prøver en (ganske?) ny app med gamle bilder

chief

It's been a very stressful week, on so many levels. I've got my first exam to finish by Monday, I just completed the Project Overview for my EuroWeek team – due today.* I still have a norsk litteratur oppgave to finish next week, and I still haven't gotten any further with my thesis paper than I was at the end of Spring Break. So I'm taking a break from writing with a little bit of writing. Makes sense, right?

Among other dubious distinctions this week, I've become the official Team Leader for my EuroWeek team instead of just the de facto leader. I'm not entirely sure I wanted this position, but as I've been doing the work, it's nice to have the title to go with it. I am the team secretary and head writer as well, being the only native English speaker.** The writing position I'm quite satisfied with, seeing as it's about the only strength I have to contribute, not being a business student to conquer the theory and project design or being proficient enough in Norwegian to interview Norwegian businesses for the case study or the survey that the team has designed. So I'm the last person to get all the information and get it in order for the deadlines, so I suppose that puts me in a good position to lead. I know when I need to demand information by in order to get things written in good time. And maybe it will make me look extra shiny and brilliant on my grad school applications. Maybe it will help me get funding. So I guess I do want the Team Leader position.

What I'm not sure I like, one of my team members called me "Leader" – with the quotes and capitalization – in a recent e-mail. I'm trying to take it as recognition and a compliment, but being being cynical and worn out I'm struggling not to interpret it as sarcasm. Especially in light of my peppering chat messages with large amounts of encouragement and smilies when I start getting very frustrated by being misunderstood or not getting data and other information when I need it. I love the internet. I can privately growl and scowl as much as I need to and then give people happy faces when I have to explain something for the third time.

In other news, my kvedarkurs had a concert for some of the kindergarten kids on Monday morning. It went slightly better than can be expected, seeing as I didn't know which songs we were singing until Sunday night. Oh, the dangers of taking an early break. I had missed the last class meeting before Påskenferie because I was traveling in the UK then. At least I didn't forget the songs I had to sing on my own. Though I honestly don't remember if I sung well or not. And then, of course, I heard about the shootings at Virginia Tech and it combined with all the rest of my stress to completely freak me out. Not that it doesn't upset me anyway. But I'm not sure I would have sent out an e-mail asking my college friends to send me some words if I hadn't already been on the edge of breaking down. Much thanks to all the friends that responded, especially those who had done so by the next day. It seriously did something to calm me down. Unfortunately, getting the news on Monday prevented Lill and I from practicing the Scottish folk song that I wanted to sing for the last åpenscene. She was going to accompany me on guitar. We did manage to get a second practice session in on Tuesday night, but ended up not preforming anyway because we were both just exhausted on Wednesday. I did, however, still sing in her choir and did a not to bad job of it. Especially seeing as I was late to the practice right before and didn't get to warm up with everyone.

And I finally got some Magnet and Sivert Høyem. Yay! New music! What's more, Blogger had learned Norwegian. So cool. Of course, I pretty much know most of the new words by knowing their position in the layout rather than really thinking about what they mean and understanding them, but that way I can leave them på norsk and get used to them. Now that I am leaving in 5 weeks...***

*Both of my exams are take-home exams, which means that they are 6-8 page essays. At least, the first one is and I assume the second one will be as well.
**The British are free to argue with this and say that I am actually a native American speaker, but it amounts to the same thing. Though not to be confused with a Native American. It all gets rather complicated, doesn't it?
***Blogger switched me to Norwegian automatically. Otherwise I would have missed out on this delightful new feature.

kontroll

Perhaps because it happened during the last meeting of my peace-building class I keep analyzing the Virginia Tech shootings in the perspective of that class. Now, peace-building is generally about longterm conflict and how to deal with political conflicts, whether they are ethnically based or ideology based. A seemingly random shooting at a university, even one where a large number of people are injured or killed, does not seem to match this description at the outset. Look closer. This didn't happen in a vacuum. There are a set of political and social issues that need to be addressed, because extremely similar events have occurred before and will again until we, as a people and a society, start doing something real to prevent it.

The first thing is, stop looking to blame someone at the outset. When something like this happens, at that moment the one thing that anyone needs to say is "This is terrible. I'm sorry that this has happened." It is disgraceful that we have to say and hear "This is terrible, it happened because he was depressed and mentally unstable." Obviously he was mentally ill. Anyone who opens fire on a stranger in this manner is mentally ill by contemporary standards. That he was depressed and mentally ill says absolutely nothing about how terrible it is, or why it happened. It is a fact, but not a reason or an explanation. We should not hear "This is terrible, but don't blame our entire ethnic group because he was crazy." It is also a tragedy that such a thing needs to be said. Would anyone say that it is terrible, but please don't hate all white people? No, we would not. And we should absolutely not hear, "This is terrible, but it doesn't mean that we need stricter gun control laws." It absolutely does mean that we need stricter gun control laws, but in the first reaction to this sort of crisis we need to be able to feel it. We need to be able to react to our shock and our sorrow.

After we have had time to react to the shock of the situation, then we need to look at how it happened. Was there ample warning that this would happen? Should the police and school administrators have reacted differently? Certainly, with hindsight we can say that they should have reacted differently, but who would actually say that the administrators deliberately acted negligently? It was a crisis. It was unclear what was going on. Blaming them doesn't do anything to change what happened or to prevent it from happening again. Assigning blame isn't the answer. Identifying weakness in the response is obviously important, but it shouldn't overshadow more important questions that need to be addressed. Primary among them is "What kind of society do we really want to be?"

This is really important. What kind of society do we really want to be? I don't want to be a society where this sort of tragedy is casually accepted. I don't want to say, violence is inevitable. It may be inevitable and we can't prevent every tragedy in the world. That doesn't mean that we shouldn't be outraged when it does happen, or that we shouldn't try to prevent all acts of violence. We need to look beyond the immediate tragedy, after we have had a chance to react to the immediacy of the tragedy, and really try to answer this question. What kind of society do we really want to be? We need to develop a collective vision of our ideal society, and then try to figure out how to get to that ideal. It isn't easy. There are many conflicting visions. Even when we can agree on what we want our society to be, we disagree on how to create that society. But how much of our opinions on how to achieve the ideal society are based on simple misinformation? Gun lobbyists have tried to foist the idea that owning personal fire arms makes our society safer, but does it really? How many little old ladies with a pistol actually stop a crime? Have we even looked at the statistics? So we need to know what we want to be, and then we need to educate ourselves on what is really going on in our society right now. We need to really know what is true so that we can narrow the scope of permissible lies.

At the same time, we need to broaden our search for answers. The personal firearm situation in America is ridiculous. Some how, despite all evidence to the contrary, we still think that America is the wild west and vigilante justice is a permissible way to deal with crime. The idea that arming everyone is a possible way to prevent violent crime is worse than a joke. But while the ready availability of small firearms is a contributing factor to the Virginia Tech shootings, there are other ways to kill a large number of people, especially in a university setting where a large number of people need ready access to public and shared facilities. A bomb can be made with sufficient research, access to a Home Depot, and then be smuggled into a building in a rucksack. We need to address the gun control issues, but we also need to examine how we deal with mental illness in our country. This is only the beginning of issues that need to be explored. And having different opinions on what we want our society to be is fine and good. Even with objective research we will still have conflicting ideas about how to create that ideal society, and what works in one location will not necessarily work in another location.

The one thing that we cannot allow, is not to have an opinion.

13 hours

32 students died on their university campus today. When it began, I was sitting down for a class about dialog and it's role in resolving international conflict. I find the contrast between these two events disorienting. In writing about this event, I can't possibly say anything that could address the pain of those immediately affected there at Virginia Tech. All I know about what occurred is the brief news story that appeared on Norwegian television today, and the first article that appeared when I brought up CNN. It was the only American news source I could think of when I saw the news on my friend's tv menu. She only turned it on to find out about the SK Brann football game today. After we understood what was happening she turned on the news program just in time to see the story.

I can only respond to such a thing in my own personal way. That I am so greatly affected by it is as surprising and shocking to me as the actual event. I'm also disturbed by how meta I am about the whole thing. At the same time as I was feeling ill reading about the experiences of the students who were only peripherally affected – that is, those who were not in the dorm or the classroom, but were still frightened by the gunshots and the police presence – I was also comparing the Norwegian and American coverage. The short clip of President Bush speaking seemed to be the best speech I had ever heard him give. The CNN article quoted the part of the speech relating to God and prayers for the families, where as NRK showed the part of the speech where he discussed the tragedy of this violence. Also, the footage from the scene seemed gruesome to me, even though it only showed police running and gunshots could be heard.

voi vittu

mobil ringer.
-du arbeider i dag.
-nei, det gjøre jeg ikke. navnet mitt var ikke ned for i dag.
-jo, det står egentlig her.
får melding. skrev du ned til å arbeide i dag. var det en feil?
sender melding. jeg kommer nå.

stikker inn matbutikken. kjøper banan og melk. skal trenge det...
ankommer.
gjør noe.
vent.
vent.
deler matpakken med venninna.
vent.
vent.
vent.
banden kommer seint.
flytter noen ting.
vent.
vent.
gjør noe.
vent.
vent.
vent.
forandrer noe som var gjort tidligere.
klager.
vent.
vent.
-hva vil du drikke i kveld?
-øl.
-samme.
går hjem.

spiser noe. blir mindre sur.
prøver å gjøre noe arbeid på oppgaver.

skal tilbake seinere.
står foran scene.
elsker ørepropper.
nedrigging.
vent.
får øl. har crewmøte.

sover seint i morgen.

answering my own questions

I realize now that is a completely obvious question. Really, because I've been wondering about a term related to sociology, I should have known that I can trace the word's use to its origin through the theories, and because identity is a theory based on symbolic interactionism (in many cases, and the related theory, social identity theory is similar enough that it probably grew up along side identity theory though I haven't researched this enough to know for certain), it can't go back any farther than Mead (1930s), and is most strongly developed by Styker and Burke, in identity theory and social identity theory respectively, so it's probably something around the 50s to 60s. And everyone shakes their heads because they are disappointed that I missed something so completely obvious, or because they have no idea what I'm talking about. And I shake my head because I realized on Wednesday that I had read, in its entirety, the article I have by Styker and Burke, and not only had I forgotten all of the content, I'd forgotten that I had read anything more than a page or two.

Oh sociology, the science of describing that which seems obvious after it has been pointed out, and then proving that it is not only obvious but true.

Sami Children's Easter Show

I occasionally watch children's programming not because it is intrinsically interesting – because let's face it, nothing will ever be as good as the Muppet Show – but out of an interest in the cultural education provided to children through television. Thus, children's programming is interesting in an "I'm really geeky" sort of way.* So when I was taking a break from my thesis writing with a spot of television about the life of Roald Dahl, the Sami Children's Easter program followed and I had to stay tuned. Thankfully, it was short, because it brought about two rather conflicting responses in me. The first was that it wasn't just cheesy, it was rather painfully dreadful. This is not to say that I don't think Sami people can make good programming. It's that, in a land of low-budget programming, this was really low budget, reflecting more on the Norwegian government's spending on this sort of programming than on the creativity or talents of the show's creators.** After all, there is a delicate balance between creating programming that is interesting to young children and builds their self-esteem by praising the general talent-levels of the audience without being patronizing. I've also watched single episodes of children's programming with significantly higher budgets which seem to be aimed at the same age group – Barney or Elmo-generation Sesame Street – and can say from these experiences that they are only marginally better.*** One can only pity parents who are exposed to this sort of thing on a daily basis for what one must hope is no more than a couple years. I suspect that if I get kids my favorite age for them will be once they are old enough to have a twisted sense of humor, but before they start smoking weed and generally being prats.

Back to the Easter program, the other response was of a more positive note. This was a Sami language program being broadcast nationally, though I'll grant this was on a state-owned channel and as special programming rather than regular scheduling. Really though, how many Sami children speaking a Sami language are there living in Telemark right now? While the show presented silly antics, as does any children's program, it also featured Sami kids playing in a rock band (where they sang in English, but that is another matter as many a Norwegian rock band of any cultural background choose English for their lyrics) and a young girl joiking.**** In a country where assimilation efforts tried to wipe out the Sami language, joiking was demonized and the type of drum that the girl was playing was collected by authorities and burned, this is still rather remarkable. It is remarkable, not least, because it demonstrates that the language is still actively being used and laws passed in the 1990s (oh, so long ago) are not merely politically correct window dressing. In order for such a program to be made and aired, there must be people who speak the language and in this case children who speak the language to participate in the staging of the program, and there must be children who understand the language that would be an audience for the program, not across the nation, but at least in parts of the country. This might seem self-evident to Norwegians, but without having traveled to Sami-speaking parts of the country a visitor can remain quite unaware of this official, though minority, language of Norway. It is probably also true of the program, that it is as much about keeping Sami language in active use as it is about the language actually being in active use.


*I personally prefer the word geek even though I'm such a nerd that I know that the more appropriate appellation would be nerd. Nerd, having the meaning of someone who is socially handicapped by their desire to know entirely too much information and the need to then disseminate that information to people who couldn't care less. For some reason, I prefer the old definition of "scary carny that bites the heads off of small animals" that the word geek carries, while still marking the bearer of the name as "incapable of being elected homecoming queen and thus in the same social circle as nerds" by contemporary usage.
**I have to add this contradictory statement, because I've recently discovered The Receptionist's YouTube shorts, and if there is anything more low-budget than a man with his work computer's built in camera, lots of construction paper, and the occasional use of ketchup-blood, I don't know what is. Yet, Mr. Betz creates some really bizarre and entertaining shorts, though admittedly entirely inappropriate for young children. Among other things he fantasizes in verse and graphic detail about being President Lincoln with foreknowledge of his own murder and about cannibalism on the Oregon Trail. Note that I said it's inappropriate for young children. Ten-year-olds would love this stuff, though their mums might not like his use of the word "fucker."
***Also, in sharp contrast to my peers, I never liked Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood. I did watch it occasionally as a child, but more out of rebellion than enjoyment. My mum had banned it along with Pee Wee's Playhouse from out television selection, as I remember it, because she found the hosts of these programs sort of creepy. And I don't care what anyone has to say about what a wonderful man Mr. Rogers really was, because I found him to be disturbingly "nice" and creepy too. I will, however, agree that it wasn't really a bad show, and it gave kids some degree of insight into kid-interesting things like balloon factories and cake, as well as how to be a decent person on a daily basis. A creepily nice person, but decent all the same. I do, however, think Blue's Clues is a good show for kids. At least, I did back when they still had Steve on the program, before the Steve as muder-victim on Law & Order controversy, when Blue was still a girl. It appealed to my feminism, Blue being a female and thus breaking the gender-color stereotyping of all things blue being for boys and all things girl being pink. And it had puzzles, and I approve of puzzles.
****On the unlikely chance that anyone reading this is not my mum or well versed in Sami culture, this would be a traditional singing style not unlike some Native American chanting traditions.

retrospective Edinburgh

This is sort of a retro post from when I was on the train back to London from Edinburgh and while I was on the crags, which is why the tense doesn't work for my being in a place where I could actually post anything on the internet. And also why it happened about a week ago.
___

So I went out looking for a cafe to continue working on my peacebuilding paper in, but instead I ended up climbing Calton Hill, walking past the Holyroodhouse Palace, and now I'm climbing some moor or something. And I don't have water and a matpakke. I don't have my camera. I have my computer. Ridiculous.

I also don't have my coat along, and it's pretty chilly just sitting here. Ooo.

And I think someone just took a picture of me using my computer to take pictures.



Update:
I was climbing a crag. Salisbury Crags to be specific. I did it again today with Ashley, and we took lots of pictures of each other.* We had the super tourist day, taking pictures with stuff and things and locations. I finally bought some patches for my pop's backpack. Still need to get him the Norwegian patch, and maybe something for Denmark and Finland, seeing as I was there and interacted with the cities at least a little bit.** It was a good day and all, but climbing the crags, going up Royal Mile and ending up at the Castle for a bit more upness was a tiring day. Also, I don't recommend the castle unless one is really obsessed with war museums and crowns. It's an £9 or £11 entrance fee, so something about $20 to walk round an old military installation and look down on the city. And if you really want to climb something and look down on the city, I would recommend the comparatively cheap – because they are free – crags. As a side note/trip, there is a "museum" of weaving right by the entrance/exit to the castle which is one part informative to 4 parts "buy something Scottish!" Not that I disapprove of buying something Scottish. I bought scarves somewhere else, because it was a bit chilly and they were nice. But I rebelled from the absolutely touristy by buying a dreadful pink (looks nice, but it's rather vibrant) and a more neutrally toned number that is also not a "traditional" Scottish plaid.

Now I'm on the train back home, with three Scottish boys drinking Miller that one of them opened with his teeth. As an observation, I finally managed to open a bottle with a lighter the other day, but it was a pain in the ass. I am intrigued by the Scottish boys, because they are all wearing kilts right now, and some 'I'm so proud to be a Scotsman' t-shirts. Kilts and accents can make even slightly homely boys with unfortunate bottle-opening habits something like attractive. Of course, they are too young, but still. They have kilts on. Ah, bottle man seems to open everything with his teeth. Now he's opening their bag of sandwiches with his teeth.

*Ashley is a random hostel friend. Edinburgh was really good to me for random hostel friends, and while I would really like to go back to Edinburgh and see how they are doing there, they having been settling into the city for a few months of wage earning, I don't know if it will happen. Sadly, because I was very charmed by the city.
**My blue backpack is a loaner, because I haven't had a rucksack in years and while I knew I would need one to travel with, I didn't want to buy one when I prefer destroying my shoulder with a messenger bag for daily use. Patches was his request for letting me use it.

can't concentrate anymore

I seem to have an unorthodox method of paper writing. I don't write outlines or crazy bubble-flowcharts of whatever it is that I'm suppose to be writing about. Instead I spend a bit of time becoming generally aware of the topic through research and then I sit down with my articles and a cup of tea and I start writing the paper. This doesn't sound all that strange yet... OK, I sit down with my articles that I have not yet marked in anyway and many of which I have not yet read and I start to write my paper while reading the articles and getting inspired to write paragraphs on whatever my reaction to the article is based on my previous knowledge of the topic. It's more like journaling. I react to a collection of articles and continually edit those reactions as I continue to write. This may be why I ended up with what I believe is a very good sociology final paper after going through the paper and informally reverse outlining it in order to rearrange it into a more logical flow than the original version. I did this as a small concert at the King Club last spring. From what I understand, the concert was someone's final project for a class. Strange. My TA must have believed the paper was good too, as it earned me an A and was one of only two papers that he felt really deserved more original research on the thesis.*

The thing is, I've tried writing papers the way that teachers have tried to instruct me to write. Outlines. Writing up notes with references on index cards that can be rearranged at will. Flowcharts of one form or another. Flowcharts on paper and flowcharts on my computer. Outlines in notebooks and outlines on my laptop. I have to admit that while I really like the OmniOutliner program that came loaded on my macBook, when I tried using it to write my second peacebuilding paper I didn't feel like it did anything to effectively help me write my paper, certainly not more than my usual style of paper writing would have done. Truly, basic word processing programs are the best things that every happened for me. The ability to effortlessly rearrange whole paragraphs or pages is indeed awesome. The one place where I'm not sure of is if the electronic version or a piece of paper is preferable for the articles that I have to read.

*the purpose of the paper was to review printed literature on the subject, so original research was outside of the paper's parameters. Fortunately or unfortunately, original research is not outside the parameters of the thesis paper that I'm working on.

I would very much like to know

When did identity become such a central concept? Specifically, I would like to know when the word came into common usage in sociological texts, but also when it achieved popular usage as well. The text than I'm reading from the '60s doesn't make use of the word, but I'm not sure if that is because it wasn't used then, or if the author didn't see it as useful to his text. The more recent book I'm reading uses the term identity regularly. The other question would be, was there discussion of a markedly similar to that which we now call identity, or is the concept of identity relatively new? And which contemporary definition of identity does a possible identity-like term match?

a non-comprehensive guide to drink

It's not that I like to get tanked. If fact, this became a particularly poignant issue for me precisely because when I drink it is because I enjoy the taste of a beer, wine, or whatever. Norway just doesn't have good beers available, and when they import, they are pretty much just importing the common stuff. You can find Heineken here, I think I've seen Pilsner Urquell. But if one is not a particular fan of pilsner, Norway is not the country to spend extensive time in. The British, though, are good for an ale, so when I came this time it was a particular goal of mine to pick up some good beers. I managed to find an independent wine shop by accident while I was walking by Holyrood Park, and I would recommend visiting either to anyone who visits Edinburgh. I picked up some really good Scottish ales to bring back to Norway, and I shared one with a friend this afternoon while we were trying to get through an obnoxious bit of project work. We were drinking Cairngorm's Trade Winds, but my collection features more from William's Brothers Brewing including a Heather Ale, A Gooseberry Lager, and the seaweed beer Kelpie. I have only had the Heather and the Trade Winds so far, but I drank both of them at near to room temperature and they had excellent flavor. Drool...

I should be using my time much better than this at the moment but

I'm enjoying the wi-fi in my Edinburgh hostel a bit much. I should be out exploring the city, right? Or getting the paper that's due before my return to Bø written. All the research is done, so it shouldn't take too long and then I can enjoy the rest of my time without anxiety. But instead I've been taking a break to catch up on some e-mails, rest my ankle, that I over stressed a bit, and look at some randomness. They made a video of part of the Urørt concert* at Kroa a few weeks, and I have a brief cameo with a couple of my friends while we are all doing nothing at about minute 1:30. For some reason, they only came by to film things when we had nothing to do.


*NRK, the national broadcasting company has a program of unsigned artists on one of their radio channels, and they have a competition among the bands that submit to this every year. The winning bands then get to go on tour, and this show was one of their stops. At least, I think that is how it works and I'm too lazy to double check at the moment.

Shoegazing

The show last night was billed as "Andrew Bird full band show", and after listening to things about SxSW I thought that “full band” might mean that the new guitarist, Jeremy Ylvisaker, might be along. But no. Full band meant Dosh. But Dosh does mean band. I was standing 6 to 8 feet away from Mr. Bird for the concert, and in a perfect position to see what both of them were doing and where Mr. Dosh was looking. The man has to pay a particular amount of attention to what Mr. Bird is doing at any moment. When Dosh is playing by himself he is completely concentrated on what he alone is doing. It doesn't seem that he particularly notes his audience and he doesn't have anyone else to match himself to. When he is playing with Mr. Bird, his is still entirely focused on the music, but then he's watching Bird's shoes, literally, timing his own samples to those of the leader. Bird seems to remain almost entirely internally focused, but being to the side of the stage and very close rather than in the audience center, it was hard to tell if he was actually looking into the crowd or out over their heads.

Another note, one could really tell what had been in the line up for a while, and what was newly added with the new album. Bird forgot his lyrics to Heretics and probably cut the song short and had seemed to repeat a chorus of Armchair Apocrypha until he remembered where he was in the song. However, he is so charming that his audience cheers him enthusiastically even when he's very obviously screwed up. That is charisma. But while Bird is trying to remember his lyrics Mr. Dosh is not just matching his drumming to the front man, but his various samples recorded as the song began. Mr. Bird is brilliant, but Mr. Dosh is truly amazing.

Also, while I would have loved to buy the new album, and even would have paid up to $5 over the store price, I couldn't see my way clear to paying over twice the American charge. I was... shocked. I was shocked to see a CD selling for £15.

bedre under tvang

I should not have had a cup of coffee this afternoon. I've been having this outrageously early bedtime working for me recently that involves me getting up early and doing things. Today, for example, I cleaned. Not just the vacuuming that I did last time, but actually finding space on my desk and a few things that I had lost there. This doesn't always mean that I am subsequently especially effective at going on things I really need to do. I would argue though, I really did need a new alarm clock playlist.* Okay, maybe I've been waking up on my own before the alarm goes off. I still hear and Adam Arcuragi is really starting to grate my nerves. Nice enough, but I don't think I've changed my playlist for a couple months now. You can only hear the same songs every morning for so long. And it takes time to make a really good playlist.

So now I can't sleep. But, it was offered. A nice dinner with friends, sharing some music, a cup of coffee. What could the harm be? Only that the caffeine would combine with my natural anxiety over, well, nearly everything. I'm not really freaking out over anything. I just can't sleep. So instead I'm thinking about how much I have to get done, how much I miss friends back home, and how much I'm going to miss everything here in a couple months. It doesn't help that I've been realizing that the last show I work at Kroa might be the Transistor show on Saturday. There are other shows I'd rather see as my last job than metal.

On top of this, another friend forced me to use my Norwegian today because it won't be that much longer before I'm going back to the states, rarely to speak Norwegian again. This is undoubtedly good for me. She's right for one thing, and most of my friends are English majors, hence they tend to like speaking English with me. I'm educational. What's more, despite some gaffs now and then, and using English grammar with Norwegian words sometimes, I don't do that bad in my second language. And I'm better under a little pressure. To be perfectly clear about this, it isn't that I am better at getting the pronunciation and grammar correct when the stakes are higher, it's that I tend to rebel against speaking Norwegian a lot of the time. Everyone here can speak English, most of them pretty well or nearly excellent.** However, in the few instances when friends refuse to speak to me in English, I get there. Another happy point, I seem to be getting better at reading comprehension as well. I'll admit though, this might just be because we are getting into increasingly contemporary writing in my Norwegian literature class. There is a big difference between trying to read from Kristin Lavransdatter and Uke 43.

So after lots of tossing and turning, a practice run at packing to cross back over the ocean, a short essay on language laziness, and some music surfing... once more into the breach! Sleep, you shall be mine.


*Oh my beloved iPod and computer speakers, they are the best alarm I've ever had.
**I think this is one of the reasons that I get so annoyed every time a lecturer apologizes for his or her English. Seriously, it's fine, and we could be getting on with the educational part already.
***I can't think of an aesthetically pleasing place to put this, but practice packing seems to indicate a very smooth return. Granted, I'm not taking all of my clothes home with me, and some of the things I brought from the states are toiletry consumables (not to be confused with ingestables), but I'm suspicious of this. I might have to do a new practice packing project where I don't just pack most things and guess on some others, because everything is fitting into my duffle and a backpack with room to spare right now.

springtime fantasies

It's gotten warm here, and the past few days have been the sort of sunny days that seduce one to think of what summer might be like, and in my case, where I might be.* With the whole idea that I am graduating (barring any crazy events) this semester, well, that's all a little unclear. It's been my plan to go back to Madison for the summer, sleep on friends couches or find some cheap sublet, and see if I can find a job to earn some moving cash with. This is presuming that the jokes about me finding a Norwegian husband and not going home don't pan out. I'd like to point out that these are not my jokes and have come from various Norwegian and American sources. Just for the record.

So even if I do go to Madison for the summer, I'm going to be trying to figure out where I'm going after that. I have no intention, at this point, of staying in Madison past August. Not that I don't love the city. I do. I'm just not sure I want to marry it. I mean, anything more than one last summer fling with the lakes and bike paths, it seems too much like a commitment. I'm not ready to give up my options in other hometowns. My best girl from back in Charlotte has suggested that we both move to NYC together, and I'm intrigued by the suggestion. I have connections there and maybe I could get a suggestion on where I could find a steady paycheck that would cover rent. But I still have a wild dream of checking out the west coast. The farthest west I've been is just over the great dividing river into Minneapolis. I'd like to see what my chances would be like in San Francisco. Google maps and I have been plotting a course across the country by car, stopping off at my far too distant from each other friends' new home cities. But if I've learned nothing else from my time abroad (and there are doubts about my language skills and methods of planning) it is that I can cross an ocean with a couple of duffels and have something like a home before long. Granted, my dorm came furnished, but I'd have to fight my mum's kitties to get my futon back anyway, so why not take a couple duffels across the country by plane and buy a new bed out west? Because I'd miss seeing those friends living in the diaspora and seeing all that land.


*This might also be why the housing managers decided to wax our hallways. This seems a little mad to me, as we are all still tracking the sand used to make walkways walkable inside on our sneakers and the floor wax stinks. However, my dorm mate and I discovered that our giant freeze - for storing the deer carcasses from our nonexistent hunting trips - is really pretty light when we moved it back out into the hall this evening.

Han lo av, ikke lå på meg

One of the guys that I work with has decided that he will only speak to me in Norwegian. He had the idea that this annoys me. When I asked him a question very early Sunday morning in English he answered in kind, realized that he was now speaking to me in English, but then continued to do so until we were finished taking everything down from the night's disco.* When I finally told him "på norsk" he was apparently somewhat surprised, and commented on it later during the nachspiel.

So that was the back story. Today, while I was talking to a friend about language I tried to say "han lo av meg da jeg fortalte han å snakke norsk" (he laughed at me when I told him to speak Norwegian). However, prepositions and proper pronunciation can be difficult sometimes and what I actually said was "han lå på meg..." (he lay on me...).


I had a rather difficult evening for speaking properly in Norwegian, so when I screwed up again during our singing class I said to her "han lå på meg" and we started laughing, she told the class about it, and our teacher gave me this Danish song:**

Bitte mette, bitte mette,
Får jeg ligge overpå, åh
Bitte mette, bitte mette,
Får jeg ligge overpå?

Ja det får du, ja det får du,
Du får ligge overpå, åh
Ja det får du, ja det får du,
Du får ligge overpå.


*I asked in English because I couldn't remember how to say, "Should I take the filters apart?" in Norwegian. It was probably about 0400 or 0430 and I think I should be excused from forgetting that "the filters" in Norwegian should be "filtrene."
**The words were already translated from Danish to Norwegian, and in English are roughly, "May I lay on top of you? Yes, you may do that."

looking for a word

Melancholy seems to have the long-term, low-level quality that is appropriate, while depression seems to cover more of the causes yet is too extreme. Despondent seems appropriate, but I just can find a word that means "in low spirits over an extended time period due to irrational anxiety."

Gerber Daisies

They are pretty, but mundane. They are found on kitchen tables and bureaus in probably any city with a flower shop, from LA to Tokyo, taking the circuitous route. The number and the gardener's bucket might indicate that this is indeed at a flower shop. Behind me is the glory of Borough Market in Southwark, and more particularly, the bread stand from which I would later buy a tasty hot crossed bun. Given the temperature, it was in fact a rather chilly bun, but still filled with delightful bits of candied fruit, and marked with a frosting cross. It would be my first breakfast in England. In my few days there, I missed out on nearly all the traditional foods excepting beer, though even then I was getting a bit away from the common. I had a Sam Smith cherry ale. Friday was probably my most pleasant day in England, Saturday the most useful, and Sunday the most tiring. The trip was interesting, surprising, and trying. Much walking was involved.

This trip should have been in the company of friends. The only reason that I went at this time was because it would be with the other Americans here. I had already bought my plane and concert tickets for late March and that troubadour of Chi-town Andrew Bird. Is the latest variation on Bird's band worth a trip to London in time and tickets? Well, perhaps if it is your first visit and you can combine it with the joys of exploration. But, I reasoned, traveling with friends can also be worth it, so I'll go for both.* The problem with this arises thusly. Of the American five, three chose to fly through Frankfurt, because the extra time traveling actually allowed them a cheaper flight. I and my traveling companion did not feel that the extended trip was worth it, and paid the slightly higher fare for a direct flight. On Thursday, as the day before, it was snowing. The first flight for the three was delayed. This would not have been so great a problem if it hadn't been delayed by something greater than 6 hours including a bus from the airport from which they were scheduled to depart to the large airport in Oslo. Upon arrival in Frankfurt these thrifty travelers learned that it would cost them $100 to have their tickets changed so that they could take another flight to London as their booked flight had taken off without them.

Cut to my dormmate and I, taking the bus from Bø to Sandfjord. Only then did one of them call us to announce that their flight, which had been scheduled to take off over 12 hours earlier in the day, had been delayed so long that they would not be going on to London and they had canceled our hostel booking.** We arrived at Stansted after 2300, with the kind offer from my companion's cousin that we would sleep at her place. In fact, we were able to do this for two nights, and while my dormmate went up to a quaint small town for Saturday night and Sunday, I was able to find a cheap hostel in the suburbs to see me through the night.

End arrival stress. Stay tuned for the continuation detailing some of what was actually done on the journey.


*I did try to persuade people to go to a non-English speaking country for the group trip, because then one can rely on someone else when they are tired of being confused. Ironic, isn't it?
**Some consideration should be given that the one kind enough to call and inform us of this had run out of minutes on her mobile phone, and made the expensive long distance call to inform us of the happenings.

Fillet

I went to London.

They have cows too.*













*This was the only cow in evidence, but that doesn't mean they weren't hiding others out in pastures or meat pies.

Americans are smart like upholstered furniture

My diminutive blond dorm mate hasn't been baking this semester until yesterday. Her ingenious method of ensuring a good rise for her bread makes me feel soft in the head. I and my fellow American here in the dorm have been trying to warm our dough in proximity to the electric radiator in the room, which has resulted in some dense loaves. However, there isn't a range directly above our oven, but a cabinet. Where did the Norwegian place her dough?

Unfortunately, to warm the cabinet one has to leave the oven on through the entire rising and re-rising process, so it is a little wasteful of energy. But the barley-whole wheat bread that I made today is deilig!*

Also, more pictures of food! I was shopping at the Asian grocery yesterday and found various amazing products. Like ordinary brown sugar. Norwegian brown sugar doesn't quite seem to be the same thing as you can get in America. This hasn't been an issue to me, but some of the other girls are missing it when they try to make chocolate chip cookies. I also found this adorably packaged cream cheese: Puck. It's very soft and kind of shiny, but the dairy monopoly makes the same cream cheese product. I suppose it is available state-side as well, but I haven't ever seen it before. Tastes the same, but the texture is sort of different. It seems like it might be good to use in baking...

The background to the picture is my dorm mate's cookbook from high school home ec. We've been using it a lot for it's metric measures. And it helps with the language practice. See? Multi-tasking in action.

*Yes, I did just make bread a couple days ago. No, this loaf wasn't just about trying out the new method for raising the dough. Dude and I actually needed a new loaf.

mountain goats

A fellow Capricorn friend of mine likes to claim, when we go hiking together, that we climb like mountain goats. I can't say anything against her, but you would be hard pressed to find anything in the mountains less sure-footed than me. Unless it was a mountain goat with a broken leg and a stress disorder after having been attacked by a cougar I suppose. Not that I suffer these ailments. I have no excuse for my unstableness. I generally fall over at least once per trip. Not that I let this stop me. Nay, say I, I shall not be oppressed by this lack of coordination! So I'm going to blame my muscle stiffness this evening on having fallen down about 7 times while trudging through the snow, rather than admit it is probably because I haven't gone hiking in the month than I've been back in Norway until this morning.

I might also have benefited from a bit more planning. Like keeping my matpakke in my pocket instead of in my backpack. Not that a half frozen sandwich was all that bad, and my coffee was still hot, so I wasn't freezing my belly. But it would have been smart to either wear my waterproof socks or my gaiters. Bit of snow melted into my shoes, but I'd already walked enough by that point that my feet were not in danger of freezing. In fact, I took my down vest off shortly after reaching the woods and was just wearing my Taku rain jacket. Insulation? Who needs it when she has an incline and crusty snow that variously holds her weight or doesn't? Really, I wouldn't have had a problem with snow getting into the boots if I didn't also have my steps go down six inches further at unpredictable times. And I was pretty warm until I started walking back down the mountain.

I also should have brought my camera so that it could be made known that snowy mountains in Norway look like snowy pine-covered mountains anywhere. And that the lakes look something less impressive when they appear to be little more than flat, treeless planes of snow.

wry, bacteria

Today was a kitchen day, again. My new Amrcan dorm mate and I are sharing bread and baking it ourselves. The math added up to be roughly equal to the super cheapness of Rema 1000's 4 kr bread and it is fun, if time consuming, to bake. And sometimes we need time consuming. I don't especially, as I should seriously be getting some of my big researchy type papers done. But baking is fun.

The really gross looking pic is the mixture of cultured milk and oil that I used in the bread. The bread is very tangy, probably from the kefir (technically that's the cultured milk that I used), and also because I decided to make a rye bread. I'm thinking next time I might favor barley or maybe barley and oats... yummy, bread...

I also made a stuffed red pepper and orange chicken for my dinner. Tasty. And I've been hitting up the salmon a lot this week. I've noticed that I've become a much less finicky eater since I came to Norway, as well as a more creative cook. For example, I actually create something for dinner nearly every night as opposed to grabbing a quick bowl from Noodles or deciding that cottage cheese and crackers is fine. For like, a week's worth of dinners. This must come from not having to go to school fulltime and work 3/4 time between two jobs... and the lack of cheap places to find a bite to eat. Though Madtown was not always the least expensive place. I think I've paid close to $8 for a burger there before. But is was a tasty burger... yum...

the visit

Yesterday the Americans (minus 1) visited the high school English class subbed this semester by a friend of ours. Our purpose there was to give the students an opportunity to speak English with native speakers and maybe to make the teacher cooler (hey, I got you Americans to talk to, how cool is that?). I'm all for anything that ups her authenticity and legitimacy as a teacher as she is a friend of mine, but because she's only maybe 9 years older or less than her students.

We came in, told a little about ourselves (hi, I'm me, I come from someplace and I go to some university somewhere), then talked to the students in groups of three. We asked them things about themselves, let them ask us things about ourselves and America. I got asked a question about cliques and talked to a football girl, a hip-hop boy who wants to be an actor, and bedroom singer. They were sweet kids, and in someways, I sort of think they were a little better behaved American teenagers, but also a bit more open about the drinking than I think our teens would be. Granted, I tend to avoid spending time with teenagers because of some basic distrust of them that I developed when I was one myself, but now I'm wondering if I've been a little unfair to the age group on the whole.

school are not as stringent as I remember from my time in high school. We didn't have the metal detectors that some schools have, but you had to sign in with the front office if you were not a student there, we had a campus cop (I think), and On the subject of cultural differences... the security at a (rural, admittedly) videregåendefield trips or classroom visitors were a case for paperwork and approval. Not so in Norway. The teacher invited us at her discretion, we didn't check in with anyone, and one of the students who sat in with us is actually in the next grade up, and was just sort of hanging out in the doorway when he was told not to be a disturbance and either get in or get out.

Norway wins 6-1

Today was the big innebandy game between Norway and Denmark. Well, really, it was Norway versus the foreigners because we were there to cheer on the American on the Danish team. I'm not sure, but I think perhaps all of the Danish students were either playing or there to cheer them on wearing the Danish team color. I'm somewhat surprised that I actually got into the game a bit. Innebandy is floor ball, or ice hockey without ice. It lacks the advantages of ice hockey (speed) and has the disadvantages of basketball (squeaky sneakers). The game was, however, reminiscent of watching my Hurricanes. Our boys where out there in red, and they lost. All the same, Heie Denmark!

worth it for the nachspiel

Kroa tends to involve either me working and thus getting home very late and being crank and tired, or else going to a show there and leaving with someone's beer spilled on me. Come to think of it, working a show tends to mean that I go home with several people's beer spilled on me. And then there was the CC Cowboys show last semester where an air duct was having the humidity of a very large crowd condensing on to it and then dripping on me. I had to move my scenevakt stool. Not that all events at Kroa are wet. Or that there are not rewards. I don't generally go to the nachspiel for the night's workers, usually because I'm really tired by then and don't want to try to figure out what these happily tanked Norwegians are trying to tell me about my vibrant hair.* But I walked a friend home after going out tonight, and we had a little nachspiel of our own. What is really good after a night out, especially when one's boyfriend has gone out of town for six weeks, is a friend to walk one home, a toasted cheese sandwich with a glass of milk, and something nice to listen to. Of course, Eric Clapton and a glass of milk mostly made me want to fall asleep on her couch, but we had a lovely little chat, as most chats with a good friend are, and then crawled off to the cozy cocoons of our respective beds. It's nice that there is only a little ice to crunch over between her house and mine.

*None of the other Kroa crew has ever commented my hair, but various drunken Norwegians have felt the need to pet my artfully tousled spikes and even a bartender has asked me if the color was natural. What is one to say? Yes, this atomic fireball red really just grows right out of my head.

"du tjente det"

Last night was an 80s party at Kroa. I new there was something I didn't like about the 80s, and now I know precisely what it is. It's not the coke habits or the bad music.* No, I hate the clean-up from the 80s. They had a cover band called the Poodles and pyrotechnics. And confetti. It friggin' sucks to try to get smooth bits of mylar off of a slightly damp stage. Also, the band didn't come take care of their instruments immediately. No, they went off to drink first. I don't think they even got their drums taken down last night. We had to move the drum kit to take down the risers underneath it.

Even more exciting, while there should have been four teknisk crew plus the two teknisk leaders, I was the only crew member who actually worked. It really wasn't that bad. It took a while to get things taken down and all, but okay really. It just sucked that I didn't have anyone to drive me home afterward. I've gotten a little spoiled by working with guys with cars most of the times that I've worked. Knowing that Kroa was going to get fairly hot from the large crowd, I had on Converse instead of my boots. I'm just glad I brought along some woolen socks for the walking part. I got home at 0530, and then got up again at 0930. I had suggested brunch to the Americans, and wanted to get a tasty cinnamon kringle made at something resembling morning. Scrambled eggs, cinnamon breakfast bread, and a discussion of our potential group trip to London in February was very pleasant. We also got to share the gossip of the night before. Of course, I'm already booked to go to London for a week by myself three weeks later, but it would be nice to travel with a group for once.

On another happy note, I got a tip from someone last night. He was coming in and out of the security fencing in front of the stage several times and the last time he came in with a beer he gave me the change in a handshake as a tip. When I started laughing he told me "You earned it."


*There are only two especially 80s songs that I really like. While the DJ did play "Take On Me" while we were cleaning up, I resent that they didn't play "Tainted Love".

we are pleasure to be here

In the end I felt sorry about giggling, but his English really was very endearingly cute. I went to a modern (?) jazz show tonight with friends. Based on a broad sampling it would appear that folk music is much more popular in Bø than jazz.* And one of their tunes was titled "Bunny". It just makes one want to take the trio home as pets, little bunny-boys with floppy hair that one would feed carrots and lettuce. Of course, three grown (though young) Finnish men would probably not thrive on carrots. Finns, like Norwegians, are pretty good drinkers. So I really shouldn't tease them for their perfectly fine, though not quite perfect, English. I can't even remember all of the personal pronouns in Finnish. Fine result for a year's worth of study.

I was also a bit melancholy at the end of the show because they played a jazz arrangement of a very beautiful traditional Finnish tune that Ruth MacKenzie performs with English lyrics about one's lover being far away. And because the trumpet player from SUN was genuinely flustered by introducing this tune, and I don't like to make people uncomfortable about language issues. I've gotten rather sensitive to problems of communication, and find that it affects my social interactions. For example, I'm not very comfortable talking to the Kroa technical crew leaders when I'm not working a show. And I don't socialize with the very nice Danes that I have met, though that might be more because I am not a real friluftsliv person. It's like when I was a "bicycle groupie" before I learned how to really ride my own bike.

*Three concerts, leaving out the rock concerts at Kroa that have nothing to do with either genre.
**It took me a very long time to ride a bike. I learned when I was 21, and wasn't really comfortable riding until I was 25. By this time I think most non-riders would have given up, either ignoring the beauty of the bike, or becoming bitter and harassing cyclists.

regional variation

Things have gotten rather more unstructured and informal than I had been meaning for them to be of late, primarily through lack of timely writing. Much of this is from the disruption of a long trip into a familiar, yet foreign environment. Visiting home tends to bottom out my desire to get things done. I want to see the folks, relax, watch lots and lots of movies on the projection tv. Probably if I lived closer to my family this would be different. I'd not be so far removed from my daily life and sense of personal responsibility.

To get back into things, there was a small drama at college today. We had been told that our course evaluations would be kept anonymous. We need to feel comfortable expressing our honest opinions on classes, right? So a couple of the Americans had some very substantial complaints about a couple of our Norwegian professors, which they put into their course evaluations. Of course they did. That is what course evaluations are for. Except, they were not anonymous as it turns out. Because one of the professors apologized to those with the complaint, both in e-mail and today to one of them personally. The recipient didn't acknowledge the apology, because the comment should have been anonymous and she felt rather violated I suppose. But who is right? The one who is honestly trying to make ammends, or the one who feels both offended and now violated by the lack of anonymity?

Islands and Travel

The island at the center of the world.
Winter break travels saw the opposite of snow. My first visit to New York was dry and not especially cold. Indeed, it must have been close to 60º when I was catching my plane to Stink Town (as a friend so generously dubbed it). When I got to NYC, I was tired and soon to be sick, without a very strong idea of where I was or where I was meeting my cousin. I also didn't have a mobile phone (an experience limited to my having forgotten it, until I canceled my plan for time abroad), or any sort of clock (having forgotten my iPod on my desk back in my dorm). I did, however, manage to meet to find the correct corner in Manhattan and meet my cousin at the right time. This, I felt, was a very important accomplishment. The following day, the cousin generously showed me all the sights I wanted to see in Manhattan, from the big Christmas tree to the public library. I was not sufficiently impressed. I was impressed with my cousin, whom I hadn't seen in close to a decade. But I am possibly one of the few who is neither enraptured by, nor disturbed by the massive and culturally significant New York. I liked it. The subways were convenient and efficient. The buses seemed to be fine. The architecture was interesting and very tall. I am fully aware of the city's status as an economic centerpiece to the world. But my over all feeling was 'I'd like living here, but I don't see what the big deal is.'
Oh, and the American Natural History Museum displays their fossils nicely. Plenty of light, instead if half-hidden in mood lighting, as the Field Museum seems to like doing.

An island at the edge of the gulf.
Most of my vacation was spent in Charlotte. I don't necessarily think of the city as 'Stink Town', but my affection for it definitely waxes and wanes. I do love the friends that I have there, but they are increasingly fewer persons, as I just don't live there anymore. Charlotte couldn't even dream of a white Christmas, as the temperature neared even the 70ºs while I was there. So what do I do? Travel further south. The Florida panhandle is very nice for camping in January. Few insects (none that I would call pests), mild temperature, and while we were there, lots of rain. The first night we did sleep outside, but the second night we were rained into a sweet little B&B in Apalachicola and enjoyed hot showers and overly warm beds. I was a bit in the realm of unreasonably cranky for most of the trip, which generally manifested as sarcastic humor. I was, in fact, cranky for most of my entire break. Starting out the break with a cold that didn't get attended to immediately, and spending much of my time tired, or in transit, or tired while in transit, anticipating more time traveling and worrying about missing my various modes of transportation. This was not the best for a happy, relaxing vacation. And yet I wouldn't have wanted to give up any part of my travels.
Enumerating, I took a train, a plane, a short airport walk, a trans-Atlantic plane, a bus, several subways and much walking, another bus, another plane, several local car trips, one very long car trip, a few more local car rides, another plane, another bus, more subways and lots of walking, another train, another trans-Atlantic flight, another train, much walking, a return train, another plane, and one last train from the time that I walked down the hill from my dorm in December until I walked back up the (now snow covered) hill in January.
And I still haven't said much about St. George's Island in Florida. It was wet. It has lovely sand dunes, and pretty shells, and it was raining lightly. Until it was raining hard. But it was still nice, and I'm impressed with my sister's park scouting skills. But as she is the ekte friluftsliv person in the family, she's the best woman for the job. I went camping, hiking, sailing, fishing, and so on with my parents when I was younger. The sister and I both did. But it seems to have stuck better with her, and even seems to have worn off the parents with the passage of time. I could even see my sister going hunting, as one of her quotes on vegetarianism is "Sometimes Bambi's gotta take one for the team." Though I have not yet seen or known her to wield a gun, bow, or pointy stick.

Architecture of an archipelago.
Somewhere towards the end of all my traveling, I took a long layover in Copenhagen to see the islands that a friend had loved so well. Arriving at 07.00 and at probably the lowest point in the tourist season, there wasn't much open, but there was still plenty to see. I felt more dwarfed by the lower architecture of Denmark's head city than I had in New York. This is certainly because of language rather than the physical structure of the city. But I was also more enamored of the buildings in Copenhagen. The central train station in Helsinki is nicer I think, but the churches are lovely, especially the church with the big golden ball at the top of its spire. I learned the name of this church, but have forgotten it again. However, anyone looking for it just needs to look up frequently enough and they too will stumble upon it. It is my goal to return to Copenhagen toward the end of my studies and climb the spire to look out upon the lovely city of (I'm sorry, I love you Danes, you are all really great) homely language. All the water is very nice too. I could happily live in Copenhagen, something that I can't say for Oslo.