tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87040812024-03-23T19:01:24.619+01:00applestoriesappleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.comBlogger1026125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-40460833157855947642011-08-11T01:21:00.000+02:002011-08-11T01:21:50.445+02:00Starry, starry sky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-61w9rs6k8ts/TkMRcyaglRI/AAAAAAAABag/RSdJ9Mk-R0M/s1600/Tatoo_Stars_Floral_by_RunningXx.png.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="126" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-61w9rs6k8ts/TkMRcyaglRI/AAAAAAAABag/RSdJ9Mk-R0M/s200/Tatoo_Stars_Floral_by_RunningXx.png.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>I don't remember the last time I saw the stars, but suddenly they were just there.<br />
<br />
We're fast approaching autumn, feels like summer passed in a blur.<br />
<br />
Sometimes I seriously wonder which stars enticed our ancestors to travel this far north...appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-60677362772320187412011-07-23T11:13:00.002+02:002011-07-23T11:13:49.519+02:0021 years. Tops.That's it.<br />
<br />
Norway needs new laws.appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-3318949241142456172011-07-21T12:22:00.000+02:002011-07-21T12:22:53.718+02:00A Disturbing DreamLast night I had a dream so disturbingly weird I just have to write it down somewhere.<br />
<br />
I don't remember how it started, but the cast was the people who used to be in my class. I don't know why we were together, but there we were. And someone decided we should all kill ourselves.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure how that idea came up, but suddenly people just decided it should be done. There was something about people were going to come in, something about NASA or something, storing the bodies - and everyone was okay with that.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Then I suddenly realized what were doing and started asking questions - I don't think I actually confronted anyone, I just kept asking why we should do this (then why <b>they</b> were going to do it). I remember I kept thinking... <i>"What can happen to the world that is so bad, they don't want to be here when it happens?"</i> Why kill yourself (or, as it were, have someone kill you) if something "may" happen? Did they sense something I didn't?<br />
<br />
Apart from a handful of us, they all went through with it. After, the one surviving girl and I went into a sort of locker room and were going to have a shower. I noticed stains on the floor, like dried vomit. I asked her what it might be, and tried to ignore the thought of what it might mean.<br />
<br />
The locker room had two doors, one to the shower and another one. I considered opening it, but fearing what I might see I didn't. But I couldn't quite let go of the thought of those dried, brown stains on the floor, and when I bent down next to one I took a quick peek through a hole next to the door. I couldn't see anything other than tiles. Good. Then I blinked and looked again, and there they were.<br />
<br />
They were all piled on top of each other, wrapped in towels, their bare legs sticking out. I immideatly stood up, thought this was the first time I'd seen a dead body, realized there is no way I am having a shower in here and wanted to get out. All the while wondering why they went through with it, what is going to happen that is so bad they don't want to be alive to see it?<br />
<br />
I wondered how they did it - all at once or one at a time. For some reason I knew it was one at a time. I don't know exactly how it went down, but those stains on the floor, probably vomit and definitely not blood, told me it hadn't been altogether pleasant.<br />
<br />
<br />
Now I can't quite get that image out of my head, all the towell wrapped figures in a pile, their naked legs. Dreaming of a hell that is reality for too many people out there.<br />
<br />
How messed up is that?appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-81193207276675063992011-07-07T19:43:00.001+02:002011-07-17T14:05:08.656+02:00No, I am not dead...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3pP7qY6Amcg/ThXocia-6VI/AAAAAAAABac/sOzgoW4BSmI/s1600/sun_face-2272.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3pP7qY6Amcg/ThXocia-6VI/AAAAAAAABac/sOzgoW4BSmI/s200/sun_face-2272.gif" width="185" /></a></div>...though I see why you might think so.<br />
<br />
The thing is.. the more I have going on, the more people I talk to every day, the less I feel the need to spill my guts on here. Between working, volunteering and negotiating my way through living with my parents - I'm all talked out!<br />
<br />
But now it's summer. I've done nothing since the school holiday started three weeks ago.<br />
<br />
Today my parents suddenly went off to Turkey for two weeks, my sister is moving home and the only thing I have to do is sort through my entire childhood in the attic and decide what parts of it to throw out.<br />
<br />
...though I have a feeling there was something else...<br />
<br />
Oh yes. Find a job. I definitely need to find a job.<br />
<br />
Just sucks most jobs are in Norway when I don't want to be.appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-65476277361794486092011-06-26T00:50:00.000+02:002011-06-26T00:50:13.121+02:00Be Safe!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v54eEqXqfos/TgZlUtJ5KjI/AAAAAAAABaY/EEGIvS6r3jw/s1600/safe+staple.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-v54eEqXqfos/TgZlUtJ5KjI/AAAAAAAABaY/EEGIvS6r3jw/s400/safe+staple.jpg" width="248" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I really, really hope there are people out there who would actually use this one!<br />
That truly would explain a lot...appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-7304840186907229442011-05-15T21:18:00.000+02:002011-05-15T21:18:22.975+02:00A pillow to save your face<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GE_HvI4UbE8/TdAjmuclW1I/AAAAAAAABaQ/DrU16AqhgDM/s1600/savemyface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GE_HvI4UbE8/TdAjmuclW1I/AAAAAAAABaQ/DrU16AqhgDM/s1600/savemyface.jpg" /></a></div>I stumbled across this on <a href="http://www.feelunique.com/p/Save-My-Face-La-Petite-Satin-Pillow-Case-Champagne">feelunique.com</a>. It's called a '<i>Save My Face La Petite Satin Pillow Case' </i>and has to be one of the most stupid things I've ever seen (and that's no small feat, I assure you). This warrants further investigations.<br />
<br />
I go straight to the source - <a href="http://savemyface.com/">savemyface.com</a>, and find this;<br />
<blockquote><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">"The <b>“Save My Face!”® Pillowette</b> is a <b>revolutionary beauty and health product</b> for the 21st Century. It <b>helps prevent wrinkling</b>, <b>improves nasal air flow</b> that permits <b>increased oxygenation of the body</b>, <b>eases aches and pains</b>, and <b>aids in cosmetic surgery recovery</b>."</span></div></blockquote>Not only that, it also <i>"enhances the affects of expensive anti-aging facial creams and serums"</i> and <i>"prevents compression of skin tissues and muscles as well as Sinuses located in the face"</i>.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(note: I did not manipulate the font or amount of text set in bold to make it appear more stupid, though I understand why you might think so..)</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6oeaF1neVEA/TdAkm9rwaGI/AAAAAAAABaU/ASJ1A8Fd6s4/s1600/about.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6oeaF1neVEA/TdAkm9rwaGI/AAAAAAAABaU/ASJ1A8Fd6s4/s200/about.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>How impressive is it that a piece of cloth can actually <i>"enhance the <b>affects</b> of expensive anti-aging facial creams and serums"</i>? And what's up with those "<i>Sinuses</i>"... and in what other places than the face does one normally find them? <i>"Oh doctor, I can't move my leg!" "Yes, it appears you have a sinus infection."</i><br />
<br />
For a company claiming to be located in California, I am not impressed.<br />
<br />
Though I could be way off here - they do have special pillow doctors. And anyone knows a business with a pillow doctor is a business worth trusting!appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-72375812463329466972011-04-18T13:34:00.000+02:002011-04-18T13:34:38.746+02:00Easter<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-msVkTKq5f6o/TawhN904haI/AAAAAAAABaM/4IjvXTvvt24/s1600/crazy+chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-msVkTKq5f6o/TawhN904haI/AAAAAAAABaM/4IjvXTvvt24/s1600/crazy+chicken.jpg" /></a>Finally!<br />
<br />
I've been so busy lately I've started messing up, breaking keys, forgetting to lock doors. Not good!<br />
<br />
A week off sounds just right, I thought I'd have more time a couple weeks ago when I was home alone for a week, but no such luck. One day I worked eleven and a half hours - not so unusual for a lot of people, but very new to me.<br />
<br />
What I don't like about Easter is having to go skiing. I fear I'll be more wobbly than usual this year, because something I <b>am</b> looking forward to is happening the night before - a show put on by the soccer association. If I've ever been to one of those, it must have been years. Can't wait!appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-62050555821616527992011-03-04T02:04:00.001+01:002011-03-04T13:29:54.650+01:00KidsA few nights ago I dreamt I had a child.<br />
<br />
The birth itself was quick, easy, painless. The baby was big. I breastfed her. It felt amazing. I felt so connected to her, like nothing I've ever felt before.<br />
<br />
The child grew fast - two days later she had eight teeth and was like an eight year old. I remember in the dream I said <i>"you have like eight theeth"</i>. I don't know why eight - it was more like twelve. But she was like an eight year old.<br />
<br />
<br />
I've never felt that desire to have kids. I crave freedom, I don't know where I'll be, what I'll do. Who I'll be with. For the first time, though it was in a dream, I felt what it was like to have a child.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I know dreams are dreams. But often dreams are very real to me... they've helped me see things I haven't otherwise, to realize, to overcome... To <i>feel,</i> more than anything. Dreams are said to come from the subconcious - and I believe that more than anything.<br />
<br />
A few years ago, after six months on the malaria prophylaxis<i> Lariam</i>, known to affect your mind, your emotions, your dreams... I finally realized dreams are more than we give them credit for. By then, of course, I had countless dreams each night, woke up every 90 minutes, and at first it was wonderful. The dreams turned darker, though.<br />
<br />
What it taught me was that dreams are often more than what they seem. Uusally we don't pay much attention to them, we forget them when we wake up - most of the time, these days, I don't remember my dreams. However unpleasant they turned at the end - I miss them.<br />
<br />
But occationally I do remember my dreams. Like last night... I was present throughout my dream, not like it usually is - I wake up and try to think what it was about. This time I remember.<br />
<br />
I remember what it was like to have a child. I remember what it was like to feel such a defenseless creature, so close. Like an itsy bitsy kitten - so helpless, so adorable. I've never felt that way towards kids. A lot of them are really nice.. but that's about it. For a while I've hoped it would happen some day - as people I've gone to school with start having kids, not just once, but two or three, that I would start to feel that desire too.<br />
<br />
I can only hope that my biological clock will start ticking some day. I don't know what's worse - to know you should want kids but not being able to feel it.... or to want them and not be able to, or getting around to, having them.<br />
<br />
Strike that - I know what's worse. I've never been there, but nothing could be worse than wanting something like that, and never getting the chance to have it.<br />
<br />
<br />
Bloggers always write about family members asking them <i>"so... when are you going to have kids?"</i>. No one seems to take into account the fact that you need a guy to do the deed.<br />
<br />
And for those of us who don't yet want them? As for me... I'm just hoping my clock will start ticking... some day. Because that dream... that dream felt pretty damn good.appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-26570226345856138442011-03-04T00:34:00.001+01:002011-03-04T00:34:25.654+01:001990Are people born in 1990 now 20 years old?<br />
Seriously?<br />
<br />
I think I need a nap and a butterscotch..appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-70504897812314120282011-02-24T22:48:00.000+01:002011-02-24T22:48:46.629+01:00Good enough to date?I learnt something new today. This happens so rarely these days it feels all new and exciting - imagine knowing something now that I didn't this morning.. amazing!<br />
<br />
The little piece of information I have now aquired came to me through a blog I visited for the first time. Five guys (I think) write about girls. They do a rather good job at it, I have to admit. The post I read started like this;<br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b><br />
</b></div><blockquote><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>"Guys only want to have sex, but never a girlfriend!"</b></div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">In the following post I will be cynical, unromantic, politically incorrect and brutally HONEST... so when, in a few lines, you'll sit there all annoyed about how big a prick I am, remember it's for a good cause. I want to help girls who complain about guys who "only want to have sex, but never a girlfriend."</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">But that takes a little bit of tough love, and an unpleasant dose of reality. Let's get straight to it, so here goes: </div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>As opposed to girls, it's very common for guys to have sex with someone they don't find attractive enough to be girlfriend material!</b></div></blockquote><br />
Now, I didn't think the post was cynical or politically incorrect at all, but that's beside the point (if you want to read the rest of it, in Norwegian, you can find it here: <a href="http://0330.no/">0330.no</a>). What struck me was how simply put such an important piece of knowledge was. <br />
<br />
Some of you might remember an episode of <i>Sex and the City</i> where Miranda was told that some guy (or by some guy) that he's <i>"just not that into you"</i>. She saw that as an epiphany of sorts - no more hows and whys and ifs and buts; he's just not that into you. It kinda felt like that.<br />
<br />
Girls know guys think differently about sex than we do (most of the time), and guys know girls think differently. But I hadn't thought of it quite like that before, that people can be divided into groups of those who are and those who are not attractive <u>enough</u> to want to date. That someone is <i>"good enough to sleep with but not good enough to date"</i>.<br />
<br />
I guess I just always though that if you slept with someone but didn't date them it was because of personality. I've slept with guys I didn't want to have as a boyfriend - but that's never been because he was too ugly to show off. If he was, he wouldn't have been in my bed in the first place. There have been other reasons though.. age, aquaintances, personality, geography. Actually geography is the one that stands out the most.<br />
<br />
<br />
The concept of <i>"attractive enough to sleep with but attractive enough to date"</i> is new to me. Fascinating stuff..appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-89893787485589638112011-02-04T11:16:00.001+01:002011-02-04T11:17:43.477+01:00Installing Freedom in the Middle East<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TUvRW65UVeI/AAAAAAAABaE/GscZXKebXpM/s1600/Freedom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TUvRW65UVeI/AAAAAAAABaE/GscZXKebXpM/s400/Freedom.jpg" width="520" /></a></div>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-28385589221506501342011-01-23T23:54:00.000+01:002011-01-23T23:54:52.517+01:00Porno<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TTyxcA0k9pI/AAAAAAAABZ8/xcmEIDO-Low/s1600/Girl_Timm1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TTyxcA0k9pI/AAAAAAAABZ8/xcmEIDO-Low/s320/Girl_Timm1.jpg" width="241" /></a></div>You can say a lot about porn, but I'd really like to twist the neck of whoever made shaving everything down there not only normal on TV, but now also expected, and the only thing that's accepted, in your own home.<br />
<br />
I bet there are many of us who think quite a few bad thoughts every time we either see a disappointed facial expression, or give in and grab the razor.<br />
<br />
For who can argue with "hair in your food"? "Natural" means nothing anymore, and who would want the person you're sharing a bed with thinking you're disgusting because you don't look like all the girls on the Internet?<br />
<br />
Dark thoughts, I tell you.<br />
Dark, evil, murderous thoughts.appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-52170041940272674412011-01-17T23:14:00.002+01:002011-01-17T23:20:58.155+01:00Ice on the Run<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TTSzuGFxnHI/AAAAAAAABZ4/ArnlVgglOwA/s1600/hornindal_skule_fla_338564c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TTSzuGFxnHI/AAAAAAAABZ4/ArnlVgglOwA/s320/hornindal_skule_fla_338564c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I was at the school today when, just after 1PM, they came to tell the kids to put on their boots. The river was getting so high with snow and ice, we might have to evacuate.<br />
<br />
An hour later the principal came and said they were closing the school early. Some kids were supposed to stay till 4.30, but two hours before that everyone was out.<br />
<br />
The seven year olds said they were "all tingly" and had "butterflies in my tummy" - quite understandably. But then the teachers started getting worried, bringing their coats, fetching their car keys - just in case. Maybe not too strange, considering what the river looked like at the moment.<br />
<br />
It might be wrong to say so, but I find the whole situation rather... entertaining. As long as no one gets hurt and nothing gets damaged there's absolutely nothing wrong with a little action. Finally something's happening!<br />
<br />
And I definitely think it's better for the kids to think of this as "exciting", rather than "scary" - nothing good is going to come of that. As the seven year olds and I agreed - nothing truly bad really happens in Norway; no floods, no hurricanes, no earthquakes.<br />
<br />
And nothing <b>at all</b> ever happens here!<br />
<br />
(...as if just to prove that last point; as soon as I'd written it the danger was announced to be over, and it's business as usual tomorrow)appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-28357650230513693842011-01-11T00:24:00.001+01:002011-01-11T00:25:21.657+01:00Ice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TSuU643GJ-I/AAAAAAAABZ0/SY8l0rRgsEM/s1600/ice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TSuU643GJ-I/AAAAAAAABZ0/SY8l0rRgsEM/s200/ice.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Imagine a super slippery ice rink. Then imagine two inches of water covering the ice. Then dump a crapload of slush on top of that. What do you get? Our roads.<br />
<br />
Well, the walkways and sidewalks. Where people walk. Not the main roads. Wouldn't want the cars to get wet.<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if I miss the cold or the snow the most...appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-75798239452233071112010-12-29T15:59:00.000+01:002010-12-29T15:59:57.643+01:00Christmas Allergies<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TRtMUATgGDI/AAAAAAAABZw/kdLrLxsXcGs/s1600/christmastree8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TRtMUATgGDI/AAAAAAAABZw/kdLrLxsXcGs/s200/christmastree8.jpg" width="177" /></a></div>Merry Christmas everyone!<br />
<br />
This Christmas is picture perfect, it looks like Winter Wonderland outside - just like I remember from when I was a kid - a nice change from the rain we've had the past ten years.<br />
<br />
I have also discovered I have an allergy. It only seems fair - everybody else seems to have them, no wonder I got one too. I'm allergic to kids.<br />
<br />
It makes perfect sense. I'm very rarely sick, and when I am it's just a cold that passes in a few days. But these past few months I seem to only have short breaks between colds - they go on for ever. And the only change? - Kids. I'm obviously allergic.<br />
<br />
It truly does suck to have been halfway woozy, have no energy, and worst of all - no sense of taste or smell, for a week now. I know I whine about that every time I get sick but I can't help it! It's the worst thing there is. Imagine a world without taste!<br />
<br />
I've been cleaning, cooking, baking, sewing, polishing, decorating and dusting for weeks now, somehow it doesn't seem quite fair that this should be my reward...<br />
<br />
I guess my reward is everyone else seems to be enjoying the holidays, and with a turkey in the oven and stuffing in the making it's really not all bad after all :)appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-4249421445100426692010-12-19T21:23:00.001+01:002010-12-19T21:25:32.296+01:00Shock and Awe<b><i>"But I thought you were shy.."</i></b> the guys said last night. I put my hand on the knee of one of them as he was sitting in front of me, looking him deep in the eyes. <b><i>"I thought you were shy."</i></b><br />
<br />
I was a shy kid. I was a shy teenager. I'm still quiet when I'm not comfortable, but I'll talk to anyone about anything - as long as there's a topic and not small talk. I never really got the hang of small talk.<br />
<br />
I remember when I was younger, in class or with friends. I'd make a critical comment about something and people would stare at me, no matter if they'd said the same thing themselves. I was told that because I so rarely said something bad, it was so much worse when I did. I was supposed to be nice, that's what they were used to. I settled for nice. It was just easier that way.<br />
<br />
When you grow up in a place like this, a small town where "everybody knows each other" people really do seem to think they know you. Even if they haven't seen you since you were fourteen, they still think you're the same person you were back then. Most people don't change a lot, myself included, and we're all guilty of assuming people are they way they always were.<br />
<br />
So when that guy said "But I thought you were shy" when I had my hand on his knee and looked him in the eye, it wasn't because I did something shocking. I had simply raised my voice (quite a bit - pretending to be a teacher for a few months, and being around noisy kids all the time, has had an unwanted side effect) to get the attention of the three or four twenty year olds in the room - I wanted to ask them if they knew where the kitchen was. Getting someone's attention is always easier when you give them a poke, and getting an answer is easier when having eye contact. And when you get a little loud.<br />
<br />
<br />
How quiet must I have been to make guys six years my juniors think it's shocking that I can actually raise my voice?<br />
<br />
I'm curious how people think of me today.<br />
<br />
<i>And I can't help but wonder.. have I really changed that much at all?</i>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-45730920837415689842010-12-09T00:00:00.000+01:002010-12-09T01:43:59.058+01:00December 9th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TQAk5_4Db4I/AAAAAAAABZo/ZLDJ83ATQ98/s1600/teddy+bears.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TQAk5_4Db4I/AAAAAAAABZo/ZLDJ83ATQ98/s1600/teddy+bears.jpg" /></a></div>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-1869183158282586362010-11-22T21:18:00.000+01:002010-11-22T21:18:11.195+01:00Thoughts and dreams<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TOrL6Ajl8mI/AAAAAAAABZQ/RRZOPRCK_xY/s1600/face_question_mark2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TOrL6Ajl8mI/AAAAAAAABZQ/RRZOPRCK_xY/s200/face_question_mark2.jpg" width="145" /></a>Last night I dreamt I was on a bed and suddenly saw someone I've slept with have sex with someone else. The girl was on top, then he turned her around and got on top. That's when I saw it was him.. for two seconds before it wasn't him anyway. That felt indescribably... weird. Especially since I knew the girl too.<br />
<br />
I've never been the kind of person who can sleep with someone without feeling anything. It happens whether I want it to or not, and I've always wondered what it would be like to just... not care. When sex is just sex, and forgotten the next day. It must be so easy. Convenient. Not to feel. I'm just not like that.<br />
<br />
I don't mean that I need to be in love to sleep with someone, nor that I fall in love afterwards. Still, it's.. different. I care more, whether it's platonic or something else. Which is why it does feel weird to sleep with someone then basically never talk to them again. I hate to leave things hanging, not to get an end to things. Not to know what happened, if anything at all.<br />
<br />
I'm more committed to my words than to my feelings. That's not always a good thing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-245561319486322422010-11-21T14:58:00.000+01:002010-11-21T14:58:09.060+01:00The Dentist<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TOkklMZpgLI/AAAAAAAABZI/mKHl2UuSn4A/s1600/dentist+dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TOkklMZpgLI/AAAAAAAABZI/mKHl2UuSn4A/s1600/dentist+dog.jpg" /></a></div>I mentioned a story about big body parts, a small mouth, and going "aaah". I realize what that sounds like, but it's nothing like that at all - I simply went to see the dentist.<br />
<br />
I always hated going to the dentist when I was a kid. We used to see this old guy with huge hands. He never wore gloves. I hated it partly because I didn't want to have any cavities and know I hadn't been good enough at brushing my teeth, partly because my jaws just didn't open that big without being forced. It hurt. A lot.<br />
<br />
The old dentist retired years ago and the ones I've seen since have all been nice. Still; a trip to the dentist is never pleasant. And for the first time in years I felt that horrible pain in my jaw that comes from keeping my mouth open for too long at a time.<br />
<br />
It felt slightly wrong sitting in the dentist's chair thinking of blow jobs - the pain in the jaw was exactly the same as it used to way back when...appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-11715752088025892452010-11-19T18:24:00.003+01:002010-11-19T18:27:51.173+01:00Do you have any idea how long it takes to fold 155 pairs of underwear?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TOayQKLzMvI/AAAAAAAABZE/47zRHGq08ik/s1600/panties.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="142" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TOayQKLzMvI/AAAAAAAABZE/47zRHGq08ik/s200/panties.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Me neither.<br />
<br />
I only folded the hipsters and the panties, which leaves the thongs and the strings.<br />
<br />
I am not folding all of those.<br />
<br />
Again, for the eighty-seventh time (at least); I have too much underwear!<br />
<br />
But how on earth do I stop buying them when they make them as cute as they do?<br />
<br />
It's really not my fault at all...<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">(except for.. you know.. the not-so-secret fact that I love lingerie... and that I already had a label called that...)</span>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-88797273463300731242010-11-09T21:15:00.002+01:002010-11-17T19:24:03.848+01:00Am sick<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TNmp6e9FKVI/AAAAAAAABZA/BY-L4QMaL8Y/s1600/quiet+sick+zone.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TNmp6e9FKVI/AAAAAAAABZA/BY-L4QMaL8Y/s200/quiet+sick+zone.png" width="199" /></a></div>I've had a head full of concrete (usually when I'm sick it's cotton, but this is definitely concrete) for a week now, I'm told I sound like a dog when I cough, half the time I can't even understand my own raspy voice when I'm talking, and I don't have a clue what the hell is wrong with my throat..<br />
<br />
At least I'm not all snotty with a runny nose and losing my sense of taste and smell - that's what I hate the most about being sick. It seems like a strange kind of cold without all those icky bits.<br />
<br />
I have a story about big body parts, a small mouth, opening wide and going 'aaah', but that will have to wait for another day. It really wouldn't sound too exciting in the context of snotty and icky...<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><b>Edit:</b><br />
Next morning: don't ever speak too highly of what you have; you never know when you'll wake up and have lost it completely..</div>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-68417308147553033342010-11-02T21:59:00.001+01:002010-11-02T22:01:08.669+01:00Too many thoughtsI have too many thoughts in my head to be able to put even a single one of them down in writing. They're about anything and anyone, and a few probably wouldn't be appropriate to put on here. You never know who might read it, and for some reason I've stopped typing out every random thought in my head.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TNB7GWKCccI/AAAAAAAABY8/sWJbCw8VCpA/s1600/big+balloons.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TNB7GWKCccI/AAAAAAAABY8/sWJbCw8VCpA/s400/big+balloons.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I'll try and figure out something worthwhile to say, and in the mean time I'll leave you with this; <a href="http://www.bt.no/forbruker/reise/Magiske-fjell-skjulte-et-folk-1184758.html?xtor=AD-13">a series of photos</a> from Kappadokia, Turkey. Google has been kind enough to <a href="http://translate.google.com/translate?js=n&prev=_t&hl=no&ie=UTF-8&layout=2&eotf=1&sl=no&tl=en&u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bt.no%2Fforbruker%2Freise%2FMagiske-fjell-skjulte-et-folk-1184758.html%3Fxtor%3DAD-13">translate</a> the accompanying article for us (I recommend reading it if you like the photos) but I think the pictures mostly speak for themselves, don't you?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-6246317848261087502010-10-21T23:32:00.000+02:002010-10-21T23:32:42.139+02:00Last night I cut off my testicles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TMCwt0M5CSI/AAAAAAAABY0/Ci8okf4it38/s1600/scissors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TMCwt0M5CSI/AAAAAAAABY0/Ci8okf4it38/s1600/scissors.jpg" /></a></div>In a dream, of course.<br />
<br />
Which is kinda weird since I'm a girl and therefore don't have any...<br />
<br />
I think, in my dream, I knew a guy who'd done it, and I thought that there was no reason to keep mine; they didn't do anything and they were just in the way anyway. There were no other guy-parts, but apparently it was normal for girls to have balls down there somewhere. I'm not entirely sure where they were attached though...<br />
<br />
I remember thinking guys might find it weird, me not having any, and the argument against plastic surgery jumped into my head; why fix something that isn't broken, you never know what complications will arise.<br />
<br />
But I did it anyway, I sat down and cut them off with a pair of scissors. Unlike guy's testicles they were two separate things, hanging by two different bits of skin about 5mm in diameter. When I cut them off, and it didn't hurt, there was some sort of tube inside.. it looked like hollowed out spaghetti (definitely inspired by the fried squid rings I made a week ago which looked exactly the same inside).<br />
<br />
Then I think I woke up, because I don't remember why I was doing it or what happened afterwards. I didn't even remember the dream until 12 hours later.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TMCw3eROphI/AAAAAAAABY4/DyMlq4YM73A/s1600/Gym_Ball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TMCw3eROphI/AAAAAAAABY4/DyMlq4YM73A/s200/Gym_Ball.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Gross, you say?<br />
Kinda, I suppose.<br />
<br />
I've never liked football or volleyball, but there are some ball games I do like... as long as the balls belong to the right guy. But being a proud owner myself? I think I'll pass.<br />
<br />
<i>*I have a feeling next time I see a pair I'll investigate them thoroughly to see exactly what they look like, where they're attached and how one might.. remove them. That was a weird dream...*</i>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-80234615311185849112010-10-20T21:57:00.002+02:002010-10-21T01:05:57.694+02:00New Experiences<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TL9zOkIdGBI/AAAAAAAABYs/oTv8b8JrXBA/s1600/teacher-clipart-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TL9zOkIdGBI/AAAAAAAABYs/oTv8b8JrXBA/s320/teacher-clipart-web.jpg" width="160" /></a></div>The past couple months I've been a substitute teacher (or been "playing teacher" as I call it) a few days a week at the local school. I've done everything from Norwegian and Maths to cooking and PE and I'm more convinced than ever that I'll never want to a teacher. Not that I ever thought I would.<br />
<br />
It's not that I don't like it - some days are great; nice kids, having fun. Other days... well, take yesterday; four hours with seven years old yelling, followed by two hours in the computer room with ten year olds (fun actually), then one hour with a bunch of eight year olds; one of which would not surprise me if he told me he was raised by a bunch of monkeys. Or teenage boys. Can one get sexually harassed by an eight year old?<br />
<br />
I'd never have the patience for that kind of job.<br />
<br />
But all in all - I like it. It's something new, I love being stressed and sure get enough of that when I'm there; I never know what I'm gonna be doing until five minutes before I have to do it... if I'm lucky. I've wanted to do something like this for a while; observing the educational system from behind the scenes in a country first hand, especially a country as bound to its ideals of streamlining everything as this one, is fascinating. And I'm bound to come out of it with new experiences - perhaps I'll even learn something!<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TL91HQWJOcI/AAAAAAAABYw/BvREWoK09Ww/s1600/very-wise-owl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TL91HQWJOcI/AAAAAAAABYw/BvREWoK09Ww/s200/very-wise-owl.jpg" width="165" /></a></div>One thing I do find especially amusing is life in the teacher's lounge. Seeing what the teachers really <b>do</b> in there, I think all kids wonder about that. Lunch conversations are interesting and the people are nice. It's especially interesting talking to others my age, often coming in from the outside, giving their perspectives on things and the town. Conversation turns to people you know and before you know it you have learned quite a few new things about them.<br />
<br />
It's fascinating to see someone you halfway know through another person's eyes. It can be different from your own ideas, different from the impressions acquaintances give off. Or exactly the same, only you weren't looking. Little bits of new information, constantly acquired, to make the picture more whole, fill in the blanks, making you see things a little more clearly. Or perhaps it just gets more confusing.<br />
<br />
People do always tend to talk more about people's bad qualities than about the good ones. Perhaps there's a reason for that.appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704081.post-42232942098820443802010-10-03T15:28:00.000+02:002010-10-03T15:28:45.518+02:00Autumn break<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TKiC9f2fbNI/AAAAAAAABYo/xH68kMh2n64/s1600/autumn-leaf3-2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_sC_zolUDiq8/TKiC9f2fbNI/AAAAAAAABYo/xH68kMh2n64/s200/autumn-leaf3-2.png" width="174" /></a>The parents suddenly decided to take off in the morning so it looks like I'll have the house to myself for a few days.<br />
<br />
I only wish the weather could have stayed as beautiful as it's been the past week, but it seems real autumn weather is on its way. If the reports are right, we could be getting just under two inches of rain tomorrow.<br />
<br />
I have a feeling I'll be spending the next few days cooped up inside...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>appleshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421257146590665524noreply@blogger.com1