Tuesday, December 27, 2005

A Lot Of Lights

The day before Christmas Eve me and my daughter went to Liseberg , this swedish amusement park which at the turn of the millenium started a new tradition: they keep the park open for a few weeks before Christmas and the whole place is lit up with over 4 million lightbulbs! It's absolutely magical, and both grownups and kids seem to be spellbound by all the lights. The screaming from the summer months is nothing but a bad memory. This picture might not be very representative, as night time shots not are the easiest to do. But it will perhaps give an idea of how it was?



(I feel a little bit sluggish, since I haven't touched the computer and done any writing for a week now. Give me a few days, and I will probably be up to speed again. If not the mulled wine gets to my head...)

Monday, December 19, 2005

Another Post About Christmas


I'm sure a lot of blogposts these days have some connection or other to the upcoming holidays, and so will this one. Not that I'm going to write anything really, I seem to be lost for words lately. Today I'll just put this little Christmas Greeting on display, which is the result of my twiddling around wth Photoshop for a couple of hours. Not really to my taste, a little too sweet and predictable I think, but it was fun anyhow.

Now I'm more or less off to Sweden to spend Christmas with my family there , and I will hopefully arrive back here fully restored, ready to write about lives funny little twists again. 'Cause there sure are a lot of them...

Saturday, December 10, 2005

For Readers In Bergen (or at least not very far from here):

What's A Blog Anyway?

I realize I'm walking on very thin ice here, there are so many educated people out there who could answer this question far better than I could. So I'm not going to attempt that. Instead I'll just share with you some of my own experiences and let you decide, that's what I like best anyway.

Some of you have been reading this blog from the beginning and you know it was a compulsory part of a course I attended early 2005. Back then I didn't have clue of what to write and obviously some of the topics were straightly related to that course. Later I found out that it was a very good safety valve for letting out steam. I didn't care that much if anyone was reading or not, the blogs purpose was at that stage purely for my own satisfaction. But as I dived in to my second year at uni it soon became rather evident that there are quite a few people who actually study this field seriously, and I then I thought I had to keep a particular standard.

So here I am, and I don't know where that is really. On one hand, beeing a humanistic informatics student and after finding out that I have a few readers, I'd like to participate in the current debate and be involved in this field of studies, and accordingly write interesting posts about identity and communication in the cyberworld. On the other hand, I couldn't care less. This part rather want to still write about her silly, neurotic personal insights. And the weather in general.

Now I have to figure out a way to retrieve back the ownership of this blog. I recently developed a certain awareness that this or that person might be reading and therefore tried to adjust the content of the blog to that. How silly. I can't pretend to be contributing, there are far more competent people who could do that for real.

I think I'll just stick to what I now think is me and my style, and I probably brake some "blogging rules" by at. I'm not consistent, not in content nor in frequency. I have no particular direction or anything. In fact I'm not even sure if I'm going to keep up this blog at all.

Just to make it clear, I have some inspirations like Angela and Jill amongst others, but at the same time they make me feel minor and inadequate. My problem, not anything they have done wrong. On the contrary I truly appreciate their writing, and one day - who knows?

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Yesterdays View


This is the beautiful view I had yesterday morning. Today it's raining again. But that's OK, I have good quality rainwear.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Lost For Words

I'm speechless, wordless, numb, I'm done. The semester is over and I think I need a couple of hours (!) to recuperate, before my brain can start to work again. I'll take a few days off, and try to do something fun!

Anyone for tennis?

Sunday, November 27, 2005

Cinnamon!

The world of blogging is quite remarkable. You never know what will be a story or not. One of the blogs I read (actually I don't read that many) is Angela Thomas'. The other day she wrote a short post from USA where she is at the moment, and she made a note of the fact that they seem to be using cinnamon in almost everything over there. I wrote a comment, as well as a lot of others did, and just by coincidence the following day I read in the magazine from "Norway Post" that they this year have issued stamps with cinnamon smell. Actually real, "baked" into the top coat of the stamp. Isn't that a delicious idea!

It's going to be interesting to see how this cinnamon story develops...

Empty Head

Sunday morning, and my head is empty. But I hope it's in a good way. You see, I went out last night with a friend of mine, we both decided we could use some time off from the books and papers. So we dressed up a little and caught a bus.

As this is "Christmas Party"-time people tend to get really crazy out there. The city is filled with frustrated men and women who eat too much, drink too much, commit far too much adultery and everything in between, and all on that single day of the year when their employer pays for the dinner. And some people are just as annoying as they are most days.

But don't misunderstand me here, we didn't get caught up in all that. Me and my friend are experienced enough to avoid all that commotion and found a few places where the music was low enough to let us keep a conversation going. And there we sat. Drinking a couple of beers, and laidback watched the circus. Still, beer is beer, and that's why I'm a bit emptyheaded this morning. Hopefully I can fill the emptiness with work and not all those other things that usually preoccupies my mind. Stay out today, please?!?

Friday, November 25, 2005

Safe Landing?

Hey? Where did the wind go? Where's my updraft? Give me just a little bit more so I don't fall to the ground too soon. I'm losing hight rapidly, and I don't wanna hit the rocks. Please? Only a gust?

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

High as a kite

This is almost alarming, but I am in a tremendously good mood, in spite of having a deadline on Thurday and then another one the week after that. It feels like I have all the time in the world, and I know I don't. It's not that I don't care, but I believe my essays are just about good enough to pass the censor. (I wonder if I get extra points if I mark the weak spots in red, 'cause I do know where they are...) What's more important to me is that I've learned a lot that won't show on my exam, knowledge that I will bring forward.

So what happened here, then? I mean, last week I was a nervous wreck, who didn't think I could make it even if I sat in front of the computer 24/7. To top it off, it became evident that there had been some miscommunication between my daughter and myself. In an effort (I think) to spare me, 'cause she knew I had a lot to do, I didn't get the note from school which declared that I had to bake 50 nicely decorated gingerbreadhearts and 3 Christmas logs, exquisitely packed and ready for sale. All this I found out on Friday, and the schools fair was on Sunday. Now my study weekend was pretty much lost, there was baking to do, and oops, my daughter had a basketball game on Saturday, had to drive her there - the father was of course not available, and then the actual fair inclusive a 3 hour duty. And you know me, was it good enough to wrap the bloody bread in some foil? Nooo, I had to open up PhotoShop and design some exclusive labels to print out and stick on the bags. They did sell very quickly, though, while the burned one in cheap plastic foil didn't. (Losers...)

It's interesting how I seem to relate everything I do lately to that old freak Freud, just because I've been raeding some of his works this semester, but I realized when I had the choice of fulfilling my obligations to other (my daughter, the school and the fair) or my obligations to myself (and in the end the finances) I rather did the first instead of just take the critisism. They surely wouldn't have put me to jail or anything... I usually twist myself really hard to see that I do what is expected of me, and why? Just so I can say I'm good, and doing the right thing? (And I don't steal other peoples parking lots!)

The reason for my high spirits might be as simple I have recieved a few compliments from various unexpected sources. There's actually written "proof" that I'm wonderful! I wasn't so sure about that, but the more you hear it... Don't give me to much, though, I'll probably end up all too conceited!

Monday, November 21, 2005

Einsteins Wife

It never seizes to amaze me how many things I don't know, that I perhaps should know. Today I read in the paper about Albert Einsteins (first) wife Mileva Maric, and to be honest I have never actually paid any attention to Einstein himself more than what he's most famous for: being a genius responsible for the Theory of Relativity (which made the nuclear bomb possible) and so on. That he in fact was a living man with needs and desires hasn't really struck my mind. But he was. And moreover, he was married too, although not very happily. Considering he would have been diagnozed with Asperger's syndrom according to a recent theory, that last statement is no wonder.

But what about this Mileva then? There are quite a few out there who believe she was very much in on the work with her husbands famous theory, and some say she actually was co-signer on the original paper. Without doubt she was a very intelligent woman, who sacrified her career for taking care of her family. Sound familiar? What I'm about to say now might annoy any hardcore feminists out there, but I'm not so sure we should blame it all on the men. Because I think we women not always need any men to hold us back and push us down. We're so good at doing that ourselves! Without assistance.

We do so many crazy things when we're in love, and one of them is sometimes to adapt far too easily to what we think might be the best for the relationship. What we think, notice that. I must stress that I'm speaking on general terms here, what I described here is obviously not always the case. I'm merely pointing to the fact that it's not easy being a man either. We made it hard for them, since we made the fight for independence and equal rights our fight. Whenever a man is complaining for being treated unfairly (and they do get treated unfairly), we don't want to hear. We seem to have given ourselves the unconditional rights to be the only allowed to complain.

I know I stuck my head into to a beehive here, and I'm not sure I'm ready for it. Maybe I'm not woman enough...

Saturday, November 19, 2005

I know

Friday, November 18, 2005

Belated Summer Holiday

That's what happens when your life is turned upside down, you have to take your summer holiday in the midst of December. Any Aussies reading this won't necessarily find anything strange with that considering they're upside down all the time. From my point of view, anyway. But I guess that's what life is all about - realizing that not everyone has the same perspective as you do.

OK, back to my little vacation. In only 12 short days the semester, and with that my academic struggles, will be over for this year, and I'm planning to leave the area then. Just a few weeks ago I was so down I wanted to run away from everything, and simply told my ex-husband he had to see to that the youngest daughter were going to be taken care of for the first two weeks of December. Simply as that. (I'm getting an awful lot better at standing up for myself and my rights.) I sat there all wrapped up in self pity and wondered if anyone would miss me if I left without telling. So while I was trying to write on my essay, at the same time my mind was all around the world. I had this incredible luxurious feeling of unlimited options, where would I go? First I thought of going to Australia to meet friends I haven't seen for ages, but two weeks is on the shorter side. KL was an option too, but that is also a bit far away for only a fourtnight. And as it turned out, my friends there are actually moving back to Norway in time for Christmas. So where, then? Mauritius? Madagascar? Cap Verde? A remote island in the Carribean? Too far away, and besides, those places I wanna go with someone.

Then I turned my face North and thought of Svalbard, but it is probably the wrong time of the year. Now where? For some people the most obvious thing would be to catch a last minute trip to the sun, but no, not me, everything has to be really special, and I need something more than a semi clean beach and cheap margaritas. OK, should I stay in Norway then, go on a SPA vacation and get pampered all over? Sounded quite nice, but still a little bit too predictible. I also thought of renting a hut or small house by the sea, and let the rain and storms clear my mind. I even checked out a few on the Internet, but it costed almost as much as going to Cuba. Another of my ideeas, which in the back of my mind I knew never would be carried out, was to pack my backpack and WALK and just see how far I could get in ten days. Most likely to the nearest coffeehouse in the city.

In any of these cases my plan was not to tell anyone (except for my mum and dad, I know they would have worried), I wanted so much to be missed. Sick, right? Then I burst the balloon by telling about my plans to the only one I didn't wanna tell. But it felt good, and I might still go somewhere, but only 'cause I need it and not to make a drama out of it.

Tonight I thought about the best place ever to explore, somewhere I've been before, but there still seems to be endless of unmarked territories and hidden treasures to discover. It's not that easy to get there, but I have found a rewarding way of doing it.

I think I'm going to spend two weeks of writing. I think I'm gonna write my way into my mind, and out of my confusion.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Caught!

Writing this makes it obvious I'm not totally sticking to my plan of working on the essays days and nights. Not that I don't need to, but I also have to breath a little. Today I went downtown to meet Jill for supervision. As I entered her office I approached her desk and lay my head down:

-Bring the sword mylady, and put me out of my misery! I'm guilty of all charges.

She didn't, she was nice to me as always, blessed queen!

After that I went to the bookstore and ordered a copy of my own of Identity: a reader, a book I'm sure will be a nice companion in times to come. While I wait I can read the one I borrowed from the library.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Warning (or a relief?)

Some of my friends used to be a little worried when they read my blog, with all it's darkness, and I told them: "It's when I'm not writing at all, you need to worry. Putting my feelings into words works like a safety valve." I think they understood, and now if the blog hasn't been updated for three or four days, I sometimes get a anxious voice in the other end of the phone, hesitantly asking: "Are you allright?"

Yeah, I'm allright, but for the next few weeks I'll probably won't have that much time to write anything except for my papers. So don't fetch the straight jacket just yet, I'll be back...

In the meantime my nifty little JavaScript will help you count the days to X-mas.

Saturday, November 12, 2005

Mind Challenging

I delivered one of my essays today, and took the rest of the day off, just spending time with my oldest daughter. To make the day even better I rounded it off with a dinner and a movie in the evening. (Not with my daughter, though.)

My friend and me really couldn't make our minds up, there were a few films we wanted to see but we were too late for them. The decision fell upon Tsui Harks Seven Swords, and I'm glad for that. It's quite remarkable how violence can be so esthetically appealing, and I find that a bit disturbing for my peace of mind. We agreed upon that this movie wouldn't have worked if it had been produced through the Hollywood machinery. The colours, the language, the faces, all of that were so much more interesting than had it been american. Also, as americans tend to be quite hypocritical when it comes to love and sex, they seldom now how to portray that in a believable way. Usually too much of everything. This director was so confident and sure, that he could make the tension almost force itself right out of the screen without any need for overexplicit details.

Absolutely not a film for everyone, but I enjoyed it, and I believe all that violence contrasted the subtlety of the love and hope so well, that I think I will rember the good feelings in the movie rather than the bad. As in real life.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Broken

Monday, November 07, 2005

What Will They Tax Next?

I'm currently exploring 43Things as part of one of my assignments. I came across MissOtter and her inspiring goals. I took the liberty of a little cut&paste from one of her entries:

The only thing that the IRS has not yet taxed is the male penis. This is due to the fact that 40% the time it is hanging round unemployed, 30% of the time it is hard up, 20% of the time it is pissed off, and 10% of the time it is in the hole. On top of that, it has two dependents and they are both nuts.

Effective March 1st, 1999, your penis will be taxed according to size. The tax brackets are as follows:

10 – 12” $30.00 Luxury Tax
8 – 10” $25.00 Pole Tax
5 – 8” $15.00 Privilege Tax
4 – 5” $10.00 Nuisance Tax

Males exceeding 12” must file under capital gains. Anyone under 4 inches is eligible for a refund. PLEASE DO NOT ASK FOR AN EXTENSION!

IRS are still waiting for answers for the following questions:

* Are there penalties for early withdrawals?
* What if one’s penis is self employed?
* Do multiple partners count as a corporation?
* Are condoms a deductible expense as work clothes?
* Is there an additional tax if you are not circumcised?

Sincerely,
Pecker Checker
Internal Revenue Service

Friday, November 04, 2005

Revelation

Now that's a popular word these days, but I had one today which I thought I'd share.

This morning I decided to go for a long overdue ride on my bike, but I found the bike outside with almost flat tyres. Ok, walking it is, I thought, 'cause I was still determined to move that sluggish body a little. Since I haven't lived here for very long I don't know the area too well, and therefore I just tried to work my way down to the supermarket the best I could (needed more espresso coffee beans). I know there's a path right through the woods but I knew it would be wet and slippery so I didn't dare to go down there. Instead I thought I'd find a road, and also it would be a longer walk. Good exercise, you know. I found a road, but with a dead-end. And another. Finally I was getting somewhere only to find that I had to make a decision. Going down I had almost to risk my life (exaggerating, but still), there was this really steep cliff. If I went up, I would actually be on my way back home again, which made feel a bit guilty for being lazy. My mind debated a little and I started climbing with the excuse that I really didn't have time for anything else but writing anyway.

A few moments later I found this swing hanging from a tree and I felt a strong urge to use it. But was it strong enough? I held on to it and pulled down cautiously to try the weight, then I slipped and was hanging in free air! The swing was holding my weight and I had a go, only a tad anxious to be discovered playing like a child in the woods. After that I continued up, and realized that the swing was just one part of a much larger playground. In front of me was this beautiful playground built with natural material on spot. The revelation was that this place is actually right down my window but I didn't see it from my regular view. Now that I now it's there, I can both see it and use it if I want to...

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

It's Time Now


As my essays are far from finished (to be honest, some of them I haven't even started on yet) it's about time to get in the swing of it. These last days my thinking has at least been quite cooperative, and I have now almost too many topics to choose from. One of the assignments is about virtual communities, and I find that to be a very interesting phenomenon. Angela Thomas has written a very good text on that subject, and reading it made me think of the mechanisms that come in to function when you're exposing yourself on the net. I think it has a lot to do with identity, and how we want to present ourselves. And also (obviously, since I'm reading Freud this semester) the net is the perfect place to explore and express your hidden desires. Let's say you're a fairly stable person with not that extreme need nor ability for fantasies and imagination, what you leave behind on the internet will most likely be fairly recognizible as yours, but out there in cyberspace there are a lot of, and I mean innumerable, examples of people who uses various approaches in disguising themselves. For very different reasons I must add. Many, and possibly me in the scrutiny of self analyze, just takes the opportunity to adjust the reality a little simply by holding back the more undesirable traits, in an attempt to look, well, good. And others have far more sinister agendas. In pretending to be something else you can just as easily as in real life gain someones trust and then betray them in one way or the other - or even worse! Recommended reading: Rape In Cyberspace by Julian Dibbell

Sunday, October 30, 2005

Prisoners Relief


I'm not in the mood for writing just now, but this I'll say: I'm like a starved out prisoner, very easily satisfied - hence the smile. I've found out I don't need that much really to be happy. (Just for a little while at least.)

Or I could pursue that car metaphor from last post, and tell you that someone just lent me a few ounces of that rare oil my car needs.

Friday, October 28, 2005

Car Problem

I'm afraid my car is going to break down soon. The gas is running low, but that's more of an acute problem. If the tank gets empty, I'll just fill it up again if I can afford it, if not, I'll just leave the car for a while until I do. The car is also quite rusty, but I consider that being more of a cosmetic flaw, and also rather easy to fix. No, what I'm talking about is the motor. It is seriously damaged, after being driven for too long with too little oil. So why don't I just refill? Well, I've tried that, but I filled it up with the wrong type and that actually made it all worse. That synthetic stuff won't do for my car, it needs the "real stuff", 100% organic. And a special brand as well, damned hard to get hold of.

Nah, my car is just fine, you all know that, don't you? You've been reading this blog long enough to know what I'm really talking about. Right?

Thursday, October 27, 2005

What Can I Do With My Education?

I could apply for a job in the EU. Check this link out - I could do what he's doing. No problem.

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

"My Feet Are Killing Me...


...on this Long And Winding Road, walking home from the party early Sunday morning?" I don't know. I just passed these abandoned shoes by car, Sunday afternoon. I really wasn't sure if my eyes only played tricks on me, so I turned the car around, drove back, parked the car and took a closer look. I immediately pictured a variety of possible scenarios, some more intriguing than others, and one even involving calling the police.

I had my Minolta digital camera with me and immortalized the scene. I then walked back to my car and drove back to reality leaving the shoes behind.

Sunday, October 23, 2005

A Rotten Affair

As it is sort of huntingseason going on christmas, it reminded me of a story from last year which I thought I’d share with you.

Last day in school before the holidays they usually sit down and have a shared lunch, and my daughter brought a nicely decorated platter with cold cuts for the occasion. For some reason her backpack were left downstairs with it’s content for a week, and when I found it the leftovers had turned almost completely liquid trapped behind the cling film. The reek was unbearable, and except from the fabric pencil case which could go in the washer, everything else went straight to the bin.

A few days later my brother came visiting from Sweden to spend New Year with us, and I told him about the rotten affair. “Ha, do think that’s disgusting? Listen here, I’ll tell you a story!” And he told us about his friend (let’s call him Paul), who’s a keen hunter. He goes after the big game and therefore needs two, if not three, large freezers to store the meet in, which he and his family then empties after the “first in - first out” principle. Once when they went away for a few days, Pauls brother (we can call him Jack) was in their house doing some work, and related to that he needed to connect his tools to the power supply. He pulled out what he thought was a suitable plug from it’s socket, and even worse, then forgot to put it back again. A long time after this, maybe months actually, the family started to experience some really foul odour emerging from somewhere unknown. They aired the house, and the smell disappeared, and this kept on for a while; short bursts of insufferable stench that blew away again through the open windows. But in the end they just had to figure out what it was, and they searched the house thoroughly. In the basement they found the source of the horrors - meet Bullwinkle, slowly swimming around in his own dissolving flesh! Everytime his hideout was filled up with gas due to his decomposing state, the lid lifted and let out a dose of foulness. Now, that’s revolting if you ask me, but it doesn’t stop there, ‘cause the freezer was too big to carry upright through the door, so Paul handed poor Jack a bucket and a shovel and told him to get on with it. You get the picture? I did, and suddenly my daughters abandoned lunch seemed almost appetizing.

Can we learn anything from this story though? Yes – never forget the moose in your backpack!

The Art Of Acting

Late nights seem to work wonders for philosophical elaborations. Earlier this evening I got a phonecall from a friend of mine, and we talked about exes, friends and human behaviour in general. The issue here isn't who we discussed, but in some context I said something like "You see, he really isn't all that bad, he just doesn't know how to act. He did in fact use to tell me that his problem was that he thought and felt too much, and to protect himself he chose not to show any emotions at all." Just as I uttered these words it dawned on me that we should never be making excuses for people who don't do the right thing, and get away with it just because they're "good, deep down inside"! Let's put it this way: In my mind I can actually see paintings that haven't been painted yet, and I know that they would be really good if they only were. But they're not, and I certainly don't expect to get credit for a picture in my mind, even less call my self an artist. First I have to bring it to life in oil on canvas. And the music I hear isn't worth a thing to others if it's only in my head, even though the sax and the piano are playing in perfect disharmony. And as not all of us are true artists, not all people have the gift of acting accordingly to their intensions, and therefore shouldn't get acknowledged as an "acting artist" either.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

My Bonnie

The winds have blown over the ocean
The winds have blown over the sea
The winds have blown over the ocean
And brought back my bonnie to me

Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me, to me
Bring back, bring back
Bring back my Bonnie to me

Friday, October 21, 2005

Old Question, New Twist


If I scream and no one is there to hear it, do I make a sound?

Thursday, October 20, 2005

RollerCoaster

Life sure is a like a Rollercoaster, but have ever you thought of the fact that they not only travel at a tremendous speed up and down, and round and round, but some times they actually fail? I think we use that rollercoaster metaphore as a way of reassuring ourselves that in the end of the ride, you're safely back on the ground, laughing about how silly you were to be scared and anxious. But what about those times when the brakes don't work, or the calculations somewhere went wrong and the cart just leaves the rail and continues in free air?

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

MeMyselfAndIMHO

There’s usually an upside to everything, and being a self-analyzing, slightly obsessed semi-neurotic keeps me from never running out of topics for writing. But a touch of schizophrenia would sometimes be useful as well, then it wouldn’t be all about me...

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

At Last

You're coming back, and how I missed you! Working without you has been nothing but struggle, and I wish you'd stick around for a while. I certainly need you. After a long time of not getting the logic in what I'm doing it's finally coming back to me, and with your help I'll probably accomplish my goals. I know you most likely will leave again, so I'll just enjoy it while it lasts, and get as much done as possible. I think we humans all need you, Inspiration!

Monday, October 17, 2005

Playtime

About a month ago I bought myself a new TV with a 32" LCD screen, and one of the things I thought I'd like to do was to hook it up to my computer. I really haven't had time for it before, and also the connection cable lacked, but tonight I tried it out and what a difference! Amazing to see all the details, in one of my PhotoShop projects for instance. Just wish there was more time for playing...

It's Clearing Up

When I woke up this morning I noticed that my view was getting clearer, and I could now see things I couldn't see a month ago. By winter I guess everything will be unobstructed, leaving a free perspective. My window outlook isn't so bad either.

Saturday, October 15, 2005

Slow Motion - Fast Forward

Isn't it funny. Here I've been struggling for weeks to muster up some inspiration. Everything have been really slow, kinda sirupy, as I fell behind at uni already from the start due to the moving and all that. Heard anyone say that they work best under pressure? Well, you never heard it from me, but it must be some truth in it, 'cause today round about noon there were no more excuses. Kids away, silence (Almost, except from the neighbour playing music just a little too loud. But at least he put on a CD today instead of that annoying Radio1.), the apartment almost tidy and I was still smiling from the night before when I had a few ladyfriends over for my fabulous fishsoup. I had written only 300 words up til that point, and I was really stuck. Not that I didn't know what to say, I have plenty on my mind, but the problem here was that I simply weren't in the mood for following instructions and keep to the assignment. I have a strong feeling that I probably were some kind of a rebellion in a previous life. A pirate princess, maybe? So I've been sitting here all day, while the sun has been shining continuously outside. Slow, slow, and ever so often ctrl+a, tools, wordcount just to see how I was doing. Much like a kid asking from the backseat "Is it far? Are we there yet?" while you steering the car out from the parking lot. Much to my surprise; at the end of the day I had managed another 1000 words, but I'm not actually sure if that's a good sign, 'cause I haven't started on the interesting stuff yet. I have merely done a sort of resume so far, and now I'm not sure if I can limit myself. (This made me suddenly think of the cake I have in the fridge from yesterday.) So I think that's kinda ironic, that I probably have to follow my own advice that I cheerfully gave away the other day.

Thursday, October 13, 2005

Laugh Of The Day

The easiest blogpost ever, just cut&paste from a (forwarded, scanned and virusfree) e-mail:


Why females should avoid a girls' night out after they are married!

The other night I was invited out for a night with "the girls." I told my husband that I would be home by midnight, "I promise!" Well, the hours passed and the margaritas went down way too easy. Around 3 a.m., a bit loaded, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door! , the cuckoo clock in the hall started up and cuckooed 3 times. Quickly, realizing my husband would probably wake up, I cuckooed another 9 times. I was really proud of myself for coming up with such a quick-witted solution, in order to escape a possible conflict with him. (Even when totally smashed ... 3 cuckoos plus 9 cuckoos totals 12 cuckoos = MIDNIGHT!) The next morning my husband asked me what time I got in, and I told him, "Midnight." He didn't seem pissed off at all. Whew! Got away with that one! Then he said, "We need a new cuckoo clock." When I asked him why, he said, "Well, last night our clock cuckooed three times, then said, "Oh sh -- ! ," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then tripped over the coffee table and farted."

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Buying Time

Does anyone out there have the the most updated pricelist on "time"? I've just bought me some much needed extra of that particular item, and I have a strong feeling that the end cost will be enormous. I don't even know the currency. Dollar? Yen? My soul? Or perhaps some peculiar form of payment, yet unknown? Sometimes the fineprint at the end of a contract is so small you can't see it, but there usually is a catch.

Catch me, if you can...

Tuesday, October 11, 2005

Freud's Boat

Well, we didn't get the boat. Right now I'm not too sure what to think about the whole thing, but if I have understood just a fraction of what I'm supposed to, at my course in Psychoanalysis, I believe the dream I had last night tried to tell me something:
I really can't remember that many details, but suddenly The Boat appeared, and to my astonishment I found out that she actually was driven by nuclear power and radioactive! Dangerous to say the least, and far more complicated to take care of than anyone could have imagined. Neither of us are Atomic Scientists. In this dream lies the possibility of some useful interpretations, but it's too late now. I'd rather go to bed and see if I'll get a "follow-up".

I'll think we'll probably go for more sail and less motor. (Toril, how much do you charge for lessons?) ;) lol

And something completely different: I've made a new "design",
Come visit my second store on CafePress!

Friday, October 07, 2005

It's all a big lie, isn't it???

Thursday, October 06, 2005

Baby on it's way?

I've been flying around a lot lately, in many aspects. (Not in all, mind you!) The most recent trip was just a 24-hour one to have a closer look at the boat we want to buy. I arrived in Trondheim late at night and grabbed a few hours sleep before I picked up my rental car and set off for Frøya. Norway is truly a beautyful country and the 2 1/2 hour drive made wonders for my scattered mind.

So after my personal inspection I made a quick phonecall and we decided to go for it. Perhaps I was a bit naiv, but I thought the deal would be closed that day. But, oh no. I didn't hear anything for the rest of that day, and it was not until this afternoon I've recieved a mail where the seller said they still had to deliberate a bit further. He said he would give me an answer monday evening, at the latest.

It was now I started to think about the process of getting an adopted child. I've heard stories where the parents-to-be actually got pictures of "their" new baby and even travelled across the world to pick him or her up only to learn that the biological mum had changed her mind and kept the child. I'm not at all trying to pretend that buying a "dead" thing like a boat could be compared with having your own children, but as I don't think I'm going to enlarge my family in the nearby future this is in a way my new "baby", and the wait and uncertainty is killing me, so to speak. And just as being a first time mum I'm not at all sure how to take care of this bundle, even though I've been around boats before.

I'm so glad I'm not doing this alone. On the other hand, I wouldn't either.

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Acceptable Behaviour?

I'm making a poll here, so please, please, PLEEEASE, help me out. I'm going to tell you a short story and I need you to tell me if I'm wrong when I find some of the people in the story behaving unacceptably. There will be no names or anything, my interest here is merely my own satisfaction in knowing that I have the majority behind me. So here's the story:

A teenager walked into the livingroom where he found his fathers new woman busy painting. She hadn't yet decided if she was going to move in with them, but she was there for the weekend anyway. The son asked her what she was doing. Not that he couldn't see that, but he just had to hear it from her.

"We're painting this table. You'll get it back once we've bought a new one."

The boy left the house flabbergasted, to see his friends.

You see, this is the clue. The table belonged to the teenager, and I think what the father and his woman did, by entering the room of the 17-year-old and get the table, usually is called theft. The father is probably of a different opinion and is most likely to call this act borrowing. So who's right? Am I blind who can't seem to find an excuse good enough for stealing from your children? And mind you, they certainly could afford buying a new coffetable straight away. Some people don't have to wait for the next paycheck.

PS. I've recently found out that some of you new to the blogging-world doesn't know that you too can have your saying. If you only read my blog it's understandable 'cause as always I couldn't resist the temptation to fix and alter things. Usually direct under each post it says Comments which is sort of obvious, but in my blog you have to pinch me back. Get it?

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Sofisticated Terrorism

This story took place a few days ago. It was the last day of my holiday, and I thought I’d have a last stroll through the city before I had to return back home. I talked to my brother in the morning and arranged to meet for lunch. He works at one of the major architecture offices, and as I hadn’t been there before I was quite thrilled to see what he’d been up to the last couple of months. So we decided to meet there. It was a ten minute walk there from the train, and just a few yards from station I walked by a man playing the accordion. Not very inspired, but it was nice somehow, because he was standing in a gallery which is always pretty effective with its good acoustics. I walked through the mall, and right outside I encountered another accordionplayer. He was a lot younger and equally livlier, but still, they sounded alike. I even think they played the same song. For some reason I noted the name of the bridge he was standing on, and realized I didn’t know it before, even though I’ve crossed it many, many times. I left the Peace Bridge behind me and turned another corner.

To my astonishment there was yet another man playing the same instrument as before, and now I really started to worry. I had this this unsettling feeling that they were all part of some evil masterplan, synchronized to play the same repertoire, and I made up my mind that if I heard a fourth player I had to alarm someone. I did. Not ring any bells or anything, but I did hear another accordion. Suitably right outside the cathedral. By now I was utterly convinced that this was the terrorists latest scheme. How sofisticated! Simply ship busloads of them into the country (none of the musicians were native), scatter them around the cities armed with their lethal instruments and well rehearsed muzac, and then let them play for all they’re worth! Had I stayed just a little longer I think I had had to kill myself, and I’d probably had taken a few of my poor fellow citizens with me, just to spare them the agony.

I rushed up to my brothers work and told him that the end was near. “Silly sister”, he said and took me to lunch, “the one by the cathedral is actually quite good, you should hear him jamming with that old Galois-smoking, trumpet-playing Frenchman.”

It was evident that all this was purely a result of my sometimes too vivid imagination playing tricks on me, not to mention a desire for interesting plots. These poor musicians were probably just refugees trying to make a living in an unfamiliar country.

And in fact, I do love the accordion, just listen.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

A Very Late Summer Holiday

Good things come to those who wait, I think the saying goes, and this little post is just to reassure anyone who doubt it.

Today I finished my essay. We were supposed to write 1800 words, and when I counted after the final stop it came to a total of 1813 words. That’s pretty darned accurate, I’d say! If this turns out to be one of the two papers I decide to hand in for my exam it’s going to be doubled, but that won’t be a problem either, I already know were it’s week and needs more support. So far, so good, and now I think I’m aloud to relax for the remainder of my stay here back in Sweden.

I still haven’t told you what I’ve been waiting for. But if you know where I usually live you’ve prabably guessed it already. Yes, summer. We didn’t get that in Bergen this year, not much anyway, and I didn’t go anywhere either. (I spend the whole “summer” preparing to move, packing boxes with china and old shoes.) So this weekend I headed for my old homecountry and a familygathering, and as bonus the weather turned out to be absolutely gorgeous. Even if it’s late September it’s not only sunny, but quite warm as well, which is a bit unusual. A nice autumnday could otherwise be somewhat nippy.

As I sat here earlier today working on my essay, I frequently took breaks and looked out the window. The wiew offered pure serenity, the cow and her calves grassing, a heard of sheep in the distance and the farmer out there too, moving stones. You can’t do that in a hurry!

Now I can hear Van Morrison on the radio and the coffe brewing, and I even think there will be some vintage Barbados rum with that steaming cup. Sounds good, doesn’t it? I’ll have one for you too... To really emphasize how quiet and relaxed this is, I have to tell you that this post was written days ago, saved on my laptop to later be brought back to civilization and broadbandconnections.

Mañana, mañana

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Exile

Hi!
I left the country! Not on a permanent basis, just for a few days. The sun is shining and everything is just fine. Not. My luggage got lost in Copenhagen on my way here, and with it my books and papers that I need to finish my essay. Hopefully I'll get it back later today, so I'll simply use this as an excuse for doing nothing, besides drinking coffe and chatting with my mum. And that is quite important as well, I think. Quality time with people you love.

My mum doesn't have broadband. Her connection is NOT reliable. SHe is though, so she drove me to town, and here I am, happily tapping away on the keyboard at a public library. Have to go, times up.

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Peeing My Pants

My essay was supposed to be handed in by Friday, and as I'm going away Thursday morning I thought I'd rather finish my writing tomorrow, Wednesday. But today I was relieved to learn that the due-date has been postponed until next Tuesday, and immediate I leaned back in my chair and imagined I had all the time in the world. But that, my friend, is really like wet yourself to keep warm.

Regardless, I'm happy for the extra time 'cause I'm kind of stuck now. Partly I'm not really sure how philosophical I can keep this text and still meet the expectations regarding reference to the curriculum and required reading. But hey, What the Hack, I think I'll stick to my personal style and see what happens. That's usually a good idea, why not this time?

The other reason for my struggel with the writing is that other wet dream I've had lately
(without peeing my pants). The one about the boat. Yeh, I know, you've heard it before. I even said we already bought the freakin' ship, but the thing is we really weren't sure. Should we go for the one that seemed to be a safe (as safe as a boat can be) investment, but perhaps lacking a bit charm, or should we decide upon the one we really fell for? The one which probably had a lot of hidden problems? Mind or heart? But there was also a third alternative... a lovely lady who had it all - tons of charm, regulary inspected (without negative comments!) but of course she seemed to be out of our reach, we're not that rich. In fact, we're not rich at all. I for my part am only repeating my usual stunt. Spend my savings on something I believe in.

I am a great believer. And I belive in many things, fate and destiny being two of my favourites. Or do they count as one? Anyway, according to that we might actually end up with the dreamboat afterall! Guess her name? Frigg!


For you who are too lazy to link, I'll just tell you that Frigg was the wife of Odin, and she was the only one who knew humans fate almost as well as her husband did, back in the good old Viking days. I wonder how they kept warm?...

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Absolution?

A small, greyhaired man in his fifties entered the Vicars office and told the Vicar he wanted to confess.
That’s allright, said the Vicar. What’s on your mind?
Well, the man started hesitantly, yesterday my wife bent over the freezer, her skirt slid up just a bit, and I couldn’t fight the lust of the flesh, so I pulled up her skirt completely, off with her pants, and took her all I could!
And that was your wife, you said? asked the Vicar.
Yes, replied the man, we’ve been married for 28 years.
My son, this is nothing to confess, said the priest, having sexual intercourse with your wife is just like God intended.
Thanks, that was good to hear, said the man and left the office.
About an hour later a plain, greyhaired little lady about 50 years old also addressed the Vicar and wanted to confess. The priest asked what it was all about, and the woman told him:
Yesterday I bent over the freezer, and my husband pulled up my skirt, took off my panties and than we had sex from behind. This is awful.
The Vicar chuckled and said: Your husband has already been here to tell the story, and I’ll tell you what I told him, that there is no shame in sexual relations within the holy matrimony.
So we’re welcome to church if we want to? asked the lady.
Oh why, yes of course. You’re most welcome to the church! replied the priest.
That’s a relief, said the lady, ‘cause up at the deli they told us we’re not welcome anymore.

Monday, September 12, 2005

It's monday - and it's blue...

If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were.
Richard Bach

Merry X-mas!

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

Musiclover

Like always it seems like I'm keeping my priorities straight. Straight as Liberace. Instead of reading up on Freud I used my twohour lunchbreak to drive down to Hi-Fi Klubben to pick up my new stereo. (I payed for it, too. Thanks, Lånekassen!!!) I really look forward to slowly warm up the amplifier with some soft, playful and intimate scandinavian jazz. And maybe later I'll power up with a little bit of Tom Waits? My lonely nights are over, I think. As long as I have my music I'll survive...

Monday, September 05, 2005

Late night therapy

So, what do you do when you're crying so much that you think you're going to throw up? When you're gasping for air like a fish on land? This is my third night in my new apartment, and everything is utter chaos. In all possible ways, my mind is just as messy as the surroundings. Boxes everywhere, with half forgotten content, and nowhere to put it once it gets unpacked.

I had actually gone to bed, quite tired after weeks with this moving business. Suddenly it caught me like a riptide, dragging me under - I'm alone, and I wish I wasn't! It could have been rather OK to be by myself, if there only had been a future in it. But as it is I'm going to stay alone, and that is tough to realize. All this probably sounds like a lot of BS. Both for you who know me and everyone else. And yes, I can hear your voices, telling me: "PLEASE, get a grip on your self, there are other people out there!" Well, you heard it before: I DON'T CARE!

Writing is good. It's like Prozac for me, keeps me from not losing it all together. So I must admit that this post is purely for my own benefit. Maybe they all are, but usually a bit more disguised. Not so obviously selfpitying.

But at least it helped, and that is my answer to the opening question. I write for therapy. And again, if that had been the whole and undivided truth you wouldn't be reading this now...

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Just for laughs

A rich and lonely widow one day decided she would get a new husband. She wrote a personal ad which read: "Rich widow seeks man to share her life and fortune with. Following requirements must be fulfilled:
1) You are not violent.
2) You are not going to leave me.
3) You are amazing in bed."
Both the telephone and doorbell kept ringing insanely for months and she recieved tonnes of mail, but no one met the widows standards. One day someone called at the house and she found a man without arms and legs lying by the front door.
"Hi", he said. "Your search is over, I'm the man you've always dreamed about. I have no arms, so I can't hit you, and I have no legs, so I can't walk away from you either."
"And what makes you think you're the worlds greatest lover?", replied the widow.
"Well, I knocked on your door, didn't I?"

Sunday, August 28, 2005

And here we go again

The new term has hit me with full force, just like a late summer storm. All I can do is to keep the ship floating and hope for the wind to settle, so I can catch my breath again. It could have been lot easier though if only I had got my apartment sooner, instead of having to do this move in the middle of lectures on Freud and reading A Brief History of the Future. Excellent book by the way, I've read novels that are less entertaining than this one. But I'm quite sure the rest of the syllabus not necessarily will be that easy...

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Espresso dreams


I've made my choice. And which test did I rely on? The norwegian site, or did the swedish one make more sense? Neither, sort of. I chose a red one.

(If you don't know what I'm talking about I suggest you read the previous post.)

Choosing bright colours almost seems like a pattern recently, and will make an excellent topic for an upcoming blogpost. My starsign is Taurus, and I'm seeing red...

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Who should you trust?

In this case it's not a matter of life and death, but perhaps as just as close. It's a matter of choosing the right espresso machine. I did the same thing a couple of years ago, but as I thought I needed an ordinary coffe machine as well I then settled for a kind of combothing. To my disappointment neither of it's functions were satisfactory enough. The coffebrewer is too slow and the espresso runs through too quickly. Well, actually the espresso isn't too bad, but it's not good enough to justify the space it takes on my counter. You see, it's really ugly as well. Damned ugly. I think I prefer something more stylish.

Which leads me up to my recent idea of what to spend my money on. As with everything I intend to purchase I try to do a lot of research, reading through magazines and browsing the web for tests and reviews. With enough gathered information, I'll then try to come to a reasonable conclusion. Of course economics is a major factor, and is also somewhat to blame for the last mistake. This time though, I think I'll spend a few pennies more.

So what could be more natural than consulting the Norwegian Coffee Association? Or as I'm swedish; The Swedish National Coffee Association? Quite interesting, but you should think that they got testresults that at least looked familiar. But no, no at all. The swedish site states a specific machine as their "winner" and another as producing really bad tasting espresso with weak crema. To my surprise it seems like the norwegian testpanel came up with almost opposite results. How confusing!

Who should I trust? I think I'll rather stick to my gut feeling, 'cause thats where the coffee will end anyway.

Friday, August 12, 2005

Another "poem"

There was a silver bullet
with a name we didn’t know
It was destined to cure a heartache
and the demand began to grow

All the lovers in the country
was there to let it show
how much they all were hurting
But oh, how could they know?

That the bullet would turn the lovers
not to life, but ice and snow
They hoped it would stop their crying
and they all just wanted to know

“Why did he leave me?”
“Why did she go?”
“I should be the target!”
How little did they know...

That the little silver bullet
was really aiming low
and it wouldn’t find its goal
without a quid pro quo

Sunday, August 07, 2005

Have you ever wondered

Thursday, August 04, 2005

Goodbye Worry Wrinkle

I don't think I'm the only one who looked in the mirror only to meet a dull, frowning face. You know, with that distinctive wrinkle between the eyes that clearly indicates that you're been a bit too tense for too long. One common solution to that, at least if you can afford it, is Botox. (An injection of toxin that temporarily paralyzes the muscle that causes the wrinkle.) After some time you'll have to do it all over again. Inject yourself with poison for the sake of beauty.

Besides that worry wrinkle I don't have that many lines (yet!), and the only treatment I've tried so far is a helpless massage performed with my own hands. Still, I really hated that frown, I looked so angry! But the solution was as simple as obvious, it actually lies in its name. Worry. The only key is that almost as a bieffect the wrinkle will diminish when you set target on your inner worries and anxiety, rather than your looks. I wouldn't claim myself to be looking ten years younger or anything like that, but I can actually feel that the tension is gone and the worry wrinkle along with it. So it's a classic win-win situation: Feel good - Look good (well, at least not so bad anyway)

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

The Crossword Approach

For the moment I'm feeling great, as I usually do when I think I had a breakthrough of some kind. It might sound as a controversy, but to me life seems to be just as simple as it is difficult sometimes. I think a few people might agree that I have a tendency to analyze everything perhaps just a tad too much. But then again it's my way of dealing with life. And there is most definite a reward in it, 'cause once in a while I get this almost euphoric feeling when hard thinking results in a glorious insight. I can then learn from my experience, put the worries behind me and hopefully, even better, help someone else. Sometimes a metaphor or an analogy may be a good way to understand people, be it yourself or someone else.
Yesterday I spoke with my father, as I often do - he is an infinite source of wisdom, and I told him about what was going on. There's someone in my life that I need to relate to, someone who's not always that easy to discuss with, and he has always had problems in seeing things from another perspective than his own. My father said it reminded him of a crosswordpuzzle he was doing. Usually he never fills in any blanks before he's sure he knows the word, but for some reason he did anyway. This was just a twoletterword, but it made all the difference. The thing is that it took him so long to figure it out! He had almost completed the whole thing and it just didn't add up. When he finally realized his mistake he could solve the puzzle.
And this is just how you should approach life itself, in my opinion. Even though you might find an answer that fits, there might be another one that is as equally correct. Each on their own. But only when you see the whole puzzle you know which one to choose.

For a real crossword try this place.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

My own shop!

In connection with the analyzis I wrote on "The Strand" earlier this year, I came across a quite interesting site. CafePress is a place for anyone who wants to create, sell or buy their own products. I'm not going to explain this any further, I'll just say:
Come visit my store on CafePress and have a look for yourself! By all means, you are of course welcome to purchase anything, but that wasn't my first priority with the shop, I just merely thought it was rather fun, and as my daughter wanted a mousepad with an image of her dog it just went on from there. Maybe you too will get creative? Something to do when the dark wintermonths sets in...

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Dreams

It's more important to share a dream than to make one come true on your own.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Sunshine

Oh, what a beautyful day...

A wet dryseason

It seems my inspiration is currently the victim of some minor dryspell, which could work as an excuse for the most rescent posts here on my blog. The studies are over for this semester and I'm trying to get in to some kind of holiday mood. Not that easy asI have to run in and out of different banks and offices begging for a loan so I can buy a place for me and my daughter. Yesterday my last hope turned us down, but luckily my application for a familyflat with the University came through at the same time, so we at least have somewhere to live. Actually we don't mind at all to stay there, except for the very simple reason that we can't bring our dog with us! This is not at all what I had in mind when we got her last year, but never in my wildest imagination did I see this one coming. What we have to do now is to try to find someone who would be interested in looking after her while I finish my eduacation.

Talking about dogs; last weekend or maybe a week earlier, I went to a little barbeque with some friends. The hosts were a couple I've known for years, with quite a large family consisting of four children, a horse, a large dog and no lesser than eight cats. (Actually has the issue of the number of cats been discussed quite intensly in their house, but that is not important for this little story.) Anyway, this is otherwise a welcoming family, so for the night of the barbeque they had an extra houseguest. The daughters were dog-sitting a little chihuahua that belonged to a neighbour. This neighbour has been on the frontpages more than once during the last few weeks, and she is a perfect example what can happen when someone has too much money, too little common sense and absolutely no taste. In a very good article in BT all this is put in excellent words. So what about this little dog Chico then? Not much really, but he is far more well behaved than his owner, and he didn't bark up the wrong tree that evening. Come to think of it, we didn't see much of him at all.

This also reminds me that I soon have to thank my friends for a wonderful party, and I must ask them how on earth they got the chickenthighs so tender and succulent on the barbie...

Thursday, June 30, 2005

Hot & Blue


So why on earth should this picture be of any interest? Well, if you have any knowledge about Bergen, Norway, you understand why. For the rest of you, I'll give a short explaination: To put it mildly; it rains quite a lot here, and we havn't seen the sun in such a long time, we hardly didn't recognice it when it first decided to show up!

I remember a Geography-lesson I had once. I was about ten, and lived back in Sweden. We didn't know much about our neighbouring countries (hence the lesson) and that day we studied the atlas and found out that Bergen was one of the wettest places on earth along with a small place i Nepal, and I think also somewhere in South America. How do they cope? I wondered, not having the slightest idea that that was something I actually would find out on my own some ten years later. And we do cope, much thanks to days like these. I am for the moment sitting outside in my wooden swing sofa, my laptop on my lap(!) and thinking of moving indoors. It's almost too hot...

According to the weatherforcast the summer will be over sometime in the afternoon tomorrow, so I think I'll just have to endure this heatwave. There will be plenty of indoordays to come.

Thursday, June 23, 2005

A coffee and a smile - who could ask for more?

My mother made this cakeroll the other day, and we were a little worried the strawberries had gone bad. But clearly that wasn't the case...

Monday, June 20, 2005

Extreme makeover

I think I'm all done for tonight, and here's the result. A lighter, but yet distinctive layout, which just might survive the summer. We'll see. Playing with Photoshop is quite relaxing, so perhaps I should find me some other projects as well, besides tampering with the blogtemplate over and over again.

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Sensur

I dag lå eksamensresultatet klart på studentweb og jeg må si jeg er ganske fornøyd under omstendighetene. Nei, nå må jeg skjerpe meg, jeg bør være fornøyd uansett! I praksis betyr det også at jeg nå kan foreta en liten ansiktsløftning på denne bloggen, og det kommer til å skje en gang i løpet av sommeren. Bare ikke akkurat nå, her er det litt for mye annet å gjøre.

Hvis det er noen som lurer på hvorfor jeg er så utrolig inkonsekvent med å skrive litt på norsk (svorsk?) og innimellom på engelsk er det for at det er avhengig av hvordan historiene kommer ut av hodet mitt, hvilket modus jeg er i. Så jeg beklager hvis det er forvirrende, og jeg kan bare love at det ikke blir noe bedring, for det er bare sånn jeg er. Litt schizofren kanskje?

I kveld har jeg vært en liten tur i byen, masse folk og så god stemning det bare kan bli i Bergen når det har regnet surt i halve juni. Et par timer med kveldsol og smilende mennesker gjør godt for et stresset sinn, og en liten stund var alle mine bekymringer borte. La meg drømme søtt nå...

" If you love someone, set them free. If they come back they're yours; if they don't they never were. "

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Stories

So now, what possible use could one have of a more ore less reduntant old blog, some kind of remnant from a university-course in webaesthetics? What I mean, should I give it some direction or just continue to post my reflections on everyday life? One idea I came up with, was to write stories. The beauty of it, is that I could tell anything I want, without claiming it to be true. I could leave that entirely for you to decide, whether the story is plausible or not. Actually I have a few written down already. Some of them have been told by friends (and enemies?), and others are totally results of a vivid imagination and possibly too much wine. Others again are very true, as they are recallings of my own experiences.

I think I'll start with this one:

The Lunch

He woke up with an excruciating pain jolting through his head. It felt like someone had connected his brain to an electric circuit. His eyelids were swollen but with a tremendous effort he opened an eye and he was in for the first shock; he didn’t have a clue where he was. As a matter of fact, when he came to think of it, he didn’t know who he was either. The walls around him were spinning so he closed his eye again and tried to make some sense of it all. Thinking wasn’t the easiest thing to do when the upstairs department was closed off with electric wiring, but some fragments of his memory somehow found their way out in the clear. A woman made her presence before of his shut eyes, and some woman she was! He was sure she was a dream come true, with those legs and those eyes looking right through him. A piece of conversation surfaced from his scattered memory:
-How nice of you to come, Mr McCullough!
-The pleasure is all mine, Miss Smith.
”Mr McCullough must be me then”, he thought while searching through his memory data-bank. ”Sounds familiar actually, wonder if there is a first name that goes with McCullough?” At this stage his brain worked as smoothly as a piece of fine machinery - filled with saw-dust that is – but for some reason a name popped up. ”John! That’s it, that’s my name: John McCullough!” Miss Smith was still a mystery but it might come back to him later. All this thinking made him weary and he dozed off again.
In his dream he hurried down West Hubbard Street to reach his office at J B Hardy Investors Inc. It was winter, and winter in Chicago could be really bad. Snow was whirling from and into every possible direction and he was covered in a thick layer of white as he entered the building. He greeted the clerk at the front reception and rushed into the overcrowded elevator. His office was on the 14th floor so that’s where he left the elevator not a second too soon. How he hated it; packed liked sardines, conscious of not showing his disgust with the odour of garlic from yeasterdays take-aways and the smell of damp woolen clothes. He knew that to everybody else he was the picture of perfection; and he sure wasn’t going to let them think otherwise. Still a bit woundup he ran into a person in the hallway and they both almost fell over. Then he suddenly felt something really hot running down his leg, and he found himself drenched in caffè latte.
-Oh my God! I’m soooo sorry, I didn’t mean to. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?
He was just going to say the standard ”No thanks, I’m fine” when he looked at the person. It wasn’t merely a person, it was a woman and not just any woman. It was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes upon and he had laid his eyes upon quite a few. He suddenly felt like an awkward schoolboy and the woman sent off an unarming smile showing a row of perfect white teeth. Too good to be true, he thought.
-How about me taking you for lunch later today?
-Sure, Miss…?
-Smith, she said , let’s meet by the front reception at two, OK?
-Yeah, OK, he answered slightly flustered.
In his office, he changed into a pair of dry and clean pants; he always kept spare clothes there in case of any kind of emergency. A little smile played on his lips when he set out to work on the day’s agenda. He called his secretary, Miss Benton, and told her to set up a meeting with the chairman of Wakefield B C Inc., a fairly large industrial building contractor which had been run by the same family for ages. Like everyone else in the same business they strived to get contracts these days; nobody seemed to be building anything for the moment. And that’s where J B Hardy stepped in, offering a solution most of them were willing to accept. But in their despair they were fooled by the quirks only a lawyer could put in a contract and so in the end they were bought up, devided and sold out and the only one happy about it was old Hardy and friends. The rest of the morning John spent running figures and estimating the total he would add to his bankaccount when the deal was through. When he went to his lunchappointment he was still smiling…
Or was it a dream? Lying there in this strange room he felt that the lunch with this Miss Smith had been quite real. He even remembered where they went and what they had to eat. They had caught a cab just outside the building and she directed it to a very ”in” and not to mention very pricey place; d.Kelly on West Randolph Street. The place in itself was worth a visit, if only for a drink, with it’s exposed brick walls and roomy layout. And if you fancied the the photographs hanging on the walls one could be yours, with frame and all, if you had couple of hundered bucks to spare. Even if food was the last thing John longed for he could still feel the taste of the hearty chicken matzo soup he had, served with crisp Cuban panini, on his tongue. He also remembered that he made a mental note that this might be a good place to take the poor chairman of Wakefield B C Inc..
As he slowly recovered his memory he felt a little better, but only for a while. He still didn’t know where he was or why he was there. And physically he was a mess, that’s for sure. Never before had he been so hungover, and wining&dining was as natural to him as for a dog peeing on a lamppost. Carefully he again opened his eyes and looked around. It looked like a hotelroom, but nothing like one he would pay for to stay in. The walls were hung with a paper so hideous it made him if possible even more sick. A burgundy floral pattern with golden, velveteen patches scattered around. Here and there strips of wallpaper were missing and the dirty wall behind shone through. Above him the ceiling threatened to fall down on him, heavy with nicotine from decades of smoking. What the floor looked like he didn’t know, he hadn’t dared to turn around yet, but could it be anything but absolutely disgusting that too? The bed was a real piece of work, heartshaped with a built-in massage function. At least he assumed it had one having watched a lot of bad movies, and this more and more reminded him of a really, really bad one.
In his mind he went back to the lunch, trying to remember what had happened. He had a vague feeling that the mystic Miss Smith had been in charge of the events from the very first beginning. Anyway, this was not the usual way he dated women, he was the man, the one who took the initative with his smooth moves. Just for once he was mesmerized by this stunning woman and all he could do was to play along. The bottle of wine accompanying the lunch was soon followed by heavier drinks. Two Long Island Iceteas could make any man lightfooted, and it didn’t stop with that. They talked of this, that and the other, who they were, and where they came from. He told her the same lie he told every chick he dated; the poor boy from the district who made a fortune, and she told him about her family which was, until she met him, the most important thing in her life. She said she believed in fate, and fate had brought them together. The lunch became quite extended in the end, actually to the degree that they could almost hit the nightclubs directly, and so they did. Didn’t she pay for the lunch as well? John thought. Normally he wouldn’t have accepted such a thing, but this was someting different, he knew that.
The District on West Lake Street was a high-glamour hang where a VIP-driven clientele congregated. They had even more drinks and tried to keep up an conversation in the noisy bar. By then everything was kind of a blur to him but fragments emerged from the deepest corner of his memory.
-John, don’t you just hate it when someone you trust screws you around? she shouted in his ear.
He recalled discussing friends and what they might do to you, making them less of a friend. He had told her about an incident when Robert who he thought was a friend; they worked together, had closed a deal which was his and by that got hold of something like three million dollars. What do you need enemies for when you got friends like that?
-My father isn’t feeling very well these days, she told him. Maybe you could help him, with all your contacts and everything. John had as always made the impression that he could do almost anything and knew almost everybody, at least anybody worth of knowing.
-I just might, he answered.
What had happened after the nightclub was even more obscure. This totally numb feeling was something he had never experienced before, and that added a sense of uneasy anxiousness to his poor mind. Did he walk the streets? To places where never sat his foot before? (Perhaps in another life, long before he made his fortune.) And it still didn’t place him in this sorry excuse for a hotel. By now he was so sick he just had to make an effort to reach the bathroom, hopefully there was one. If he was really unlucky this was the kind of hotel where you had to go out in the corridor to get to something resembling a bathroom. He rolled over and his suspicions about the carpet were confirmed; it might have been a royal blue once, but all the stains, which origins he really didn’t dare to think about, made it look like it was supposed to be patterned. Anyway, he was at least happy to see that the room in fact had a bathroom, and he crawled in that direction. He noticed that he couldn’t see any of his clothes on his way, neither did he wear his gold Cartier. He couldn’t help himself but emptying his stomach, sitting on all four. Totally exhausted he dragged himself up and looked into the mirror. When he was a kid his mum and dad had taken him to a horror cabinet with wax figures, and that had totally freaked him out. Still, what faced him in the mirror now was even worse. And all of a sudden he realized he had to alter the intention of the meeting with the chairman of Wakefield B C Inc., Mr Alan Smith.
After all, there is no such thing as a free lunch, which the brightly colored ink-snake slithering down his still sore chest would forever remind him of…

So, could this have been true? Is it?

I think next story might be a of a different kind alltogether, stay tuned...

Thursday, June 09, 2005

Bestemors bukser

Også klager de på at dagens ungdom er bortskjemt og kravstor! Jeg lurer på om følgende hendelse hadde gått an bare noen år tilbake:

Jeg er som sagt mitt i et flytteprosjekt (fremdeles uten mål, men tingene må jo pakkes uansett...), og prøver i den forbindelse å kaste mest mulig gammelt og ubrukt. I alle fall, min mor er på besøk og jeg fant en bluse som egentlig er veldig fin men jeg bruker den ikke. Kanskje hun ville ha den? Min sønn på sytten kommer akkurat forbi og ser noe blåvitstripete i hendene mine og utbrister i begeistring:
-Åh, er det en bukse? Den har jeg lyst på!
Det var jo ikke det, men jeg mente å huske at jeg dagen før hadde stappet ned en bukse i lignende stoff i en sort sekk med destinasjon Fretex. Jeg dro dem frem og overrakte dem til en overlykkelig sønn med ordene:
-Kult at du liker dem, tror bestemor ville ha syntes det var litt kult også!

Buksen hadde jeg selv fått av min svigermor en gang hun renset skapet...

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Husjakt

Idag har jeg vært på husvisning, for jeg skal nemlig flytte. Og det er nesten det eneste som er sikkert. Jeg vet at jeg skal flytte, men ikke hvor, eller hvordan eller om jeg i det hele tatt har råd å kjøpe noe. Men om jeg later at banken vil være grei med meg, så var begge visningene absolutt interessante. Den første var en leilighet sånn halvveis til byen med utsikt mot Ulriken fra kjøkkenvinduet. Kunne godt tenkt meg å drikke morgenkaffien min sånn en stund fremover. Perfekt beliggenhet og veldig fornuftig oppusset, huset var bygget tidlig sekstitall og den gamle kjøkkeninnredningen var igjen. Mye stiligere å ta vare på det opprinnelige enn å bytte det mot noe moderne i kirsebær eller enda verre: hvite fyllingsdører!
Neste visning var en enebolig ikke så langt fra der jeg bor nå. I utgangspunktet er det kanskje ikke så lurt å kjøpe noe med egne yttervegger, for de må jo liksom vedlikeholdes, men uten tvil hadde det vært deilig å ha litt plass rundt seg. Dyrene mine blir sikkert gladere også. Så i natt drømmer jeg sikkert om pussing og maling, før jeg tar den store nedturen til banken i morgen...

Saturday, May 28, 2005

You know Heidi...


...this one's for you...

Thursday, May 26, 2005

All done!

I dag har jeg skikkelig skallebank. Skikkelig altså. Men forklaringen er nokså enkel, trenger ingen medisinsk ekspertise for den diagnosen. Jeg satt oppe i natt til tre og skrev, og plutselig var jeg ferdig! I hvert fall ferdig nok for å printe ut tre eksemplarer og stifte dem sammen med forsiden og rapporten. Og i morgen før 12.00 skal hele mappen være innlevert. Så alt jeg sitter igjen med nå er en dundrende hodepine og en irriterende følelse av at det alltid kommer å være på den her måten. Jeg mener halvveis arbeid, manglende inspirasjon og et kaotisk indre og ytre liv som forstyrrer studiene. For når jeg ser tilbake på de siste tre årene har jeg alltid hatt en eller annen forklaring på hvorfor jeg ikke får det til som jeg vil, men er det ikke bare sånn livet er? Tror heller jeg skal lære meg å se hva jeg faktisk får til. Så hva skal jeg gjøre nå, da? Vet fremdeles ikke hva jeg skal bli når jeg blir stor. Heldigvis har jeg to år til å tenke på den saken mens jeg roter rundt på Høyden, vilt famlende etter noe som endelig skyver meg i riktig retning. (Og skal jeg bry meg om noe av dagens artikkel i BT, bør jeg skifte retning fortere en snøen smelter i Sahara...) Fare well, for now. Neste post blir en posthuin105post.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Nettstedsanalyse

The Strand – et eksempel på konvergens?

Det var en gang litt tidligere i år at jeg skummet dagens nyheter på nett og en viss artikkel fanget min interesse. ”Se opp for neste webisode” kunne jeg lese i Dagbladets nettavis, og videre at dette var et prosjekt av Dan Myrick, mannen bak den noe banebrytende filmen Blair Witch Project. Ganske snart linket jeg meg til hovedsiden for The Strand, og har etter det frekventert den ofte. Like ofte har jeg veid for og mot om jeg i det hele tatt skulle prøve å analysere akkurat den siden, for problemstillingene som dukket opp er sannsynligvis altfor store for denne oppgaven. Grunnen til at jeg til slutt likevel valgte å gjøre det, er som Leif Ove Larsen uttrykker det i Metodebok for mediefag at ”Det allmenne utgangspunktet for en tekstanalyse er interesse hos den som analyserer.”(Larsen 2002)

Ved å beskrive nettstedet så grundig som mulig skal jeg prøve å vise at The Strand er et godt eksempel på konvergens i den forståelsen at konvergens betyr ” sammenløp av retninger eller utviklingslinjer.”

Bakgrunn

Jeg må først gå gjennom litt av forutsetningene for denne siden, eller rettere sagt filmprosjektet, for uten filmen ville siden mangle eksistensgrunnlag. Myrick var kort fortalt frustrert av hele det pengestyrte maktapparatet i Hollywood som bestemmer hvem som får lage film, hva som lages og hvordan. Ved å ta over hele produksjonen selv og la distribusjonen gå over nett ville Myrick utforske mulighetene for en mer brukerstyrt filmopplevelse og en tettere dialog mellom filmskaper og seere. The Strand begynte som en idé om å fange det mangefasetterte miljøet i Venice Beach i California på film, og da internet ble valgt som formidlingskanal ble filmen kortet ned i episoder for å sendes som serie. Fenomenet ble kalt ”webisodes” og den første skulle være gratis, mens de resterende blir tilgjengelige for den nette sum av 0.99 amerikanske dollar per stykk gjennom BitPass digitale betalingsteknologi.

Nettstedets deler

At film er utgangspunktet for denne siden er noe som blir klart allerede fra første møte, der ser vi en intro som klart assosierer til tradisjonell kinofilm. På svart bakgrunn med typisk flimmer og støy ser vi produksjonsselskapet GearHead Pictures presentere The Strand - Venice,CA. Like tydelig er det dog at vi er på nett da det nederst på skjermen står ”Enter website”.



Hvis vi så går inn på selve hovedsiden blir vi møtt av det som er et gjennomgående bilde på hele stedet. Det får meg å tenke på en typisk amerikansk drive-in movie med et opplyst lerret og silhuetten av publikum. Her er ”lerretet” et forstørret utsnitt av noe grafitti som ganske sannsynlig er fra akkurat Venice Beach, og ”publikum” er tatt direkte ut av bilder fra The Strand. Basketspillerne til høyre på bildet finner man f. eks. hvis man følger den første linken som heter ”Press”. Denne eksterne linken inneholder naturlig nok materiale relatert til promoteringen av The Strand, d.v.s. pressemeldinger og bilder fra filmsettet.



Neste link er lokal og gir oss en kort beskrivelse av hovedtankene bak prosjektet. Ordene ”The Strand explores the intersecting lives of its characters with the authenticity of a documentary, but with the narrative storytelling of any scripted show. [...] It’s not reality television. It’s just real.” illustrerer godt hva The Strand handler om både som nettsted og film – et skjæringspunkt mellom virkelighet og fiksjon.

Linken ”Characters” tar oss en fyldig side med informasjon om nøkkelkarakterer i filmen. Det er fjorten thumbnails på siden, og tretten av dem gir oss ved forstørring skuespillernes navn med beskrivelse av deres rolle og innbyrdes relasjoner. Fem av karakterene har også en liten QuickTime-film knyttet til seg. I disse småvideoene snakker de til kameraet på en måte som virker veldig spontan og ikke regissert, noe som medvirker til å virkeliggjøre personene i filmen. Den fjortende thumbnailen er en ekstern link til ”Bartenders blog”, som faktisk fungerer. Jeg vet, for jeg har testet ved å legge igjen noen kommentarer. På den annen side er jeg fremdeles ikke sikker på om denne bartenderen er virkelig eller skuespiller, men så er det jo litt av poenget med The Strand, grensene flyter så i hverandre at de er vanskelige å se.

Denne siden har skiftet litt innehold under tiden som jeg kjent den. En god webside bør også oppdateres jevnlig, men her er det ikke bare snakk om å fylle ut med mer og nyere materiale, uten like mye justeringer av selve innholdet i takt med at prosjektet utvikler seg. F. eks. går ”Locals” til en side med portrett av virkelige mennesker fra Venice Beach, og denne linken er av nyere dato. I hvert fall en, om ikke alle, av disse ”ikkeskuespillere” er også med i selve filmen.

Som på hvilken film som helst finnes det her også en rulletekst med navn på alle som er involvert, og den ligger naturlig nok under linken ”Credits”.



”Souvenirs” er en link med litt blandet innhold, det første vi ser er et bilde av en gatebutikk fra Venice Beach med T-shirts som henger til salgs. På noen av klesplaggene er teksten gjort om til linker som gir oss mulighet å laste ned en screensaver og desktop wallpaper. En annen link tar oss til suvenirbutikken, der man kan kjøpe klær, kaffekrus og lignende. Trykker vi på ”Games” ser vi fremdeles det samme bildet, men T-shirtlinkene er nå linker til noen spill, basert på hendelser og karakterer i filmen



Den siste linken i navigasjonsmenyen ”Interact” er på en måte noe av det viktigste selv om den kanskje ikke ser så spennende ut. Det er nemlig her vi finner diskusjonsforumet, der Dan Myrick selv og hans stab kan kommunisere med publikum på nett. For skal utviklingen av The Strand bli som Myrick tenkt seg, er han og de andre ansvarlige avhengige av tilbakemeldinger og engasjement. Per dags dato har forumet 208 medlemmer, mer eller mindre aktive.



Teknisk oppbygging og virkemidler

Stort sett hele siden er laget i Flash av Daniel Karcher, Bluedaniel Animation Studios. Flash er Macromedias verktøy for å lage bl.a. høykvalitets video for nettsider, og det føles som et bevisst valg å bruke dette for å understreke ”filmopplevelsen” på siden. En annen felles nevnere med det meste av konvensjonell film er musikken. Et par av sporene på ”soundtracket” ligger også på nettsiden, man kan velge ved å klikke på de små firkantene nederst til venstre på hovedsiden. Disse knappene er veldig diskrete og man får finne ut av funksjonen selv. I det store og hele finnes der ikke mange instruksjoner på dette stedet, og det bidrar også til filmfølelsen. Navigasjonen er lagt opp slik at man ikke blir forstyrret av følelsen av å miste orienteringen, noe som lett skjer på større mer komplekse nettsted. Siden er lettoversiktlig og på alle lokale linker finnes der en ”Back to main”-knapp. Det råder en slags rolig helhet over siden som står i skarp kontrast til personene og miljøet på Venice Beach. Tempoet i flashanimasjonene er holdt forholdsvis lavt, og men føler seg ikke stresset. Tempoet og intensiteten finner man i filmen som sånn. Selv ikke de interaktive spillene på siden er ødeleggende for filmkonseptet. De er ”eviggående”, man spiller ikke mot andre, og man kan heller ikke lagre highscore.

Så hva med hele grunnforutsetningen for dette nettstedet? Webisodene av The Strand? Hittil har de sleppt en og den kunne i utgangspunktet blitt vist via hvilke media som helst, de var ikke nødt å sende den på nettet. Det var et valg Myrick gjorde, og som før oss litt nærmere min idé med denne analysen.

Som Myrick skrev i nyhetsbrevet 29 april i år: “Thanks again for being a part of this crazy, new venture where at least some of us are taking back the medium and putting it into the hands of the people.” Hovedmeningen med Myricks prosjekt ser da ut til være et ønske om å kvitte seg med mellomleddet i filmindustrien og igjen skape en direkte kontakt mellom fortelling og publikum, mer i tråd med de eldste teateridealene. For å kunne analysere The Strand som nettside har det vært nødvendig å se like mye på premissene bak, for som jeg sa innledningsvis ville ikke siden ha noen funksjon uten filmen. Dette nettstedet er faktisk såpass lite krevende i seg selv, at det er tvilsomt om en tilfeldig surfer får lyst å laste ned 618 MB. Men også det synes jeg stemmer med idéen, for her skal ikke websiden være hovedsaken, uten mer som et kommunikasjonsinstrument.

Websiden ville heller ikke skåret så veldig høyt hos nettguruen Jakob Nielsen. Med hjelp av Charlotte Holm skal jeg se på noen av de retningslinjer Nielsen setter for videoklipp og så kommentere dem i forhold til de tidligere nevnte QuickTime-videoene.

  • Nettvideoen skal informere - ikke forstyrre.” Nielsen mener at man skal overveie nøye om man i det hele tatt må bruke video, og hvis man gjør det bare som supplement til tekst, bilder og lyd. Man skal ha et klart bilde av formålet med videoen, da den bør informere og ikke forstyrre.

  • ”Brukeren skal aktiveres.” At se nettvideo er ikke det samme som å se på tv, og brukeren forventer en større grad av kontroll og interaktivitet enn foran tv-skjermen. Videoen skal deles opp i små selvstendige blokker og settes opp i en meny, så brukeren enkelt kan få overblikk over innholdet og klikke seg inn der han ønsker. Hvert videoklipp bør introduseres av en kort beskrivende tekst, så brukeren vet hva det handler om, før han klikker seg inn på selve videoklippet. Hvert videoklipp bør ikke vare lenger enn et minutt.

  • ”Nettvideoen skal filmes i rolige nærbilder” fordi visningsarealet er lite og brukeren gjerne vil se hva som skjer på bildene. Kamerabevegelsene skal være rolige. Bruk av zoom, panoreringer, fading og andre triks som normalt er bra på film og tv, er ikke effektivt på nettvideoen, det virker bare forstyrrende. Bakgrunnen av bildet skal være ensfarvet og ubevegelig. Bakgrunnen må ikke introdusere detaljer som forstyrrer.

Jeg kan sammenfatte kommentarene med å si at Myrick bryter så å si hver eneste usabilityregel her, men regler er til for å brytes hvis man bare vet hvorfor. Her understreker det bare at siden er en del av en forestilling, en tekst som kan tolkes, og ikke et eksempel på en brukervennlig kommersiell webside. Denne fortellingen blir nå ikke vist i en vanlig kinosal, eller på tv som serie av grunner jeg allerede har nevnt, uten den blir distribuert via nettet og jeg mener derfor at The Strand kan legges in under termen ”cross media communication”. Katarina Björk uttrykker det slik: "The essence of cross media communication is to set the user in the middle of the communication process. You entice him or her to come into your story and interact with you (the narrator) or the story itself as a character ('avatar') in the story.”

The Strand er film fremvist gjennom digital teknikk via nett, altså en tradisjonell fortelling som har funnet en utradisjonell formidlingsvei, og dette kan vi kalle et eksempel på konvergens.

Litteraturliste

Larsen, Leif Ove, Metodebok for mediefag av Helge Østby, Knut Helland, Karl Knappskog og Leif Ove Larsen. “Tekstanalyse”, Fagbokforlaget, 2002 s.69

Holm, Charlotte, “Jakob Nielsens guidelines til god netvideo-produktion”,

http://www.timecodes.dk/mediepolitik/Konvergens/netvideojakobnielsen.htm
, besøkt 25.5.2005 kl. 22.13

Björk, Katarina, ”Online Storytelling E-Content Report, 5 May, 2004”http://www.acten.net/uploads/images/399/Online_storytelling.pdf, s.15, besøkt 25.5.2005, kl. 20.08