On funminishing, part 1

Looking back, it seems I've become decreasingly funnier the last few years. As in, moving in the wrong direction. I used to be funny, or at the very least, funnier than I am now. One might say I am funminishing by the minute.

My empirical evidence for this claim is two-fold. First of all, this blog in itself serves as pretty hard-core data, with its stated intention of providing "attempts of recognizing both details and the big picture, while embracing a propensity for total randomness", which in itself is as ridiculous a sequence of words that it hardly can be interpreted as anything other than humour. The blog has, however, been fairly barren for a long while. Despite the occasional post here and there, their frequency and length (and topics) suggest that while I may still claim some propensity for randomness (in the most generous reading of the word, though in all fairness, even here I seem to fall into familiar patterns rather than my digressionist aspirations), I stand accused of not recognizing details nor the big picture, as I in fact am hardly providing any pictures (mental or otherwise) at all, since this blog mostly have been rendered empty for months, years, at the time. One might argue that this is humour in and of itself, but it would be a long stretch. Thus, I present the lack of humor due to lack of content as evidence A in this investigation and/or analysis.

Evidence B is more complex. While one might assume that you as a potential reader of this blog actually have access to this blog and therefore conceivably might be able to assess evidence A by means of peer review (though I by no means suggest you should -- I am after all asking you to backtrack my lack of posting here to confirm my claim that I have not been posting frequently, lengthy or topically in a humourous manner, which hardly stands to my credit, other than that I if nothing else can be said to be honest. Also, I realize you probably have better ways to spend your time) -- while one might assume that, you might not have the same privelege when it comes to evidence B.

I say "might", because, as will be clear in a moment, you might not have it, and you might have it.

Evidence B consists of a random selection (see, propensity for random) of Facebook statuses I have written over the past few years. If you are not in the category of the select few (or actually, quite average, I would guess) people who are on my friend's list on Facebook, you won't have access to evidence B. I'm sorry. I am sure the actual number of people who might stumble upon this who are not my friends on Facebook is actually quite limited, but given the possibility that it might happen, I am sorry. Not that we are not friends, because in this day and age it has come to a point where I no longer consider Facebookfriendiness a requirement for actually being friends, and while the more vague "being connected", via social media, is something I cherish, sure enough, occasionally, with some people, but let's be honest - it's 2017. You have "friends" on your Facebook-profile you only accepted because you didn't want them to tell your mom at the florist's in your hometown that you have become a snobbish elitist after moving to the big city. Not all Facebook-friends are friends, and amazingly, not all friends are particularly active on Facebook.

This was a long digression, of which I shall not apologize (digressions being something of a staple of this blog, after all. I don't know if you noticed the title...?), but it ended somewhere I'd like to pick it up from: "not all friends are particularly active on Facebook" (Great Digression, my mom's friend at the florist really has a point, I am quoting myself, FROM THE PREVIOUS PARAGRAPH now...)

Anyway. The "friend" I am talking about in this particular instance, is myself. Me, myself, and the person I just quoted.

Evidence B, my (let's admit it, not-so-)randomly selected Facebook-statuses (of which I shall not specify which ones I refer to, by the way, just to make the "evidence" even sketchier), are also far between, and not their former peaky, plump, juicy selves.

Not to brag, but I used to be funny (see opening statement of this blog post for reference). Funny-ish, at least. I used to make myself laugh, and seemingly others as well, as my posts occasionally would elicit comments that sometimes triggered avalances of great, old-fashioned Facebook-comedy. I used to be funny, people would be funny back, we would all do that creepy smirky-grinny-non-laugh people do when they read and write something funny on their Facebook during work hours. You know.

However, my examination of evidence B suggests a worrying trend also in this material. It is more funny the further from the present day we come, pointing at my hypothesis that I have become decreasingly funny, or as one might present it in layman's terms: I am less funny now than I was before. My funny appears to be running out (or, terrifyingly, may already have done so).

Why, then, is this happening?

I have a few theories, but I am going to do something utterly scandalous before presenting them. I am going to cliffhanger you (which, by the way, is probably not a word, as many of the words I like using, but it just struck me that this was a particularly abrasive wordsmithery of mine, as cliffhanger in itself is wordsmithed from "hanging from a cliff", I assume, meaning I just verbed ((yes, verbed)) a noun having been nouned (((yes, nouned))) from a verb ((((and then some)))). Ha!)

--I am going to cliffhanger you on this as a way of test, not yours, but mine, ability to stick to this. Yes. I am going to cliffhanger you, to see if that might motivate me, to keep writing the next section of this (otherwise insanely long) post, another day. The world is not fair. Sorry.

***HANGING OFF CLIFF***

On pretense

Let's pretend this is a blog you still read with some regularity - in fact, let's pretend it's a blog I write with some regularity.

Let's pretend Albert Einstein was a duck. Might as well.

Let's pretend the below picture isn't photoshopped.

Let's pretend the reason I am not writing here regularly is because I am so busy living a fabulous life. Let's pretend I'm never tired of the fabulousness.

Let's pretend. That nothing no one never said was true or false.

Let's pretend that winter is not coming.

Let's pretend that I am not worrying about work and not work and the potential of not having to worry about work.

Let's pretend that I write. Occasionally.

Let's pretend that placebo is as good as Placebo. Let's pretend you could watch that video without having to watch a commercial first.

Let's pretend that all it takes is a good night's sleep, and that you will get just that, tonight.

On 2012 (part two)

I know, I know, it's 2013 by now. But before I get used to writing that, I figured it was time to take another look back. Last time I did this, at the end of 2011, I was under the impression that I was barely left standing on my feet in a world that was spinning too fast for comfort (but at the same time, in a slightly interesting manner). I had experienced so much that I barely had time to update the blog, and my life felt turned upside-down. Looking back it felt like the events of that year would be life- and personality altering, and that it wasn't the same Cruella waking up in the morning at the end of 2011 as had done so at the end of 2010.

Maybe it wasn't. But the Cruella waking up at the beginning of 2013 feels familiar. Like I know her. Like we've met before. In 2010, perhaps. Because, even though I believed my 2011 was going to change me for life, I am starting to believe I'm slowly drifting back to my old self. For better and for worse.

Let me explain (or at least try).

The past year I've probably met more challenges that I ever have at once before in my life, including the epicness that was 2011. If I hoped for a peaceful 2012 to get me back down after crazy 2011, I was disappointed. 2012 was the year of the new job (that nearly killed me), the new boyfriend (that kept me alive), 1 1/2 new living arrangements (don't ask), lots of new people (possibly matching that of 2011 too), of countless emotional rollercoasters, of the loss of a loved one and having several others falling ill, of having various heath problems myself (including my first ever ride in an ambulance), and - as a result of all of this - learning how to share both good and bad things (the latter being something I often prefer keeping to myself as to not seem "weak" - I'm still learning, obviously).

Basically, things happened in 2012 too!

But even though the events of 2012 in many ways were probably more life-altering for me than those of 2011, in retrospect, they still seem mellow in comparison. The 2012s were slow events. They built up over time. They didn't wake me up in the middle of the night and made me check a website if the impact was 5.0 or more on the Richter magnitude scale. I don't question the magnitude of falling in love or having a stressful job, but both of those things came to me gradually, with considerable "warnings" ahead.

Also, when I in 2011 occasionally felt I had so much to blog about I couldn't keep up with it (resulting in a somewhat uneven year blog wise), 2012 frequently left me feeling the opposite (which should explain the relatively even non-posting of the past twelve moons). Writing about living the exciting life in Tokyo is one thing, but how do you blog about everyday life at home without it turning into "Today I made dinner for my boyfriend. He said he enjoyed it"...?

Obviously I could blog about other things than everyday life - I've been known to do so in the past - but in that department too the inspiration seemed to fail me. Given that my job was so "mind consuming" in many ways, I had little space left after having read about popes and kings and important historians. And I had absolutely no urge to blog about said popes and kings and important historians.

So I didn't. Again and again I didn't.

Now, it's not like I have a goal of being the most prolific blogger. As such, the frequency of posts here is irrelevant. But having the material, inspiration and ability to blog is something I'd like to keep, thankyouverymuch. I'd rather have time being the constraint than anything else. "Excuse me, but I'm too fabulous and  busy to blog" has a better ring to it than "Sorry, my job and everyday life is sort of uninteresting to write about".

(Mark the importance of the words "to write about" in the above sentence. My life isn't uninteresting, to me. But I am currently having a hard time translating the parts of it I find interesting into words and sentences I'd feel comfortable flying around the interwebs with my name tied to them...)

((I suppose the task ahead is to find a neat balance between making my life itty bit more interesting and figuring out how to write it in a way that makes it more interesting still...))

Anyway, the strangest thing is that in spite of this feeling of "why have I nothing interesting to write?" I find that I don't really mind all that much. It might be a well-known secret to most, but to me this came as news: boring isn't necessarily boring! I find that in real life I cherish these things I can't find an interesting angle for blog-wise. I like making dinner for my boyfriend when he says he enjoys it. I like having a job, and an income, even if I at times have wondered if it was too much (but then the achievement feels all the greater afterwards). I don't like grief and illness and emotional rollercoasters, but I realize that they are a part of life and perhaps they make you grow just as much (albeit in very different ways) as disaster and turmoil.

The lesson from 2011 was that I'd discovered a whole new side of myself. If anything I think 2012 has shown me how the new side fits with the old me, and made me realize that perhaps I didn't change so much after all.

At least, that is what I think now. Perhaps come the start of 2014 everything will be different, again.

In terms of resolutions I am still not making any (even if my old "fill in the blanks"-ones were handy). But there are things I'd like to do, goals I'd like to fulfill, as always. Still, a whole year feels like too big of a unit to digest at once. Maybe this year I should make it my goal to take one day at the time? Who knows, that might even make for a more interesting blog year too...

On Decisions and the City

...as I walked down the streets of the forlorn city, I couldn't help but wonder: have the 21st century made us unable to make independent decisions?

I've been watching a lot of Sex and the City lately. Carrie Bradshaw surely must be one of the great philosophers of our time. At least she manages what other philosophers fail at: presenting a world view that makes sense to me, from which I can try to make sense of my own confusing life.

Using Carrie & CO as a reference point is fun - and disturbing. Is he a Mr. Big? Or an Aidan? And am I a Carrie or a Miranda? A Charlotte? Or - at times - a Samantha, even? And most importantly of all - do I need this many shoes? (Of course I do!)

I realize it is fiction, and I realize that the life of four glamorous 30-somethings in New York City does not translate well to my own 20-something life here in boring, old Oslo. Still. There are some things that appear to be universal, and Carrie the Philosopher offers some interesting perspectives on that great mystery women have been trying to figure out since the beginning of time: the man. Who is he? How to approach him? And why do we (as in "we, women") have so many twisted expectations for him, and the life we want him to provide for us? (Which, I might add in this "female power"-inspired post, I find completely ridiculous. First you need to provide your own life, find your own goal and become a confident, independent person. Then you can find a guy who is compatible with this life and this person you've become. Or at least that sounds more ideal than changing for the guy; or worse: expecting him to change for you. Change might be good, but it is at the very least unlikely.)

Carrie, Miranda, Samantha and to a certain extent, Charlotte, are confident, independent women (though with the mandatory confidence issues and hiccups like the rest of us). (And - yes - I realize they might not be realistic characters, but instead stereotypes. That is a whole different discussion, though.)

Independence is a virtue in the 21st century, even (or especially) for women. And yet - this is my claim - we frequently find ourselves unable to act independently. The SatC-girls have a touch of it - no problem is left unturned in their famous NYC brunches. They debate and discuss everything from penis sizes to the exchange of keys with new boyfriends. They depend on the advice from friends to make their decisions.

This is not a bad thing, but with modern technology comes modern problems. We no longer have to preserve our problems for Sunday brunch - our advisors are present 24/7 through Facebook, Twitter, or cell phones. Earlier today I found myself consulting a friend about a rather mundane topic. I won't go in details (despite it being mundane, it would also be too self-incriminating to mention here...), but the point is that it made me realize I've forgotten the ability to make decisions all by myself. My recent experiment to ensure that I still am able to function properly without Facebook IV directly plugged to my arteries (I managed four days completely off, and I missed it surprisingly little), forced me to make certain smaller decisions - what to wear or whether to eat bread or yoghurt for breakfast; things like that - without consulting my team of online specialists.

I'm only exaggerating a little.

I remember watching an episode of House, M. D. once (a show I am sad to see cancelled, even though I don't watch it myself anymore, since it made me a total hypochondriac), where a patient was an enthusiastic blogger. She was up for a sugery to have her heart valve replaced (I think. Not entirely sure what the surgery was, come to think of it). In order to make the decision of whether or not to have the surgery, she consulted her blog readers.

The episode was supposed to show a crazy example. Who would do something like that? Ask random strangers on the Internet to make life or death decisions?

The scary thing, though, was that the thought of doing just that wasn't so foreign to me. Okay, I wouldn't consult whomever reading this for questions about my health, but that is more a matter of privacy. Communication and consultation with others, through blogging or Facebook or whatnot has become so common that I don't immediately see the problem even though I know there's supposed to be one.

I think once I have identified the problem, though, my conclusion is different than the House-writers probably planned. They wanted to say something about the crazy online society we've constructed. I want to say something about society in general.

A hundred years ago my ancestors lived in the deep Norwegian forests, not being able to communicate with friends or relatives every second of every day. If they were lucky they probably saw one another once every ten years or so. I can assure you they did not have problems making decisions! Because part of the issue here isn't just that we make ourselves dependant on someone else - no, adding to that problem is the fact that most of us make ourselves dependant on several someones. And trust me - if I ask my team of online consultants what to wear or what to eat for breakfast, I will get more than one answer! I'm asking them to make my decisions easier, but in reality they often only provide more options, thus making it even harder!

Let's pretend this post isn't as long as it is, and that you've actually bothered reading all the way down to the bottom. There is a life lesson down here, somewhere. Something to do with Facebook, perhaps - how being away was good, and being back is good, and that somewhere in the middle probably is the golden direction to take. Something to do with how I communicate - of remembering that sometimes having all the options and making a qualified decision isn't the rational choice, if nothing else because it takes too much time. And something about Sex and the City. It's not a perfect show, and the philosophy is definitely not perfect. But it is comforting, entertaining.

As I wrote the last few words towards completion of this strange and confusing post, I couldn't help but wonder: has our inability to make decisions led us to accept a philosophy based on product placement and idealized lifestyles to excuse our otherwise chaotic existence? Yes. Yes it has. Stop asking rhetorical questions.

On this

This is irony. I overheard a conversation last night. In a restaurant, in Norway. The party having the conversation was a 50/50 mix of Norwegians and non-Norwegians, so the language employed was English. They were talking, eagerly, about many topics not appropriate for this blog (for instance, let me non-appropriately mention that I now know that these ladies thought it should be called "IT engineer's crack" rather than plumber's crack). What feels more appropriate, though, is to refer to the part of the conversation I meant to address in this paragraph:

(only now it's not in  that paragraph anymore)

(or this one. Also - this part of the conversation was not in English, for reasons that shall be revealed)

"Hva heter ordforråd på engelsk?"

This is irony.

Let me translate.

"What's vocabulary in English?"

This is irony.

This is not:

I'm having a Facebook detox experience. Meaning I'm off the drug, cold turkey. This week only - I wouldn't dream of quitting altogether - but still. I needed to prove to myself that I could. And I needed to break the destructive pattern I've been stuck in there for a while. If you logged off two minutes ago, chances are not much new will have happened when you compulsively opens the window again for the 19th time that day.

Interestingly enough, the thing that finally made me realize it was a bad habit I could break was the introduction of Facebook's new timeline. I love it. And I don't see the issues so many people seem to have with it. Okay, so the timeline makes it a lot easier to see what you were up to on Facebook three years ago. So what? You posted that three years ago, knowing well that you yourself was responsible for the content. If you can't handle it today, chances are you shouldn't have posted it back then.

Personally, though, I look back and remember happier times. Sadder times. Different times. I find it interesting to see my own (less destructive?) patterns - how I for weeks would post nothing but rants about my thesis (not unlike what I did on this blog), or the weather, or - believe it or not - what I actually was doing. "CC is at work" or "CC is about to go for a walk". (Did you remember the "is"? I'd almost forgotten) I was more boring in the past. My current updates are more amusing (but also an aqcuired taste. I like to think that those who haven't gotten used to it unsubscribed from me ages ago).

What perhaps surprised me the most, though, was how little I posted in the past. It seemed as though, perhaps, I didn't visit the site more than once or twice a day. Huh. How did that work?

Like with the missing status update "is", I had forgotten that my Facebook life once consisted of different patterns than it does now. I once knew how to limit my own use.

Thus, the discovery of a younger, naïver, funny-but-not-quite-as-clever self, through the help of the Facebook timeline, helped me realize I could just quit. For a while. This is irony, I suppose.

And yes. This. Irony. Charles Dickens (happy birthday yesterday, old man!) had it right. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times". In a way I am happier with my life at the moment than I've been for as long as I can remember. In a way I am not at all. I compartmentalize. Try to accept that I don't have to know everything, professionally and personally. I enjoy a great many things, hate a great many others. It's the hardest time of year for me - when winter is loosening its grip but spring still is aeons away. I long for spring. Or for getting away. At the same time as there is nowhere I'd rather be, than right here, right now. I went ice skating this weekend. And I watched an incredulous amount of "Sex and the City". I'm in Carrie-overload, the greatest philosopher of our time. I listen to Eels and Wilco, trying to catch the lyrics. But I only hear voices and instruments. I miss writing. Yesterday reminded me. I'm rusty and my writer's confidence is at an all time low, but I miss it. I wish I had the strenght to tell myself to take it up again, the way I managed to tell myself to quit Facebook. Once I decided, it was so much easier than I'd thought.

Is it irony that we all know the first part of that Dickens quote, but most of us have no idea what comes next? It's not his most famous work, after all, even if it probably is the most famous quote:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities.

Indeed. 'Tis a good quote (even if I generally despise quotes).

On old-year resolutions

2011 has been an absolutely crazy year. It feels like it has gone by extremely quickly. At the same time, January must be a decade ago. So much have happened in my life - good things, bad things, meh things, unexpected things, if-you-had-told-me-this-twelve-moons-ago-I-wouldn't-have-believed-it things. I wouldn't define 2011 as a "good" year. Nor a "bad" one. It's been - interesting. Exhausting. Amazing. And many other words that end with -ing.

Now that it is coming to an end, however, it feels appropriate to take a look back. Set the record straight and clean the slate for the new year, so to speak (in mixed and mauled metaphors).

I won't bore you with the details. I've already covered much of it on this blog: Tokyo, work, earthquakes, trauma, Tokyo again, confusing times, wonderful times, back home, OsLove, unemployment, resignation, fresh beginnings. And so on. To save time (and details), however, I thought it might be interesting to look all the way back to the very beginning of this year. To the post titled "On resolutions".

I said I didn't do New Year's Resolutions, and I meant it. In an attempt to make a twist of the ordinary variety of them, though, I did write some:

1) I will do [blank] that I have never done before.

2) I will strive to stop [blank], and begin [blank].

3) I will [blank] without [blank].

I can honestly say I've met them all. Some several times. And I didn't see it coming.

At the start of 2011, I had no idea what sort of year I'd have. Fortunately. I probably wouldn't have been able to handle it.

At the end of 2011, though, I am glad that I did handle it, or at least survive it. That I got to face all the life lessons I've earned this year. That both good and bad things happened, and that they mixed together most likely will make 2011 stand out as the most extraordinary year of my life (so far). In terms of personal growth, I wouldn't be without it - any of it - for the world.

Thus, it's time to make some new resolutions. In the spirit of 2011 being manageable only because I knew nothing of most of the things that would happen, I think I should go for a similar approach to 2012.

1) I will make sure to [blank] at least once.

2) I am going to [blank] until I reach the goal of [blank].

3) I will continue to get even better at [blank].

2012 - I am ready for you, whatever you will bring (but please don't let it be the apocalypse. Let's prove those Mayans wrong!!!).

On wordless week

I was blogging according to the NaBloWriMo schedule. And then I wasn't. Suddenly, I stopped.

I've never not completed a blog challenge I've committed to before. I've written short and/or crappy posts, yes, but I still posted daily. This time I didn't. Not because I couldn't. Not because I didn't have the time. I have had less time than usual this week, but I still would have found a way if I wanted to. But I didn't want to. So I stopped.

I hardly think anyone missed me. Even the eager readers that still stop by here every now and then out of old habit, won't have minded a few days off. Let's face it, there isn't people out there whose happiness relies on daily posts from me. The only person whose happiness that should be even remotely tied to that, is my own. And I didn't miss me either.

Blog challenges often suit me, because I have a talent for writing about nothing. Spinning yarn from imaginary wool, it's my thing. But really. Sometimes the world only needs so much yarn.

I've lately pondered the concept of talking about nothing. Of talking to, or with, someone if you don't really have anything to say. In relationships, romantic ones or friendships, this can be crucial. Few have so much happening in their lives that they constantly find topics to talk to their spouses with. And so the ability to make meaningful conversation over small things - things that doesn't matter - becomes important.

Blog wise, I'm not sure the same applies. It does if you insist on blogging daily. You will inevitably run into a dry spell, and unless you are willing to repeat yourself, it is highly likely that you'll have to result to a few posts about nothing.

If you don't insist on posting daily, however, many would benefit from posting only when they actually have something to say. And by "many", I mean me. Naturally there will still be the occasional "nothing"-post - I am me, after all - but I think I am done with blog challenges for now. When I first got into them, they were a brilliant way of practicing dependability. Learning how to post daily. Later ones were brilliant networking-wise. Finding new blogs, earning new followers. And some of the blog challenges have been tests for myself, to see how much I can realistically expect to achieve when I deliberately put too much on my plate.

This last one, however, may be the most important of all. It taught me that I have finally found a mode of blogging I am comfortable with. I don't feel the pressure to post daily, or on a regular basis. I don't feel the need to follow any blog "rules". I won't visit more blogs than I have the time to, and then only the ones I want to visit. I don't do pity-visits, and certainly hope no one does to me.

If I have nothing to say, I won't blog. Unless I want to say something about nothing.

On 351

This is my three-hundred-and-fifty-first post.

I know.

What a number.

Why is it that we only celebrate certain numbers? Why is 60 a "better" birthday than 61, or 59?

Why should I celebrate 350 posts, but forego 351?

The simple reason I'm doing the opposite isn't my conviction that any number can and should be celebrated. It's that I didn't pay attention. I didn't realize I'd written 350 posts. "Written." Some of them are just pictures. But then others are lengthy as (relatively short) novels.

Yet. 351. That is a lot of posts. A lot of words I organized into a certain order, and then decided fit for a wider audience than my own two eyes.

I've gone through many phases of blogging. The enthusiastic beginner. The too-soon confident veteran at two months of daily posting. The resigned, yet optimistic "my original task and purpose of blogging is gone - now what?" The hiatus. The gradual normalization of "everyday life" posts. The random. The random random. Another hiatus. Acceptance of my own limitations. Begrudgingly going on, despite insecurity in the motivation-, relevance- and audience departments.

At 351 I have a sober view on what I can and wish to accomplish with this blog. I take no interest in the popularity-part of blogging. I publish these posts, so obviously I don't mind people reading them, but I am not advertising them. In fact, don't read it. I don't mind. Mind. I mind a lot of things, but whether or not you read my blog isn't really one of them. At least not if you don't read it... 351 posts after I started, I still feel funny about finding out that people I know - in real life-know - are reading my blog. I don't speak about blogging unless forced into a corner. And then only until I can think of a change of topic.

I'm currently in the market for jobs. This blog is - despite the pseudonym - tied to my name. Google me, and it's hit number three. Again - I don't mind. I accept it. But I also don't feel completely comfortable with it. If a potential employer googles me, they will find this blog. If they bother reading it, they might learn certain things about me. Things I (again) don't mind people knowing, but I also wouldn't mind them not knowing. None of these are bad things. But they are slightly different things from the key qualities I try to promote as the part of me I prefer letting people know first. By reading this blog, you are entering my world through a side door traditionally reserved for people that know me quite well.

It's funny, really. 351 posts portraying a version of myself I frequently avoid showing at all. My creativity - a well-kept secret for most. My desires to use this creativity, preferably writing, more actively - definitely a well-kept secret. For almost everyone. Or at least I like to think so. People who do know me well, and who also read this blog, claim the two personas aren't that different. I suppose I, in my feeble attempts to protect what I consider private, in real life assume I have more control over what I share than what I really do. (I do apologize for that sentence. It is overly complicated, I know. You might want to go back and read it again, now that you've come this far.) Here, in writing, online, I can control everything - of course - but I have voluntarily given up control. In reality the end result might be the same: hello, meet me.

So. Through 351 posts you have been given the opportunity to get to know me. I'm willing to wager than no one has read all 351. That's okay. Chances are you didn't miss any key lessons in Cruella 101 by skipping a post here and there. Chances are you didn't miss any key lessons if you missed most of those posts either. It's up to you whether you want to go back and find out. I don't mind. I also don't mind if you choose to stick around for the next 351. I hope I will.

On ecards

I'm not really fond of ecards. I feel they were a thing waaaay back when the internet was still a novelty, when the average person received less than 20 emails per day, and when our needs for non-flesh social interaction wasn't covered by social media. The last ten years or so, however, whenever I receive emails that say they have ecards in them, I automatically assume they are spam.

Still. Now I'm kinda hooked at these meme cards that are flying around the interwebs. They. Are. Freakin'. Hilarious. I've probably spent hours browsing that site to find the perfect card to "send" to every person I've ever interacted with. And you'll find them. someecards.com has a card for any occasion. You want to send a thank you note to your cousin who took the blame for you when you got caught stealing sigarettes in the fifth grade? Should be there. You want a unique way of telling your neighbour you're sorry your dog bit his foot off? Pretty sure you'll find one. You want a card expressing that extra-special feeling you have for a guy you almost slept with, but as you were about to take your top off you remembered that you hadn't shaved your legs and so you made up a silly excuse and now it's all awkward? Yeah. There is a card for that.

Plus, they make the perfect blog fodder for days when you don't really have anything to write about.

On denial

It's not October. No it's not. I know you think it is, but you're wrong. It's not October. If it had been, it would mean that it is no longer September, and September just started. In fact, I'm not even sure it's September yet. Wasn't it just August? Or July? It's not October.

It's not October. October would mean that it is really, properly, inevitably autumn. And clearly it is not. I mean, apart from the colourful leaves, the dark nights, the cool air, it hardly feels like autumn at all. If you just wear a little extra clothes - two pairs of woolen socks, tights and pantyhose, and extra shirt, double jacket, a scarf, hat and gloves - it's quite warm. Clearly, it's not October.

It's not October. October is so - last year. Last October was October. This year? I think we'll just skip it altogether. Who says we cant go from September to November? Or maybe not even do November? December is nice. Let's do December soon.

It's not October. It's just - not. Besides, if it was October, that would mean NaBloWriMo, and that is just crazy. Blogging every day for a month? Nah.... It's not October.

(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 X

And just like that, Jack was her ex. 

Okay, so this is a sorry-ass eXcuse for a post. Xorry. The thing is I'm not used to the letter X. Look it up in the Norwegian dictionary. You might miss it. It will probably have two entries - xylophone and then one I can't remember. Maybe xenophobia. 

Also, I'm not in a bloggy mood. Usually, towards the end of month-long challenges I feel good about myself for having completed them. This time, I'm not so sure. I have not been very good with the community aspect of it all. I don't know how many blogs I've visited (old and new), but it sure hasn't been anywhere near the amount one probably should try to visit when participating in a challenge with 1200+ participants. 

So what. I said at the beginning that I was doing it for persistence, not community. I haven't expected to gain hugely in followers or following, and I haven't. I appreciate the new blogs I've found as a result of the A-Z, but I don't feel terribly bad about those I didn't get a chance to visit. The problem, however, is that my initial goal also failed. Yes, I have put up a post (of sorts) every day (except Sundays) since the start of April. I managed to finish the challenge. But it hasn't inspired me to continue in the same fashion. 

Frankly, I am wondering if I am stretching my ability and interest with my attempts of blogging daily. I am actually growing weary of my own style. I am a little tired of listening to my own voice. If this was a blog I was visiting, I'd take a break from it right about now. 

There might be a break starting where April and A-Z ends. The reasons for this are not those described above, but rather my upcoming return to Tokyo. Yes. I'm going back. I guess writing it here makes it official (though Facebook already knows). I have set my mind to make it a good remainder of my stay. The earthquakes might interfere with how much I enjoy it, but I am determined to try to ignore that. I am queasy about going back, but also relieved to have made the decision. 

Maybe being tired of myself and my own voice will change when I return to a place and a life which will give me something to write about? I assume so. Thus this is a notification of a possible short break. After Y and Z, don't expect to see me for maybe a week. Then I'll be craving to tell you ALL about my veryvery exciting (and possibly earthquakey) life back in Tokyo... 

X marks the spot... 

(And no, I haven't broken up with my boyfriend, Jack. I don't even have a boyfriend named Jack. I merely unplugged the headphones from my computer and saw a story in there, somewhere...)

On questions, of the frequently googled variety.

Every now and then I check the stats for this site. Not actually because I am so terribly obsessed about how many people visit my blog (well, okay, slightly because of that too), but because checking the stats can be quite entertaining. You see, there is a function that allows you to see from what website the visitors came. Quite a lot of them are from google.com, .au, .ca, .so-on and .so-forth. In itself not very interesting, but amusing when you also look at the search terms used by these visitors. Or at least the ones landing on my blog are fairly interesting...

This week

One of the major hits this week have been from people googling the sentence: ”Adam Hills you’re not special princess”. I am sure Adam Hills is glad to hear that… 

Actually, though, I happen to know what people are looking for when they google it. It's a bit (stop laughing Aussies...) he did as part of the hilarious "Live at the Apollo", and it's got many of my favourite Adam Hills jokes. 

What I don't get, however, is why these googlers end up on my blog. I don't have the video here. Or rather, I didn't use to. But since I feel the need to satisfy these people who are clearly looking for a laugh, I am now posting the video here. Hopefully it'll satisfy some of the rest of you too. 

The princess part starts at about 6:52, but do yourself a favour and watch the rest too. And make sure you don't have any coffee or such in your mouth while watching (it will end up in your nose/on your screen). 

(Also, for clarity - the reason these people end up here might have a little something to do with this post...)


This month

Turning to my monthly stats, there are some truly random searches. I particularly like "nuclear chemistry site", "gingerbread song egner", and "norway starbucks salary". Let me try to answer your questions, random googlers.

Nuclear chemistry is not, has not been, and definitely never will be a specialty of mine. But since you came here looking for it, I can only assume that you ended up on my post on the Fukushima threat. This post was written when I still was in Japan, and it is coloured by this. However, I still feel that most of it is valid, even though some of my points seem less impressive now that the nuclear disaster has been ongoing for more than a month. "Fukushima will not be a Chernobyl 2!" I said. And yet - the disaster has since been upgraded to the top level of severity on the nuclear disaster scale. The same as Chernobyl. I still don't think Fukushima will have the lasting and widespread effects Chernobyl had - the way the radioactive material have leaked this time, for instance, is still quite different than it was in 1986. But there is no doubt that Fukushima has become much more severe than I was willing to believe one month ago. 


Was this what you were looking for, random googler? If not, let me guide you to a "nuclear chemistry site". You can never go wrong with Wikipedia. (Yes you can. Muchly. But if you want nuclear chemistry beyond that I am afraid you'll have to look elsewhere than this blog for answers.)


Torbjørn Egner's "The Gingerbread Song". You're at the wrong time of year, that's for sure. In Norway we only make these cookies for Christmas. But okay - I don't mind if you want to sing the song all year long. I have written about it, but I failed to include the actual song. Let me make up for that right away. Here you'll find one version. It probably won't make any sense to anyone that isn't Norwegian (since you won't understand the lyrics, or the pun), so I better also include a link to the original version of the song. You still won't understand the lyrics, but at least you might be able to see why the former is amusing (it's a parody). Also, I took the liberty to translate (very directly, very unlyrically) the lyrics. Just in case that's what you were looking for: 

When a gingerbread cookie baker
Is baking gingerbread cookies
He first takes a cooking pot
And a kilo margarine
He melts the butter [margarine..?] in the pot
And the next he has to do,
Is to mix the melted butter
With a kilo sugar.

And while the butter and sugar is foaming
You take eight egg yolks
That you stir into the pot
With a kilo wheat flour
And in the end you drop
Into the pot a small tea spoon pepper
And then stir all about!

I make no excuses for the fact that it obviously makes no sense. Plus, the recipe is rubbish, and NOT for gingerbread cookies. Egner was a better writer than was he a baker (though I JUST realized he changed P.O.V. during the song... Not so great writer either? Childhood hero lost? Nah, I forgive him).  

Norwegian Starbucks salary. This one is easy. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. You won't get a dime (or an øre, as would be more likely, this being Norway and all. Øre = 100th of a krone, by the way. Øre [also] = ear...) The reason? You'll find out here. 

All time

Two search phrases dominate my all time search history. Both seem incredibly unreasonable to me. 


Fraggle rock characters. 77 people have searched for "Fraggle Rock characters" and arrived at my blog. 68 simply searched for "Fraggle Rock". Add 21 for "Uncle Traveling Matt" and a dozen each for "fraggle uncle" or "fraggle rock pictures" and this is clearly one of the main searches that leads to my blog. Not giraffes. Oh, no. Fraggles. I love me some Fraggles, but this is just silly. Haven’t I written like one post about them? One!


And yet. They came here looking for Fraggles. Poor things. I feel the need to provide Fraggles. 


Looking for the theme song? It's here! And here. The latter is the Norwegian version, by the way. You know you want to hear how it sounds in Norwegian right..? Of course you do. That's why the former ALSO is the Norwegian version ;) 


By the way - did you know how JK Rowling came up with the word for non-magical people in the Harry Potter books?

Muppet + Fraggle = MUGGLE! 

(True story)

Cats the musical. I am no crazy cat lady, but I am a crazy-cat lady. I’m not the crazy one – the cats are. You see, I have this special thing - I don't know if it's a touch, a way of moving, a smell, or Digression forbid, a stench - but cats love it. I generally get along well with other people's cats (I've never owned one myself), but the real oddity is with stray cats (actual cats). Stray cats have followed me home since I was little (still cats. No metaphor intended). They would seek out my window - among the dozens of other windows in my house, they would always find mine - and then sit there and cry all night, until I took pity on them and talked back, or came out, or fed them or some such thing. Like magic.

Apparently, this magic also works across the internet. I know I have written about this before, but it still baffles me. Why do people search for cats, and end up here, of all places?!? The internet is swarming with cats (do cats swarm? A murder of crows, a pack of cats? The internet is packed with cats? Hm...). There is absolutely no need to come here to look for them! But since you did, let me help you out. I aim to please (and purr) after all (this might be why cats like me).

A great deal of the cat-searches that lead to my blog also include the words "the musical". Now, you might think this is the critically (and publically) acclaimed musical "Cats", but you are wrong boring. "The musical cat(s)", I say! Just take a look at this:



So there. Those where my answers to your frequently googled questions. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try to find out who or what "gregory cauthen" and "rooibos charcot marie tooth" are, and why they lead people to my blog. 

On ostrich orange ottoman orgasms

Don't worry - this blog hasn't turned into a kinky XX shop (if you think I put the XX's in because I'm too prudish you're only partially right. I put them in because I couldn't think of any dirty words. Also, I am prudish).

Even if I am prudish, however, I can be led astray. And I have good friends that frequently try.

Last night I was on Facebook posting silly status updates along the lines of "I've been kidnapped by bad habits". (I even tried to make people pay ransom, since I am broke, but my luck was out. No one care enough about me to pay my ransom. Or, as one friend pointed out, ransom rarely helps. In fact, if other people paid my bad habits, it might even make things worse. But I digress...)

Another friend, the lovely Tara, was using her status update to complain about how she was stuck in the A-Z challenge. Been there, done that, I thought, and thus I thought I'd make a "helpful" suggestion - why not write her O-post about ottomans (or Ottomans - take your pick)? I'm not sure Tara felt particularly helped, but we had a nice chat that resulted in much amusement (and a coining of the term SLAWCS - I'm sure Tara will explain this at the first possible occasion)..

Fifteen minutes into this chat, another friend, the equally lovely Tami, arrived. For some reason, when Tami arrives, any conversation tends to take a naughty turn. Don't know why. It's a force of habit.

Anyway, Tami too was having problems with the A-Z challenge. What to to do for O? (Ooo - or it won't rhyme) Both Tami and Tara had toyed with the thought of going with "the big O". Personally, I was going orange. I still thought Tara should do ottomans. (Not "do"-do... See, now that Tami is in the picture, my mind turns to the gutter...) But then an idea was born - how about we mixed it all together and did a three-way of sorts?

I was slightly worried. I was game for orange (I already had it covered - but now you'll have to wait till post-April to read it), could think of one or two ideas for Ottomans (or ottomans), and even though I've no ideas where the ostriches came from - sure, I'd make it work. But... The big O? Hm... (This is where my prudishness comes in) How would this work with keeping my blog PG-Twitterteen? (I don't know what Twitter has to do with anything. Really.)

I swallowed my prude, though, and accepted the challenge. Unfortunately, now I have to think of something to actually write (that is only partially orange). Thus:

Orange ottomans.

Orange ostriches.

Ottoman ostriches.

Orange Ottoman ostriches.

Ostrich ottomans.

Ostrich Oranges.

Ottoman oranges.

And then. Of course. Ostrich orgasms. Orange orgasms. Ottoman orgasms, or, orgasm ottomans. Oh, dear. My blog will be flooded with spam and creeps and the Internet is likely to explode. Before that happens, though, don't forget to visit both Tara and Tami today. I'm quite curious how they are tackling this challenge within the challenge!

UPDATE - We're a foursome! Our dear friend Natasha took us by surprise, and joined in on the fun. You need to visit there too - her part is brilliant!

On A for April

I'm guessing that 99% of anyone visiting this blog today already know what the A-Z challenge is, and the remaining 1% will be capable of clicking the icon in the sidebar to find out. Therefore, I will not go into details about why I am blogging six out of seven days a week this month, or why my titles suddenly will seem to have a peculiar relationship with the alphabet.

I'm also guessing that a great deal of the 800 other blogs participating in the A-Z challenge will also write about "April" today (funny how that seems appropriate), with the notable exception of Mary who claims we had a mind-melt over titles (only I used mine on Wednesday).

So what? April is a good topic to blog about. It's a spring month. At least if you're not living in Norway. Which I currently am. But we have great hopes of spring eventually catching up with us. Before summer...

Fine. So April isn't the most interesting of subjects. How about April Fool's Day? Anybody fool you today? I'm suspecting my dad will have a go - he usually does. As a kid he managed to trick me, often (when I was a kid, I mean. I didn't know my dad when he was a kid). When I grew older, I was prepared. But I never tricked him back. You'd think I would be able to, but I don't seem to plan well enough for this "beloved" holiday. Last year I had a go with my blog readers, though I think it probably only served to make them forever skeptical about the logic of my native language.

Perhaps I'd do better to choose a different topic than April, then. Aardvark? Algorithms? Arthochromatic erythroblast? Nah... I think I'll just call it a post and await tomorrow. B. B for bullfinch? Bubble baths? Brittle? I may have to think this through some more...

On awkward awards

Okay. This might be a case of shooting myself in the foot, but I think I have to say it.

Awards are awkward.

There. Good to have it out.

I remember when I first started noticing blog awards I was curious, and in awe. How great these blogs must be, getting all sorts of "awards"! I didn't at first ponder over who gave the awards, or even why. Thus, when I got my first I was thrilled, and I proudly displayed it in my sidebar as I had seen others do. Someone liked my blog enough to give it an award!

That last part is the one thing still remaining in my opinion about awards from the first encounter. It is nice to be liked, and I do think that most people genuinely like the blogs they choose to give an award to. Which is nice. Also, it helps spreading the word about these likeable blogs, which is also nice. Nice, nice, nice.

Despite this, however, I have now decided to remove myself from the whole awardosphere within the blogosphere.

There are several reasons. First, and it's an important one, is that almost all the awards require quite a lot of work. You have to pass it on. Link to whomever gave it to you, to everyone you pass it on and their uncle Fredo. You have to display it in your sidebar, or on a different page, or in a post or on whatever metaphorical mantelpiece you choose (but you ought to pick one, or you'll feel bad and ungrateful). And often you have to answer 5-50 questions about yourself, write 17 lies and one truth, confess 3 sins or say a Hail Mary.

Because of all this work, I have for several months been slacking whenever a friendly "you have an award!" pops up in my inbox. I'm flattered, and I think it's sweet, but I also feel like pretending I didn't see it. Once or twice I simply forgot about the entire thing, and probably came out as the most arrogant, ungrateful person on earth. More than once or twice I have said I would put it up on my site, but still failed to do so.

A second reason I feel awkward about awards, however, is that while most of them are sweet, some of them have ulterior motives (or rather, the person giving them do). I have seen what I'd like to refer to as "spawards" - they are the award equivalent of spam. Many bloggers receive them at once, from a previously unknown sender, whose only intent is for each and everyone of us to display an icon with a link to their site on our blogs. They don't give us anything (other than fake credit), but we give them ads. For free.

I don't do ads on my blog, on principle. Similarly, I won't do spawards. Occasionally, however, they are hard to distinguish from "actual" awards. Recently I got one I suspect is a spaward, but rather than being from a company or organization, this was from a person, a single blogger. A clever way of promoting your blog, or an annoying and cunning trick to lure people you have no intention of networking with into visiting it?

Finally, and more shallowly, I am sick of the way the awards clutter up my sidebar. They made it look messy and disorganized, less pretty and less professional. So now they're gone. For good.

In the future, if I get an award, I will naturally still think it's nice (especially if it's from one of my blog buddies), and I will thank him/her, and I will mean it. But I will not pass it on. I will not display it or mention it here on my blog.

I really hope this does not offend anyone (as it is not intended to do so). It's really just a matter of giving myself an award I've been wanting for a long time.

On resolutions

It's been a busy start of 2011 for me, but this time not the "UÆÆÆÆÆ - I've got so much to do I don't know where to start!" kind of busy the end of 2010 was, but more of a mellow version: "I've got a million things to fix but since I've been so busy lately I think I'll rather read a book".

Thus, my messy messy room back in my parents' house where I am staying for the time being (messy because it's been stuffed with the residue from my moving out of my Oslo-apartment) has continued to be messy. My empty empty suitcase has continued to be empty, even though my mother has nudged me (rather often) that I should start packing. The big things I've got under control - flights are booked, visa is in my passport, and there is a room awaiting me when I arrive in Tokyo. But all those small things - pre-travel purchases, packing, laundry (though, embarrassingly enough, my mother has taken charge of that department, so I can only happily [and guiltily] figure out which of my laundered clothes to fit into my suitcase when the time arrives.

If I've been so unburdened with work, however, then how do I justify not getting back to my blogging before now? Well, I have considered it. And then it fell into the "I'll get there, eventually" pile along with the tidying and the packing. Surely I could justify that I had other things to do right now. I have had other things to do, after all, and some of them I even did. Such as read through and give feedback on two friends' manuscripts. Such as dragging my butt to the dentist. Such as hosting a farewell-party of sorts with some of my friends, and planning a new one with some more of them. But the bottom line is that I haven't avoided blogging because I didn't have the time, it was because I didn't feel like it. The procrastination ghost has once again taken control over me (and I feel obliged to pay it respect for as long as I can - in less than two weeks I will be in the middle of adapting to a busy job in a busy city, after all).

I'm rambling. This post was supposed to be all about resolutions, and how I don't make any, since I tend to not keep them. I also dislike the idea that we only get once chance to make improvements in our lives each year. I imagine we'd soon discover that we wouldn't get much done. If you have only one deadline each year, it's a lot worse if you miss it.

However, despite my intentions, I find myself examining the records at the end of a year. 2010 has been an odd mix of accomplishments and failures on my part, and I would be very grateful if 2011 mostly consisted of the former. For that to happen, however, I need a plan. Thus resolutions are hard to avoid.

I have decided, since my goal is to have accomplishments rather than failures, to make them fairly easy to fulfill. Thus, here are my 2011 resolutions:

1) I will do [blank] that I have never done before.

2) I will strive to stop [blank], and begin [blank].

3) I will [blank] without [blank].

By filling in the blanks once I see what is actually possible to achieve, I can hardly fail. For instance, I have already fulfilled number one, since I have never blogged in January before...

Happy New Year!

On radio silence

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by the availability we create for ourselves by constantly being online, having our cell phones on at all times and generally being easy to contact wherever, whenever? 

I do. The remedy is often to log off for a little while, for instance going for a solitary walk without bringing any electronic equipment. The world will just have to accept that you are not available for a while. Sometimes it takes a little longer – if someone had offered me two weeks in a cabin in a remote location where no internet could reach me, I would have accepted immediately. I would have brought a cell phone in case of an emergency, but I think I would have switched it off for the most of the time to experience something I haven’t really done in years (if ever) – complete radio silence. With no one to talk to, no Facebook statuses to “like”, no text messages to reply to, I believe that my mind and my imagination would get a much-deserved and needed break. A complete disconnection from the world might be exactly what I need to recharge my own batteries.

Now, the chances of being offered this cabin is slim (the chances of it existing at all is slim, in the age of satellites and wireless connections anywhere in the world), but there is nothing stopping me from attempting radio silence right here in my own apartment. Nothing but my own will.

Because the one thing most frequently interfering with my intentions to take a break from the world is myself. I can’t seem to stop checking my email, “just one more time”; or refreshing Facebook to see if anything new happened; or scroll down one of the newspapers I follow just to make sure that Lady Gaga hasn't done anything crazy the last ten minutes. Even if I turn off my phone and unplug the internet and lock the door, I would still consider sitting down to write a blog post intended for others to read. Interaction has become an integral part of my life, and it seems almost impossible to cut it out. The task, then, is to keep it to a manageable level.

Because the reason I don’t unplug the internet isn’t that I can’t, it is that I won’t. After all I like the interaction. Even if I occasionally have to duck away from people, online and offline, to preserve my sanity, I wouldn’t want to become a hermit full time (not even one with internet access). Perhaps I should strive to take a week or two off a year, though, just to prove to myself I can?

As you all should know (since I’m constantly complaining about it), the final deadline for my MA thesis is coming up. I survived NaBloWriMo thinking I would not blog much in November, but nevertheless post every now and then, since I do have a few spare posts written. However, even if these posts are written, I realized that I shouldn't post them just yet. Until I have passed the deadline for my thesis, I have other things to do. It wouldn't feel right to post just for the sake of posting, when it is becoming increasingly apparent to me (and everyone else, I suspect) that I don't have the time or stamina to keep up with comments, both here and on other blogs. I miss being an active participant in the blogosphere, but until I have a little more spare time and brain power, I don't see the point of keeping up this half-mode I've succumbed to. Thus I am evoking radio silence. I am going to the dark side of the moon, and I won’t be back in Earth orbit for a few weeks (I’m thinking December).

Wish me luck – both in finishing the thesis and in staying true to my resolution of radio silence – I’m frankly not sure which one will be the hardest.

See you on the flip side! 

On Halloween, it's a wrap

Happy Halloween!

If you've been tuning in here at all this week, you will have noticed my Halloweeny posts, featuring everything from scary penguins to eyeball coctails (not cocktails - long story... By the way, I can reveal that Mark solved "The Mystery of the Missing K" in yesterday's post, in case you missed it...). Did you also notice that some of the posts had hidden "Easter eggs" (because, nothing is as appropriate to give Easter eggs for Halloween...) in them? A few of the images (but not all) had Halloween-themed links. You'll have to go back and see for yourself if you're curious (I'm sneaksy that way).

Anyway, this is not only Halloween, it is also the end of the 31 day long blog marathon that is NaBloWriMo. I have proudly accomplished my target, of posting every day, even if some of the posts were sorry excuses to say the least. Hope you all enjoyed it, because I know I did (even if I was overly stressed at times - this largely had to do with other things than blogging, though...).

I will not continue my everyday schedule here - but don't be too surprised if a post or two pops up in November too. Once the thesis is done, I expect to return to a more regular schedule (whatever that is) come December (more about that later). I have a few weeks left of suffering (and suffering it is), before I have a few days to recover before Christmas mania sets in at work. And then there is the glorious Christmas vacation which this year probably will involve moving for me...

You see, another big thing coming up. I suppose it is official now (I've signed the contract and everything, plus a certain Watery Tart insisted on sharing it with her closest 261 friends *snort*) - I'm going to JAPAN in January. For the next six months I'll be an intern at the Norwegian Embassy in Tokyo. I am very excited (and somewhat terrified) about this, but if my previous experiences in Japan are anything to judge by, I should have a glorious time.

So there. I survived October. If I also survive November and December, chances are this blog will report from the life of a gajin come 2011...

On Halloween, sort of

Halloween is coming up. So what? I'm Norwegian, we don't really do Halloween here. Well, we have started to celebrate it the last few years, but when I was a kid, there was no such thing as trick or treat. The only I knew about Halloween, I got from American movies and the annual Halloween card sent to me from my American relatives.

Halloween is a commercial wet dream, though, so the retail business have done a considerable job of adopting it the last few years. We now have kids running from door to door (though nowhere near the amount they have in the US), we have Halloween parties, and the larger grocery stores even stock up on pumpkins for carving (a very un-Norwegian vegetable).

Personally, I like the idea of Halloween even if I think that the commercial aspect of it (especially here where we don't really have the tradition) is a bit silly. Though, it's not entirely true that we don't have the tradition - we do have the church holiday Allehelgensaften which originated (like Halloween, I believe) in the Catholic church, and somehow stuck as one of the minor celebrations in the Norwegian Lutheran church after Catholicism was abolished in the 16th century. Or something. My knowledge of the subject is limited, because even if this technically is a church celebration it isn't one of the big ones (and I'm not much of a church-person).

Anyway. Halloween is here to stay, apparently, and I think that in the future I'd like to celebrate it more. Dress-up, scary movies, pumpkin carving (and -cupcakes, or something pumkinish pastryish), lanterns, decorations - I'm all for it. Next year. This year, I probably won't even remember to celebrate my own birthday (which is on Allehelgensdag, the day after Halloween)... Instead, I intend to "celebrate" Halloween here on the blog. For the last week of NaBloWriMo (and probably the last week of everyday/regular blogging for me for a while), then, there will be a Halloween themed post up. Most of them will be just pictures (though funny pics, if I say so myself), some of them might contain more. We shall see...