On giraffur*

Editor's note: the above picture is historically questionable and must be used for illustrative purposes only.
In reality, there is no affirmative evidence that viking giraffes wore helmets with horns.

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*Giraffur is the Faroese language word for giraffe. Faroe, or føroyskt, is a pretty interesting language to me. It's kind of close to my own mother tongue - at least in writing it looks a whole lot like Norwegian words spelled with an extra -ur at the end of most words, and with certain vocabulary differences that nevertheless are so *logical* that I still understand them.

In the Faroe Wikipedia article about giraffes, for instance, it says:

Giraffur (frøðiheiti - Giraffa camelopardalis) er hálslangt afrikanskt jóturdýr. Giraffurin er heimsins hægsta dýr. Girafarnir verða einar 4,5-5,8 m høgir og viga 800 - 1.900 kg. Langi hálsurin ger, at giraffurin røkkur eftir teimum sevjumiklu bløðunum uppi á trøunum. Hann hevur liðiliga tungu, sum hann skræðir bløð og smágreinar av við. Hann hevur smá horn, knavar, langan hala og sítt halatagl. Við halanum kveistrar hann flogkyktini burtur. Hvør einstakur giraffur er sermerkt littur. Giraffar kunnu tvíspora upp í 50 km/t. Teir verða kynsbúgvnir tá teir eru 3 ár. Teir eru uppá vegin í 14-15 ½ mánað og fáa ein unga.

...which to me reads a little something like this:

Giraffur (wordseed: Giraffa cameloparadalis) is longneck Africanish udderanimalur. The giraffur is tallest animalur in homeplaceworld. Giraffurs can get 4,5-5,8 meterur tall and weighur 800-1900 kilos. Longur neckur does so giraffur reaches after something something leaveurs in the treeurs. He has quite the tongueur which he uses to shred leaveurs and littlebranches off with. He has small hornurs, hooves, longur tail and horse-hair-like-tail. By the tail he kwistles flogmartini cage-trip. Every single giraffur has individualish markingur. Giraffur can fast-track up till 50 kilometreurs per hourur. They are propagative when they are 3 yearur old. They are on the road for 14-15 1/2 moons, and then have babyur.

(So, basically, I can understand most of it, but occasionally fail miserably)

On nail polish

I'm gonna have a shallow-moment here, and recommend all the lovely ladies out there (and those of the men in touch with their feminine sides, I guess) to invest in a MAT TOP COAT to reinvent all those nail polishes you are tired of. Red? Try matte red. Black? Matte black. Sparkly? Matte sparkly! Everything goes with matte, and it looks so - elegant. Worldy. Sophisticated. Lush velvet matte nails. Your hands will thank me.

(Also - I know that it is perhaps more commonly spelled "mat", but that just doesn't scream elegant, worldly, sophisticated, and lush like matte does. So there.)

Picture proof:

(For the record, none of these nails are mine. I couldn't be bothered to take a picture of my - equally velvety, but less perfectly manicured - nails)


(For the other record, this has been a public service announcement in no way sponsored [seriously. It was expensive as crap. I mean crack. And no one offered to pay me to write that. I would totally let them. But for some reason, this seems not offered to me. Hrmf!].)

(If  someone is keeping a record at all - for that record - this blog will return to non-shallow, non-girly topics tomorrow. I promise. I know I said that with the ecards too, but this time I mean it. Really. I think.)

On more ecards

On where trolls roam

My hometown, though small, has throughout history been the home of several artists, writers and musicians. One of the sons Kongsvinger is the most proud of is the famous painter and illustrator, Erik Werenskiold. He grew up here, due to his father's job as the commander at the fortress. Werenskiold is mostly known, today, for his illustrations in the Norwegian folk tale collection by Peder Christian Asbjørnsen and Jørgen Moe.

Kittelsen's creepy one-eyed troll almost
looks real, don't you think?

One of the other illustrators for this collection is Theodor Kittelsen. I cannot vouch for the truth to the following anecdote, but supposedly Kittelsen criticized Werenskiold for being too bound by conventional restraints in his folk tale illustrations. "How can he, who has never seen a troll, draw one?" Kittelsen wondered.

I don't know if Kittelsen actually believed in trolls, but having spent some time in the Norwegian forests during my life, I think I know what he was talking about. And local patriotism set aside, I have to agree with him. His work seem to reflect a much more "realistic" mythos, where the trolls and other supernatural creatures blend in with their surroundings in ways that *almost* make you believe they could exist, out there, off our radar.

Werenskiold, on the other hand, has chosen what I'd like to call a "Shrek-like" approach, where the trolls basically look like ugly, overgrown humans. 

I have to say I prefer Kittelsen's version. After all, it looks so much more like the many "trolls" you can see with your own two eyes in any given forest:

"Try to look like a stump! Look like a stump!"

(On) an excuse for a post...

Why girls shouldn't be disappointed if they can't find a Disney prince...

Source: 9gag.com via Lila on Pinterest

I know, sorry excuse for a post (I didn't even make this - I merely found it, through Pinterest, of course), but I did write another post today. Still a bit of an excuse, actually, but at least that one has actual words... Wanna read these words? Go check them out, here.

On the sorrows of a wooden plaything

"Hullo, there. Won't you come play with me, please? Oh. You're too big. Sigh. Yeah, they all say that. Kids grow up too fast. And here I am, stuck to this spring, doomed to eternally flip back and forth, or occasionally sideways, but never as much as an inch off my axis. Kids, they run off, play with the other toys, and go home when it gets dark or when it rains. But I cannot. I wish I could run away too. Just once, I'd like to feel the grass under my hooves. But then I don't have hooves either. I only have this foot rest, with no feet resting on it.

Are you sure you can't come play with me?"

On why it is a bad idea to celebrate the year of the rabbit by rabbitifying your store

"Frank", from "Donnie Darko"

"Francine"(?) from Harajuku, Tokyo

At least Francine didn't tell me that the world would end in 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes and 12 seconds.

On magical realism

Magic realism or magical realism is an aesthetic style or genre of fiction ^[1] in which magical elements are blended into a realistic atmosphere in order to access a deeper understanding of reality. These magical elements are explained like normal occurrences that are presented in a straightforward manner which allows the "real" and the "fantastic" to be accepted in the same stream of thought. 

Above is a direct quote from the Wikipedia article on magical (or magic) realism. I even included the original links, in case you're fuzzy on the definition of "fiction" (I know I am). If the Wikipedia article had been written with magical realism, it would have read something like this:

Magic realism or magical realism is an aesthetic style or genre of fiction ^[1] in which magical elements are giraffed into a realistic giraffe in order to access a deeper understanding of giraffe. These magical giraffes are explained like normal occurrences that are presented in a straightforward giraffe which allows the "real" and the "fantastic" to be accepted in the same stream of giraffe. 

Actually, I'm being silly. Magical realism rarely have anything to do with giraffes.

However, elements that to the average reader seem far out will occur, and while it is a powerful tool for many writers, it is equally challenging for many readers. My concern is that magical realism often for a reader will feel like the author takes the "easy way out". As any writer will know, we occasionally write ourselves into corners it is hard to get out from (and unlike with painting, it's not always sufficient to wait until it dries...). It seems to me that certain writers choose to get out of these corners by adding fantastical elements into otherwise realistic stories. If you're a fantasy writer - fine, you're allowed to have characters that can fly (at least if it fits with the "rules" of your magical universe). But if you're writing literary fiction, it seems like you're grasping at straws if the main character suddenly develops wings...

Anyway, I realize I am being superficial here. Magical realism can be used as a means of conveying a deeper meaning of the story. It can be used to evoke images of mythology or a cultural background the text otherwise would lack. In fact, many would argue that my issues with magical realism has to do with my cultural background: often, Western readers are more dissociated from their mythological roots than non-Western cultures (or, again, so Wikipedia informs me). Perhaps. Perhaps I just prefer to compartmentalize my genres and find that magical realism pushes me out of my comfort zone as it's neither this nor that.

Either way, many talented and popular authors have used it successfully. Paulo Coelho comes to mind (though he is no favourite of mine, he certainly has a large following), as do Isabelle Allende, and the Japanese author Haruki Murakami.

Murakami is, incidentally, the subject of today's blog over at Burrowers, Books and Balderdash. Well, not so "incidentally", actually, since I wrote that blog too. You see, I prefer the "magic" in my writing to have a natural explanation... Why don't you stop by and see if and how my dislike for magical realism and fondness of Murakami's books can coexist?