On audio input

I've developed a new habit/addiction.

I used to listen to Spotify on my way to and from work, but as much as I love music, it would eventually get boring as music frequently works more as a way of shutting out the world than to entertain or otherwise engage me. I've tried reading - while listening to music, even - but it doesn't really work (and the music or lack thereof has nothing to do with it). If I take the bus I will get travel sick from looking down too much, and if I'm on the subway it's frequently so crowded that it is difficult to find a seat, and reading standing up isn't really my thing.

However, a while back a friend told me about "Serial". The podcast. As I'm sure everyone in the entire world has heard of it by now I won't go into details, but if there are anyone left out there who hasn't listened to "Serial" I think they should. Go find it online. It's free. Listen. Get hooked.

Anyway, "Serial" is over (or at least the first season), and I needed more. With little over half an hour travel time each direction, I need more than an hour per day to fill my needs. Hence, I would need a lot of podcasts. I've tried several, and while others such as "This American Life" or "Radiolab" are good, they don't hook me the way "Serial" did, and with all of them there is a quantity problem. I need more. (I really do sound like an addict...)

Thus, I discovered audiobooks. First, I got a free trial one from Audible (which turned out to be "free", as they automatically connected that to my Amazon account, took my credit card details from there and proceeded to charge me monthly without me being aware that I had signed up for any kind of membership... Bastards!). After that, I moved onto an app called "Storytel" [sic - not a typo - one L only].

Storytel doesn't have the greatest catalogue, but for now I am satisfied. I've been through quite a lot of memoirs, which are made infinitely better when the person having written them also is the one reading (so far, I've listened to Lena Dunham, Stephen Fry, Kaitlin Moran and more). Love that! I wish I could find such audiobooks from the politicians I am writing my dissertation on. Would be so interesting (I did buy another book from Amazon, since they had already charged me I might as well make use of my "credit" - but I'm not sure Jimmy Carter reading about something other than the topic I am researching will have the same effect, and at any rate there is no hope to find anything from Nixon or Ford, and I don't think Kissinger is the greatest audio performer - though he is unmatched when it comes to the written word).

I like thematically appropriate listens, so when I was meadering around on a U.S. university campus (specifically University of Michigan in Ann Arbor) this spring, I listened to Stoner by John Williams. The world of academia is more than a mere setting in this novel; it's almost a character of its own. Thus my circumstance made an already interesting book even more captivating, though I am sure I must have looked odd to the people around me - walking around with my ear plugs staring at campus buildings as though I saw them in 1915 rather than 2015.

When I came home I went back to podcasts for a while, having discovered Neil deGrasse Tyson's "Star Talk", where he enter into discussion about topics reaching far beyond the extent of his field of study (which is saying something, seeing as he basically is studying the universe...). Funny and interesting. After having gone through the entire backlog of this podcast, however, I went back to audiobooks. 

This time I've finally settled for something that will keep my addiction covered for a while. After the season finale of "Game of Thrones" a few weeks back I realized I craved more. Thus far I'd been staying far away from the books, or rather, I started reading them, but they did not appeal to me, This was way back when the first season aired, and the show was following the book closely enough for me to feel it redundant to read them. In addition, the books felt "wordy" to me, which is weird, because I normally really look big, fat, wordy books. 

Anyway. Now everything is different. First of all, it's been four years since I saw that first season. Even if the first book is following it closely, it doesn't matter, as I've forgotten a lot. A lot. 

Secondly, it's almost an advantage that the books are wordy. It means they last longer, and seeing as I listen to them during my commute where constant distractions might interfere, it isn't so problematic if I miss a detail here or there. 

Finally, I really like the guy who is reading (which is a BIG deal for audiobooks). He even does different voices, which I adore. I could listen to him forever (a good thing, seeing as each book is about 30 hours,,,) 

Yeah, that's right. Each book is about 30 hours. And there are five of them (with two more in the making, but as everyone knows by now the release dates of those are anyone's guess). 

I'm already halfway into book number two, though, so I'm wolfing them down a little faster than I'd planned. Somehow, my commute time tends to stretch out these days... The way it looks, I'll be hunting for more sustenance to feed my addiction come autumn. (Insert mandatory "Winter is coming") 

Any suggestions? 

On Good and Bad Bosses

Being a PhD student (especially in Norway, where it is paid employment) is in many ways a sweet deal. You get to spend time working on exactly the thing you're (supposed to be) most interested in. You get to have a narrow focus on a topic so specific (and often insignificant) that most people know next to nothing about it. You get to become an expert on this topic. You get to devote time, energy, intellectual capacity and whatever skills you've developed over time on working on just one, single issue that need not be of any particular interest or use to anyone else (though naturally you have learnt how to argue that indeed it is of particular interest and use to everyone else - you've gotten some kind of funding for this project, after all...). You get to do all this for a longer period of time, usually about three to four years, and in the meantime very few people are going to bother you in any significant way with meeting deadlines, making progress or doing any of the most basic things most employees are expected to do in their jobs: show up at a specific time, show up at all, actually work...

Of course this latter point isn't entirely true.

First of all, most universities will by now have instated some kind of checks and balances system to keep a little control of their PhD students. It will still vary greatly from institution to institution how rigid this system is, but I would guesstimate that you nowhere anymore can do what seems to have been the "norm" many places in the past - you show up at the start of your doctorate and then nobody sees you again for four (or more) years until you show up again for your defense with a 1000 page dissertation.

These days there are some requirements. You have to take some courses (here I know Norway is still on the lighter side. In many places it still is more than justified to call the PhD students students, as they do plenty of course work and have papers due and everything - our system is more flexible and it can be argued that it is just as correct to call me and my peers PhD fellows). You generally will have some deadlines along the way (we, for instance, have a halfway evaluation, which I will take sometime this summer or autumn). And technically I am supposed to show up for work during work hours at any time I don't have a justifiable reason not to do so (a conference, field work, those courses I talked about), but in reality I am fairly sure I could stay at home for several weeks at end and no one would notice (except my office mate, but she wouldn't tell on me, and a simple Facebook message saying "Working from home for a while" would put her at ease). And even if they did notice, it wouldn't have any consequences.*

Many of the requirements, then, are more for show than actually breathing down your neck like the proverbial distrusting boss would do.

However, I do have one of those bosses as well. The problem is that she is not always a good boss. And before you jump to conclusions about me slandering my boss in social media, I should clarify: I'm talking about myself. (My real boss is a man, so there.)

My Bad Boss - me - isn't always a bad boss. The not bad part is what makes her a boss at all. Because in a system where so little pressure is put on you for any day-to-day production (but HUGE pressure on the long haul production with the far-ahead deadline way out of your sight), you really need to pull yourself together and force yourself to do some work every now and then. You need to be your own boss. You need to tell yourself what your tasks are, and then you need to do them. Otherwise, you've already lost.

On occasion this works for me. I can have whole days and several days in a row, even, where I work like a normal person (one of those with real bosses), and get stuff done. My Good Boss manages to give me clear instructions and as a Good Employee (because I am, honestly, even if this post so far might suggest otherwise) I get it done.

This is improvement on my part.

I remember when I wrote my master's thesis I was absolutely horrid at getting stuff done. Every word came at an insufferable price - it felt like I had to pull them out of me like fingernails from a torture victim (you're welcome for that mental picture).

This is because then I only** had the Bad Boss. The Bad Boss still comes around too frequently for me to be particularly happy about it, though. The Bad Boss doesn't motivate me or give me instructions; the Bad Boss tells me that the final deadline is coming closer with every day (well, duh!). She tells me that I have a come nearly halfway in my PhD, but I have not produced half of the text for a PhD dissertation (and my objections that I have done plenty of other useful stuff that doesn't necessarily reflect the amount of output you can touch and feel but nevertheless contributes to the end result have no traction with her). My Bad Boss makes me feel insecure, worried, and generally pretty useless.

My Bad Boss most frequently visits when I am tired, hungry, stressed out, or that one week of the month where most women feel more insecure, worried and useless (if you're a man and you've no idea what I'm talking about, I envy you and I'm about to punch you in the face. Go away. Bring me chocolate before coming back).

Most annoying of all - my Bad Boss makes me a Bad Employee. And as I mentioned, I am not really a Bad Employee. I am a Good Employee. Whenever Good Boss is around it's pretty visible too, so you don't even have to take my word for it.

So. Like a terrible academic*** I have arrived at the problem far too long into the text I'm writing. In order for me to be a Good and Productive Employee, I need my Good Boss to speak louder and more frequently than my Bad Boss. But how do I do this?

Like an even more terrible academic I was very close to ending my text with a question. Because a question, at this point, is about as good as I can do. I don't really have an answer. I can't predict when the Bad Boss will show up, or how long she intend to stay (though I can of course try to avoid the situations I know she is most likely to appear, but even so - it's not like I can avoid work one week every month, no matter how relaxed the system might seem).

My best bet is on the realization that I have a Bad Boss, and that I have a Good Boss. I know there are two of them. So for the times when it feels like only the Bad Boss is the one showing her ugly face, I can try to tell myself that she will not linger forever. The Good Boss will show up eventually. In fact, if I manage to ignore the Bad Boss she sometimes tires of pestering me, and goes away all on her own. Sometimes, sometimes, even the Good Boss pops her head in directly after, just to check on me.****

So it boils down to this: I need to get rid of my Bad Boss but I should probably also be aware that she will never disappear completely, but rather keep in mind she will also never stay put for good.



҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉҉



*For the record, I also have a supervisor, and she is very active, and she probably would notice both my absence for longer stretches of time and definitely my failure to meet deadlines and produce text. So in my case the potential slacking off has a very real limit. But not every supervisor is as active or attentive, so it is not entirely impossible that you would find cases where not even he or she would know if the PhD student had stopped working altogether for a loooong while.

** This is a truth that needs some moderation. I did write the damn thesis, and it's not all bad, so at some point the Good Boss must have been around then as well. But it didn't feel like it - I suspect maybe the Good Boss simply was a deputy back then, and thus did not really dare to challenge the authority of the Bad Boss. At least that is my theory. I am glad that the Good Boss' career has taken an upward turn!

*** For some reason I really want to write "academidian" instead. But then my Bad Boss told me I could not justify a title clearly derived from a crossover between academic and comedian. As I am neither (can you see what this hag is doing to me? I need her to GO AWAY!!! And not come back - not even with chocolate).

**** Sometimes she brings chocolate! :)

On leaving the U.S., again

Let's start at the beginning: what does a pop tart really taste like? I have been in the U.S. long enough that I should have had plenty of opportunities to find out, but honestly, I've never tried one. And never really felt like trying one either. Especially not for breakfast. I have vastly different ideas about what a good breakfast should and should not entail than what most Americans do (judging only from the breakfast aisle in any given grocery store, naturally).

Well, even if I am leaving I have made sure I'll get the chance to figure out this mystery. I've bought a box of pop tarts. I fully expect I won't like them very much, but at least now my expectations aren't too high...

Don't get me wrong, I approve of a lot of breakfast related things here too. For instance the concept of going out for breakfast (even if I normally would choose a different dish than pancakes, but even I get that this only makes me weird...). Or even better, brunch. One of the restaurants in the vicinity of my hotel in Atlanta advertizes that they serve bottomless mimosas* or Bloody Marys for Sunday brunch. Even if that makes me think of Kenny Falmouth of Monkey Island, it does sound like a sweet deal.

My own breakfast routine most days while I've been in the U.S., however, has been quite a bit more sober than that. I've been in two different hotels in two different parts of the country, but I could always find some channel that showed reruns of old shows - especially "Charmed". Interestingly I never really watched "Charmed" when it was a big deal way back when I was a kiddo (many of my friends did, and I can't remember exactly what made me not watch it, though I suspect it might have had something to do with the fact that we didn't have cable or satelite, and thus a very limited range of channels). Anyway, with all these reruns - and not just this time, but last time I visited the U.S. too, as well as when we went to the U.K. for vacation in November - it seems I have the show pretty much covered. But then, yesterday, the seemingly endless string of reruns ended. The very last episode of the show! Now what will I do for breakfast? I suppose it was only fitting as I am leaving today. Also, I am ignoring the fact that they started over again with the very first season this morning, so I really could watch it all if I only stayed a couple of months more - with three episodes per day that should probably cover it...

Even if I haven't watched it religiously in the past, however, I still know the show well enough to have the benefit of rewatching, as the best thing about watching old shows, of course, is that you don't have to pay very careful attention. So I could walk back and forth, take a shower, get dressed, eat, or even work a little while it ran in the background. While this has been a perfect mode for the minial task of sorting through archive documents as afterwork from my visit there during work hours, I am relieved it is over. My back aches from being slumped over my laptop for long stretches at the time, in uncomfortable seating positions in a hotel bed. My eyes are sore and my head hurts from trying to remember archive codes and sorting the files into their right place. My fingers have paper cuts from old documents, and I am sick of working twelve hour days (even if portions of them have been accompanied by "Charmed"). I even missed out on vacation days during my stay here, as most Norwegians take the whole week of Easter off.

Another good thing about ending my TV-meets-work streak now is that I don't have to watch commercials anymore. We have commercials on most channels in Norway too, but first of all I don't watch all that much TV at home (I have Netflix and HBO Nordic, after all), and secondly, last time I checked our commercials were less disturbing than many of the ones here.

What mostly baffles me are the medical commercials. This and this drug will help you with this and that disease. It will have the following side effects: [insert long list of terrible things that almost always ends with DEATH for good measure]. Talk to your doctor today!

Talk to your doctor? Why would I, as the patient, go to my doctor and explain about some drug? Isn't it the doctor's job to tell the patient what the best treatment for whatever disease or ailment they have should be? I realize doctors in the U.S. are frequently sponsored by the medical companies and thus might have preferences for specific drug for other reasons than what works better, but if that's the case you really ought to find another doctor with a better sense of ethics, rather than presenting the one you've already got with a lecture based on a TV commerical.

But that set aside, back to the commercials themselves. Can we all agree that they are pretty disturbing? Listing all those side effects is obviously something they are obliged to do for legal reasons, but I still find it amazing that someone would take them up on the offer of talking to their doctor after having heard all the horrible things this drug might inflict, presented to them in a voice of an actor you can *hear* is wearing a fake smile (how can you hear that, you ask? Well, just listen the next time one of those commercials are on. You can hear it).

Secondly, why are they always walking on the beach in these commercials? Strolling along the shore, or in a forest, or playing in the garden with a pet or child. Always the same setting. Fake smiles. Super disturbing.

Finally, the most disturbing thing to me isn't the medical commercials themselves, but in combination of another type of commercials: the mass lawsuit ones. "Have you or your loved ones experienced [insert terrible side effect caused by medical malpractise]? You might be entitled to compensation!" I realize there isn't a coherent line from people suggesting to their doctors what medicines to take for their ailments to them suing the doctor (or whomever) for having suffered consequences of malpractise. But it seems to me there is something strange about where the system puts liability. The patient is supposed to advice the doctor, while the doctors and other parts of the healthcare system are forced to focus on covering their butts legally rather than providing the best possible option for the patient. I'm not saying it's necessarily different elsewhere or that I have a solution to this, but I am saying the frequent commericals serve to give a creepy reminder of what a nasty world it can be.

I'll miss things too, though. I might have issues with certain parts of commercial America, but I don't think I'll ever stop marvelling at the selection in stores here. Whether it is grocery shopping or browsing for dresses, I keep finding myself enchanted. It's dangerous for my wallet, but it's making my little shopping heart burst with joy. Every time I visit the U.S. I seem to end up with a new wardrobe and don't even get me started on bookstores. When I came here in 2009 the selection seemed wider (I miss Borders!), but give me a good Barnes & Noble any day, and I'll be lost that day. They even have coffee in there! Why would you ever want to leave?

More important than the things I leave behind (good or bad), though, are the things I'm going back to. I miss my home, I miss my friends and family, I miss the regularity of my daily routine (the normal one, not the one involving "Charmed"), Norwegian language, food and weather (!), Oslo, my apartment, all the things I know and love. Most importantly, I miss my boyfriend. Four weeks is a long time to be away from everything, and even though I've enjoyed my stay in the U.S. I can't wait to go home.

Now I'm going to make the hotel cat who has been keeping me company this morning go back out into the corridor so I don't accidentally pack him, and then I'll finish stuffing my suitcase. Somehow, it gained weight during this trip (see section about "shopping" above).











*Huh. When I googled "bottomless" to find the link for Kenny, Google automatically suggested "bottomless mimosas atlanta". Apparently, this is a big deal here!

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 new beginnings

August is still summer, but it is also the start of autumn (or fall if you will). Berries are ripe. People are picking pears outside my bedroom window. I crave vegetable soup. The sun is still hot, but the days aren’t long and light anymore. The night is once again dark.


August has always been a month of beginnings for me. Much more than, say, January. August is the month school starts. After 18 first-day-of-school’s, new school supplies still make me excited. I love stocking up on pens, post-its, paper, pencils (is it a rule that all school supplies start with a p?), and books (no, apparently not). A new year at school always meant new subjects, new classrooms, often new people. A new term at the university has some of the same implications. This term, however, I don’t get a lot of the “new” feelings since it’s just a continuation of what I left before the summer. And frankly, this time it also feels more like the beginning of the end. Which I guess it sort of is.

Unless something unexpected and life-altering happens, this will be the last semester I’m working on my master’s thesis. I’m not saying I will never take another class, but for all intents and purposes, I am looking at the start of my very last semester at the university. My last semester of formal education. Hopefully my last semester before I get a “grown up” job (why do I feel like knocking on wood right about now…?).

I have tried to work on my thesis this summer, but in between working extra hours in the bookshop, having a social life and trying to see the sun every now and then I haven’t been all that diligent. Also, I’ve had a bad case of vacation mode, and I’ve been spending far more time on blog writing than any other kind of writing. Ah, well.

With the new semester starting today, it is time to accept that I can no longer keep neglecting my thesis. Because this will be a stressful semester for me, and in the spirit of new beginnings, I think it is time to announce a new blog schedule.

This summer I’ve kept a fairly strict Monday to Friday schedule. While I enjoy the regularity of that, I no longer see myself capable of keeping it up. Thus my new plan is to blog on Mondays and Fridays, and if I post any other day you can consider it a bonus. I will still try to visit as many of your lovely blogs as possible, in fact I suspect that I will be able to be a more frequent visitor when I’m not spending as much time writing my own posts. In addition I am still writing posts for the Burrow Blog, and on the days I am posting there I will probably leave a note here as well. I’ll still make sure to read and reply to all of your comments, of course.

New beginnings can be scary because we are usually afraid to give up on what we know. But at the same time new beginnings create a unique opportunity to start over on a clean slate. I’m hoping that I will be able to carry with me all the good things from previous semesters and leave behind any bad habits.

Wish me luck!

(Apparently I am not so great with new beginnings since I forgot to schedule this to post this morning, and instead saved it as a draft. Great start... I did not notice till now, though, so this means that my tactic of not compulsively checking my blog for comments every ten minutes is working.)

On mornings and their aftermath

When I was a kid, I used to have a T-shirt that said ”I don’t do mornings”. I think I still should have one of those. It’s not that I can’t get up early – I can, if I have a good reason – and it’s not that I don’t function well in the morning – if I do manage to get up early, I function better in the morning. I’m pretty much a morning person, apart from one little detail: I can’t be trusted in the morning.


I’m not saying “don’t share state secrets with me in the morning” – I can keep a secret even before 10 am (though frankly, if you’re sharing state secrets with me, it’s you who have a trust problem…). But what I am saying is that I am less rational in the morning.

Last night I told myself that I needed to get up early today. I needed to have a quick shower and breakfast, and I needed to leave the house and go to the university where there is a perfectly nice working space waiting for me.

This morning, however, I told the alarm clock to go hide where the sun never shines. Actually, I got out of bed to tell it this. I was up, I was awake, and I was lucid (or so I thought). But instead of staying up and awake, I went back to bed, back to sleep. When I eventually did get up, I had a looong breakfast, a looooong shower, and I didn’t leave the house at all. “After all,” morning-me said, “I have a perfectly nice working space right here. Working from home will save me lots of time.”

Only it didn’t. It never does.

I turned on the computer (that part is easy). I located my notes, and I intended to open the documents I need to write what is commonly known as “that ruddy chapter five”. Only before I got a chance to do that I decided I should check my email. Facebook. My blog. The Burrow. Before I knew it I had spent two hours replying to emails, writing comments on my blog, watching “Can I Haz Cheezburger Kittehs”, reading and commenting on other people’s blogs, and so on. And so forth.

Once that was done, I realized it was time to eat lunch. Lunch it is. I couldn’t work while eating, of course, so I read some more blogs. Watched more kittehs (I hate that word, by the way. It is beyond me why the funny captions [they are very funny!] supposedly become funnier because they are misspelled. Why?). Checked my email again.

After lunch I had to do the dishes. And once I was at it I might as well tidy a little as well.

I don’t know how time learned to fly, but I can assure you its wings are working perfectly around here. All this because the irrational morning-me decided that today would be different (it wasn’t). Morning-me thinks emails should have a higher priority than my education (it shouldn’t!). Morning-me even believes that night-me will be rational enough to set tomorrow-morning-me right (I won’t).

On tricks

I am tricksy. Sure, I am also dependable, nice, friendly, outgoing and pleasant. True, I can be annoying, overbearing, cruel, petty, lazy and disgusting. But most importantly for the purpose of this post, I am tricksy.


I play tricks, sometimes on others, but usually on myself. See, while I know I am dependable, I frequently ignore this because it is more comfortable to be lazy. While I favour being nice to people, I sometimes deliberately choose to be annoying or even cruel (why, how else could I justify being a “Cruella”?). However, whenever I go out of my way to indulge in my negative traits I simultaneously make an effort to hide it. I try to pretend I am not petty while I secretly take great satisfaction in the fact that others struggle too. But I won’t admit it (except I just did…). Likewise, I won’t admit that I have a weakness (apart from here on my public blog), and I won’t admit that I cheat or lie or fake (not that any of those things have ever happened. I give you my word!).

Many of my blog posts are written from my desk at the university. Ideally, nothing other than my skittish (I’m using this word because it fits on so many levels. The irony level. The “perhaps not the word a native speaker would choose, but interesting nevertheless” level. The “pronounce it with a Norwegian accent and it takes on an entirely different meaning” level) thesis should be written from this desk. Clearly, that is not the case. I’m willing to bet that 80% (at least) of the words produced here were never even intended to go into my thesis (blog posts and Facebook status updates included). Then about 80% of the words intended to go into my thesis are eventually edited away. This means that the percentage of the total words I write from this desk that actually go into my thesis is disturbingly small.

And yet I pretend to plod away every day. I’m not even sure I am fooling anyone, but pretending that I do makes me feel better all the same. Therefore, when I stare blankly at a random spot outside the window I try to look like I am pondering what caused the transition in US foreign policy towards the Middle East between 1956 and 1967. In reality, I am trying to decide whether I’d like to cut bangs again when I go to the hairdresser sometime soon. Until I have an answer to the very important question above (the bangs one, not the Middle East one) I spend hours watching my hair grow, pretending to solve important riddles that require footnotes.

One last confession before I call it a day. Lately I have pretended that I am too busy to blog. While it can be argued that I actually am, evidence suggests the opposite. The past two weeks I have spent an admirable number of blogable hours on Facebook; reading The Secret Garden for the 73927643th time; watching Glee (and some random sitcom that wasn’t even all that funny, but once I had started watching it was hard to look away); trying to remember books that I have read and subsequently plotting them into goodreads.com (thanks a lot for that distraction…); and having “serious” discussions with my friends in the cafeteria.

In short, I work my butt off to keep my good girl cover from blowing. I wonder how much I’d achieve if I put all that energy into actually being a good girl, as opposed to pretending? What an idea…

On job applications

Dear future employer (because there really is no doubt you will hire me after I have made you aware of the following),


I can proudly announce that I am applying for a position in your company. I do realize that you have not announced any openings, but I have no worries that you will rethink this once I enlighten you on the unique and extremely useful competence I possess.

It is a fact that most jobs consist of doing one thing, and one thing alone: What most jobs is all about (unless you are a male lingerie photographer or a female chocolate tester) is doing endless amounts of things you do not want to do. Now, if there is anything six years at the university have trained me for, it is doing things I do not want to do.

I do not find it particularly rewarding going through endless amounts of pointless sources for my pointless master thesis. The few glimpses of unpointlessness are too rare and too short to give much if any satisfaction. I also do not find it rewarding to spend time writing nonsense in an attempt to make sense out of all the pointlessness. I do, occasionally, find it slightly rewarding to post random status updates to Facebook, but I realize this only in a very limited way can be said to be linked to my studies.

And yet I force myself to stray off Facebook every now and then.

I have spent hours after hours on leafing through documents by people whose names I cannot keep apart (mostly Johnson or Johnston). These people were sending each other letters and telegrams and airgrams and memos (they must have had poor email access in the 1950s) about more or less significant topics, topics that occasionally are related to the topic of my thesis. I have spent even more time trying to make sense of these documents, and to write about them. I have even spent time trying to make the text I write seem relevant and plausible and professional. Definitely not something I like to do (I am more of a parentheses and italics kind of gal, after all).

Therefore you should, without hesitation, hire me immediately. Preferably for a well-paid job. Let us be honest – I will not glow with enthusiasm for the work I perform in your company. But I will do it nonetheless. Because this is the most important lesson I have learned from my expensive education: Life is all about doing things you do not feel like doing. So if you do not feel like hiring me after this inspirational note, that actually implies all the more that you should.

Best regards,

Your future (reluctant) employee

On blogging about nothing

Oh, my great Digression – I have nothing to blog about today!


No funky telegrams have been found; no odd weather phenomena have struck me to the ground; no language related craziness has come in my way lately (though it did take me a while to figure out what the plural of phenomenon was, since Phenomena to me only is a YA fantasy series I reluctantly sell to teenagers or their moms every now and then back home).

I suppose I could write about how my throat all of a sudden feels sore and how I hope it isn’t the swine flu, or any other kind of flu, for that matter – but I feel that this has been done (and it is more of a Facebook status update kind of thing anyway). I could write about the lady in the office next to mine who has the annoying habit of putting a question mark at the end of every sentence? But then again, I already did use that as a Facebook status update? (Plus I think it would be annoying to write an entire blog filled with question marks?)

There is always the possibility of writing a book review, but I’ve never been very good at that – I tend to be overly afraid of giving away anything, which is all nice and cotton candy, but it doesn’t make for a good book review if you can’t say zilch about what happens in the book. Besides, I’m in the middle of a book at the moment (Going Bovine, which is highly entertaining, though I suspect tears towards the end), and the previous book I read has already been mentioned in this blog – and even though Pandora in the Congo was an interesting book that I’d highly recommend if you’re looking for a good, but not necessarily mainstream read, I’m not sure it’s entitled to both an anecdote and a review within a couple of weeks.

Since I only have one month left in the US now, I ought to take the opportunity to write page up and page down on all the American oddities I find, or the cultural differences that sooner or later surely will send me straight into cultural shock. However, I find that the differences can either be overcome easily, or they are not that big in the first place. Or maybe I’m just awesomely superior at adapting? Either way, the biggest challenge isn’t the difference in culture, but the fact that my friends and family are far away. And who wants to read a blog where I complain about missing those at home, eh? I could spice it up with how I am not sure if I like or dislike the fact that soup comes in cans rather than “mix-with-water-powder-packs” here; or how I have discovered that I really hate that the cashier packs your groceries for you – it takes FOREVER; but again, I don’t think it makes a great blog. It makes boring blog. Boring blog bad.

My very last idea is to find a random picture from my personal archive (it’s called “the Internet” – haha – kidding… I try to use my own pictures whenever possible, but every now and then I find my own set of images just doesn’t cover it – if I for some reason should need a picture of a cucumber, it would be a lot easier to try to find one online instead of going to the store, buy a cucumber, take it home, take a picture, upload it to my computer and from there to my blog. Too much work. Wow – I almost forgot that I still was inside a parenthesis there). I could do that. But the first very random picture I found was the one below, and frankly, there’s not all that much to say about good, old Axil of Evil (other than that he was the result of what an already corrupted mind did to a frequent typo back when I was writing about North Korea and not the Middle East. We love them conflicts, don’t we?).

So, to conclude, I am very sorry, but I have absolutely nothing to blog about today.

On being back from Boston

After an amazing week of more or less non-blogging due to more important events - you'll hear all about it tomorrow and the next day and the next day (I've got weeks worth of blog material now...) - I find that I have learned a few things:
1) I missed the routine. The regularity of writing a little every day (which I incidentally still did, but mostly longhand - spent a while searching all the bookshops in both DC and Boston trying to find the "perfect" notebook) really has become something I can do, want to do and intend to continue. I also missed the blogging "community", which means that in the future I will strive to plan ahead and blog also while away.

2) It felt good to be away. (I know, Queen of Contradictions...) But the reason it felt good to be away was a) that at this point it is nice to have confirmation that I am not as addicted to my online time as I think I am, and b) because of the lessons learned (jump back to 1 if you missed this point).

3) There are people out there more random than me. I strive to make it otherwise. (You know who you are, "Socks"...)

4) Finally, there is no point in trying to make sense in a blog when you have just crossed 9 states. Write some rubbish, post up a cartoon, and pretend it's a real post. Save the good stuff for later.

Currently reading: *just* finished Persuasion by Jane Austen (my very first Austen, but don't tell anybody), still working on Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks (which is the first non-Middle East non-fiction I've read in a looooong time)

Currently listening to: We Shoot the Moon - Fear and Love (I randomly picked up this CD in Boston. Google the cover and you shall find out why...)

On routines

I hate them. And I love them.

To start with the first – I think hating routines is a late effect of my former orderly life. I was never one of those kids whose entire life was ruled by a tight schedule, but I had my share of organized activities in addition to school, naturally, so when I had a chance to break loose, I grabbed it eagerly.

Free of scheduled obligations, however, I found that it was much harder reaching my full potential in any given activity. Don’t get me wrong – I’m no slacker – but more often than not I’m not able to do everything I think I’ll get done. Part of the problem is that I have too high expectations (picking up the thread from my very first post on this blog, ending with my never-ceasing optimistic view on “change”). My ambitions are not always in tune with my capacity. Especially since – and I think this is the main part of the problem – I cannot reach my full potential without routines to force me.

This is why I love routines. They help me to do things I’d otherwise weasel out of, or push ahead of me. I’m a world class procrastinator; I founded a religion called Digressionism... It’s not like I wouldn’t get anything done without routines – I have a very strong sense of obligation so I’ll always manage to find a way to do the things I have to do – but I’d certainly get a lot less done. Since I have my obligations very firmly prioritized, I’ll always be a dependable employee, friend and family member. But what often is put at the end of the list, which consequently and inevitably is foregone most days, is my writing.

Each day I choose to undermine my own highest ambition due to my lack of routines.

Putting it out there makes me feel sad, because it sounds terribly pathetic. But it is true, and I guess this is an effort to change the situation. Because what is a blog but an attempt to start a routine? Having a once a day, once a week or even once a month routine for writing a long or short blog entry will ensure that you do the one thing any writer must do: write.

I’ve spent some time over the last few weeks reading blogs of aspiring or published authors and agents, all of them containing splendid advice on how to get started, both with the actual writing and with getting published once the book is done. (It’s fair to acknowledge that a significant portion of the blogs I’ve “found”, actually only involved me taking advantage of the research done by some of my fabulous fellow writers and bloggers, especially Hart Johnson and through her, Elizabeth Spann Craig.) The main advice that keeps coming up is the simplest and yet the toughest of them all: WRITE! So, since the logic of people who know what they are talking about equates pure common sense, I shall do my best to listen.

Thus, I shall try to make it a routine to write a little every day. And hopefully, by making it a routine, I will finally feel obligated to actually do this for myself (instead of ending up hating it, since it's a routine... But that's not gonna happen...?).


Currently reading: Junot Diaz – The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Junot
Currently listening to: Kent – Den Döda Vinkeln (from the album Du & jag döden)