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.

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.

sometimes I want to be somewhere else

I spent six and a half hours rigging up for a disco at Kroa on Friday. This was a large event with a DJ from Oslo coming in for two shows, Friday with a 16+ age limit, and Saturday with 18+.* The rigging was fun because I got to work with friends for the first time, but the disco doesn't appeal to me, so I wistfully looked up some venues far from Bø that would have some shows that I might like to go to. The closest of these is Mono down in Oslo. Mono seems to have an indie clientele, evidenced by the Camera Obscura show last month, and a show I would have enjoyed much more than my actual Saturday night activities.** They had a freakishly early in the evening free show with The Wombats.*** While I can't say they are a great band they seem like they have potential to at least be fun live. Though really, a show that starts at 6? What the frigg?

Mono is one of the reasons that I really miss living in a city. Specialized venues and large libraries. Oh, I will never be a country girl. But while I was checking out the upcoming events at Mono I also read some of their other news.

MONO HAR FÅTT UTESERVERING TIL KL. TRE!

Jepp, nå blir du ikke jaget inn ved midnatt hvis du vil nyte en sigarett til ett glass eller sju, eeeendelig har Mono også blitt en del av sentrum og vi får lov til å servere alkohol i bakgården til kl. 03.00. Takk til politikerne i byrådet som gjorde det mulig.

Mono has just gotten permission to serve drinks outside after midnight as they have just had their position in the city upgraded to 'located in the city center.' From inference, Oslo doesn't allow bars to serve their back gardens, aka side alleys with tables, after midnight even though they stay open until 3. At least, not outside of the central area. Seeing as Mono is a short walk from Karl Johans Gate and the central train station I don't see how Mono wasn't considered part of the city center before, but not living there I suppose I can't be expected to understand local politics. This seemingly random piece of information has me thinking about some of the other seemingly insignificant points. Coming from Madison with its recently established smoking ban in bars the similar ban in Norway hardly makes me blink, but remembering my bartender in Charlotte lighting up a smoke between pouring drinks I realize how non-universal this is. The airport in Frankfurt has smoking stations indoors. Oh my.

*I have been told that the vakt people love the 16+ nights because they get to search bags and take things away from people.
**After Saturday night at a dance party up in Breisås 1, I have a new strategy for preserving my dignity. It involves not going to dance parties.
***Thank you NRK Urørt podcasts.

archives

I was lucky to acquire a diverse music collection while I was living in Madison. The city is pretty music rich given its size, and I didn't really have the time and attention to focus on everything I collected. Since I've come to Norway my resources have been severely restricted, so I've been going back and listening to some of the things that I may have listened to once and forgotten or gathered for sociological/historical purposes. In the former group is The Sea and Cake. I forget how much I like their sometimes jazzy, sometimes electronic pop sound. In the latter group, The Rolling Stones. One of my library guys who always came in for the a/v stuff recommended that I get my education up with Aftermath when I told him I was writing a sociology paper on post-punk music scenes. I like "Paint it Black", but everything else on the album just makes me snicker.

heldig med mono

Part 2 of Oslo in October:
Oslo is not the kind of capital city that one falls in love with quickly. It's charm might reveal itself over a period of living there, and it might make a difference that I visited at a time other than the peak of tourist season. But I don't like being surrounded by tourists. I like to pretend that I am not a tourist when I visit a city. My excuse this time was that I was there to do some 'research' at the museums, and to go to a concert. Because a concert is always a legitimate reason for going somewhere, without making me feel like a 'tourist'.
It was entirely possible that I would not be able to go to the concert. Camera Obscura isn't a completely unknown band. You pop-chart-listeners sit down and be quiet. I know they are on the indie charts, but the indie audience isn't that small. After the OC indie is trendy, remember? And indie kids are so the hipsters of today. Okay, I also think that indie is music for aspergers kids. Here you have a group of kids being hipper-than-thou by knowing a vast network of information, and using it for social standing in a select group. No one outside this group has any idea what these hipsters are on about, and by knowing music that someone else doesn't know, the hipster is thus hipper than the other. This is hyperbole of course. The really hip hipsters are much more open than this. This is why they are actually hip, instead of obnoxious. The hip-hipsters are really into the content of what they listen to, either for the politics of it, the sound, or some other ephemeral aspect, and they want to be connected to others that feel the same as them, and tell the interested periphery (that would be me) about it. I knew some really cool indie kids (though I don't think they would define themselves as such) back in Madison. It sort of spoiled me. Now I'm shocked when the people I talk to don't know the major indie record labels. Or the major pop labels. But really, after Nirvana, I don't think anyone who grew up during grunge has an excuse not to know who SubPop is.
After this very long tangent, back to Oslo. Without having a very clear idea in my head of where I was staying for the night, where the club that I wanted to go to Tuesday night was, or how to get to Bygdøya, I managed really well. I spent more money than I would have liked, and only brought home a coat. I found the hostel where I had reserved a bed a few blocks away from the central train station, without very much difficulty. I found the club I wanted to find almost by accident, and they had 11 tickets left to the show that I wanted to go to when I stopped in that afternoon. Café Mono reminds me of the King Club, slightly smaller and a little dolled up. I had a beer at the show, marvelled at how early it started,* and spoke to some random Norwegian guy after the show who told me that Michigan is cool, Wisconsin is boring, and everyone from North Carolina is a snob, but he patted me on the head and said I was a good girl. And of course, as far as museums go, I found those easily enough. So I was really lucky with Oslo. I didn't even get rained on, despite it being overcast with occasional rain the whole time. So perhaps I'm being unfair to the city. And I think if I was going to school there I would like it well enough. But I still think I would be fine with leaving it at the end of the year. The one place in which I was not especially lucky was with shopping. I wanted to get a zippered hoodie and a pair of sneakers. I didn't think any of the hoodies I found were worth 200 kroner. That might be because I can't do math, and didn't realize that 200 kroner is only about $30. That's not bad for Norway, really. But if I am going to put down $30 for a hoodie, it should be cool. Like with some band I like screen printed on the back. Or some neat design that not everyone and their cousin has, and doesn't mean a damn thing anyway. Instead, I found the second hand store, Uff, and got one of those flatteringly cut wool coats in tacky 70s colors. It is dirty-white, navy, terracotta, and olive. It clashes with my newly bright blue hair, my knit hat, most of my shirts, and my everyday bag. But I love it anyway, because it some how reminds me of my Nata, who is so far away.
*10! And on time! Shocking in Norway or America. And the audience wasn't tanked. I guess that is the difference between smalltown and city Norway.
**WI is my university, NC is where I grew up.

prepositions, from and for, a distinction

I did not accidentally purchase a $200 train ticket. I just got confused and excited about the idea of going to a music fest in Trondheim for significantly less than $200. by:Larm is described on the 120 Days myspace* page as a Scandinavian SxSW. Which may or may not be true, but not having been to SxSW, it is less likely that I would be disappointed if I went.

*my hatred of myspace has been mitigated by it's usefulness in looking up indie and Norwegian bands, but is not completely dissolved.