Norway meets Denmark for a cup of Scotland

A year on...

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 20:55:00 +0000

It's been a year already, well way past actually. This place has changed, I have changed too but not as dramatically. I am back home in the mother-country. I live with my parents as I am an unemployed academic, as I finished the beast and moved up in the world. I am no longer a struggling student, I'm officially an adult without a job, i.e. freelance art historian. What a joke! Well, I am back here in the navel of navelness. Enjoying my friends again and creating dramas at every street corner. Feeling more whole for some strange reason, yet a bit itchy. I am itching to leave this place, this town, yet roots are starting to take shape. Or have they just reattached themselves to the earth where they once grew?
For the first four-five months this place, my birthplace even, didn't feel like home. My thoughts were still in English, some parts still are, my friends felt distant and untrue, fake in some way, my living conditions (a 2-by-1 meter room at the parents') felt claustrophobic and every ounce of me felt like running away at any opportunity. I don't feel as much like that anymore, I am starting to feel at home. Starting to feel like I could make it here, maybe. I wouldn't mind having my friends from all around the world here with me though. It's lonesome without a job in your thirties in a country full of 'cold' people, in a city without smiles. However, I try to spread the joy that I feel, with a little smile here and there. Most of all I miss my exhusband, would have been great to share all of this silliness that is my life here with him.

The hunter

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 18:58:00 +0000

The endearing qualities of the other sex has again drawn me in and I have become an internet stalker. As I see my ever increasing age approach rapidly I have become one of those women who look up their newest conquest endlessly online. With a mix of excitement, horror, embarrassment, endearment and outright curiosity I search for whatever information I can get my eyes on. What were the days like before the search engine I wonder? Where did one find out all the littlest details about the person of one's fancy? I think the internet has made me want to know, see, understand everything - it is a curse! In my 'old' age I have started caring about the impression I give on the phone, in person and above all on the social networks to which I subscribe. Why? Am I that lonely now that I have to make every little fuck into 'the one', who knows? Or am I just seeking out whatever little I can to satisfy my need to make it ok to feel something for someone 7 year my junior. Or the fact that I like the thrill of uncertainty that comes with someone who does not, for the first time in a very long time, share any of my acquaintances, friends or even know any of my colleagues. Probably the latter entices me more than anything, so I look around the cyberscape for anything of meaning(less). I ask myself why I don't just pick up the phone and call/text. I have decided not to, it has become as if an addiction. I have decided to be more timid, maybe this is a good thing or maybe just maybe I am playing a game (not with him as much as with myself). I have decided not to be too Scandinavian, too open, too different - this last one is probably, come think of it, not a good thing. The decision not to make any contact is one that is making me stressed, yet also prolongs the thrill of waiting (and maybe by effect of hoping). It is one made on the basis of interest I guess, one in which it should be proved to me that the other is worthy of my affection, of my caress, of my longing and essentially of my bed. However, we all think differently and he might not think my silence is due to a test in which he should preform in a certain way, yet such is life and inevitably fate itself. In my defence he is not currently in close proximity to me, or so I was led to believe. It might have been a lie, I take a chance and say it wasn't. Even if he is somewhere else, somewhere further away, somewhere out of reach, it is not too much to ask for a recognition of my turning-even-older-day - is it? Probably! Yet I cannot help it, I want to be wanted again. For him to pursue me. It is very non-feminist of me I know. So I continue my hunt for any remnant of him across the interscape.

Drama Addiction

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Sun, 03 Jul 2011 17:29:00 +0000

I've decided to give up on a social life until the beast has been fully slayed. It might not happen, but I have at least made the effort to make a rule about it. People are overrated anyway, right? I just get too easily distracted when people are involved, driven away from the path. This usually due to my lack of self-discipline and work-ethics. Last night was a great return to reality festive occasion that really put my obsession into perspective, my addiction to distractions, in particular the male variety. My problem is that I am addicted to drama, to tension and to the self-harm that I usually find myself in the middle off. It's a curse, a self-imposed curse. I have a love-hate relationship with my own sanity, I get myself into a corner because most of the time I have no idea what I am doing. The choices are there before me and I seem to 99 out of 100 times choose the worst option, the option where I end up being emotionally drained.
Have a look at my last three relationships. None of which were the run of the mill relationship. My ex-partner and cohabitant, the guy who left me with the nightmare flat and moved back to his home country without as much as a penny to help me out. Me the student and non-earning part of our living arrangements. I put myself in a classic gendered position for what I thought was love. It wasn't and I had known that for a long time before it finally fell apart. I was very unhappy living with him, and it was a constant struggle to keep up appearances. I was relieved when it was over. The arguments would at least stop, and I could regain myself, my 'true' self.
The next relationship I jumped into, and I literally did throw my heart at this guy's feet. After having been with a guy who argued against every point you made, and told you to shut up if he felt you didn't agree with him. I fell hard for the dark, exciting and well-read young man, who actually listened to me and looked at me with admiring eyes. But of course officially our passionate affair, was just that. And even though I tried to not fall, I fell over heels in love with him. Of course I never told him so, I never admitted anything. Not until it was over and he, too, had left the country. I suffered in silence while we were together. He never hurt me or made me feel unwanted, or even unloved, but the pretending and being denied my rightful role as his girlfriend was very hard to handle. I know a part of him loved me, but there was also another woman in his heart, one who was waiting for him back home. I agreed to this so-called affair, and thereby hurt myself deeply. After him there were some men in my life, but they were never as special as him, never him, never serious.
Then I met my most recent ex, the guy with sever homophobia and extremely sexist viewpoints. I settled with him affections because he insisted. Because he was very persistent. I had no energy to be alone, I wanted someone to care for me and make me feel less lonely. He did, for a while. Then all the extremities of his character started to shine through, yet I had not the heart to break his heart. And it took an interest in another to change my view of the whole deal, the settling for someone cause there is nothing else around to preoccupy your time. Awful, even shameful really. Yet I did it. And now the drama of the aftermath, the not dealing with being on one's own. I want a break. I will have a break from my social life, from my addiction to drama.

huff and puff

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 15:04:00 +0000

I think I am a bit confused after having read so much art theory lately. Everyday I wake with a different mood and a tired brain. It is making me do irrational things, react irrationally to simple well meant statements and actions. I don't know if I want to be like this for the rest of my life. Stuck in an office, surrounded by books that I really have to use all of my mental ability to understand, alone and anti-social. Maybe academia is not for me, but what else is there for someone like my, almost a Dr and all? Nothing else that will pay my loans and save me from this sea of debt that I have created whilst being a student for 10 years. Shite, I am stuck! I'm not even motivated to do this, to read another chapter on Modernism or Socialist Realism or Art Theory, the absolute hate topic. I do not understand why such intelligent people have to make everything so complicated, so hard to understand, so many big/fancy words that basically means language or image. Why? Can we not write in a language that is applicable and understood by all? Why do we have to pretend we are more capable through the use of semiotics and methodology that no one, not even a suitable candidate like myself, understands because the structure of the sentence is without reason and made with such disdain for the grass roots that after reading it for a whole hour one still doesn't understand! I think I will start a rebellion - I refuse to be an academic that writes for the elite! Even the Marxists write like that, Karl Marx himself would turn in his grave! He never did, he is understood by all. So why can't we be? I always wondered why one has to write in a fashion that is so far from Marx himself. Well well, maybe that's just me.

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 18:59:00 +0000

I can't believe I am caught in this trap again. It must be my personality. I wait and wait, but they show no interest, I try playing someone I am not and they show no interest, I give up and they haven't even noticed. I pick them that's why. I guess. I said let's see what happens, I just came out of a relationship. That doesn't mean treat me like I am no one, like I don't exist. I try to be just me, but it seems most of the time that is not enough. Maybe I am getting too old for this dating 'game'. Maybe I should just give up. I think I would like to, but I can't. I want sex too much..

Implosion

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Sat, 04 Jun 2011 14:32:00 +0000

I need to pull myself together but I can't, apathy is high. Need to feel something, something other than distress, stress. The hurdles feel to high, 2 meter tall they stand before me. Those mental walls are too tall, too wide, too heavy to lift, too immobile to move. It is all in my head, or is it my heart? My heart's not in it. Don't want to leave behind the safety of uncertainty. Yet I am stippled with claustrophobia, with neighbourly love and annoyance, with familiar people and places. The only way out is through slaughter and battles. Have to stop to breath in the sense I've lost since the village took me in and made me visible to everyone, to you, to them. I can see the despair in all the eyes around me, looking for a reason to search and disperse. Every second day life is afresh and new, every second day life is meaningless and black. Feel too small to write or read, feel too stupid to take it all in. Next to you I am pretty still, I let you speak before I open my mouth, careful words shaped like my lips, straight. I don't hide much, just my soul.

Future?

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Fri, 15 Apr 2011 16:48:00 +0000

I wonder what the future has to tell me about my life, I read the horoscopes whenever I have a chance. Sometimes its useful and sometimes its not, but it still amuses me. Why are we all so fascinated by the future? Me for one would like to live in the 'now' but clearly like most people worry way too much about the future. And when I say most people I mean people in my situation. No permanent job, no sure view of a permanent job in the nearest present, working toward one goal at a time, at present that is finishing this beast of a project and getting back into the real world, no life partner (the ex is no exception to this, as we were never going to stay together forever and we both understood that), no real hobbies other than spending time with friends, no real interests other than completing most of above mentioned points and no idea what I want to do with that supposedly promising future ahead of me. Still I keep smiling and keep going, although inside me the flame is far from burning strong. How do I regain that passion and strength I once had? I am trying, I am. I am trying to live more in the present, treat people the way I would like them to treat me, but I always fail miserably. My life always becomes a drama ... at some point or another, at least my relationships with other people. Sometimes I fail them, sometimes they fail me, but mostly its me. My moods, my arrogance, my behaviour, my unwillingness to stop drinking alcohol when I really should have two-three hours ago. Well, what can you do? as the husband would say. So I live my life on a balance between drama and utter boredom. Maybe that's what's wrong, I see the world as either a high pace drama-filled adventure or a tranquillity that ends in mass suicides.

The End

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Fri, 08 Apr 2011 13:11:00 +0000

I've broken a man, made him cry. His heart in his hands he begged me not to crush it, but I did. I couldn't help it, it had to end. I couldn't keep lying to either of us. The feelings I once had are totally gone, erased by demands and hurtful, spiteful arguments about how I am, why I am the way I am. Now I am heavy with grief for him, for his smashed heart that I have been the first to keep, and therefore the first to crush. I am sorry, I really am. However, it could not continue. 'It was about time,' most of my friends have told me. I know they are right, it still doesn't feel good to know you have brought a man to his knees, suddenly and without warning. He was oblivious - I guess love really does make one blind.

Detox day 7

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Sun, 30 Jan 2011 12:11:00 +0000

So I've made it through a whole week of no coffee, sugar (except for fructose that is), meat and all that other bad stuff I was meant to not eat or drink. For the first 4 days I had a raving headache and was constantly hungry. Monday was really bad for everyone around me, I was so grumpy and irritated and tired and just plain no good company at all, topped up by the fact that by Monday evening I felt physically sick too. The way I have reacted to not drinking coffee is terrifying really. But of course going cold turkey isn't the best way to go maybe. It has been a roller-coaster, but I've made it to the other side without going too much off the hard line, I had salted popcorn at the cinema last night and I've consumed one ready-made humus over the course of the week. However, no coffee and no candy/chocolate (even though the flatmate has been consuming plenty just before my eyes every bloody night).
Today will be the last day and when I weighed myself on Friday I had lost a whole 2 kilos! Not that I need to loose weight, according to my newest 'toy', the wii console, I am at an ideal BMI already. The exercising is going to plan as well, four times this week isn't bad, right? Hopefully I will live the healthier lifestyle, that I've been longing for all of 2010, in 2011. Will have a drink tonight to celebrate ; )

Detoxification

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Sun, 23 Jan 2011 16:25:00 +0000

So for the first time in my life I'll be detoxing, oh the joy. Not. Will I make it, I'm not sure, but how hard can a week without coffee, milk, cheese, bread, meat (that one's not so hard actually), sugar (this is the really hard one), anything processed, be? Probably a lot harder than one might think. My day usually starts with a glass of juice, sugary cereal with milk and a coffee. So no more of that morning ritual..Then lunch usually consists of a coffee with a sandwich of some sorts alongside which a glass of cold water. No more of that at least for a week. Dinner is whatever the exhusband and I come up with, so actually this will be the easiest meal of the day, or so I hope. Maybe I'll have to stick to one meal a day, that will be unbearable for the poor people around me, so I guess I'll just eat a lot of fruit, and subsequently not see anyone as I'll be stuck in the bathroom the whole week.
It is a challenge but as I said, how hard can it be? The only thing I won't do, is stop smoking. That would just be too much for me to handle (and again the poor people around me). There's only so much detoxing a girl can take in one go. This last week I have also been to the gym (four times to be exact, no not ambitious at all..) with the Swede. I have set a goal for him, which inadvertently means a even bigger goal for myself. The Swede was recently abandoned by his partner, and as we all know when in a relationship one gains a lot of weight (unless its a healthy sexual relationship where calories are burnt off in a more enjoyable way, as the exhusband would say, the only exercise he partakes in). As I am also currently in a long-distance relationship myself I need some other way to loose those relationship kilos. I wonder why it is actually so easy to put on some kilos when in a relationship. Probably the lack of going out and dancing, which we all know is the female of our species way of attracting the opposite sex for mating rituals to take place. The male on the other hand attempts, and mostly fails, to dance along with those swinging hips. Furthermore, one has more time on one's hands and therefore visits to the gym are inevitable, at least for someone like myself who's psyche depends on it. The new healthier lifestyle of 2011 has begun for real, she writes while drinking her third coffee in a row and a lit cigarette in her hand.

The old year

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 15:55:00 +0000

2010 was the year

I turned thirty
I submitted the beast and had a subsequent viva
my sister started a 'new life in a new flat'
I continued living with the ex-husband
I broke up and got back together with the boy
I weighed more than every before in my life
I had two different haircuts and colours
the boy graduated and found a job as a banking reviewer (yawn)
I got an officemate after almost two years with ghosts
a Scandinavian retailer decided to give me a job and thereby saving me from poverty
I visited Japan, spending two whole weeks travelling with my sister without arguing once (that's a record)
two of my best friends got dumped
I only visited Norway once and Denmark three times!!
I went to fewer concerts than any other of my post-teenage years
I exercised less and ate more.

Maybe the list for 2011 will be more exciting, let's hope so

Visit

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Thu, 13 Jan 2011 14:08:00 +0000

I've been gone, I know its been too long. I have just been lazy, no other excuse at all! Christmas and New Years was spent with family and a long awaited visit from the truest of friends. When she left on the 3rd of January I instantly missed her. Usually I am ok with these things, but this time it felt different, as if someone had left me forever. While she was here we talked and talked and talked, whilst drinking A LOT. And it felt almost as if it had not been a whole year since we last saw each other. It definitely cannot be a year until next time. I used to think that this particular girl was not particularly bright, I admit it gladly, but she has turned into one of the wisest women I know and over all extremely balanced. It is not strange to see someone change so much when you've known them your whole life, but it is a surprise how ignorant I can be sometimes, at least when Academia is about to call me an intellectual. The company of someone that knows you so well is comforting and scary at the same time. When someone can be so straightforward and tell you that you should do something, and ask you why you haven't a long time ago, is refreshing. Being with her made me realise how much I change around people. Around her I could always be myself and I always had someone to talk to that would always tell me as it was, yet constantly have my back. I miss someone like that here, I know I have the husband, but its different to have someone that you cannot see for a whole year and suddenly everything is as it was those 12 months back. I miss that. I miss her, my beloved best friend.

If someone was to ask...

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Fri, 07 Jan 2011 18:57:00 +0000

...who inspires me today in my arty farty world I would have to say T.J. Clark. His lecture here in the village was very interesting, although on a theme I see as almost dead, Picasso's Guernica. However, in this interview (which is long and if you do not find art theory exciting be prepared for big words), at the very end, Clark is asked about his relationship/opinion about contemporary art. And here his ideas converge with mine so completely and simply I just had to share it with you all.

The Art of Assasination

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 10:39:00 +0000

Brazilian artist Gil Vincente has made a series of 9 charcoal drawings of himself executing 9 of the world's elite figures, including but not limited to Iranian President Ahmadinejad, former US President George W. Bush, Queen Elisabeth II, former Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon and former UN General Secretary Kofi Annan. The series, which is called Enemies, is on display at 29th São Paulo Biennial opening today. The Brazilian College of Lawyers is in uproar apparently, and wants the series dismantled from the exhibition, claiming it is a glorification of violence.

The biennial was asked to remove the drawings as, according to a statement, "Even though a work of art freely expresses the creativity of its maker, without limits, there have to be limits to exhibiting it publicly". Of course the biennial responded with a firm no, and why should they remove these? What would have happened to artistic freedom if they had done so?
According to AFP, "The artist said he came up with the provocative idea because of his "disappointment" with leaders whom he saw as inflicting wrongs on the world with impunity. 'Because they kill so many other people, it would be a favor to kill them, understand? Why don't people in power and in the elite die?' he asked."

Political art often come under attack for blurring boundaries and displaying uncomfortable ideas and concepts in the public sphere, but how else will the art be seen and how else will art continue to impact society and change attitudes. Is it right to want to kill, execute or assassinate these figures of power? Well, maybe some of us have also fantasised about these acts against at least some of these people, and I am sure they are aware of their love/hate relationship with the population of this planet. Is it then wrong for an artist to portray this in his or her sketches? I fear that if it were so we would not have Picasso, Dali or even Caravaggio on display in our museums.

Caravaggio, Judith Beheading Holofernes, 1598-99, Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica, Rome

The nature of Gil Vincente's array of victims is what upsets and discomforts the viewer, but it is not to us to decide what can be portrayed by an artist, even if we think it is wrong. Even if the act of killing is against our beliefs, this is barely the point of the sketches as they portray an alternate reality where fantasy prevails. 'Enemies' display the structures of power dismantled and cast away as an ordinary man executes figures which he would probably never come into contact with. Some of the figures in 'Enemies' have had their hands in killings, torture of innocent people, wars against unwilling nations, and that is our REALITY.

(The pictures of Gil Vincente's works and the Sao Paulo Biennial is taken from AFP's website as well as NRK, copyright belongs to these.)

It seems like a lifetime

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 11:06:00 +0000

It's been longer than usual, I am still alive! I know you probably didn't worry that much, no sleepless nights - unlike me. I had many of those stressing, sweating, worrying, searching for answers, balancing the pins and needles of the mind, trying to stay sane, wondering how it will ever be done by the time it should be and lastly trying to relax at the same time as you stare up at the ceiling considering how to push all of that out of your head so as to be able to fall asleep. Those days are over, and I will never have to do it again. Well at least not in the very near future. The beast has been defended at the altar of Academia and it didn't end in bloodshed or vampire tears, yet it is unfortunately not completely over - it is not dead and buried.

For the next 6 to 9 months I will still be stuck in this medieval village of ours fighting with the theoretical concepts of modern art and Marxist ideology. It is a small victory, hopefully followed by a much greater one: a dream of a job somewhere far away from here, in a place where art, shops, music, theatre is all within walking distance (and exists as it does not here). Reality has certainly hit the unexpected Doctorate, Norwegian loan agency knocking on the electronic door asking for its money back, council tax collectors trying to bring the already weak economy of the unemployed down into the mud and the constant checking of bank accounts for any glimmer of hope to where the cash for this evening's dinner will come from. It is stressful in another way, yet I am still tired still completely knackered and beaten, even two months down the line. I have lost all motivation to continue, I look for alternate ways of survival. I can tell you digging a whole in the garden, burying oneself might not be the way forward but it feels tempting right now.

I am stuck in limbo, no 'real' job, no 'real' tangible future, no 'real' plans for either. Time has in fact stopped inside my head, but outside my body the world is spinning still, is continuing to tick on. The post-Doc depression is very real when stuck here in this smaller than usual universe of golfers and exam-resit undergrads, I keep wanting to be somewhere else - maybe this is healthy, maybe it is just what I need to get out of here quicker - yet it has brought me to a level where I don't even feel like leaving the house or lifting my finger to cook, clean, take care of myself. It is funny how I tried to escape all of the depression by going away for a month and a half, first 4 weeks in Greece followed closely by an escape to Denmark to see family, all of which was so great I cannot even start to say how happy I was away from here. Happy not having to think about art history and the beast that has been holding a grip on my shoulders for the past 4 years seemed gone. Yet back in the village the beast is still here, it was laying in waiting, ready to jump the second one turns the corner of the cathedral ruins.

The worst thing is that a couple of days ago I started missing you.

The End Is Always A Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Mon, 26 Apr 2010 09:11:00 +0000

The beast was handed in over a week ago now, and I still haven't quite settled down yet after the massive haul to finish it semi-on time! Nothing like a little pressure to make you sleep uneasily between 4-6 hours every night just to be able to stay in the office working for between 12-14 hours every day. Maybe that's why I haven't written anything here, writing just seems like a drag right now. But this is a start, a return to form, as I snail my way towards a better future with the defence crawling up on me day by day. I have done absolutely nothing since I finished the beast, well except for teaching the oldies about modern art..but I don't really count that cause it is not hard and mostly fun fun fun!

There is definitely a post-beast depression going - a what the hell do I do now kinda depression; a where do I start; where do I go; what do I want to do kinda depression. I am lost in a limbo state, in which I have no idea what to do or what to start doing or who to turn to. I Know I have things waiting for me, I know I should keep going with work...but I just don't have the impetus to do anything other than sleep, drink and eat. I am still full of nervous energy and semi stress. I often have to remind myself to try not to be stressed about the viva (defence), not to think about it too much right now. To deal with it when the time arrives, but I am telling you - it is really hard!

I thought about going away, I was supposed to go straight on holiday to Ireland for a few days, but the volcano put an end to that plan (hope RyanAir is gonna refund me the ticket money!), which to be honest was just fine as I had absolutely no energy for the whole aftermath weekend. I am clearly, one week on, much more rested and relaxed but also extremely bored. There is nothing to do in this town, especially when the weather is crap! And of course no one has any time off other than me...so I watch stupid series and try to figure out what I should do with my life. I cannot even decide if I should stay here to at least have some sort of income after the summer, but then there's the trip to Japan for about a month! How would that suit any employer? It wouldn't really...so I am lost, and my brain has turned into mush. I have ideas for the future, but I also have worries about the future. Especially that one and only exam - the one that will either make everything I've done over the past 5 years worth it, or make my world crash down and fall to pieces - Scary isn't it?

I have ideas for what I want to do in an ideal world, where everything was possible. I have big and small ideas. I have to write articles now I guess - I have to be academic and prove myself an active member of the research community - BLAH! Makes me sick to have to think about the fact that I haven't done all the things I wanted to by this time. I didn't manage to finish my thesis before I turned 30, I didn't manage to have loads of articles out...didn't manage to put together a thesis I thought was a winner...anyway. The end I guess is another way of seeing a brand new beginning - so here I am at least not insane and the future is wide open!

Bubble, village, hole

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 15:21:00 +0000

So my favourite librarian, of course I don't include the husband in this category as he is not so by choice, has just written a post which reflects so well on the village I call home for the time being. Although the UK location of moi is not opposed to rap/hip hop or any kind of music being blasted out of a car by some villager (so called because they actually live here and don't just stop for the semesters), windows mostly closed though either cause it is cold (we live by the sea in the middle of the North Sea what do you think!) or cause the music has to be so loud that they will be mountainously deaf when it stops. How they manage to drive in traffic and not crash their cars is beyond me! Anyway this post was not meant as a rant about that, cause that's just a charming fact about UK neds and I for one like having 'normal' people around me, but the bottom line of my current distress is the return for another semester of the little rich girls and guys! I might not have made myself clear in the past, but despite coming from an area of the capital of the homeland that is refuge to the wealthiest in the land, I am not that wealthy myself and my views are generally coloured by a Socialist and Communist, with a dash of Social Democratic values, family. We don't have oil sheiks though, but some of these ppl could very well be...these people who live on the hill! Yet it disgusts me to live in this village of filthy rich princesses and princes, and without them (as it has been for almost a month now) this idyllic village is, well boring but great! Their return from where ever they have been hiding since exams has overwhelmed me once again. Their looks of dismay at anyone looking anything other than out of their moulds simply surprises me every time. Their assumption that they own this, before they arrived, peaceful place is beyond me. I hate them. I know they are kinda my livelihood but I hate them still. They make lines everywhere, they shout loudly in the middle of the street, they walk around without a care in the world...I guess we have hit the core of the issue. I have too many of those at the moment. I want to be them, and I certainly don't want to have to look for a job that might not be available in a few years time as the cuts in university budgets seem more likely than ever. My prospects are not as rosy as theirs and I hate them for it. Although statements such as ' I can't make the field trip this weekend cause I am organising the Fashion Show.' might not be said with such self assuredness anywhere else in the world!

Boiling acidity

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 10:56:00 +0000

I'm working like mad these days. And trying not to think about the future that is drawing closer and closer. I rewrite, transcribe and write brand new words on page after page, yet it never seems to end. I have started the final stretch and it is one filled with pain and constant doubt. Pain over not having time to see my friends or help the ex-husband around the house. Stress over if I have enough time, if I can finish this chapter in a week, stress that lives in the morning in the bottom of my gut then spreads by nightfall to my entire being. I feel I don't have time to do anything but sit my ass down in front of the pc in the office, yet I know I am the kind of person who needs some steam outlet! I want to go to the gym everyday, but feel guilty when I don't manage to make it there - it's a bloody 20-min walk there, and then 20-min back!! That means 2 hours at least out of productiveness at the office! or not... But I feel guilty for not going too, it is an evil circle of guilt, stress and stomach acid boiling constantly! I knew this moment would arrive - I knew I would get stressed and stuff, but I never thought I would start doubting my whole reason for doing this, doubting if now at the end I can actually do it - I have something to say, to add, to contribute? Every time I look at my past chapters I feel like crying, I feel I am not intelligent enough. That everything I have been doing for the past 4-5 years have been a waste. What am I contributing really? Am I meant to be an academic? I don't know...My brain is running on overload all the time, the beast is luring around every corner. The shadows are far from friendly. Yet I do not give up, I continue steadfast towards that day when it will leave my hands and Academia will judge me. Hopefully by then I won't have gone absolutely mad or put on 20 kilos!

Hangover day II

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 16:04:00 +0000

Turning corners to another decade for you, and especially for me, big three-o! Having organised a weekend away from Oslo and on a mountain top-ish place here, I am now severely broken and tired. Tomorrow I return to the village and the 'reality' of two months to go of the big beast. I am a grown-up now, but I feel like a little girl. The celebrations were big, in more ways than one - so now I need to recharge. The curse arrived today as well...happy day. I need to scream right now, but I am sitting in the livingroom of my parents apartment! I want to stay and leave at the same time. I want to return to the village to finish and I want to stay here in the comfort of family and good old friends. I also don't know if I can face my self pity and the stupid situations I get myself into all the time. I wish I had an alarm, I am just guessing other people do, inside my head that would stop me when I decide to complicate things.. I know some people don't, yeah you know who you are, when alcohol is involved - most people act different when alcohol is involved. I am no different. But I do try not to hurt other people, at least not my friends. No drama to scream about on the mountain top though. Now it is all too late for anything but practical thinking. We all make our own beds and then we lay in them, except for the little child or baby perhaps - and a 30-year-old baby I am not. I am sorry if you read this and find it depressing, but I have a party-planning-stressing hangover.

Hurting people

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 18:13:00 +0000

What a shame that life can be so unfair and difficult sometimes. Other times it is deliciously enjoyable and delightful. We all make it what it is. It is up to us to make it better or worse. We are responsible for our actions, and responsible for others' happiness as well as grief. I have to take responsibility for my actions, just as you have to. No one is exempt from this, whatever one does in the world at one point or another our neighbour's well-being is left up to our strength of character. It is a difficult balance to keep sometimes, on a knife blade we balance the actions and words we spread. Not for one second can we let this slip, unfortunately it is when we are most relaxed that we forget to keep our tongue in check or our movements to a minimum. To make a person happy is as difficult as making a plant or flower grow, it needs time and a lot of nourishment. I hope and believe that I am a person who cares about others. I try hard to be open and good to all of my friends, no matter how long or how brief a meeting between two people - I try my best to make the world a better place for all around me. Sometimes I sacrifice myself for that, to please everyone, to make everyone happy other than myself. Therefore the pain I feel at times is kept for me only, my private misery, my private tears. I wear my heart on my sleeve, yet I try to make others not. I live my life without fear of bad things to come, but I am afraid to give in when someone is kind to me. I cannot believe fully that anyone in the world can love me truly, without alternative motives. I cannot let the guard down to let them into my heart, to be hurt later on - it is better to be cold than to be heartbroken. Yet I wear my heart on my sleeve for all of my friends, and when I hurt them by not thinking, by being weak and relaxed, it hurts me too much for words to state. Sometimes it is hard to tell the truth, but if you truly love someone it has to be done - and it cannot be easy or else there is nothing between the cold and you. There is nothing but an empty shell. Therefore I chose life with risk, with risk of hurting people, still risk of being happy and making other people happy.

Spiderwoman

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 16:58:00 +0000

I've managed to do it again. Tangle myself in a drama, much like that of a soap opera. Managed to hurt people, managed to start falling, when all I am supposed to be doing is finishing the beast. There is too much drama going on around me for me to focus on anything at all, and it is very very disturbing as well as my own fault. Never sleep with friends never start something that might end in someone getting hurt. Or taking up too much of one's precious time. I need time to take a breath, need time to recover from this evilness of mine, need time to just be. I thought I was a good friend, but this week I have been proven to be one of the worst in the history of bad friends. I hurt someone close to me, someone who has helped me a lot and which means heaps to me. Being me can sometimes be disastrous especially when hormones are in swing, I said some things in public that offended one of my good friends. I knew at the time it sounded bad, but I thought she could take it - alas no! She took it harder than I would have expected and put my week off to a really bad start (maybe there's something w the alignment of the stars and planets at the moment, cause I really need an excuse). Then I get involved with another man in my life, start something which I do not know yet is going to be good (or bad). Getting involved like I've been telling myself I shouldn't, still I seem to fall into his trap. But what a delightful trap, although I have no spare time for such things right now. And I can feel myself doubting his sincerity although I have absolutely no reason to. Although I have no single thing to prove that I am wrong or right about anything, looking for faults where there might not be any. I am no closer to the change in myself that I hoped the ex would have provided, no closer to being different than I was five years ago. Not being able to believe that someone can actually be good for me, can actually be nice and like me. Then I manage to trick myself into believing that my choices are not going to hurt the other man in my life, my newly found friend. The one I've been sleeping with - I avoid to see if it is possible to avoid the issue that will surely arise from my choices, from the falling ... apart. Hoping I will not have to deal I entangle myself in my own self-made web of drama. Yet I go full steam ahead - I go head first without thinking of consequence, without considering others around me, without considering my friend. Then the hour comes when one has to state facts, one has to make true those words one is dreading to say. Yet it has to be done, and who knows if anyone but me will get hurt in the end. Maybe I will be the one that looses out, even so I can truthfully say that I have, at least for now ,done what others have told me to do - be honest and even if it hurts them hopefully gain some respect. Hopefully come out on the other side a better person and friend.

Roma Woman

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 14:21:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 16:31:00 +0000

Cold
Cold inside
Cold inside and
Cold inside and outside
Cold inside and outside of
Cold inside and outside of me

Dark North Sea Looking Glass

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 22:46:00 +0000

Across the room eyes meet, just a moment lasting less than a few seconds. Both pair of eyes tell a story too intense to describe. The instant feeling of home, a smell of green is hanging in the air. One pair as dark as the North Sea the other blueish green. A second inside the other, a second more it is forgotten.

Another catches one's attention, eyes meet again, but the electricity is not present. Numbness and indifference is followed by interest in conversation. The ignition is not immediate, the spark lacking. The dark eyes walk by again, the warmth and red-glowing light shines through the air only evident to the two eyes meeting. Still no words other than introductions, and a friends' whisper that another pair of eyes are single and this is not the one they meant to introduce - where is he? Deep feeling of wanting to discard of everything just to meet, to hold, to get to know the dark eyes, fall into the ocean of that specific soul. An instant attraction, an instant knowing. Yet one does nothing, one is dragged away, one turn a shoulder to meet other eyes that say nothing. Even though one knows that those eyes are the only ones one wants to see.

Distant conversations, chit chat about nothing and everything. One continues without any loss, any regret, any longing or any dismay. Friendly eyes meet and one turns the corner to find the darkness there, smiling and open for the first time to proper conversation. Finally words replace the looking, relaxed and frank words with genuine interest take over for the eyes' attention to detail. Openness and laid back attitude fit the deepness of those dark ocean depths. In a few minutes both are as relaxed as old friends, and without thinking one pair invites the other back to the apartment. Then a few seconds pass as the dark eyes look a bit puzzled and the blueish green regains proper etiquette - friends will come too of course - the eyes have just met.

Suddenly one realises that it is an impossible situation for this to be a beginning, days later the dark eyes will be left behind and the green eyes will yet again look upon that other life. A need for control sets in, a need for distance and proper behaviour. One's focus shifts, yet the open soul cannot forget the darkness and depth of that electric pulse. The lightning is there, but one thinks it will go away.

On its own again the blueish green longs to know if the eyes felt the same, knew the same instant electricity just from the eyes' meeting. But one will probably never find out, one cannot wait for the unknown. Not this time, one will not have those eyes this time. Destiny is a bitch sometimes, but it is best this way. Longing across oceans is not good for anyone, not even when it is the North Sea.

OSL partytime

noreply@blogger.com (sunflower) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 19:24:00 +0000

I'm back in Oslo, back home. Haven't been back since Christmas. Stayed in my old flat since my arrival last Wednesday, which wasn't as bad as I had thought it would be. Bestfriend took real good care of me, and it was weird in a way because I felt nothing. To be there was like being back, on any normal visit back home, not upsetting or bringing back memories of times past. It was good - it is good, in one way too good. I feel like staying here, but only because of all the really good friends I have here. In the village many of those have left now. I miss the bestfriend a lot, I realise that when I am here, maybe that's why I decided not to come here during the summer. I love Norwegian summers and everyone is so not Norwegian during the summer, if you've ever been to Norway for a while (ie more than a year) you know what I mean. The bestfriend, she's like that all the time (except for that time of the month), relaxed and open - always letting people know her mind. I came back for her, her birthday party which happened on Friday. She got wasted, as she does sometimes, out of this world, half-closed eyes and slurred tongue kinda drunk. It was a great party though, everyone seemed really happy and 'summer-like', lots of old acquaintances and some new.