Skitt! I det siste har jeg vært veldig dårlig på å oppdatere. Ting skjer. De tre siste ukene har vi hatt linjeuker, skriveuker, og det var så gøy som jeg hadde håpet på at det skull være. Nå, derrimot, holder vi på med den evinnelige editerings prosessen. Vi skal lese hver laaaange tekst og gå igjennom den. Det er drepen.

Derfor er det fint at folk har begynt å komme så tett sammen nå i desember månedene. Julestemningen hersker ikke helt, men alle prøver så godt de kan. Vi gjør jule ting. Spiller julesanger, pynter, lager peppekaker, og sitter tett sammen om kveldene og bare holder rundt hverandre. Det er kos.


Linjekveld med Latin Amerika. Meg som voodoo prestinne med mine kjære zombier og en svineinfluensa!


I det siste har jeg ikke sovet så alt for godt. Jeg går på andre eller tredje natten uten mye søvn nå. Disse sirklene begynner å få en hvis repetisjon i seg nå, ser jeg.

På lørdag hadde ISA linja innsamling til ungdomshuset de bygger på Sri Lanka, og alle måtte ut å hjelpe til. Det var bare å kle på seg alt en hadde av anstendige og varme klær, ta et godt tak om bøssa og spørre folk om de ville dele litt. Mange var hyggelige, mange var uhøflige, mange var egentlig bare forvirret. Det er merkelig det der. En klarte til og med å prestere å si at han bare støttet saker i norge. Her står du, i en kø for å komme inn å se en pepperkakeby (her bruker de MAT for å lage HUS som du kan SE på), i en god varm jakke og med en trygg familie rundt deg.... og du kan ikke støtte mennesker som ikke har mat, klær eller trygghet fordi de ikke er norske? Forkastelig! Hvordan noen kan være så trangsynte og egoistiske kan jeg rett og slett ikke forstå. Kjenner dem ikke gleden ved å gi?

I det siste har jeg hørt mye på Rapunzel av Emilie Autumn. Jeg har på følelsen at dette er min Høst Åsane 09 sang. Håper jeg vil kunne fortsette å høre på den i etter tid. Det kommer til å bli tungt å slutte her. En har blitt så avhengig av å ha disse menneskene tett inn på en hele tiden. Bare tanken av å stå uten dem får meg til å føle meg ustø. Det kommer definitivt til å bli mange ensome, lange og søvnløse netter. Jeg hater å være alene. Klarer det ikke.
Vi snakket om å gå sammen for å leie et hus som vi kunne lage et kollektiv i. Det hadde vært fantastisk. Håper virkelig at det blir noe av.

Apropo etter dette året så har jeg tenkt litt på skriveakademiet neste år. Nå har jeg sagt med store, sinte bokstaver at skole ikke er noe for meg. Men jeg antar jeg har begynt å venne meg til det igjen. Først og fremst skal jeg lese litt rundt det, så skal jeg snakke med John Erik. Om det fremdeles virker som noe jeg kunne like søker jeg. Har veldig lyst til å bli boende i Bergen, så om jeg ikke kommer inn på akademiet her forsetter jeg på plan A.

Hilmar

Hilmar Smnøy. Spøkelset som har gått igjen på internatene. Som varslet oss når ovnen truet med å gå i luften. Han er ofte inne på vaskerommet. Jeg fryser som faen når han er i nærheten, men jeg vet han er god.

Endelig så fant jeg ham. Hilmar Samnøy.

Writing to reach you

Nå har linjeukene offisielt begynt. Skriving, skriving og atter skriving. Jeg tror jeg liker det, i alle fall så langt. Klarte å grine til meg en plass bakerst i klasserommet ved vinduet og varmeovnen. Av og til er det greit at folk er redd meg.

På lørdag hadde vi elevstemne. Skolen inviterte gamle elever fra forgagne år på fest, og det var opp til oss nåværende elever å underholde. Min oppgave var å lese opp en novelistisk tekst skrevet av Matias. Det gikk visst ganske bra for jeg fikk mye ros etterpå. Selve dagen var utrolig slitsom. Den begynte med korøving like etter frokost, og fortsatte frem til middag. Etter middag måtte jeg gå igjennom teksten og hilse på gamle elever. Klokken halv seks braket det løs med fest. Synging, skravling, klapping og lesing. Vi fikk også besøk på internatene langt ut på natt. Og jeg som bare tuslet rundt i pysjen.



Neste helg har vi langhelg, fri fra fredag til søndag, og slik som det ser ut nå blir jeg alene igjen på skolen. Jeg har blitt bedt hjem til Anne, og det frister å si ja, men jeg tenker også at det er en ypperlig sjangs til å skrive. Om jeg drar hjem til Anne tilbyr hun seg å betale for billetten.... og jeg synes det er ille nok at jeg skal bo og spise hos dem. Jeg vet ikke, det frister ikke spesielt mye å bli igjen heller. Vi får se hva jeg gjør, jeg har en hel uke å bestemme meg på.

Musekinin Hero

Og mine rare søvnmønstre fortsetter. Før fikk jeg ikke sove, så hadde jeg mareritt, og nå våkner jeg av uforklarlige grunner midt på natten. Selv om jeg la meg veldig tidlig i går er jeg hinsides trøtt i dag. Skikkelig dårlig humør. Tempramentet mitt er helt strukket og nervene er utenpå kroppen. Jeg har ingen tålmodighet overhodet og har mest lyst til å sitte med musikken super høyt i et hjørne og være asosial.

Men jeg føler at det hadde vært tullete, så jeg prøver å jobbe hardt med å gjøre dagen bedre. Dårlig energi tiltrekker seg dårlig energi, og jeg vil ikke at det skal bli værre enn det det er. En positiv innstilling avler postive ting og så håper jeg at dagen skal bli bedre.

Dessuten er det ikke jeg som har det værst uansett. Sondre har klart å ødelegge kneet sitt og er kanskje ute av NM. Han klarer definitivt ikke å finne frem noen positive holdninger, så noen må gjøre det for ham. Som Anne sa i går "why does bad things keep on happening to good people around here?" Sant så sant.

Så, for positiv stemning, satte jeg på Kanjani8. Trodde aldri eito av alle grupper ville gi meg en følelse av nostalgi, men det klarte dem altså. Vel, den tiden de representerer er jo ganske... intens? Ensom? Fantastisk? Det finnes vel mange ord som kan beskrive det, men merkverdig, ja det var det. Nå kjennes det ut som om det er et annet liv, som om noen andre levde det. En helt annen Siren. Kan vel kanskje ha noe med skolen her å gjøre. I fremtiden, når jeg ser tilbake på det her, kommer alt sammen til å fremtone seg som en liten lomme av tid, separert fra alt det andre.

Én ting har jeg i alle fall lært: jeg har ingenting å gjøre på skolen. Livet mitt skal leves fritt fra nå av. Usikkert, ustabilt men fargerikt.

Monstre

Det truet med å bli enda en søvnløs og marerittfylt natt. Jeg ble jaget av zombier. Jeg trodde det var den sløve typen, så jeg klatret opp på et gjerde. Det viste seg uheldigvis at det var rage-infected zombier, og de kom styrtende etter meg. Akkurat i det zombiene begynte å klatre opp gjerdet etter meg ga jeg opp. Jeg orket rett og slett ikke å kjempe i mot den underbevisste angsten, så jeg lot dem ta meg. Jeg lot meg selv bli spist av zombier, og slik ble jeg en av dem.

Etter det var drømmen ganske koselig. Alle var zombier, og vi hadde en zombie-trikk som gikk igjennom byen. Alle som kom på, spisste vi. Det var egentlig ganske morsomt. Jeg hadde til og med min egen zombie-kjæreste.

Det eneste var at jeg våknet opp med neseblod i dag. Akk ja, jeg må slutte å være så intens.

Hah... av alle sanger så var det Gibisu med Shiina Ringo som kom på shuffle nå. Slike tilfeldigheter. Vakrere sang skal du lete lenge etter. Kontakt har jo begynt å bli gjennopptatt. Og at det var den andre parten som tok første initiativet, skulle man ikke tro. En berøring på skulderen ville ha sent meg i bakken før, men nå går det greit. Men jeg merker jo at jeg trekker meg unna, kvepper til som om det er fysisk smerte jeg forventer skal bli gitt meg. På mange måter har det vel også vært det.

Trykk det ned. Ignorer det. Survival of the fittest. Det er ingen plass til følelser som gjør meg svak.

"I wanna be with you/so ware kite/motto, motto, motto."

ﾛｰﾘﾝｸﾞ･ｺｰｽﾀｰ

Himmelen ute er en perfekt blå. Det er friskt, den vakreste november jeg noen sinne kunne tenke meg. Merkelig at det er her på vestlandet, Bergen, hvor jeg ville finne det. Disse plasser er jo kjent for regnet og gråværet, men både oktober og november har vært mer eller mindre plettfrie. I forhold til det burde humøret mitt ha vært på topp. Ofte sitter jeg å ser ut og lurer på hvordan jeg kan finne noe tungsinn i meg selv i det hele tatt.

Av alle ting har jeg satt på Nemureru Mori med Plastic Tree. Nostalgi er en følelse jeg aldri har vært helt god til å håndtere, men jeg blir bedre på det. Drømmer og håp har jeg mange av, til tross for at jeg forteller meg selv og alle at drømmer er bortkastet. Jeg tror det ligger i menneskenaturen, rett og slett. Vi drømmer om det vi vil ha, roter oss bort i fantasien, mister festet i virkeligheten. Vi blir dratt så langt med strømmen at vi glemmer å svømme i riktig retning. Kare oss i land for å kunne faktisk oppfylle det vi ønsker. Men av og til er det deilig å bare senke skuldrene og la livet skje. Sørge for å komme opp til overflaten og puste, flyte med. Om en jobber for hardt, strever for hardt for å nå fremtiden glemmer man rett og slett nåtiden. Og til slutt blir man sittende der uten gode minner og øyeblikk. Den sikreste måten å bli deprimert på.

Derfor er det deilig med slike klare, friske dager og Plastic Tree. Det føles litt ut som jeg strekkes ut, slites ut, fortid, nåtid og fremtid slutter å eksistere. Alt blir ett. Jeg føler nostalgi for noe som ikke har skjedd samtidig som alt rundt meg får vakre, gylne og klare farger.


I det siste har jeg sletet litt med søvnproblemer. Virket overrasker meg. Det er lenge siden jeg har ligget våken om nettene. Når jeg legger meg nå, uansett hva jeg har drevet på med i løpet av dagen, så finnes jeg ikke noe trøtt. Når jeg endelig sovner har jeg mareritt. Ikke vonde eller rare drømmer, men mareritt. I natt våknet jeg med adrenalinet pumpende i blodet. Merkverdig. Jeg forstår ikke hva det kan være i underbevisstheten min som gir meg så mange mareritt. Og det rareste er at det har vært så mange netter på rad nå.

Jeg har også funnet ut av hvorfor jeg er så søvnig hele tiden. Det er rutinene. Når ting går i rutine begynner jeg å kjede meg, og da blir jeg trøtt. Derfor gleder jeg meg nå til linjeukene, og etter det starter nye valgfag. Når vi er godt inn i det skal jeg hjem på juleferie, og så begynner enda et nytt år. Tenk det. Tiden har gått fort, samtidig som det ikke har det.

Av en eller annen grunn er jeg også engstelig for hva jeg skal ta meg til etter dette året er omme. Eller jeg var, når jeg tenker meg om. Etter besøket fra forleggeren og all skrivingen vi har gjort er jeg mer bevist enn noen sinne før at jeg skal bli forfatter. Jeg skal leve av det. Uansett hvor hardt jeg må jobbe, skal jeg nå i mål. Definitivt. Det er ingen grunn til hvorfor jeg ikke skal det. Jeg har ideene, jeg har inspirasjonen, jeg har fantasien og jeg har gutset. Redaktøren fortalte det at de ville satse på manus bare det var en original eller god idé der. Språk og setningsoppbygning og alt det der er noe man jobber med sammen. Det er så utrolig deilig å vite. Det gir meg friheten til å fokusere på det jeg vil skrive. Nå kan jeg sette meg ned og bare skrive rett ut akkurat det jeg ser i hodet. Språk og alt det der rettes etterpå. Om jeg tillater meg selv det her tror jeg faktisk mye av det vanskelige i språket mitt vil rette seg av seg selv. Jeg har, som muttern sier, et godt muntelig språk, så om jeg bare tør å føre dette ned på papir blir det bra.

Det eneste er at jeg står litt delt om hvorvidt jeg har lyst til å gi ut på norsk forlag eller ei. Jeg får vel gjøre mer research og tenke mer på det.

Dessuten står jeg litt i tvil om jeg har lyst til å fortsette på filmskole eller om jeg rett og slett bare skal satse på romaner. Ah, tunge valg. Tunge valg.

"Kjærleik er at vilja vel"

Jeg har vel nå bestemt meg for å skrive denne bloggen på norsk. Det føles litt keitete, men det er vel det beste. For øyeblikket virker det som jeg kommer til å tape kampen om å få skrive på engelsk (som jeg har brukt så mye tid og resurser på). Det kommer vel egentlig ikke som noen overraskelse, og nå skal jeg altså trykke i vei på norsk. Det er vanskelig, veldig veldig vanskelig, men jeg er ingen taper. Jeg skal klare det. Jeg tar utfordringen!

Så her er jeg altså, med dårlig oversatt engelsk og flau gramatikk. La oss håpe denne lille øvelsen vil hjelpe.


Jeg har vondt i hodet. Fryktelig vondt i hodet. Jeg har lidd meg igjennom både Harry Potter og halve Ringenes Herre. Det er sjeldent jeg gidder å sitte igjennom én film, langt mindre bruke meste parten av en dag på det! Men det var det folk gjorde, og jeg trenger å være sosial. Jeg trenger mennesker rundt meg. I det siste har det vært fryktelig deilig. Ting har vært bra nå, en god stund. Det kjennes ut som om vi har sittet litt i et vakum, en liten bobble bare for oss selv. Jeg håper det fortsetter, men visse tilbakekomster har allerede ødelagt den lille freden. Fant meg selv på dass igjen, hodet lent tilbake og tårer som randt inn i håret.



Patetisk, det er det det er. Jeg skal slutte. Om det er noen som er mester til å grave ned uønskede følelser så er det meg. Herregud, det er latterlig at jeg ikke en gang har tenkt på det. Dramaqueen som jeg er.



Forresten så hadde jeg en forferdelig drøm her en natt. Tror det var natt til fredag. Jeg drømte at en person satte seg ned ved et bord ovenfor meg og begynte å forklare tålmodig alle mine mangler og feil. Hvorfor denne personen ikke likte meg. Ikke kunne være rundt meg.

"Du er jo søt, det skal du ha. Men du er nå litt feit. Litt lav. Du bråker mye, jeg blir lei stemmen din. Du må ikke være så hissig. Du er så slitsom. Ikke gråt nå Siren, du må tåle å høre dette her."

Jeg visste knapt hvor jeg skulle gjøre av meg når jeg våknet. Herregud. Jeg sitter her å riste på hodet ovenfor meg selv. Dette er jo ikke den jeg er i det hele tatt. Når i all verden begynte jeg å bekymre meg så mye om hva folk synes. Tragisk.


On a happy note: Anne, Linda, Matias og jeg dro på kino på lørdagskvelden. Det var merkelig å gjøre seg klar til en kveld på byen som ikke involverte alkohol. Etter alle de tragiske kveldene mine ute har jeg bestemt meg for å holde meg unna alkohol en stund. Det sies visst at mye alkohol og rus gjør en paranoid, og det tror jeg minsann jeg har blitt også.
Uansett, vi så the Christmas Carol med Jim Carrey. Det var super koselig. Vi var hjemme kanskje rundt halv tre på natten, totalt edru! Det var gøy. Selv om jeg en liten periode trodde jeg skulle pisse på meg for det kom zombier mot oss. Men det viste seg at det bare var et gammelt ekteparr eller noe.


Om en uke begynner linjefag ukene. Da har vi ingenting annet en skriving i to uker. Oh yeah. Jeg har store planer om å bare dykke fullstendig ned i skrivetilverelsen og ikke komme opp. Det er jo ingen grunn til det. Jeg lever for å skrive. Det er det beste i hele verden, og den transen du kommer i når alt du gjør, tenker, puster og spiser handler om det som skjer i hodet ditt. Fy faen det finnes ikke noe bedre. Man blir vel kanskje en smule sprø men om en vil ha en total virkelighestflukt som ikke involverer rus så er dette tingen.

Nå, skal jeg surre av gårde, og jeg skal være fryktløs, som jeg pleide å være.

Year worth of memories

I've already crawled into bed, and it's only 22:22 exactly. This is one of my sleepy periods I think, they come and go and I've figured it's not worth forcing myself when I just want to sleep.

It's been a relatively effective day concerning writing. I am still enjoying movie manuscripts immensely.

But it's autumn, and autumn is the season of reflection. I waded through some old pictures sitting alone in my room. Thinking back, a whole year... its gone so fast but still, it feels like a hundred years ago. That life... no, those lives are already being wrapped in the mist of memories. It's strange... its like it happened to two entierly different people.





















These pictures are taken with almost exactly a year in between. The first while I lived in Sweden, and the other after I moved to Bergen. Difference right? Of course, I have dyed my hair back to black, but everything's still changed.

I suppose it is to be expected, time moves, people change... It's just, it feels like I've lost a friend. A dear friend. I think I have. I miss her. I don't believe it but I miss those days. The parties, the darkness, the loneliness, the strangeness, the illness. Those were the days where I learned to live for the moment, for the second. To throw time straight out the window and concentrate on the feelings, on the here and now. There was nothing called time, really. I was free in an odd sort of way. I went where I wanted, I did what I wanted, I said and meant what I wanted. I owed no one anything. I came really close to myself. It feels like I lost that somewhere along the way.

It feels like I tied myself down again after having fought so hard to get free.

Still. I am still learning. I am still walking and even if it feels like my breath is restricted, I'm also learning to slow down. Here the days don't go by. You don't give tomorrow a thought. It doesn't exist. There is no use thinking about it, because it's already planned for you, so you learn to just let it happen.

Thinking back... thinking back. Moving away from home to a strange country. Getting to know people. Taking weird jobs all over the place to earn money. All the walks. The long walks in the forests where I got lost hours on end. All the absurd love stories. Screaming at each other drunkenly on the tram, running away, threatening to jump from bridges. Getting bodily carried away. Concerts, hot and sweaty. Late sunny mornings with coffee and backrubs. Parties, fights, laughter, tears and depression.
Finding friends, figuring out they aren't all that friendly, backstabbing and getting backstabbed. Crowded streets, waiting on benches, taking the wrong tram and ending up a new place. The dark nights, christmas lights and smell of roasted nuts and candied apples.

Then moving back to Norway, away from everything I learned to love despite the hate. Back to a country had no desire to live in, to friends I lost a long time ago. The collective, with all the strange people. Li the Chinese, Ulvár and Haltir the Icelandic, Simon, Stefan and Christian the Swedish. Our parties, teasing at the kitchentable, loud arguments, gaming together, visiting each other. Me and Ulvár got close, we had a little hedgehog together that lived underneath the verandah. And then the jogs, and of course my job that I loved as much as I hated. Shitty payed, shitty hours, but the passion for it was great. I got there half an hour before I was to start every day just to talk with them, buy coffee, wander around, chatting. They were all the social connection I got. The parties were bad, I ended up at the hospital, bleeding and beaten. Catastrophic love again. Why do I always fall in love with bastards who use me and throw me away like a dirty napkin?

And then... then time stopped for a while before I came here to Bergen. A new chapter.

ØDELAGT- novelle skrevet 29.10.09

Lampen har begynt å blinke. Lyspæra holder på å gå ut. Den har vært en del av Kajas liv så lenge Amalija kan huske. Selv om hun synes det er en gangske stygg lampe så har hun blitt knyttet til den. Hun har blitt knyttet til den rollen den spiller i Kajas liv. Konsekvent, alltid der for å gi henne lys igjennom de lange, mørke nettene. Men nå holder den på å gå ut, truer med å bli ubrukelig. Verdiløs.

Amalija lar blikket vandre vekk fra den røde lampen, dens inhabilitet til å gjøre det den skal, og lar det heller hvile på Kaja. Den unge kvinnen sitter lent over pulten, en pensel i hånden og knærne dratt opp under haken. Kaja har ryggen til Amalija som egentlig skulle se en film som gikk på TV. Filmen har for lengst sluttet å interessere henne. Hun syntes den falt sterkt nedover allerede ved åpningen, og nå kikker hun på Kaja som jobber i stedet.

Midnatt hadde kommet og gått for et par timer siden og Amalija lurer på om hun ikke har brukt opp gjestfriheten. Hadde det vært hennes eget hjem hadde hun prøvd å sparke ut vedkommende for lenge siden. Allikevel virker det ikke som om Kaja har så mye i mot at hun er der. Hun må ha vendt seg til det, funderer Amalija, siden disse nettene kom tettere og tettere nå for tiden.

’Hvorfor kaster du ikke lampen?’ spør Amalija plutselig, stemmen fremmed etter en så lang stund i stillhet. ’Den er så stygg.’

Kaja snur seg i stolen med et spørrende blikk, leppene presset sammen i konsentrasjon. Blikket flakker mellom den fornærmede lampen og Amalija.

‘Den er ikke stygg, ‘ svarer Kaja enkelt før hun vender seg tilbake til arbeidet.

‘Du har hatt den i så mange år nå, ‘ fortsetter Amalija. Hun vill ikke la temaet ligge. ’Hvorfor går du ikke bare og kjøper en ny en?’


Med et stort sukk setter Kaja seg opp i stolen og ruller litt med de delikate skuldrene. Amalija kan høre det knase helt bort til sofaen. Kaja klør seg fraværende på nesen med fingre fulle av malingsflekker mens hun later som om hun tenker seriøst over spørsmålet.

‘Jeg har ikke lyst på en ny lampe, ‘ svarer hun til slutt. Rynken mellom brynene lar Amalija vite at hun er smålig irritert over samtalen. ’Hvorfor skulle jeg ville ha en ny lampe?’

‘Den er ødelagt. Ubrukelig, ‘ sier Amalija, og føler at hun har endelig kommet til kjernen av problemet. Sofaen hun sitter på er stor og moderne og hvit. Et type objekt som det passer Kaja å eie. Den går ikke sammen med lampen, men den matcher alt det andre. Hvilket betyr at det er lampen som er problemet.


‘Den er verken ødelagt eller ubrukelig, den trenger bare en ny pære, ‘ forklarer Kaja tålmodig. Hun kikker på Amalija med et lite smil om munnen og uendelig varme i øynene. ’Jeg skal kjøpe en ny pære til den i morgen.’

Med et siste blink gir lampen opp og gjør det umulig for Kaja å fortsette arbeidet ved pulten. Hun vasker penselen fort i et glass med vann før hun endelig legger den ned etter mange timer med intenst arbeid. Penselen hadde ikke sviktet Kaja, lampen hadde.

‘Tror du at det er alt som skal til? ‘ spør Amalija stille, så stille at hun er usikker på om Kaja kan høre henne. ’Kanskje den er ødelagt for godt… denne gangen.’

Kaja strekker armene høyt over hodet, reiser seg opp på tå med perfekt balanse før hun endelig kommer ned igjen. Etter å ha strukket seg tusler hun over teppet og bort til sofaen som hun kaster seg ned på. Der hvor Amalija sitter, selv om den er stor og hvit og moderne.


‘Det er bare pæra, ‘ konstaterer Kaja og tar Amalijas kalde hånd i sin egen. ’Og selv om det ikke var det- så hadde jeg beholdt den uansett.’

Hallow's Eve

Picture stolen unscrupulously off Annika.

So yesterday was Halloween and the birthday celebration of two of our October Children: Annika and Patrick.

The school having been really up tight about alcohol and returning to school drunk, we figured it best to rent a hotel room. The initial plan was to party, go to Hulen that apparently serve the best Hallween party ever, and then we'd have nach afterward. Of course, me being me I never really got out of the hotelroom. Last time we were out I was denied access to the concert hall, and this time I didn't even get that far.

Having had a really upset stomach lately, plus a lack of apetite and then a bad mix of alcohol I ended up dead drunk by ten. The evening began awesomely and we partied with a lot of people I haven't partied with before, plus the same ol'. It was fun, and most fun perhaps was the visit of our sober friends before they continued onto Hulen.

The day after, on the other hand, was REALLY bad. I continued to throw up with perhaps only ten minute interwals from six am and out. We stopped at a Deli Deluca for the others to eat, but the smell of food inside was so overpowering I couldn't do much but run out and into an alley and puke my guts out. And as I stood there shivering, my stomach threatening to crawl out of my mouth, this hobo comes and just stares at me. He just stood there, right up and down, and stared at me throwing up. He was an odd fellow. I think he talked to me at some point, but I just ruffled my wounded feathers and hobbled away.

Getting back to school was lovely. Nothing is better than the calm atmosphere of dorm 3 when your head bleeds and your stomach has curled in on itself and died.

Mostly I've slept, knitted, watched family guy and read a bit. I think there will be a while before I go out again. And I MEAN it this time.

(lol, watch me be the one nagging to go out next weekend).

2 + 2 = 18

I thought my feelings had grown pretty apathetic towards it all. But the fact that I still throw up every time I got food in my mouth might point towards a certain internal agitation.

Throwing up

And the prize for most naïve person goes to *drumroll* ME!

"God is in the TV"

There's a reason I don't watch much TV.

Lately I have been really exhausted in my head, and I can't find peace. There's a sort of continious burst of creativity, and I like it. It's the first time in a long while and I hope it will keep. I feed on compliments and encouragement, and that's not something I get a lot from my teachers. Like in the dance play we saw: "one negative comment will render the hat ugly". That's how my writing is. They can brag it into the sky, still one single "but" will crash it to the ground and make all my efforts worthless.

I don't even know why others opinion on my writing is so important to me. It shouldn't be. I should write singularily for my own pleasure. It's just that I hand myself out in my writing, I feel too much that it's me they're critiquing. Besides, writing has always been my forte. My ace. My playground. Whenever I get the impression that I don't control it, it feels like all I stand for is just an illusion I have given myself.

Maybe one day I will be sure enough in myself that others opinion doesn't count, but that's not yet.

On an almost entierly different note: I saw a book on accident in the library called Beijing Baby. The name and bright coloured cover caught me at once, and reading the reviews it seemed interesting. It's a biography written by a 17 year old girl in Beijing, and how it is like being young there. It's interesting that even though we grew up in so different environments; our frame of minds are so similar. Or at least, the frame of mind I had at that age. My hatred for school, for any bonds forced upon me. My exhaustion, how finding energy to break free, to find something else, seemed impossible. Not to forget worthless. How we both surrounded ourselves in filth, depression and disgust because it seemed like the only choice we had.

Her grungy and careless way of writing is somehow very inspirational. I love it. Its hard without any compromises, just like the youth. It's in that age we learn how to build those iron walls, those fortresses that no one can break down, ever. Not that anyone is interested. If they had been there would have been a lot less loneliness growing up.

Being here at school with so many people who're just out of upper secondary reminds me so much of how I was myself. Two years out of school has given me a hell of a lot. I didn't realize until just now, recently. I am a completely different person.

If this is good or bad, I don't know. Mostly it's just inevitable.

Life

It's a lonely day and the only light comes from the world outside
with the clear blue sky and promises- the sun shines bright
The days go by, one by one and I feel caught

This is my sixth cup of tea and I wonder-
about the world and every human in it
where do they go at the end of a day?
what do they think at the end of a day?
For in the end I just want to know if
everyone are just as lonely and lost- just as terrified to let go

The planes fly high overhead and the cars drive by
All I hear are the murmurs in my head
the fragile peace breaking and shattering
fragments of belief being washed away- what do I do?
So I lean back and I stare at the big sky
feeling powerless to change, but I'll continue on

It's an indescribable day and the only hope comes from the world outside
with the melting snow and promises- the mind shines bright
Life flows by, second for second and I feel caught

Falling in love

I'm skipping school again. It's such a bad habit! I skipped school yesterday too. It's just that... well, I'm so used to spending my time the way I want, and sometimes when I am in the creative corner I need time to write. It's not something I can just postpone when it's really knocking on my door. These classes I am skipping usually go on way beyond the time they're supposed to, and so I lose valuable time.

Instead of going to classes I went into Bergen again. There are many ways to fall in love, and this autumn I have really fallen in love with a lot of things. I've fallen in love with people, with the idea of falling love, and with Bergen. The latter is perhaps the most giving, this city loves me back. It's such a wonderful love story. Sometimes I take the bus a few stops more than I have to, just so I can sit and stare at her beauty. She's so gorgeous, so open and so giving. It's possible to grasp her in a way I could grasp neither Oslo or Gothenburg. I'm not so certain about the people living there, but the city in herself is fantastic. Even on those gray, heavy days she's beautiful. Now that she's bathed in the brilliant hues of burning red and glowing orange she's so romantic I lose my breath.

Before I couldn't fathom continuing to live in Norway, but I could really see myself here in Bergen many years ahead. It's a strange thought, but I like it. I feel grounded. I don't want to say for certain that's what's going to happen, though, I wanted to stay in Gothenburg too after all.

But now I am off to writing. I need to write a short story, something for the school news paper and a few letters. I'm tired though.

I'm diving-

A new person is already moving into Jeanette's old room. It's a person whom we're all a bit apprehensive about, for many reasons. I'm not entierly happy about having to share a bathroom with a stranger, changing our queues and everything. It had just gotten so nice!

On a happier note this Halloween will be awesome. Everyone's planning on going into Bergen and partying it up at Hula (the cave). We've rented a hotelroom where we're gonna crash afterward. I was really uncertain whether to go as a Zombie or a Zombie-killer. Eventually I decided on vampire like everyone else. Oh the originality.

So because of Halloween we went into Åsane (the "centrum"... it's like... a shopping mall?) and shopped. In the end I've skipped so much boat license course that I wont pass so I don't really care following it up either.

It was nice going out, away from school, with people and just do different things. I spent way too much money I haven't got, as usual, on make up. Bad addiction that.

At around eight the entire school stuffed themselves into two busses and we traveled into Bergen to see a dance show. I must say, it was a really impressive play even if our teacher had told us before hand not to have any expectations. I cried and I laughed, all at the same time. I found myself laughing at parts I found horrifying, and crying at a lobster telling about how he tried to find himself.

They took up a lot of good keys concerning women and their self-feeling. How we dress to make other people jealous, how jealousy is a sign of victory. That we feel flattered by compliments, but just one dimutive critic can crush us completely. A hat is ugly if only one person says something negative about it.

I wanted to write a lot about just this play and what I thought, but I'm sort of tired and distracted at the moment.

And Andrea just nearly threw up choking on her fake vampire teeth so I gotta go xD Never a boring day.

The tea is just a bit too hot

Time's been running away from me again. Last week went away so incredibly fast, and for some reason it feels like I was somewhere else. I've started losing snippets of my days again. I hope it's not something to do with the continuous need I have for sleep. Most probably not, I'm just distracted.

Some days I just want to put on a mask before I go outside. For obvious reasons I can't, and so I put on so much make up it's difficult to smile. It doesn't help much, and so I wrap a scarf around my neck and pull my hat down low. But then someone come with a nice little compliment at the right time and I feel good again. Ah, I am such an attention whore. I wonder how I will ever survive just with my own strength.

Sometimes I wonder if I am the kind of person who just steals everyone's energy.

Yesterday we sat a little group on the floor by the tea-kitchen and discussed auras, orbs, energy and guardian angels. I'm surprised at how open people are, and that I have even found a healer in my own dorm. It's sort of uncomfortable talking about it, and I feel really naked when they ask me to read their auras or talk about the guardians. I'm so scared I'll be seen as a crazy ass bitch. Me and Princess Märtha! Yeah we've got it going real good.
It's one thing talking about it with my family, who all have the same and been through the same as me, but strangers? No, this is something I've hidden so tight in me, and not until the last couple of years started to explore constructively. It's becoming easier though, hearing, seeing and feeling, I understand more. Colours of auras are still a bit of a mystery to me. I don't know whether the colours and energies are something that objectively means something, or if it's all to my subjective interpretation. Why are some people black, a few golden, but so many blue? I don't know, and I don't know whether reading about it will help either, seeing as I don't trust anyone on it.
The ghost in our dorm has been really active lately. I think it's because of the failing electrical circuit. It's been more dangerous than many understand, but I have a feeling it's the ghost that's been cutting the electricity every time the circuit has gone bad. But as per usual, it's all guesswork.

What's most urgent is my writing, to be honest. If I'd been smart I'd blog in Norwegian, just to practice, but it would feel so strange.

Hmmm, I feel like being really nice to someone. Like giving them a hug or something?

Thus far October in Bergen has been fantastic weatherwise. People always associate October with rain, and I don't understand where they get that from. I can't remember an October that's not been full of colour, sun and a dark blue fathomless sky.

I'll go give that person a hug now.

Green and yellow flowers-

- are what's on the cup I got from Jeanette today. It's made so I can have hot or cold drinks in it, and it will keep it's temperature. I can now drink coffee all day. I'll think of her every time I take a sip of it.

Now it sounds like she's died, which she hasn't, but she left us today never the less. She decided that school didn't give her what she needed, and today she packed her bags and left.

It was a strange feeling, seeing the car drive out from the parking lot at high speed with her in it. I really couldn't keep my tears back. I have only known her for two months. There are people I've known my entire life and I couldn't care less to see leave, but for some reason it's harder to accept this.

Luckily there's people who see and understand, and when you feel that you're at the bottom, arms will suddenly embrace you and keep you going.

On that positive note I can also say I feel more sure of myself. Safer. Not so scared of how I should or shouldn't act. A lot of it, I think, is because I've stopped caring about what certain people would think. Why I ever believed I had to change to gain their attention is beyond me now. Fuck that. I am my own, whimsical, loudmouthed, perverted and attention-seeking self.
But it's not been all negative. I've learned that I can care, show that I actually care, about people. And even if it hurts, it's the sort of raw pain that feels good.

Today I am wearing eyeliner for the first time in a long time

I haven't updated this blog in ages. A bit because we have had a really unstable internet connection, but mostly because stuff has been going down all the time. I've never really been good at writing when I am unfocused because of new thoughts, feelings and happenings.

Starting school again has been... turbulent. To say the least. Now, after two months, I am still not sure whether I'll be able to handle it properly. Most days are good, but some are pretty bad. Thanks to good people, though, I always get up on the horse again.

I'm caught between the feeling of safety (I have a place to be, I know where my money come from, and I know where they're going) and feeling caught. I can't leave when I want, I can't do what I want and I can't go wherever I want.

At the moment I am worried about how I will take this when the deep of winter comes and my winter depressions sets in. Spring will be the worst part. I always feel like moving around March... luckily there's so much happening at that the time, I won't have much time to reflect on it. Besides, I've already come to love the people here so much I will be more focused on missing them.

That is also something... Coming here I figured it was a nice opportunity to try out this "being open and trusting people" business. I told myself that finally I'd allow myself to fall in love, care for people, show sympathy and depend on people. It's all really difficult, I am still working on it... I got really far but then I got burned and I feel now I am busy building up all those walls again. Before I'd spend every second around other people, now I use any opportunity I got to sneak away and sleep. Sleep, sleep and sleep. It feels like if I allow myself to fall into depression now I have lost a really important battle. I am fighting myself and my silly notions at all times and I am getting really tired. It feels like that no matter how much I sleep it's not enough. But like I said, most days goes better now.

I'm probably just silly, and this post was meant to be a recapture of everything that's happened besides.




At this school we have many different classes we can attend. Chinese, visual arts, scenic art, music and vocal, latin america, horse and competition, international solidarity work and writing. I, as I think I've mentioned before, chose the latter.

Here is my class:

(lftrt) Harald (who got cut out of the picture), Kristine, Lindea, Kristine, Tonje, Caroline, Annika, Matias, Julia, Me, Anne, Ida and Torhild (who has quit)


Up until now we've been working on drabbles, short stories and playwrights. At the moment we're in the middle of writing movie manuscripts and it's so much fun! So far this has definitely been my favourite thing to do.
Classes are hard, I feel it's difficult extinguishing myself enough to make the teachers notice me. I don't really know what I have to do to earn that extra gratifying nod. One thing I know though, I won't stop until they realize that I am the star of the class. My competition spirit is not to be trifled with, neither is it something I am able to stop...

But, you also gain a lot of good friends here. I am still a bit insecure about them, which is highly unusual for me, but I hope that by time I'll be able to feel them properly. I am getting there with Anne, my room-mate, but there are plenty of other people I long to get close to. It's just that there's a barrier there, somewhere, and sometimes it even physically hurts that I can't hold them close to me. Feel them on my soul so to speak. I really want that. I really hope it will end like that.

There are some people that makes my heart and spirit soar whenever they enter the room. I want to just jump up from my chair and throw my arms around them, feel them hug me hard enough back that my bones ache. I think they can see it on the smile on my face, my eyes lighting up. Though, they haven't known me long enough to know this is what it entails. If I care about you, I care about you with every fibre of my being.


There are Sondre and Markus, two of the most charming and lovable boys you could ever encounter.


Anne, as mentioned, my roomie. With her calm and caring nature I bless every day I get to have her as my room-mate. She's also one of the few people I always regret being mean to.



Anne, Linda and Torgeir whom I have grown strangely attached to. Torgeir is always rational, kind and he light up the same way when he sees me, as I do when I see him.


There are a hundred more people I should mention, such as Andrea and more, but I'm lazy and I have a feeling I will talk a lot about them in the time ahead. There is nothing as important to me as the humans I live around, even if it might be hard for them to see that. Every minute of the day and night I spend thinking about them, caring about them or being hurt that I am not around them the way I want to be. I wish I could go over to them and give them a long tight hug without them wondering what is up. I wish I could curl up into them and snuggle, tight tight tight.


There are a lot of moments we have together. Like here is Sondre, me, Annika and Caroline at a disco party arranged by the school. We know how to have a good with without alcohol-



-and with alcohol. I've had my heart broken a thousand times over already at the parties that goes down outside the school gates.


So, in the moments I panick, wondering what I am doing here, why people don't give me a hug or a kiss, why the calm I managed to attain the past year is disappearing, why I feel like I am getting teared up inside, why my fire is smouldering as it at the same time keep exploding over and over again... in those moment I should just remember that before I was so alone there wasn't even someone there I could long for.



I've opened my heart to people for the first time in many years. I've also fallen in love for the first time since... well. For the first time. It hurts so much I swear someone must have been cutting open my heart, must be clawing at my lungs, must be pulling the spine out of my back but... It's a victory that I've allowed myself falling in love at all. I feel really vulnerable, raw, like my skin have been rubbed off of me. But it's good. It's all good.

OMG "HOME" AGAIN!!

[WARNING: this post will be ass-fucking-long, and will also contain shit loads of pictures. Many of these pictures are not entierly work safe, so view with discretion]

Just not really. I don't have a home at the moment, since I moved out of my flat before going on my holiday. But my grandma is nice enough to let me have my stuff at hers, and right now I am leeching of her net. Yay!

Anywaaaaaaaiiiisss! I got home from Sweden yesterday and was first now able to pick up all my mail. That means my brand new girugämesh single and Dir en grey's Uroborous that I ordered a hundred years ago:


Since the Giru single was limited first press edition I also got a folderthingy! Yay! (and an extra cd documentary from their Crazy Tour in Europe and USA wooooh)

BUT! Even though that was a really awesome and flailworthy package, it was by far not the most exciting thing I received!!!

Some of my mail had been sent to my old flat while I was gone, but Úlfar, one of my previous flatmates, had been kind enough to take care of it for me! He even called me while I was on the train on my way to Sweden, telling me I had gotten a letter from Canada! Of course it was from Crystal and I was excited!

Then I got home and opened it!!!


These are real official photos sold at the concert venues in Japan! I knew Crystal had been in Japan and that she was intending to send me something, but I figured it was a post card or something *____* Yoko, the profile picture, is my favourite boyband-boy, and in the other he is dancing with my other favourite to my favourite song made by my two favourites!! xDDDD *has given up trying to hide her fangirl*

Speaking of fangirl though, I and a friend had been talking about how Yoko and mine's kid would look like. I mentioned this to Emelie who promptly showed me a site called MorphThing where you can morph whatever pictures you like and see what the result is. Being a super duper fangirl I of course had to check out how Yoko and mine's would look like:



xDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

And, and since that is not enough! Here it is as an adult XDDD



Oh my goodness I am laughing so hard right now xDDD

And then I guess I'll finally start on the accounting of my little Wacken trip. It's gonna be long, and there will be plenty of pictures. Gotta warn again though; drunken swedes and germans are not to be trifled with!

So where do you start?! Idk, I seriously idk. I'm really bad at taking pictures though. I never remember to take pictures when I have fun, so as a result I do it only when I am bored... therefore... my pictures are quite boring. I've been stealing some of my friend's though.


Emelie was supposed to come with me to Wacken, but she couldn't afford and had to stay home. We're expressing our feelings about that.


I cut my hair the same day I left for wacken, so here's a better pic of it!


The Wacken bus leave from Gothenburg at around 22pm and arrive at Wacken(Germany) around 08am the next morning. The entire night is used drinking and partying it up and scaring old people on the crossing ferries between the countries.


Everyone were being partypoopers and fell asleep some time out on the morning. I of course was wide awake and took embarrassing pictures ^^


A quick, and bad, picture of a standard house in the little otherwise so sleepy village of Wacken.


The Wacken area is huge (house over 75 000 people) and here we're sitting outside waiting for the best spots just outside the arena.


Snagged a spot on True Metal Way and are busy setting up camp. We quickly realised we were too close to the arena and could not even speak to each other, much less sleep, while any band was playing xDD


It didn't take long before the drunken groping begun. Here I am desperately trying to get away while a friend yells at me: "if you say yes it won't be rape!"


Next order of business is going to the local super market and hamster up on alcohol, beer, liquor and for some not tr00 people, food.
Wacken is the cutest little village you can imagine, sadly I didn't get too many pictures of it.


Most houses are open for people to enjoy different services. During one week in summer the entire Wacken village bust out beer stands and other stuff and offer us starved, thirsty, unwashed and hungry metallers a place to shower, drink or eat!


This is the "1 Euro Bar" where you sit in someone's garden, cooled down in the shadow by their house, drinking. Everything they sell cost one euro only!


When Wacken isn't being the capital of metal it usually does... cows.


As I said, I am really bad at taking pictures, and a lot of things can't be taken pictures off. Like the first night we were there I suddenly started feeling horrifyingly bad. It felt as if I had something liquid hot burning in my head. Literally. I can't remember much of what went on, except that I woke up in the medical tent. I talked to at least seven doctors in some hybrid of english/german/french before they propped me full of some pills and a weird yellow liquid and put me to sleep some more. When I woke up later they told me to come back if I didn't get better, wrapped me up in foil, put blue hospital slippers on my feet (I had now shoes on) and pushed me out of the tent.
I walked like that through the Wacken area, staring morosely at the ground when a flash suddenly goes off in my face. Looking up I see a Japanese pair standing in front of me with a camera xDDDDD I was feeling horrible, but I couldn't help laughing at that!!
Luckily I didn't have to go back to the medical tent, even if the headache still came back once in a while.
Sadly, this is the stuff you don't get pictures off xD

It was SO FUCKING COLD during the nights though, and we had a storm too. But when the sun got out and heating, all the weirdos came out too:





And these were just the guys from my camp.


Food, no matter how not metal, is something any metal head needs. Here we are "grilling"


And this is the result.


Mine and a friend's tent after the storm \m/


It was Wacken's 20th jubilee this year, and even if the beer didn't taste all that, the can was rather rad if you as me.


I was sad that Emelie couldn't go, but I was happy when I found a voodoo doll that looked just like her! After that I let Emelie have fun at Wacken too and took her drinking and watching bands ^^

As I mentioned earlier: I am bad at taking photos and am already at the end of it.


The day of departure, and a hungover from a week of constant drinking is making itself known.


This year they were tying out a new project called Clean Zone. They handed out garbage bags at the beginning of Wacken and for each filled bag you received a T-shirt. As you can see (this is the only dump place on the entire area), no one was co-operating much.


A standard camp at the end of a week.


After a week most have personalized their camps a lot, and it's fun wandering around looking at everything.

"667 Neighbour of the Beast" made me lol.


Tit's was high currency at Wacken. We also found a sign that said for each tit you show, you get a free beer. Unfortunately no one was home in that camp when we found it.


And here we already are, on the bus on our way home back to sweden!


Phew. A LOT of things happened, but I seriously don't know how to get it all written down xD Neither am I sure I should. Everyone who party hard knows what goes down, and those who don't are either too young or doesn't care anyway xDD

I know one thing though; I can't WAIT for next year! \0/



In ten days I leave for Bergen and my new, and forgotten, life as a student. I am curious on how it will be! Sadly though, my uncle was supposed to drive me with my stuff, but only if we could go on a Saturday. I wrote a mail to the school asking if it was ok to arrive a day early, but the school was closed until Sunday. I then suggested that I could just go on the train with my essentials, and they could choose a weekend that suited them later and come driving with my stuff. But apparently it was now completely out of the question to help me with anything, and as so I won't be able to take my stuff with me to Bergen... No books, no CDs, no DVDs, no games, none of my stuff.... Just the most essentials of clothes. I already cried packing away the least important stuff, and now I have to leave my very heart behind.

But otherwise I am looking forward to it all.