Holiday

I'm off to Sweden for a week.

Have fun while I'm gone, little ones.

I'll bring photos when I come back.

Don't make a mess and remember to feed the cat.

See ya in a week!

Did you know that...

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Laughing fit followes

[Scene: Sister and I walking down a mountain. She stops, I stop right behind her. She stands still for a few seconds.]

Me: Well walk then.
Sis: I just had to fart.

Smell of.... summer?

It's sunny and a little windy. Not too warm, not too cold.

I'm lying outside in the hammock, peacefully reading a book.

The old lady in the house next door is also sitting outside.

Then it hits. The smell. The stench.

Manure.

Some farmer nearby has decided to spread his dung.

On this sunny, windy day.

Since it's sunny, it doesn't rain away.

Since it's windy, the smell travels with the wind.

Smack bang in the middle of your face.

Usually it's not too bad.

Usually they don't do it on sunny, windy summer days.

I had to escape inside.

The lady did too.

Prisoners of dung...

I have to get away from here!

The past two years I've only been home for Easter, summer and Christmas, but then always for a few weeks at a time. At first it's always nice to be home, everybody's nice to each other and it just feels relaxing.

Then after two-three weeks, it happens. Looking at the calendar, I see I've been home two and a half weeks now. I felt it coming a few days ago. I get annoyed. The little things that are just nice when I get here, are starting to get annoying. It's no longer cute that my sister wants to be in my room all the time. It's stopped being just strange when my mum wants me to see if anything she cooks is ready (how does she manage when I'm not here??). My parents not being able to make up their minds about anything is no longer funny like when I'm in Bergen and their decisions don't affect me, but when I'm here, it's just annoying.

We were supposed to go up north to the island where my mum is from. My parents have been going through all the stages between 'Yes' and 'No' for the past few months, including "not a good idea", "we'll see", "no", "maybe", "if you want", "you decide", "we'll ask your mother/father", "I don't think your mother/father wants to", "we could go", "yes", "we'll see", "no plans", "no", "yes", "probably not", "don't know yet", and most recently, when a friend of theirs asked; "no" and when I asked; "don't know, don't think so".

Make up your minds!!
I suck at making up my mind, but at least I keep it to myself until I've done it. I say "I don't know" until I do know, and when I've made a decision, I rarely change it. If I say 'yes', I don't change it to 'no'. Especially not when I know someone gets disappointed every time I change my mind. I know my parents are the ones who have to drive and pay and talk to all our relatives when us kids run off with our cousins. And that's fine, we haven't been there for two years, if they don't want to go we'll be disappointed but it'll be ok. Just tell us! I've told them this too, asked them to please just say yes or no so we'll know, but it doesn't do any good.

All the little things that are cute when I'm away, have stopped being cute and are now annoying. I've been home long enough for them to stop seeing me as living in Bergen, I am once again living here, I'm the oldest kid again, not that I ever stopped being that, but I'm a kid again. Their rules. Which bugs me. And which usually leads to me asking questions. Like if my parents say something, they think this or that, I ask "why" instead of just smiling politely. I always ask why but I know they prefer to just make a statement and don't explain why, so I don't ask when I first come home. Just being the good girl.

But after a while I start wanting reasons why people say things, which usually starts a discussion. My mum doesn't want to discuss and my dad yells at me for discussing with my mum. And it's not even arguing, that's the funny part. When my mum doesn't have anything to say, she sighs and looks like she's about to cry. My dad thinks I've said something rude, he doesn't know cuz he wasn't there, and so I'm the bad one again. Misunderstandings. It's always been like this. And I never get a chance to explain it either. It sucks.

So I gotta get out of here. For a day or two. If I had somewhere to go, I'd go. I just need a break, I know they're not gonna do anything differently so I just need to breathe a little. I feel like a pot of water on the stove. When I came home, someone put a lid over it which shouldn't be there. The water's boiling, pushing the lid, jumping up and down. I just need to let out some steam!

Summer photos

I'm putting a few pictures from July on appleshots. Nothing fancy, it just got a little quiet over there and I thought some summer shots must be just the thing.

Tommy og Tigern

*Yaaawn*
"Let go of me you soft boiled, bloodthirsty, beetle brain!!"
"It's the morning! Now we can do things together again!"
"Come on, woohoo!"

"It's hard to stay angry with someone who misses you while you're sleeping."


Calvin and Hobbes by Bill Watterson, here in Norwegian.


I got two Calvin and Hobbes books a few months ago. I've only read one, thought I'd wait with the other till the person who gave it to me decides to come back from wherever it is he's gone off to. If that happens or not, I don't know. In any case, the books are in Bergen and I'm not.

Earlier I was putting the case for my laptop in our storage room. There, sitting quietly on something in the middle of the floor was a book, a Calvin and Hobbes book in Norwegian, seemingly unread. I seem to remember my brother getting it for Christmas a few years ago from an aunt living in Bergen, it hadn't been seen since.

I brought the book outside and sat down reading in the sunshine. Makes me think of the guy who disappeared a few months ago, and I wish I could say thanks again for introducing me to the real Calvin and Hobbes.

All I'm looking for is the truth.
And I want to stop wondering.

World Games Bodybuilding

Muscles scare me. Always have. There's just something unnatural about muscles that show too well through the skin. Like this picture. It's scary.

Bodybuilding, like any sport, is a funny thing. But unlike other sports you don't work out to make your body able to do something. Do you? I'll be the first to admit I don't know zip about bodybuilding, but the name itself pretty much tells you what it's about. It's about building up your body. Not so that you'll be able to run fast or throw something or swim or row or jump. But so that it looks big. You put some oil on and flex your muscles for the judges. Kinda like Miss Universe, only you need muscles, not silicone.

I've never been able to understand it, but as with many other things it doesn't matter much what I think. As long as the people doing it are happy, so am I. But it doesn't look good... They can't possibly have one ounce of fat on their bodies... Maybe that's what we should all strive for.


Nah, no way, ain't gonna happen!
I'll keep my muscles where they belong. Underneath my skin, not looking like they're about to jump out.

Besides, I'm too lazy.

Rome Fashion Week 2005

Something to wear
a creation fom Italy by Fausto Starrdi

Something not to wear:
a creation from Russia by Sumbell Zigazovaya

I love the first one, the dress is gorgeous and the photo is not like most fashion show photos. The second one, well... to me it looks like a bird.

Weather vs. Clothing

Earlier today I was putting on a t-shirt I found in the back of my closet. I hadn't worn it for a year because I didn't bring it with me when I moved to Bergen to go to Uni. I put it on and it smelled familiar. I realized I hadn't washed it since I was in France a bit over a year ago, I hadn't worn it and so I hadn't washed it. It smelled like my room in Saint-Rémy. It smelled of the washing machine liquid thing I used to wash my clothes in. It smelled like my bed. Like my room when I was drying my clothes. Like home away from home in a way.

I spent nine months in France as an au pair. I lived in a small town called Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse, just outside of Paris, from October 2003 till the end of June 2004. I stayed with a British family, watched two kids, a boy and a girl who were 3 and 4, spoke English, learnt French and spent every weekend walking the streets of Paris.

To return to the subject; I was wearing the t-shirt. The reason I was wearing this t-shirt was that my parents, sister and I was going up to a seter and up through this mountain pass (btw, that picture is from the seter we went yesterday). It's not exactly a pass, I think, but it's the best English word or expression I found. It's not a mountain but it's high up there.

It was cloudy and grey as we started, some raindrops hit as we started walking. Before we reached the seter, Otterdalssetra, it was pouring down. We still had over an hour of walking before we got to the pass, Otterdalsskaret. This was the first time ever on a trip, and there has been a few, when our parents seriously suggested turning around. But we ain't quitters so we kept going.

It kept raining as we made our way up the hills, the wind was picking up and the fog coming in from the lake. It was thick as porridge but we were able to stay out of it until we reached the top. We didn't spend more than two minutes up there before we started on the way back. Making your way down a steep, slippery mountain side with the rain pouring and the wind howling, now that's something you should try. Once. And only once.

It did stop raining when we were down the worst part. We started warming up as we kept walking but we were still completely soaked. It's been raining a lot this summer; we were jumping across small rivers that used to be two feet wide but now some were 6, others more like 10. Wouldn't wanna fall in there... It was... an interesting trip. But from now on I'm not going out walking the mountains when it looks like the sky's about to fall down.

Then again, as the old, Norwegian proverb goes:

There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.

Oh bite me...

Men's Fashion, Spring-Summer 2006

Guys - the thing next year is skirts. And if you can get a shirt that looks like a straitjacket that would be excellent!

This outfit is by Vivienne Westwood.

The Sheep Book

"We finished our packing and had intercourse, then went out and saw a movie. In the movie there were a lot of men and women having intercourse too. Nothing wrong with watching others having intercourse, after all."

Haruki Murakami in the book A Wild Sheep Chase

Sunshine

I was outside reading when the little girl next door jumped into the hammock with me.

Girl: "Do you have big boobies?"
Me: "Uhhh.... do you?"
Girl: "No! Do you?"
Me: "Uhhh.... no."

She insisted on staying so I had my hands full making sure she didn't tip the whole thing over, making us both fall out.

London

I don't know anymore.

I could write something about politics, about religion or poverty. I could write something highly intellectual with fancy words and terms taken from the dictionary. I could write till I fell asleep looking at the black squiggles on the screen, these little things that mean so much.

I won't do that. When I heard the news about terrorists attacks in London I didn't spend hours in front of the tv like four years ago when it was in New York. I didn't keep thinking about it like one year ago in Madrid. I just sat down in a chair, stood back up and sat right down again. I'm sure that was some kind of reaction, although not a very intelligent reaction, some kind of reaction it was. Maybe we're getting used to it.

I'm at a loss for words. There is no longer any way to explain it or say it's just a one-time thing. Saying that the people responsible must be brought to justice no longer holds any meaning. Not for me anyway. How can these things keep happening? Is this the future? The naïve part of me is slowly withering away.

It was just a few weeks ago I heard a news report about terrorist cells in Europe and how they thrive here. How much harder it is when it's not a country going against you but citizens of your own country or countries, who may have been brought up and/or trained elsewhere. I've watched how people start hating terrorists, then Afghanistan, then Muslims and the entire Middle East. And it's so easy, it's so incredibly easy to assume somebody, anybody, 'over there' is responsible when terrorists attack again. I know it's easy because I feel it coming. It's fear. Then it's hate.

I just don't understand it. What can make someone do something like this? It's the same question as four years ago. It can be easy enough, human beings are made so that if we have to do something we disagree with, we simply change our opinions because we can't see ourselves as bad people. We, as in you and I, do bad things only when it's necessary and only when we have a reason. Others do it because they're bad people. It's so easy to create a killer.

What about war? I've thought plenty about war and the people involved. I still think it's wrong and never the right answer. Terrorist attacks like today in London can go either way when it comes to war. Either war is right because you can't let people get away with this; or war is wrong because it's not a country that attacks and you can't attack a country because some of the people involved lived there. You wouldn't attack (for example) Switzerland if you found out a couple terrorists had lived there the past ten years. Would you?

But that is not the issue right now.

Hopelessness.

I don't believe in "hopeless". But it's a word that comes to mind now. How can we keep believing people are good when these things keep happening? I try my best not to ask something unless I know the answer, and always to back up my opinions and statements. But now I have no answers and I have nothing to back up my opinions with. What if people start losing hope?

As for the people of London, all I can say is they went from this year's big high on Wednesday night, to the incredible low on Thursday morning. Their people suffer and are scared. They'll pull through like other cities have, their politicians will get more freedom to pursue the 'evil-doers' and the people will live in fear, both in London and the rest of the world, wondering which city will be next, what country is on the list.

Fear... No. No thank you, not for me.
I have hope but so far it hasn't helped much.


The pen may be mightier than the sword,
but I think we need new ink.

July!

After a week of no internet and a few more days of uncertainty, I'm finally able to post again.

Uni is over, summer is here and yesterday I came home.

On the bus, after leaving the city, I noticed the oh so familiar smell of summer. I haven't noticed it like that before, the city doesn't smell like summer but here it does. The air on the bus smelled like flowers and grass, it's a mixture that doesn't really smell like any specific thing, it's just summer. It's just like that here.

Exactly 24 hours after I passed by this spot, this thing landed on the road.

They say it's 100 tons, 100,000 kilos, and they'll probably have to use dynamite to get rid of it. They're just not sure if it's safe yet. But don't worry, if you ever want to go on a road trip through Norway, there's absolutely nothing to worry about. This kinda thing almost never happens...

Today I went swimming with my sis but we came back home pretty quickly. Even though it's 27 Cs in the shade, the temperature in the water really lets us know summer only came a couple days ago and that it takes a while to warm up the deepest lake in Europe.