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| "Frank", from "Donnie Darko" |
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| "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.
Showing posts with label bunnies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bunnies. Show all posts
Thursday, February 24, 2011
On why it is a bad idea to celebrate the year of the rabbit by rabbitifying your store
At least Francine didn't tell me that the world would end in 28 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes and 12 seconds.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
On fluff
It’s been snowing a lot lately. I know – crazy Norwegian weather, right? Well, actually, it’s not that kind of snow. It’s some sort of cottonish seed falling from the sky; much like someone was sitting in the top of a very tall tree blowing dandelion parachutes down on us. He would need a lot of dandelions to do that, though, since these candyfloss-like specks have been dancing through the air - day and night, unstoppable except when it rains - for about a week.
The dandelion-candyfloss-snowflakes gather on the road like real snow would. They settle down in your hair, but they don’t melt. They enter my apartment through the open window, and land on the floor where they look suspiciously like albino dust bunnies. If you try to catch them they slip away, brushing their soft fur against your fingers.
This summery snow has an annoying sort of beauty to it. I just brushed one of the seeds off my nose because it made me sneeze. But I cannot stop marvel at the way the specks catch the bright sunlight, or how the larger clouds of them are slowly falling, until they are whirled around by a breath of wind. Seconds later they return to gliding lazily through the air like feathers.
The dandelion-candyfloss-snowflakes gather on the road like real snow would. They settle down in your hair, but they don’t melt. They enter my apartment through the open window, and land on the floor where they look suspiciously like albino dust bunnies. If you try to catch them they slip away, brushing their soft fur against your fingers.
This summery snow has an annoying sort of beauty to it. I just brushed one of the seeds off my nose because it made me sneeze. But I cannot stop marvel at the way the specks catch the bright sunlight, or how the larger clouds of them are slowly falling, until they are whirled around by a breath of wind. Seconds later they return to gliding lazily through the air like feathers. I don’t know what kind of seed it is, but it is definitely not dandelion. All I know is that with the rate they are falling we should have candyfloss trees popping up everywhere next summer.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
On snakes (*shudder*)
Whenever I am asked what my greatest phobia is, one of two things will happen: if the person asking looks like he/she is in possession of snakes and a reason to torture me, I’ll answer “bunnies!” or some such nonsense. If the person who asks does not look like he/she has any reasons or means to torture me, however, I will truthfully reply that my one and only fully fletched phobia is ophiophobia – the fear of snakes. I am not happy about flying, but that is a discomfort, not a phobia. I am not thriving in heights, but again, it hasn’t yet caused me to panic in public. Spiders? I don’t love them, but if forced to choose between having tarantulas crawling all over me and touching a snake, I’m seriously considering the former the best alternative.
You might think my fear of snakes irrational, especially considering I live in a country where we barely have any, but I can assure you I have my reasons. I once was very nearly killed by a snake. True story.
It was the first week I lived in Japan, and I was out walking with the other Norwegian student at my university. The campus was located in scenic surroundings (you know, if your idea of “scenic” means rice fields and forests), and there were several short hike routes in the area. We had been walking for maybe half an hour when we came to a small creek. There was a nice, little bridge crossing the creek, and as we crossed it we saw something moving in the water some five meters below. Slowly gliding across the creek was a GIGANTIC, yellow snake. In my mind it was at least 20 meters long, but I have been informed that it most likely was about one and a half meter. Still, BIG snake!
Now, as mentioned the snake was pretty far away and not actually in any position (or inclination, I’ve been told, though I am not entirely convinced of this) to hurt us. However, just seeing that rubbery thing wind its way across that creek made me so terrified I nearly suffered a heart attack. I froze completely, and I had no idea how to move my legs in order to get across the bridge and worse, continue walking in the area I now realized was snake infested. Basically, I was prepared to stay right there forever, regardless if that would mean I would eventually starve to death. This would probably have made me a bit of a local attraction – the Westerner Who Died of Fear would have brought some much needed tourist cash to the prefecture of Akita. The Japanese have a thing for morbid attractions (like The Waterfall Where Most People Kill Themselves Each Year, or the Natural Disasters Amusement Park – yes, I’ve been to both).
But back to the snake. What finally convinced me to move was the logic of my friend who told me that if I remained at that location the snake might come back, and that the quick walk through the forest after all was a small price to pay in order to get back to our guaranteed snake-free dorm, where there was food and beds and where I would not become Japan’s fourth most visited tourist attraction (the third is Disneyland). My friend also told me that the snake was “cute”, “harmless” and probably “minding its own business without even noticing us”. Needless to say, none of these arguments sounded particularly convincing in my ears.
In the end we got back to campus without any further snake encounters. I did hear noises from the grass and bushes as we passed; but this might just have been the wind, or a bird, or a snake thinking we looked too pale for his liking. Either way we were not eaten that day (or any other day, for that matter, even though there were a couple of times I am fairly certain we had a close call).
I wanted to know, though, if I should just be afraid of this snake because it was a snake, or because it was a dangerous snake. Thus I googled “snakes in Japan”. If you live in Norway that can be scary enough, but if you’re a Norwegian exchange student in Japan – googling the snaky scariness that surrounds you is just asking for trouble. I nearly scared myself to death learning of all the long, short, green, orange, poisonous or just plain evil snakes there were in the country I had just travelled to, where I had to stay for at least another four months. I never found the snake we had seen, though. I looked through a number of images to try to identify it (but since I covered my eyes with my hand the most of the time, it isn’t exactly very surprising that I didn’t see any snakes that looked like the one that nearly killed me).
As you can see, my phobia is not irrational at all.
You might think my fear of snakes irrational, especially considering I live in a country where we barely have any, but I can assure you I have my reasons. I once was very nearly killed by a snake. True story.
It was the first week I lived in Japan, and I was out walking with the other Norwegian student at my university. The campus was located in scenic surroundings (you know, if your idea of “scenic” means rice fields and forests), and there were several short hike routes in the area. We had been walking for maybe half an hour when we came to a small creek. There was a nice, little bridge crossing the creek, and as we crossed it we saw something moving in the water some five meters below. Slowly gliding across the creek was a GIGANTIC, yellow snake. In my mind it was at least 20 meters long, but I have been informed that it most likely was about one and a half meter. Still, BIG snake!
Now, as mentioned the snake was pretty far away and not actually in any position (or inclination, I’ve been told, though I am not entirely convinced of this) to hurt us. However, just seeing that rubbery thing wind its way across that creek made me so terrified I nearly suffered a heart attack. I froze completely, and I had no idea how to move my legs in order to get across the bridge and worse, continue walking in the area I now realized was snake infested. Basically, I was prepared to stay right there forever, regardless if that would mean I would eventually starve to death. This would probably have made me a bit of a local attraction – the Westerner Who Died of Fear would have brought some much needed tourist cash to the prefecture of Akita. The Japanese have a thing for morbid attractions (like The Waterfall Where Most People Kill Themselves Each Year, or the Natural Disasters Amusement Park – yes, I’ve been to both).
But back to the snake. What finally convinced me to move was the logic of my friend who told me that if I remained at that location the snake might come back, and that the quick walk through the forest after all was a small price to pay in order to get back to our guaranteed snake-free dorm, where there was food and beds and where I would not become Japan’s fourth most visited tourist attraction (the third is Disneyland). My friend also told me that the snake was “cute”, “harmless” and probably “minding its own business without even noticing us”. Needless to say, none of these arguments sounded particularly convincing in my ears.
In the end we got back to campus without any further snake encounters. I did hear noises from the grass and bushes as we passed; but this might just have been the wind, or a bird, or a snake thinking we looked too pale for his liking. Either way we were not eaten that day (or any other day, for that matter, even though there were a couple of times I am fairly certain we had a close call).
I wanted to know, though, if I should just be afraid of this snake because it was a snake, or because it was a dangerous snake. Thus I googled “snakes in Japan”. If you live in Norway that can be scary enough, but if you’re a Norwegian exchange student in Japan – googling the snaky scariness that surrounds you is just asking for trouble. I nearly scared myself to death learning of all the long, short, green, orange, poisonous or just plain evil snakes there were in the country I had just travelled to, where I had to stay for at least another four months. I never found the snake we had seen, though. I looked through a number of images to try to identify it (but since I covered my eyes with my hand the most of the time, it isn’t exactly very surprising that I didn’t see any snakes that looked like the one that nearly killed me).
As you can see, my phobia is not irrational at all.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
On bunnies
"I want to be a bunny. "
The story behind this quote is a cute one, and I'm sure I'll find a way to tell it during this post, but first let me reflect a bot (a "bot"? Is that my subconscience telling me that it will be "a lot" instead of my intended "a bit"?) over bunnies in general.
First of all, I am not a happy bunny today. The main reason for this is that it is 10:15 and I'm still not dressed. I'm nowhere close to being ready to leave the house and start my day, and that is something that always make me feel lousy. I've a strong work morale, but occasionally it doesn't reach beyond the theoretical aspect - I *want* to work hard, but I just can't make myself do it unless I have incentives (like someone expecting me - not so much at the archives)... This is obviously not going to be the most productive of days.
Secondly, in Norwegian, we've a term called "hybelkaniner" - lodging bunnies. (I know that the English term is "dust bunnies", but I prefer the Norwegian one...) Apparently there is a reason why the English language needs this word as well - they accumulate in the US just as they do in Norway. My room is a mess. I allow it to get that way because it's MY room, and nobody else goes in here (except the dogs, if they get the chance, but they rarely do). Also, it's been a busy few weeks, and my energy has been directed towards other activities than cleaning. This household has a lady that comes once a week to clean the floors, and my landlady asked me if I wanted her to cover my room as well. I think I answered vaguely (in an attempt to promote my "I don't want to be a bother"-ness), but in reality that would be nice. Especially since I don't know where the vacuum cleaner (if they have one) is. As it is, though, the cleaning lady does not do my floors, and the result is hybelkaniner. Another thing that makes me less of a happy bunny.
However, I do like bunnies (especially the non-dusty kind), and thus it is nice to live in a neighbourhood where they also live. I've only seen one bunny so far, which is about one for every 1000 squirrel, but it was a bunny nevertheless. Cuteymunchybunny.
Finally, back to the quote from the beginning of this post. The owner of the house I live in, Brian, told me the cutest story last night. When he was in kindergarten, the local school had a Christmas show where all the classes (including kindergarten) participated. The smallest kids were put on the stage and asked a simple question - "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Brian, apparently already then a joker, did not reply like every other kid did: astronaut, fireman, football player... No, Brian answered "I want to be a bunny."
The story is cute when it ends there. It's adorable when you hear the rest.
The teacher tried to explain to him that he needed to pick a profession, something people did for work, but Brian would not budge. "I want to be a bunny!"
Then the other kids started interfering. If Brian could be a bunny, why couldn't Jack be a cat, Lisa a horse and so on. Eventually, the teacher changed the question, so that every kid could pick which animal they wanted to be (if that was a possibility).
Now, you'd think Brian would be happy. However, when the teacher got back to Brian to ask him what animal he wanted to be (stupid question anyway - there couldn't have been a person in the room that didn't know that by then)...
"I want to be an astronaut," Brian said.
~ ~ ~
Now I need to get out of my Playboy-bunny look (meaning scarcely clad, not silicon accessorized), and start my day. Perhaps I'll spot a bunny (or kill a few dusty ones).
UPDATE: I DID see a bunny on my way home tonight! A real, live one, not a hybelkanin. So I guess it's 2 bunnies per 1001 squirrels (I saw a squirrel today as well).
NOT-SO-MUCH-AN-UPDATE (more of a public notice): This post was moved from my test-blog (which only I could read, so basically, that makes it a diary...), but I liked the randomness of it (a digressionist at heart), and thus I decided to move it. The test-blog probably will perish and die now that I finally decided to open a "real" one anyway...
The story behind this quote is a cute one, and I'm sure I'll find a way to tell it during this post, but first let me reflect a bot (a "bot"? Is that my subconscience telling me that it will be "a lot" instead of my intended "a bit"?) over bunnies in general.
First of all, I am not a happy bunny today. The main reason for this is that it is 10:15 and I'm still not dressed. I'm nowhere close to being ready to leave the house and start my day, and that is something that always make me feel lousy. I've a strong work morale, but occasionally it doesn't reach beyond the theoretical aspect - I *want* to work hard, but I just can't make myself do it unless I have incentives (like someone expecting me - not so much at the archives)... This is obviously not going to be the most productive of days.
Secondly, in Norwegian, we've a term called "hybelkaniner" - lodging bunnies. (I know that the English term is "dust bunnies", but I prefer the Norwegian one...) Apparently there is a reason why the English language needs this word as well - they accumulate in the US just as they do in Norway. My room is a mess. I allow it to get that way because it's MY room, and nobody else goes in here (except the dogs, if they get the chance, but they rarely do). Also, it's been a busy few weeks, and my energy has been directed towards other activities than cleaning. This household has a lady that comes once a week to clean the floors, and my landlady asked me if I wanted her to cover my room as well. I think I answered vaguely (in an attempt to promote my "I don't want to be a bother"-ness), but in reality that would be nice. Especially since I don't know where the vacuum cleaner (if they have one) is. As it is, though, the cleaning lady does not do my floors, and the result is hybelkaniner. Another thing that makes me less of a happy bunny.
However, I do like bunnies (especially the non-dusty kind), and thus it is nice to live in a neighbourhood where they also live. I've only seen one bunny so far, which is about one for every 1000 squirrel, but it was a bunny nevertheless. Cuteymunchybunny.
Finally, back to the quote from the beginning of this post. The owner of the house I live in, Brian, told me the cutest story last night. When he was in kindergarten, the local school had a Christmas show where all the classes (including kindergarten) participated. The smallest kids were put on the stage and asked a simple question - "what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Brian, apparently already then a joker, did not reply like every other kid did: astronaut, fireman, football player... No, Brian answered "I want to be a bunny."
The story is cute when it ends there. It's adorable when you hear the rest.
The teacher tried to explain to him that he needed to pick a profession, something people did for work, but Brian would not budge. "I want to be a bunny!"
Then the other kids started interfering. If Brian could be a bunny, why couldn't Jack be a cat, Lisa a horse and so on. Eventually, the teacher changed the question, so that every kid could pick which animal they wanted to be (if that was a possibility).
Now, you'd think Brian would be happy. However, when the teacher got back to Brian to ask him what animal he wanted to be (stupid question anyway - there couldn't have been a person in the room that didn't know that by then)...
"I want to be an astronaut," Brian said.
~ ~ ~
Now I need to get out of my Playboy-bunny look (meaning scarcely clad, not silicon accessorized), and start my day. Perhaps I'll spot a bunny (or kill a few dusty ones).
UPDATE: I DID see a bunny on my way home tonight! A real, live one, not a hybelkanin. So I guess it's 2 bunnies per 1001 squirrels (I saw a squirrel today as well).
NOT-SO-MUCH-AN-UPDATE (more of a public notice): This post was moved from my test-blog (which only I could read, so basically, that makes it a diary...), but I liked the randomness of it (a digressionist at heart), and thus I decided to move it. The test-blog probably will perish and die now that I finally decided to open a "real" one anyway...
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