Puppet On A String

There's a lot of talk about being independent, but I think it could be dangerous to mistake that for trying to do everything by your self.

Ever since I was a child I have had strong opinions about many, if not all, things. But it's not until lately I have been able to understand why, and by that be able to explain how I feel regarding certain matters. By reading all the things I do now, and reflect upon it, I think I'm reaching towards a level where I can argue for my perspective. (At least in my own head, where no one contradicts me...)

Let's say relationships.

You can learn much about the difficulties with keeping a relationship healthy by looking at dancing. Here we're looking at two partners. One leader, one follower. Traditionally it's the man who's leading, but that's not the point here, the point is that it can only be one leader at the time. And even more important, the other who's being led and directed, has to be flexible but firm. You will never see any couple winning a contest where both dancers are trying to push and pull the other around. And you will never see them win if the she is just hanging by his grip as a limp doll. There has to be a resistance.

It's about trust. You have to trust your partner to make the right decisions, and when the dance works you will both be winners.

Now, some may think I'm sounding very old fashioned, arguing for a lifestyle where the man makes all decisions in the household, and the woman just do whatever pleases him. Firstly, in relationship no one says it has to be the man who's leading. Secondly, nothing is wrong with alternating the roles either, taking turns in the leadership. And at last, didn't I just say it was all about trust and resistance? (Think of resistance here not as much as in an underground organization struggling for liberation, as in the definition for Electrical resistance: "The opposition of a body or substance to current passing through it, resulting in a change of electrical energy into heat or another form of energy.")

Can I stretch this even further? Could it be positive to be compared to a marionette? A puppet who's completely motionless and still unless manipulated by someone else's hands? Think about it. If you watch a puppet show, who do you applaud, who do you remember? You get caught up in the play, and the dolls come to life. And the puppeteer wouldn't be anybody without his (or her) dolls. They are dependent on each other.

I don't mind being dependent, as long as the trust isn't misused. Let me perform to my best.

PS. I have a feeling this didn't come out exactly the way I intended, am a little sluggish from dancing around last night... (nice moves, Commander!) So maybe I'll elaborate on this post a little bit more. Not now though, have to catch the bus downtown for todays lecture.

Ego Boosting

Gorgeous, intelligent and funny. All at once. That's me, if you didn't know it...

Went to a party last night, a very different one from the one on Thursday. That day we were just a few people; everyone know each other and we for the most part sat down and drank and talked a lot. Yesterday we were about sixty or seventy, from which I knew only two before I got there. This was the kind of party where a small group of colleagues invite their friends who in their turn invite other friends. So actually no one knew that many.

There were a few people that had a little bit too much to drink, but not me, only had two or three glasses of wine for the whole evening. And I didn't sit still either. I don't think I have danced that much for years, but how fun it is! (My ex husband always thought of dancing as a way of getting hooked up, so while married to me he didn't see the point in it.) So I danced all night, with both men and women, and everyone seemed to have a good time.

Getting attention is always nice, and when someone tells you that they find you, well, attractive, obviously that effects you somehow. But let's not get too carried away here (as I also said to one of my admirers, when getting a little too close), for me it was more than enough to hear their compliments. And when I sat down once in a while I also got this strange feeling that I wanted to go home and write about it all. It was like I was only collecting experiences for later writing. Is that weird, or what?

So here I am next day, on my own, soberly tapping away on my laptop.

Beautiful, smart, and funny...

External Censor

I'm so lucky to have friends that carefully point out the possibilities of mistakes I might do. Or just ask me the questions I need to hear. This time it's about the blog.

I know I'm very open and revealing here, and believe me, I have given it a lot of thought. Is it wise or not? For the most part I actually know who's reading, simply because it's mostly my friends who know about the blog in the first place. And they know me well enough to read between the lines when that's necessary, and when to know I'm exaggerating only to make a point. And they also know when it's pure fiction, and not from my real life. And most important, if they get confused they just ask me next time they'll see me.

Other people who stumble upon the blog who don't know me; I actually don't care that much what they think. Strangers who reach me via links in lets say Toril's blog, probably won't read the posts anyway if they get the impression I'm a lunatic. 'Cause this is what it's about. A friend of mine, after reading a few of the most recent posts, made me aware of how it might appear. Crying on the bus? The roller coaster metaphor? Shitty days? And party the next?

I agree with her, actually. If I didn't know myself, I too would have thought I was heading for a mental institution, diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

99 Bottles Of Champagne On The Wall

So, I'm back in the roller coaster again - traveling at a tremendous speed up and down, and round and round. Tuesday and Wednesday sure were lousy days, not that anything really dramatic happened, it was mostly my thinking going haywire, as it sometimes does. Yesterday though it was time to celebrate Toril and Jan Erik who finished their master theses. It has been established a custom there to buy a bottle of Champagne whenever someone has graduated, but as they were two people graduating we (me and Synnøve) had to buy two bottles. Just simple logic, right? But Mattias had also bought a bottle. Now we had three, and the madness had only started...



The celebration was to begin at 1 pm, right after they had handed in their work at the office. Line, Camilla and Silje came up, and the first bottle was popped open. Jan Erik wasn't there for the first bottles as he had to go to work (he came back later), and Line and Camilla only stayed for a short time as they just had a short lunch break. It won't make any sense trying to remember the correct order of events, and about who came and went at which hours, but we pretty soon found out that we needed more bubbly and Mattias was a good boy and ran downtown to pick up three more bottles.


At some point when Jan Erik was back again, he called his new girlfriend and she was asked to join us. We were all very excited to meet her, and she turned out to be a absolutely wonderful person. Not only because she brought another five bottles...



All I can say now that is I'm very proud of my dear friend who has accomplished so much, and what an inspiration she is!



Congratulations! Go get 'em, Toril!



Thanks for driving me home, Toril. Or rather thanks to your darling boyfriend, who did the actual driving. I think we're lucky neither of us were tempted to take the wheel...

Done!

Relative Happiness

On a shitty day like this, I'm almost ecstatically happy to have found a free space in the students parking area...

A Fellow Human

I cried on the bus today. Not for myself, but for all those less fortunate out there. The ones that we so easily judge while passing them in the streets. The ones with tragic pasts, and not much hope for a better future. I met one of them today.

She almost stood waiting for me outside the train station, a young woman with blond hair. Over her shoulder she carried a bag with magazines, and she approached me with a question:
-You wanna buy Megafon?
-Sorry, don't carry any change, I said and quickly walked passed her. Hadn't walked that long though before I realized I had lied, and I turned around and said something stupid about money I forgot I had. She was clearly marked by her life, teeth were missing, and her hands were blistered. She was busy rolling herself a cigarette as well, and fumbled a little with the money I gave her. A coin dropped to the ground, and when we both bent over to pick it up I became very aware of the plastic bag I had put down on the ground. In it were two bottles of "bubbly", which I just had picked up from Vinmonoplet for my friend who is finishing her master thesis on Thursday. Two bottles representing celebration and happiness, but for this poor woman I guessed it would just have been a remedy for a miserable life. Just alcohol.

How different lives can turn out, and the thing is you'll never have any guarantees. At least now this woman is doing something which might give some meaning. By selling magazines like this she'll keep half the money and help spread the stories of how the lives of you and me could have been. You see, they're like us, and we're like them, 'cause we're all the same. And we're all different. She might have been the one getting her degree and celebrate with champagne...

Well on the bus I started reading, and I found out that this is the first issue of Megafon, the Bergen version of a street-paper. The first article "The Man Behind The Cup" tells the story of a 38 year old heroin addict. The picture shows a handsome young man, and he could just as easily been holding a PhD in Literature instead of an empty cup. The man in the picture looks at me with clear eyes and a gentle smile, and there's nothing telling that every day is a struggle to find money to finance his needs. 6 shots a day that is. He's telling us about his day, and how important it is to stay updated. After his first morning fix, he always watches the Morning Show on TV and reads his newspapers. He tries the best he can to organize his life, and hopes that he can get into a rehab program. He wants a better life.

Did I make any difference today? Maybe I should do more? The first thing we all can do is to stop judging, and then we can start being a "fellow human". We can't do miracles, but everyone deserves a chance to be treated with respect at least.

Icy Blue

Sunday. The day when all Norwegians go walking. As I'm not Norwegian I'm not actually brought up in that tradition, but I do like to get outside, so a Sunday is just as good as any day for a walk.

A friend of mine called me yesterday and asked me if I would like to have dinner with her today. And maybe a walk, if I could fit it into my schedule. I always have these stupid deadlines to reach. But I was a good girl, woke up early and finished the thing before noon. (Don't know what's gotten into me lately. Where's all this energy coming from?) Anyway, I called her, and then it turned out she was the one with a little bit of a problem. Her head was still spinning around from the party she'd been to Saturday night. She usually don't drink that much, but when someone offered her Cognac she said politely "No thanks", and then poured the Cognac out. Into her coffee. Which she drank.

We had a wonderful walk around her neighborhood, looking at lives, talking about our houses, or maybe it was the other way around? On the other hand, "house" can be a metaphor for your self and your life, so why not?

That's why I value my friendships so highly; we help each other, and a simple "walk&talk" can give you a whole new perspective on things. Before our walk she was feeling just as low as you can do with a serious hangover, you know, you get the idea that you will feel as slow and disconnected for the rest of your life. And I, I had other problems. Not problems really, but I worry too much. And when I have no one there to tell me otherwise I'm convincing myself that my darkest fears will come true.

After a few hours in the sun we both felt rejuvenated; her head was light and fresh again, and I? I realized I shouldn't worry. Like my father said to me on the phone the other day (and he's an infinite source of wisdom): all things need their own time. You can't rush it.

I also brought my camera with me today, which I almost forgot. We'd been walking for at least an hour when we came across this magpie, sitting low next to the road, holding something strange in his beak. It looked like a cigar, and it looked very funny. Too late I remembered I had my camera with me, I obviously wasn't thinking through the lens. But a little later my friend noticed these beautiful icicles, and the inner child of her woke up and she wanted to destroy them all. Well, weren't we a sight! But before going ballistic on natures creation I immortalized the scene with my Pentax. The light wasn't the best, rather boring, but the result came out very blue, and here I think it works anyway. Suits the icy theme, sort of:







And me? I'm not that cold anymore.

I Think The Earth Moved

I might have mentioned that I'm the honorary treasurer of the club where my son plays basketball, and in connection with that I have just wound up last years accounts. All which is to be presented at the annual meeting. Last night we had a final board meeting before the annual, just to tidy up next years budget and some other things. I didn't tell you this because it's particularly interesting, on the contrary, it's actually quite boring. Figures and numbers that need to be correct, and a lot of talk around it. That's why I needed a little break last night after the meeting.

So what can you do in the middle of February, thats free, and won't take long? Easy. You'll travel the world! With the help of modern technology and a good portion of vivid imagination you can go anywhere in a jiffy.

I drove directly from the meeting to a dear friend of mine. We had something to celebrate, and did that with some cake and coffee and... Yummy, indeed. A little later I said something about wanting to visit Monte Negro sometime. Not exactly sure how far up on the coastline it was situated (it turned out to be much further south than we'd expected), we decided to check it online. But why settle for a crude graphic map when you can use Google Earth? In your own living room you can zoom in on every single spot on the earth, it's absolutely amazing. Not all the maps have equally good resolution, for example my hometown doesn't show that well. But when we started our trip to places he'd been, it became a totally different experience. Iraq, Afghanistan, Kuwait and so on are extremely well represented. But the travel there went further, beyond the actual places. When we came to Babylon, I made some associations to an assignment I had last year. While working on that essay I came across Hammurabi's Code of Laws, and also wrote a blogpost about that.

And like that we traveled here and there, sharing memories and experiences. I took him to Australia and Canada, with a stopover in Sardinia, while he showed me Curacao. We also had a look at a few places neither of us had been before, but that looked tempting. Like the Maldives.

Well back "home" again we suddenly realized that the world had turned upside down on the screen. In Google Earth you can control the map of the world in almost every possible angle and direction, and when we'd zoomed out somehow there was another perspective to it. Refreshing.

Cycles

A couple of days ago when I looked for an empty envelope, I came across a few folders with a selection of old stories and other oddities. One of them I actually posted here in my blog a while ago, but I didn't enclose the teacher's note at that point, and that was just because it didn't matter for the story.

But, just listen, and tell me what you think. Give me an honest idea of how you would interpret her comments. So this has not so much to do with the actual story, more with her comments, but by all means, you're welcome to read it if you want to. First, her comments though:

Oh – oh!
“This is really a text which may be considered an example of hyperbole! Your writing it somehow seems unreal to me, - partly because of its seeming so much viewed from a man’s vantage point and even more because of the clichés (the coffee spilling, the ‘Miss Smith’, the Cartier etc.) But there’s no questioning you would have been capable of writing it.”

Personally, I'm rather proud of myself. Not for the story itself, it's not that good, but because I manged to "fool" her. Wasn't my intention, but when it first happened I thought it was something of an achievement. And it also shows how much she knows... But she was right about the text being a hyperbole filled with clichés. That was just how I intended it.

This happened 4 years ago, as so many other things in my life did. A lot of things ended, and other things I experienced for the first time. I would say too much happened in too short a time, and maybe that's why it has taken me so long to digest it? It's not until now I'm seeing a turning point, and when it happens it seems to happen fast. In a lot of areas.

Or maybe there is natural 4 year span to more than the Dow Jones Industrial Average, Lemming years and the "Presidential Cycle"?

Human Usability

I've been looking for an opening for my writing quite a while now, somehow it seemed like I had more on my mind that needed to be aired when I was "lower". Although, I hadn't completely gone off writing, it just hasn't been visible here, as most words came out in private letters and mails. (And as any with an interest in literature knows, the genre of The Letter is a rather complex and fascinating one, but also problematic. An illustrating example is the correspondence between Héloïse and Abélard which took place in the Middle Ages. In a rhetorically highly embellished style the love letters also refers to historical events, but they were presumably not meant for the public. However in the years to come they have undoubtedly been regarded as literature, and have been read as such by many people.)

Back to the subject. If there ever was one, I'm not sure.

One of the courses I'm attending this semester is about "User Interface", and that involves a vast amount of disciplines. To understand how people behave, and to know how to design well functioning interfaces we have to study a little bit of both psychology and learning theories among other things. (I might consult you on that later, Toril) This is a very interesting field; practically everything we do is about communication, and in this case with computers or computer based technology. Needless to say perhaps, but this course is mainly about Human Computer Interaction Design, but to explain the concepts of it our lecturer used some metaphors. She's a dog lover and therefor she referred to the dog as an example of a reliable user interface. Sure, there are some seriously messed up dogs around the world, but basically they sound the same, and give the dog a biscuit and he wags his tail. Wagging tail = happy dog. Comforting to know some things are persistent.

What we have to do now for this course is to come up with a prototype for a design, either something new or an improvement for something poorly designed already existent. You'll probably see by now where I'm heading, 'cause with the dog in mind I came to think of something similar, but yet so frustratingly different in its inconsistent behavior. Yes, that's right. The Human. Very much in need of an update in its user interface. Just think about it.

I could go on for pages and fill volumes with this subject, so I'll just leave it up to you to ponder upon it and fill in the blanks. But for starters: Why is a simple hug so difficult to handle for some, while others respond immediately? (Luckily I've found one who is quite good at that...) And a well designed interface would never answer YES when it meant NO. And where's the bloody OK button?