, right? I was only going for take-out and at least I'm prettier than the girl in the burger-place (which doesn't really take much).

Anyway; so I was standing around waiting for my food when in came this ridiculously beautiful young woman. She was elegantly dressed, carried herself impeccably, had long blonde hair that ran in waves down her shoulders and she was tall and slender and basically just freaking gorgeous. I happily deluded myself thinking: "See, people like that can also be alone on Valentines Day sometimes - and eat junk food sometimes (probably very seldom)."

And then she orders coffee. Just coffee. And leaves.

I mean seriously; sometimes you just want to hit people simply because they exist.

"Tell me why I don't like Mondays"

2007-02-05T06:00:00.000+01:00

I have a bad cold, a semi-bad hangover and a REALLY bad case of the "I wish she didn't have to go!"-syndrome.

And I hate Mondays.

Yeah, I'm here.

2007-01-30T23:13:00.000+01:00

Dude. I totally forgot I even HAD a blog.

What's WRONG with me?

Anyway, life went on even after having been on TV (! - Bet that came as a surprise to a few of you, eh?) and I'm currently doing very little other than reading and sleeping.

Lene will come to visit me this weekend though. WOO! And I finally upgraded my blog. Might see some more changes here in a bitty.

Me and Jonas

2007-01-22T05:54:00.000+01:00

Jonas Gardell!!! I'm gonna be on the same show as Jonas Gardell!!! Heehee!

He's COOL.

Awesomeness!

Pride and… basically just that.

2007-01-20T17:36:00.002+01:00

First of all: For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, here are some previous posts that explain the whole thing:
"Cold Feet"
"Mulling things over"
O_O

All right. I’ve done some thinking. Now on to the phrasing, – which at times can be harder. My mind, my body and my emotions have all been in complete turmoil the last couple of days, so I haven’t been able to write a single phrase. Utter chaos has reigned – I’ve done stuff like starting to cry because I couldn’t get my new vacuum cleaner to work (incidentally that turned out to just be the batteries).

I scrubbed down my entire bathroom yesterday. Really energetically too. It’s all shiny now.

The day the TV-interview was held – a few months back – Ingrid erupted in the evening: “You must be so proud!”
I was somewhat taken aback by this exclamation. Proud is not a word I use often, especially about myself. Evidently sensing my hesitation, she turned the sentence into a question: “Aren’t you proud?” – And thereby nudged me into a channel of contemplation from which I still haven’t quite climbed out.

I should be proud. She has kept saying this.

“Proud of what?” I thought at first. Of having been that kid? The odd one, the one that couldn’t seem to cope? The one the others didn’t like? Proud to shout that out to the world (or Norway anyway)…? Proud that I had dared to be open about something so personal when openness is often considered “attention-seeking” and almost pitiable?

I searched myself, but I did not find that. I did not find “proud.”

I found a lot of other things. I found “vulnerable.” I found “ashamed.” I found “terrified.” “Weak.” But not “proud.” I had to look for a long time before I found “proud,” – and I’m still not sure I found it.

But I believe I have found a piece of it anyway. And I’m determined to hold on to that piece. I do have something to be proud of, although I keep forgetting it and keep having to be reminded – or having to remind myself (which is really hard, by the way, but I’m sort of learning… I think). I think I do have something.

I’m proud that I didn’t give up.

I’m still here. I’m still working on my bachelor’s degree. I still go out and meet people. I still write, I still sing, I still laugh and play games and clean my bathroom and do all those things that people are supposed to do when they are alive. I’m proud of that.

Some people seem to have pride instilled in them from birth. They’re proud no matter what. Others have to look for it. Some people look for it and find it, but keep losing it whenever they get scared or sad or feel weak, and then they have to start looking all over again.

…Kind of frustrating, that.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t be humble and that pride is always a good thing. “Too much of anything is dangerous,” as… I think it was Bjørnson (?) said.

But I’m saying that… What am I saying? Oh. Right, yes: I have made a decision today that I intend to repeat to myself a large number of times during the next few days: I refuse to allow myself to become too vulnerable because of this. I refuse to feel ashamed. I refuse to feel terrified. And I refuse to feel weak.

I insist on being proud.

Øyvind told me to be prepared for phonecalls and text-messages and I completely freaked out later that night. Liz comforted me and said if someone called to criticize, that I should say “fuck you” and direct them to her. I laughed then. But seriously… Fuck them.

If someone finds my story inappropriate or hard to deal with, then that really is their problem. I’m not doing this for them. I’m doing it for me and for Ingrid’s research and for all those “quiet children” who are overlooked every day. – Most of all the latter. They need that people wake up – teachers, parents, everyone who is supposed to take care of them and watch out for them and see them. And they need to know that a few years from now they can still be alive and okay, and maybe even proud.

O_O

2007-01-19T10:37:00.000+01:00

Look: Clicky (sorry English people. You're left out this time)

I have nothing to say yet. I'm still... digesting.

IIIIII'm BAAAACK!

2007-01-12T23:42:00.000+01:00

Yes. My "Holiday Hiatus" is over and I'm back to blogging regularly. I'm sorry to those of you who have cried yourselves to sleep every night missing my entries. I will try not to disappear from you for such a long period again.

But now I'm sure you are all dying to know how my Christmas has been. Well, you won't get to know much about that, simply because I'm lazy and have better things to do. But I will say that I have had a wonderful time. I have enjoyed good food, good drinks, good company, movies, games, writing, drives... -and I got more for Christmas than I could have possibly wished for.

My family is cool. I enjoy spending time with them. I'm lucky.

I'll write more soon. Oh, and by the way: Happy New Year everyone.

Toe-wiggling

2006-12-17T16:26:00.000+01:00

I'm home for Christmas. It's wonderful.

Lying in bed yesterday morning I suddenly realized I was wiggling my toes. I do that when I'm happy. Sometimes I don't even conceive how content and comfortable I am before I notice that my toes are moving.

They're moving right now too. I'm sitting by the fireplace. My sister and her boyfriend are lying on the couch next to me watching tv and eating oranges that smell good. My mother and Bjørg are hanging some spotlights. My bird is chirping. It's noisy, but in a nice, pleasant sort of way. I'm tired from party at my brother's yesterday, but it's a comfortable, calm sort of tired. It was fun. We will be going to my dad's for dinner in an hour or so. It's freezing outside and it stopped raining (just when I was starting to consider building a boat like Noah did). Never mind a white Christmas. I don't need it. If this can last I'll be delighted.

Potter Puppet Pals

2006-12-13T01:49:00.000+01:00

I'm tired. I don't have much to say today, so if you need passtime, have yourself a laugh watching the "Potter Puppet Pals. I visit this site now and then when I need a giggle. Very nice little parody.

Sunday Serenity

2006-12-10T22:09:00.001+01:00

Now I think there's a real storm going on outside. I went out on the terrace and stood under my umbrella for a while, just watching it, listening to it. I felt small and insignificant. And somehow oddly safe. I wonder why that is. I feel like it has something to do with God.

Yesterday was a nice day. I did go outside in the sun and I spent the day handing out food and collecting money for charity together with other people from the city mission. It was cold but rewarding. It fascinates me how many people soften up when you offer them food (or probably anything, really) for free. There were so many smiles, so many "thank you"s and so many comments like "this is a great thing you're doing," that I quite softened up myself. I liked people yesterday. I don't always, but I did then.

In the evening we lit the fireplace and a bunch of candles and I downloaded Christmas songs. Today has been a lazy day. I finished Anna of the Five Towns (which, by the way, is a great book) and a few short-stories, so there's not too much left to read now before my last final Thursday. I'm calm and content. Happy, even. And I'm looking forward to going home Friday.

My head is full of unfinished thoughts that I would like to write down, but for some reason I can't put them into words yet. So for now I guess that's it. I hope everybody is doing all right and enjoying December as much as I am.

Wow...

2006-12-09T12:43:00.000+01:00

Just... Wow...! I just woke up an hour ago and I'm all: O_O

I think the weather must've read my blog. There isn't a cloud on the sky! It's all SUNNY! I'm going outside. Weeee!

War and the weather...

2006-12-08T22:05:00.000+01:00

Seriously; it will not stop raining! The weather has gone insane. People talk about it all over; on the radio, in the newspapers, on the bus…

I overheard a couple of old ladies discussing it last Tuesday when I was entertaining a bunch of retired nurses, doctors and other hospital-staff. They agreed that the weather was most peculiar; but that they were happy it didn’t come down as snow, “…or we wouldn’t be sitting here!” “Oh, no, I wouldn’t have gotten far then!” They were cute. At least some people see the bright side of it.

Alf, on the other hand, is rather peeved. “No, I’m telling you, this is starting to get ridiculous now. It’s not funny anymore.” I’m inclined to agree with him. I admit I enjoyed walking through the storm to service yesterday: The wind was frighteningly strong, the few people who were outside were running hurriedly with their heads bent, cars were letting pedestrians walk on red light. For five minutes or so, the rain turned into hail, then back into rain. Later that same evening, one single flash of lightning could be seen. No thunder, and no more flashes. It was rather absurd and I did like it. I like extreme weather. But I am getting fairly tired of the city looking all wet and grey, and of hardly ever being able to see the sun or a spot of blue sky. - And the dark. It could drive you mad. Fortunately the Christmas-lights are up, so the streets are more cheery than they otherwise would have been.

Even the minister mentioned it several times in his sermon. “People are starting to worry – even the children. Something is off when December is mild enough that flowers still blossom, apples can still be harvested, cows still graze outside, and the rain won’t stop falling. It’s not normal.”

It sure as hell isn’t.

He was talking about environmental issues. The papers are, also. Global warming. “Have we pushed the earth as far as it can go? Will all resources soon be exhausted?” Scientists are saying that in 80 years or so only a small percentage of the world’s inhabitants will have access to clean water.

How are we supposed to find hope for the world – to think it is possible to make it a better place - when people keep saying that everything is just getting worse? Is everything getting worse? Hasn’t the world always been “a cesspool of crime and violence?” Hasn’t the climate always been changing, isn’t the environment forever developing, haven’t people always been scared?

I’m going to cling to that hope. And to what Eyvind Skeie says in his song It’s Christmas:
“For a moment’s time it is quiet
And peaceful on the strife-ridden earth.
For a day or two they must be silent
All the threats in bombs and words.
For a second or two you can forget that the earth may perish.
It’s Christmas, you have time to dream; to feel your heart beating.”

Done

2006-12-07T20:26:00.000+01:00

I'm very happy to be finished with that. Over and done with. I think it went well, too. Or half decent, anyway. Aaah. Now I only have one left. This week will be dedicated to old British novels, short-stories and a few plays. And candles. I love December.

Final with a capital F.

2006-12-06T22:03:00.000+01:00

I'm going to bed now. I only hope I'll be able to sleep! Approximants, sibilants, obstruents, fortis, lenis, alveolar, labio-dental, nucleus tone... My head is buzzing and spinning with phonetics. Wooooo... I'm almost dizzy.

It's fun though - When I feel like I've got the hang of it.

I hope I have.

I am SO going out to celebrate tomorrow night, when this is all over. Wish me luck...

Procrastination

2006-12-05T07:37:00.000+01:00

Well, lookie how good that promise turned out... Oh well. I'm excused since it's my finals period. I had one of them last Friday and will have another one this Thursday. -And then the last one Thursday next week. So what I have been doing on the net lately is mostly read, some writing, some chatting and procrastinating (of course) and yesterday I made this:

They are entries for a signature/avatar contest with the theme "Winter/Christmas" and we had to use song lyrics. I won't win or anything, but my Halloween-entry got second place so I'm entering for the fun of it and because I want my posts on the forum to look pretty. Hehe. -Oh, and of course because I rather wanted to do that than study for my exam. It's amazing how much you get done when you really should be doing something else.

G'mornin'!

2006-11-29T06:41:00.000+01:00

I've been an early-bird in the mornings lately. Like up before six-style! And I'm usually the sleepiest person alive. Sleeping is one of my favorite hobbies. But this last week I have been a GOOD girl. I'm very proud of myself for that. Woot! Go me.

Getting over November

2006-11-28T20:15:00.000+01:00

Yesterday, in Kristiansand's main street, I saw a big, tough looking fellow, tall and bald, with a leather jacket and the whole "macho man"-thing going on. He was crouched in front of a pram, talking baby talk and making silly faces at a toddler. The kid's mother was on the phone, not paying attention at the moment. I don't know if he knew that someone was watching him. I hope he did, and that he's one of those people who wouldn't find that embarrassing.

He made my day.

Images like that should be framed and put up all over the place, to remind us of all the good things in the world. Because I think we - or at least I - keep forgetting them.

The Christmas lights are up. The big tree will be right outside our apartment this year. Well, it's there already, just not lit yet. I have been so exhausted lately. Tired, worried, dejected, bordering on completely discouraged. Everything just seemed really hard.

But I always get like that in November.

And then December comes along. Or it will soon, anyway. My finals still aren't over. I still have my financial issues. Everything that wasn't in order a week ago still isn't. And I'm still just as tired and worried, even stressed. But dejected and discouraged... not so much anymore.

They're just finals. They're just problems. It's really not that serious. We always pull through one way or another, don't we?

I know I'm planning to.

And as long as there are people like that weird dude in the street, and as long as there are kittens and ducklings and candles and the ocean and clouds... And music. And Christmas... I'll be okay.