Stressing down...

When I was a little girl, Christmas was the highlight of the year. I loved having time off from school, playing with the other kids in the neighborhood, skiing, building snowmen, having snowball fights...For some reason I can only remember Christmases with the streets covered in snow. I wonder if this is true...if there was a lot more snow when I was younger...or if my mind is so happy about snow that it has blocked out all the Christmases spent indoors with the rain pouring down outside. I find myself wanting to believe the latter...I want to believe that it rained just as much 20 years ago, as it does today...'cause if not...then the climate really is changing. I dont think we've had a white Christmas in Bergen since...2004...which happened to be the very year I spent Christmas in New York...oh the irony...and I didnt get snow in New York either...also ironic as the streets were covered in snow up until 3 days before Christmas when it all rained away...and to top it all it was minus 20 degrees celsius on Christmas Eve...Anyway, I wasnt going to talk about the climate.

Today, when I am in my (gosh it's scary to say this) late 20s, I find Christmas stressful. Especially this year, Christmas came way too early. I wasnt prepared, I still dont understand how I have managed to buy all the presents in time. I have a feeling I have left someone out...which I really, seriously hope I have not. Somehow, November just went by in a whiff. And before I even had the chance to get over the shock of losing November, 2 weeks of December had passed. And here I am...2 days before Christmas, done with my gift shopping, finished with the baking and candy making, the decorating, the wrapping, the Christmas tree...somehow Ive done it all...Ive even squeezed in a dinner party and I have no idea how Ive had the time. I have absolutely no Christmas spirit in my body...it is almost like it has all happened without me present. Yet I have the memories...so I know Ive been there.

I am hoping that once Im done working Tuesday, and Im at my parents house, putting all the presents Ive bought underneath the Christmas tree, smelling the spruce, eating marzipan and petting the pug...that the Christmas spirit will arrive...despite the rain drumming on the windows. I guess it doesnt matter what kind of weather you get, or how many people you buy presents for, or how prepared you are and how much you get done before Christmas. All that matters is being with the people you love. Taking time out of a busy schedule, giving your loved ones your time and your attention.

I appologize for not sending out any Christmas cards this year...I got too caught up in the stress factor of it all...Instead I would like to dedicate this entry to you and wish you a Merry Christmas and a wonderful New Year. May I not take you for granted and be better at showing my appreciation in the next year.

Love
~Ski

A door to the subconscious

Apparently dreams are supposed to tell you something...something about your state of mind. There are people out there making a living out of interpreting dreams...Thats how serious people take their dreams.

I had a dream yesterday morning which I cant quite figure out...I really do not understand how this dream is supposed to say anything about me...and my state of mind. But I will give you a chance to interpret it if you will...to tell me something I dont know about myself...I will give you that power.

This is my dream;

I was at a camp with lots of people...It was like a working camp where everyone had to work really hard or we would be set to tougher labor. If you didnt work hard enough the boss would send you "out"...and we all feared this. "Out" in this setting was in fact just that...outside.

This is the first warning signal for me, because I normally love to be outdoors...

What is worse is that the unfortunate ones who DID get sent out would just stand out there...in the dusk...looking in at us who were working hard inside.

The person in charge was Scott Patterson. This is the guy who plays "Luke" in “Gilmore girls” (a show I havent watched in probably over a year) and he was situated at a desk in front of the rest of us...looking at us occasionally and reading a book of some sort. We the workers were sitting at desks, much like you do in a classroom, working hard but enjoying ourselves and our work. I remember having a lot of fun with the work. The work consisted of going through old wallets, sorting the contents...and I remember sorting out pesos (which the Spanish dont use anymore after they converted to euro) and I found 35 pesos...I dont even know if a number this low exists in pesos...I remember pesos being in the 1000 and up category....but anyways...I was happy with my 35 pesos...separating them from some other coins when suddenly Tom Cruise (who was initially sitting at the desk behind me sorting the contents of another wallet) walked by saying something to me...Unfortunately I cannot remember what he said to me...and I doubt it was important...but I remember smiling at him…and I apparently knew him well. I asked him if he wanted one of my copies of Mission Impossible...- I dont think I own a copy of this movie...certainly not two, and he DID want it, but I changed my mind and wouldnt give it to him anyway....Instead I got him to sign one of the copies for me...and he signed it with the following message:

-Hi, great to get to know you. It's sad with all the people being sent “out”, isnt it? I hope you get some company at the gym anyways. Signed: Eco ML

I have no idea what ML stands for...In my dream I naturally assumed Eco had something to do with the environment, while ML had something to do with Mission Impossible...I dont know...Mission Limpossible? I didnt spend much time worrying about this though, because I suddenly spotted a pearl necklace and I wanted to find out if it was real...something I had no idea how to do. So I asked if anyone knew how I could figure it out without biting in the pearl and hurting my teeth, when a girl jumped up and handed me a pair of pliers which was supposed to substitute my teeth...I never quite figured out if the necklace was real...because just as I was about to use the pliers on the pearls, my boyfriend woke me up...

I spent the next 10 minutes laughing till tears came down my face, telling my man about my dream...It was so real...yet so far out. Im not even a fan of Tom Cruise...I mean...he is ok and everything...but certainly not one of my favorites...I can tell you one thing though, he was very sweet and comfortable to be around. Not at all the nut job the tabloids talk about…

I really cannot understand why my dream contained two actors I havent seen in any show or movie in probably over a year, pearls, which I have never been obsessed about and a currency which no longer exists! If someone can get any kind of meaning out of this, besides giving me a good laugh (and what a thrill it is to wake up laughing!) I will bow in awe.

Elixir of Life

I believe in coffee...I even believe that it may very well be the elixir of life that our alchemist forefathers talked about. Coffee really can turn lead into gold...figuratively speaking. Obviously...or I would be a very rich woman right now...There is not a surface I havent spilled coffee on...But seriously, you've been there;

Eyelids heavy as lead...no concentrational abilities whatsoever...a cup of coffee, and voilá! A golden moment of concentration and alertness.

I do find it odd, though...that something as simple as a drink made out of a bean and hot water...can taste so good or so horrible depending on how you prepare it. I am currently drinking what I believe to be the worst cup of coffee I have ever offered my palate...And I have drunk coffee many places...anywhere from Africa to Idaho, USA...to mention a few. I have drunk coffee prepared the traditional way by a coffee maker:

The easy way:


The espresso way:


The mocca way:


And my favorite way:

And all methods can create wonderful black potion...or cause a horrible gag-reflex. The cup I am drinking right now was made the easy way...by water which by itself taste awful...and prepared in a water boiler which has seen its better days...so I guess it is no mystery why it tastes so bad...But it doesnt explain why it tasted so bad in France...or London...or at my parents house.

Perhaps it is with coffee the way it is with drugs...You can have a wonderful high, or a bad, bad trip. In that case I am just recovering from a bad trip. Had it been a drug, I would never do it again...But since it is coffee...and not quite yet characterized as a drug, I will give it another shot. Just for the unpredictability of it...and the excitement. And we all need a little excitement.

The little things

I love the little things. I LOVE the little things...I love the little things.

I figured if I wrote it down 3 times, I would be able to concentrate on it. Look away from the big things that are bothering me...Sometimes the bigger issues get in the way of the small things...Issues like money..health...uni...work...stuff that is draining you and shifting your attention from the small things that can make a seemingly bad day pretty good after all.

For instance, I watched a short docu-soap or whatever they call it...a reality based program with 2 newlyweds who wasnt exactly acting like newlyweds...and they got several pieces of homework from this therapist. One of these assignments was to write down 3 things you love about your significant other...every night. Ive thought about this and it is really brilliant. It is like the high/low concept I talked about earlier this year and which my friend wawa keeps doing still (link to the right) where you mention the best and the worst incidents of the day. Focusing on the good sides of your partner can really shift focus. Not that I need to do exercises like this right now. I am happy. I love his ability to compromise, his cuddling nature and his sense of humor...to mention a few. But there will always come a time when exercises like this are necessary. Nobody can stay deliriously happy all the time. That shit only happens in the movies...

I also love that he wants to take me to the movies tonight...on a day that has been pretty stressful. -A small thing that perhaps evens out bigger issues. At least for today. It can even overshadow small crappy things like the really shitty cup of coffee (and I do mean shitty) I am drinking right now *gag*.

So I love the little things...I LOVE the little things...say it with me. You may need this some day as well....remember to love the little things.

Excitement

I recently moved into a bigger apartment with my boyfriend. I am in fact sitting in said bigger apartment right now. More specifically in the bedroom...at a small corner desk...which if I am allowed to say, is a wee-bit too small. But I dont care. I dont care because said bigger apartment is in fact...simply bigger. Bigger than I am used to. -And I love the space. I love being able to go from the livingroom and into the kitchen...and to be in the kitchen without seeing the livingroom! Some of you may already have this and think: "so what?". But to me this is a huge deal.

When you move from a closet to an actual apartment, you have the issue of furniture...most of your furniture is bedroom type of furniture...You have a closet...and a drawer...perhaps a desk and a bookshelf. -And since your boyfriend also has a couple of drawers and a bookshelf...in addition to a truckload of useless crap (why cant men be more aware of aesthetics when they buy something?) the bedroom becomes indeed overfilled...somewhat similar to a storage room. And so the result of this is an over-furnished bedroom and an empty livingroom in your new apartment.

This, however, is where the fun of moving into a bigger space manifests itself. This is when you get to go out and buy new furniture! (all the girls clap their hands and the men sigh deeply).

So the other day, we had a fieldtrip to Ikea (Ikea, the only true friend of students) and came home with our very own dinner table. I realized as I came home from work last night, finding that Microman,-the boyfriend (no relation to penis size), had assembled the table, that I have never actually owned my own dinner table. -And the sense of pride I felt upon looking at this table frightened me. Yes it was expensive...but I have owned...and still own more expensive objects than this...and honestly; it IS just an object...a freakin' table to be exact. But I felf proud.

I wonder if the pride I felt was towards my man (the academic and not the handyman) who had assembled it on his own...or if it was the fact that we now have a dinnertable in our livingroom which is ours...bought and paid for...and not borrowed from someone else. I am afraid...I am scared that if I can feel proud of a freakin' table...I will indeed explode the day I sign the papers to my very own apartment. Or perhaps you get indifferent as you get used to it. I surely hope I do not. I hope I can stay excited about something as silly as a table...the same way I get excited about raspberry soda in the stores before Christmas...and "Three stories about Joan"...which for some scary reason may not happen...but it is still exciting...and I am still excited.

I dread the day I am no longer excited. May it never come.

Guess what?

Im busy.

Unpacking, organizing, tidying, cleaning, freezing (how the hell can you live in an apartment without any form of heating!?)

Which means I no longer have internet access at home...I will try to be a good blogger when I get my stuff together...eventually.

In the meantime you will have to put up with more-than-usual-meaningless entries...like this one.

Ooooor...If you're bored and want to test your nerd capabilities, you can try to locate the Golgi apparatus in this picture...and perhaps a mitochondria. Just for fun. (Stop clapping your hands. Its not THAT fun).


~Ski

A new beginning

You know how some people hate fall because they feel it represents death and the demise of all organic life as we know it?

To me fall has always been about the opposite. The beginning of something…a birth if you will. When you think about it, fall must have been the very first season.

Seeds are created during the fall…we know them camouflaged as berries, apples, plums and other fruits, and had these seeds not existed, there would be no apple trees or blueberry shrubs…(Lets not get into the philosophy of what came first of the chicken and the egg…). Once the seed hits the soil and are buried in it, it hibernates through winter. Often winter and cold is needed for the seed to be able to germinate once spring arrives. The cold triggers something in the seed. (Don’t look at me like that. I am not making this up). So without fall and winter there would be no spring...

If you think about it like this you may actually be able to enjoy the colors that come with this beautiful season. The red and orange trees, the leaves blowing through the air all around you. Even the rain which we get so much of in this part of the world, and which offers the perfect excuse to crawl into the arms of your significant other and watch a movie while drinking hot cocoa or tea.

As much as I love that...still...to me the very favorite thing to do at this time of year, is to put on a whooly hat and a warm jacket on a sunny day...walking down the street smelling the crisp air with an apple in hand.

How ‘bout you? Do you have a favorite season? Or perhaps a favorite thing to do this time of year? I would love to hear it.

For more fall pics...check out the picture blog.

Hmmm...

10 things to wonder about on a Wednesday:

1. Does it hurt the tree when the leaves fall off?
2. Does the word 'nose' have anything to do with 'hose' or is it just a coincidence that the two words rhyme?
3. Why is nintendo's game called 'Donkey Kong' when the character is a gorilla and not a donkey?
4. Why are toenails harder than fingernails?
5. Why are women generally more addicted to chocolate than men? Our bodies are built the same way...
6. Who decided that fire is "hot" and ice "cold"? Why isnt it the opposite?
7. Why are most houses box-shaped when it's general knowledge that a ball gives a bigger volume compared to surface? Couldnt we save a lot on energy by living in marble shaped houses?
8. Why dont I live in a marble shaped house? I like marbles...
9. How come time goes by so fast when I really need it to slow down?...and then go really slow when I need to go by quickly?
10. Is 'bivouac' really a word?

I have a ghost in my apartment.

You may laugh…s’all good. But I am becoming more and more convinced about this. I guess I have always been kinda spiritual…not sure about religion and all that, but I do believe that there is more between heaven and earth than what we are aware of…I believe in energies and the possibility of an energy lingering at a familiar place after the body stops working. I do. I really do and I can say this as a scientist. -Cause no matter how you twist and turn it, that’s what I am…a scientist…at least until I’m done with my master thesis. I believe in evolution, in biology, in the connection between neurons in the human brain that makes us perceive our environment differently. What I as a person may regard as the simple expanding of a metal pipe due to heath, may to someone else be the knocking of a ghost…trapped in the wall. I reason. I use my science background to evaluate. I am boring. However, I do believe that there are happenings out there which science as of today cannot explain. This doesn’t mean we won’t find an explanation for it…we may later…but in the meantime I will keep an open mind.

I believe I can tell you exactly when I came in contact with the aforementioned ghost. As scary as it sounds I can tell you the exact spot. And I can tell you this due to the feeling I got when entering this spot. I was at the attic of the university institute I belong to. There is a story of a man getting murdered at this institute, by the use of Mercury…apparently this happened some 40-50 years ago…I honestly don’t know much…other than a man dying and someone finding a beaker of Mercury in the ventilation system of his office some years later.

Anyway, I was up there to collect some glassware…or equipment if you will…when I saw an open door to a room I had never been to. As I am curious by nature I had to have a look and entered the room. It was an old office-space with a tiny window in the roof. It had an old radio and a tiny bookshelf in one of the corners and I remember feeling pretty creeped out while standing there. You know the feeling? Chills down you spine…you know what that means if you’ve seen that documentary about dead people…what’s it called….”The sixth sense”.

I think maybe something latched onto me at this moment. Obviously I don’t know this for sure…all I know is that the next morning I had my first toothpaste incident…

I have a specific spot for my toothpaste. When I’m done with it, I put the toothpaste back into the cabinet and I close the door. I do this as to avoid knocking it off my sink every morning…also because my sink is small and I don’t want the little space that is there for soap to be filled with other stuff. Want to keep it pretty and clean, you know? But this specific morning…after my creepy loft-session, the toothpaste was back on the sink. I could have sworn I put it in the cabinet…but I figured I had probably forgotten about it and didn’t waste any more time thinking about it.

A couple of days go by and the toothpaste stays in the cabinet…then suddenly one morning its back on the sink. I know for sure I was the last person in the bathroom the night before…and I never leave the toothpaste on the sink. Every night I open the cabinet door, take out the toothpaste, put some on my brush and return it to the cabinet…I don’t even put the toothpaste down on the sink. Yet there it is…on the sink. Still I’m thinking I must have put it there…so I leave the thought alone.

This morning the toothpaste was back on the sink. It has been a couple of days since the last incident. Just long enough for me not to think about it anymore. I am now convinced I put it in the cabinet and something else has taken it out and put it on the sink. I do find it amusing though…if you are going to get a ghost in your house, it is nice to get one that is obsessed with toothpaste as opposed to someone/something that wants you dead. It’s all good…I can share my toothpaste with whatever it is that wants to play with it. But I would prefer if it would put it back into the cabinet when it’s done with it. I’m also thinking I may be going insane as I caught myself saying out loud this morning: “It’s ok if you want to borrow it…but please put it back in afterwards…the toothpaste goes here!” *pointing to spot in the cabinet*

I do have to laugh…it is delightful. I will see if the ghost follows me when I move next month. Perhaps if it stays, the next person living there will allow it to do whatever the hell it wants to with the damn toothpaste. I on the other hand, want it in the cabinet.

Change

It's certain and unavoidable
it's necessary and always true.
Occuring when you least expect it
offering a path to something new.

Unnerving and fear of the unknown
yet perhaps the bearer of a clue.
A further insight and perspective
to the very essence of what is you.

Felt unwanted, known as negative.
Regarded as something to get through.
A "painful" time in one's routine life
a perfect chance to change this view.

Sometimes life altering and severe
yet usually a chance to renew,
to rebuild and to rediscover,
to see the world and to feel it too.
To always remember the good times
knowing the joy of a foot without shoe.
Remembering summers in the grass
running barefoot through the morning dew.

Perhaps it is the actual change,
and not the love, we should pursue.

Waving the Red Flag...

There is something Ive wanted to talk about for a while now…but Ive avoided the issue…Mostly because I predict it may piss some people off. –And I don’t like to cause a conflict. Nor do I wish to seem inconsiderate. But it is starting to piss ME off…so I need to get it off my chest.

There seem to be a general perception that organic food and clothes are nothing but a positive thing. Positive for our bodies, positive for our environment and generally the concept that is going to save our planet. Organic is the new charity case everyone wants to get in on. Our clothes should be organic and our food should be and if you don’t agree you contribute to the destruction of our planet. Period.

I find it odd that this organic food is going to make us healthier. I work, as most of you know, in a grocery store, and there is a general agreement among my coworkers that the customers buying nothing but organic all look paler and generally unhealthier than the average customer. It could be a coincidence. Of course.

Now, if you are reading this you are probably wondering where Im going with this…I sound like quite the schmuck…I know. And the reason you are feeling that way right now, is because you believe what the papers tell you. And you wont necessarily be wrong…there is a lot of truth in the general perception of organic products.

It has become common knowledge that artificial fertilizers introduced to soil cause many problems…one of which is algal blooms in lakes which kill fish and other organisms by asphyxiation. There is no arguing this. Also; avoiding the spraying of cereals and other food products reduce human-introduced toxins in our food. It also reduces the amount of human-introduced toxins in the soil…which inevitably affects various species. I am in no way denying this.

However.

What I would like you to consider, is the requirements behind organically grown products. A farmer which grows his cereal organically will need a much larger field to grow his crops organically than he would need had he used artificial fertilizers. He is in need of a certain volume on his harvest in order to sustain himself and quite possibly a family as well. Plants grow slower in poor soil…they also have less mass when grown without fertilizers than they would have with. Hence, the farmer needs a bigger area of land. He will also need to switch between fields to allow one field the rebuilding of nutrients…possibly by letting cattle graze here…but while this is taking place he is utilizing the other field. Translated: he needs a lot of land. This may in many cases require deforestation. Deforestation removes animal habitats.

Of course the presence of human introduced toxins is a no-issue with organic food. -But what about the naturally introduced ones? There is a reason farmers started spraying their crops to begin with. That reason is mold. There are also various bacterial infections one has to deal with, but mold may be the most serious one. -Serious enough to cause death in humans as well as cattle and other animals. Organically grown food does not have protection against these infections and require a much higher level of control. –A control we know tends to be sloppy…just look at the milk issue in China for instance.

My point is:

Organically grown food isn’t necessarily better for the environment…nor the human body. It certainly can be, but that depends on what type of organic food you are eating. We know for instance that nuts and especially peanuts are very susceptible to mold. Organically grown cereal may be better for the soil and the organisms living there…but what about the ones that used to live in the area before it became cultivated?

And what about areas in the 3rd world struggling with poor soil? If everyone decides to eat nothing but organic, how will they be able to sell their crops? Could this increase the division between the 3rd world and the industrialized part of the world?

The way I see it, the best solution may be 50-50. Switch between organic and artificially grown food. Wear clothes made out of organic cotton…but not only that type of clothes. You are of course allowed to stay organic in every way…but don’t say you are doing it for the environment.

You have a personal right to be selfish…but know that you are.

Allow me to be shallow for a moment here...

So, here's the thing;

I cut my hair two weeks ago and while sitting there watching my personal hairdresser (ooo that sounds posh!) cut off my locks, I was talking to her about coloring my hair again. I have been a brunette, a red-head and a blond (my natural haircolor) and I was thinking of maybe going red again. It is fall after all, and red goes with the season. She, that would be my hairdresser, agreed that red was the way to go and suggested that perhaps I could be a hairmodel for her. She had some color she needed to try out and it just so happened to be red. Voilá! I had an appointment for a coloring session. Free of charge. Which goes well with my student budget. 200 bucks worth of treatment for free is synonymous with "yes please, thank you very much".

So the following week she colored it. And I love the result. I really do. But I have been puzzled by this color. It is intense...to say the least. But I dont mind that. There is nothing more boring than merging with the crowd. Standing out is cool and everything, -but I would like to know which color my hair actually is. At first I thought: red. Definetely red. Then the light hit my hair a little differently and it looked like a dark pink. So I thought: Ok...pink. Cool. Then, in different light again it looked purple. At this point Im thinking; WuddeFok? What color is it!!?

The first person to comment on it was Lars at Uni. He told me I looked "cool today with purple hair and matching shoes and cell phone" (my beautiful purple phone). He wasnt being ironic, I know that...so he saw it as purple. And I agreed. Thank you for the compliment, by the way.

Then there was Irene (who I like to refer to as electron-Irene...as there are several Irenes around) who blurted out: "Wow! you colored your hair! That's what I call RED!" So she thinks it's red...And I really can't disagree...

Days go by and I start feeling comfortable with the red-head image. I am now a red-head.

That is...until I go to work and a little 5 year old girl sees me and starts crying. I used to have spikes in my hair at one point, and a mohawk after that, so Ive been used to watching old ladies clutch their handbags a little extra when I pass them on the streets (had they only known what a nerd I really am)...But I have never made a child cry before. I was a little befuddled by this as my hair is way more conservative at this point than it has been before. I didnt know I looked that scary. I DID have a 2 year-old tell me once: "Wow! You look weird!" Which was hilarious and the boy was so cute I just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him. I told him he looked really cool and his dad was tomato-red thinking I must have gotten offended.

But this girl started crying...

Then I hear her tell her mom (while still crying): "mommy, I want purple hair like that tooooo!" Upon which mommy nervously replies; "but you have such beautiful long, blond hair!" I had to laugh. I love kids.

So my hair is purple again. And few people know colors as well as kids, right? I am confused...

I really dont want to care anymore...but you know how it is. Once you get your mind set on something you really want to find the answer. That is why Eirik at work last night became such an epiphany to me...or I guess he gave me an epiphany...Either way he nailed it. This is the kind of guy who tells you exactly what is on his mind...good or bad...and we were talking about glasses and personal style and something something I cannot remember, when he simply said: "Yeah sure, but you can do it because you have plum-red hair". And I thought: "That's it! Its plum-red! Its not red or purple, its both! Its plum colored!" Aaaaah that felt GOOD!

So i think I am settled with it now. I have plum-colored hair with a touch of pink. And I am loving it. But just to give you an idea of what I have been talking about, I have taken some pictures. However, watching the pictures makes me realize this color doesnt photograph well...Somehow it looks less intense in pictures...But I'll post them anyways;

Yes, this is me. -Practicing my 'less-intelligent'-look for my next trip to rural Idaho. I'd like to see the customs agent who won't fall for this one! "Getting married"...my ass. Oh! By the way...this one kinda shows off the pink'ish purple..ish...color.

Different light makes it look red. Very red.

And here we're back to purple...or perhaps a little brown...just to confuse you/me even more. And that completes a whole F'ing blog about my hair. Sweet! Who said you need interesting topics?

The True Purpose of Facebook

Facebook...Lets just taste that word for a bit. Its wide and open, yet round in the edges...and slightly bitter.

Unless you've been on a space mission...or are one of those really old people who refuse to follow the continuing industrialization of modern time, you've heard of it. You may have read about it in the paper...or watched a TV show where it was mentioned...You may have heard it from colleagues at work or perhaps someone mentioned it once at the gym. If you are really into the technical stuff, you may even have tried it out. To satisfy your curiosity and all that jazz.

Personally I cant remember how I got involved. I think maybe it was one of those "all-my-friends-are-jumping-off-of-bridges,-so-I-should-too" incidents. Cause we all know I do everything my friends do. I have no backbone. Or nose bone...or whatever it is called...(depending on what country you are from). No will of my own. None whatsoever *cough* excuse me. Either way, I got involved. I decided to check it out and I am now deeply fascinated.

I always thought it would be one of those 24-hour flu things. Shows up when you least expect it, knocks you out and leaves you all confused and vulnerable within a day or two. But somehow it stuck. And has stuck for what I believe is almost a year now.

It all begins with a profile. You load a profile picture, preferably of yourself, but anything from your dog, a beer can or some picture of a child no one knows seems to be working ok as well. Somehow profile pictures tend to look like mug-shots anyway, so I cannot for the life of me understand why people choose their child's face as their profile picture...each to his own I guess.

Then you answer a couple of grueling questions like; your name, your hometown, sex (you only get to choose between female and male...they seem to have forgotten the simple 'yes' and 'no' feature), birth date, and political as well as religious views. Once you get these done its over to the serious stuff ('cause everyone knows politics and religion never leads to anything serious). You give out your contact information, your relationship status, what you are looking for relationship wise (here you can actually choose the somewhat desperate line: "whatever I can get"), education and work info and eventually also your interests...books, movies, favorite quotes etc etc. In essence; you give your life story in the shape of a not so anonymous questionnaire.

Once you've done this, you can add other people to a 'friends'-list. These people can now read all the information you have in your profile, they can write you messages on your 'wall' and send you links and pictures and little 'gifts' in the shape of a cartoon picture. You want a garden? You can add it. Complete with cartoon plants to water and nurture. You want a puppy? You can have one...or an aquarium. -With mermaids.

What fascinates me about this whole ordeal is the purpose. What in the name of Alice ("who the fuck is Alice") is the purpose? Why do we do this? Why do I continue doing this? I originally thought it would be a nice way of getting in touch with lost friends. I would add them to my friends list and perhaps write them a message on their wall. You'll get a message back saying something like; "Hey, how are you? Long time no see. What are you doing these days?" And thats about it. You dont really get in touch with people...the people I leave messages to are people I normally see in real life as well. I dont really have anything to say to people I havent talked to in 5-10 years. Not because I have anything against them...but because we have nothing in common.

And then you have the people who add other people to their 'friends'-list just to get a high total number of "friends"...Why? Do they collect people? Why add people to the list of who gets to read up on your life, if you dont know them? Ive gotten add-requests from people I cannot remember ever having met! Im thinking they know someone I know and therefore automatically believe we have met at some point. Well, think again! I find it strange...

Ive come to realize that Facebook is not a way of getting in touch with lost friends as originally stated...It is a way of spying on people you used to know but no longer have contact with. "Oooo she married that guy she cheated on her boyfriend with." "Oh, he is single again." "She has 3 kids already?"

And in a way it is fun. To make up for the spying you wish someone a happy birthday when facebook gives you the notice...and all in all you know they are spying on you too, so it is ok. Being aware of it though makes it possible to put certain people on a limited profile list. Meaning they only get to read the stuff you allow. And if you are reading this while also being a name on my 'friends'-list...wondering why you only get a limited profile...Please dont be upset. Dont be hurt. It is not because I dont like you. There are seriously few people in this world I do not like...and I certainly would not have added you to any list if you are one of those few people. It is just that I like to know who are spying on me. If you only get a limited profile, its because I feel I dont really know you...or perhaps never actually did.

-Which defeats Facebook's original purpose...I know. But I like to play by my own rules at least once in a blue moon...and if you know me, you'd already know that.

So I guess I will keep checking in on my "friends" to see who they hooked up with last weekend or what movies they've seen recently, knowing this is just a new form of gossip. But at least it is open and both ways...and the source is you and no one else.

Saying No To Power

I realized the other day that I have essentially been making “yellow rain” in the lab lately. When I say yellow rain, I am not talking about urine or anything even remotely similar to any natural bodily function, or bodily byproducts. I mean yellow rain as in the biological weapon.

For those of you who didn’t pay attention in history class, “yellow rain” is in reality a trichothecene mycotoxin, T-2, produced by various types of mold, which has been linked to incidents in Vietnam and Cambodia in the 70s. It was said to cause blindness, bleeding, neurological symptoms and death in those subjected to it, and eyewitnesses claimed it had been released from low-flying aircrafts as a yellow oily substance, hence the name: yellow rain. Now, this was never really proved to be an actual weapon, as many doubt the witnesses and many claim it was a result of swarms of bees dropping pollen with the toxin present…Either way it was tested to contain the toxin and the symptoms are similar to known cases of T-2 toxin ingestion…which you can imagine is pretty bad no matter who or what caused it.

I guess I haven’t really been making true “yellow rain” as the mold I use contain more toxins than just the T-2 one…which come to think of it, could be even worse than yellow rain. The mold Im working on is one of the most toxic ones we know of, and yet not much is known of its affect on people…or other living things. But it frightens me how easy it is. Sure you need certain machines most people don’t have access to…and chemicals which isn’t super easy to acquire…but where there is a will, there probably is a way too.

I personally feel a certain sense of awe towards the organisms I am working with. Knowing that something as seemingly simple as a fungus can give a child pulmonary hemorrhage and even cause death, or make an adult chronically sick…and knowing how easy it is to take this organism and turn it into something as horrifying as a weapon. It makes me wonder what causes people to actually do it. Just because I know how to do it, doesn’t mean I would ever even consider doing it! What makes some people think differently? It is strange how you can so easily find yourself in a position where you can do something terribly wrong, yet good to know I would never even think of it. But I wonder what makes some people do the opposite of good. What trigger factor is needed for someone in the same position to actually cross the line? I am not sure I want to know.

You can take someone like Alfred Nobel for instance. A chemist and engineer who invented dynamite, thinking this would “end all wars”. He probably thought he was doing something good when in fact he invented something capable of killing more people in a much shorter time than ever seen before. But was he a bad man? Was he really aware of what he was doing? It is hard to imagine anything else today, but go back a hundred years…? I guess he realized his grand mistake before his death, creating the Nobel Peace Prize (in addition to some other prizes), but the damage was already done.

I for one think I will go about this as something I need to do in order to finish my work. –Which may have been the standard excuse used throughout the history of time, but I know myself well enough to know that I have a goldfish memory about things I do not wish to remember. And this procedure is on its way out of my head already.

Toxins? Yellow rain? What the hell is that?
Im just another dumb blonde.

Acknowledging discrimination

I am going to allow myself to be a little pissed for a moment here. I have something I need to get off my chest as it seems to me very few people are bothered with what I am about to talk about. Please forgive me in advance if this does not apply to you, and if it does, you need not tell me so…just let me know you get the point and will stop doing it…and if you don’t get the point I will probably eat your head the next time we meet. –Or simply chop it off with my machete which I bring with me everywhere…obviously.

It seems to me, everywhere I go, people are lazy. –Inconceivably lazy. So lazy in fact that they cannot walk more than 3 feet at the time. Due to this habit of being slothful people drive everywhere. This is a fact I have accepted long ago. If people wish to slowly lose their ability to walk, let them drive…”fuck the environment as long I don’t need to exercise”. Hopefully as time goes by they will realize that exercise is actually good for you…and perhaps they will start walking again. Either way, neither the environment, nor the need for exercise is going to be the topic of this post.

The thorn in my foot (not my side) today is the laziness that affects those who would love to exercise but cannot due to physical impairment. I am talking about those fuckers (pardon my French) who think it is ok to park on a handicap spot right in front of the store entrance. The “only-going-to-be-gone-for-5-minutes”-assholes that are too lazy to park 4 spaces down where there is no handicap sign.

As someone with a close family member who needs these handicap spaces…spaces which are wider so you can open the doors completely without causing damage to the car next to you…spaces which are close to the entrance so you wont have to carry bags far, and which limit the distance you need to walk…I have seen how these selfish idiots can ruin a shopping trip.

I have been a passenger with this person who in situations like these have only had the choice of finding another store where handicap spaces have been available…sometimes that requires a long drive or a visit to several stores…now I am sure you can imagine the predicament if the store in question is one of a kind in an area.

In these situations I have personally gone out of the car just to check the parked cars for a handicap permit. I can tell you that in 98 percent of the cases, no permit has been present.

I have also caught people red handed coming out of the store while Ive been checking their car…Obviously when I ask them where their permit is they always get angry and give me the following line “I was only gone for 5 minutes”. As if that is an ok excuse. As if the person who actually has a permit and drives by will know this. As if you can tell whether or not they have a permit in their front window when you drive by the car on the opposite side. The person looking for a handicap space cannot see the front window with the permit…or lack of it…they can only assume you have one. And you don’t know if the person parked there will be gone for 5 minutes or 2 hours… Besides, it is often apparent they have been gone way longer than 5 minutes…it takes more than 5 minutes to buy a whole bag worth of items…

It makes me so angry that so many people think it is ok to do this. That they can believe their laziness is more important than the wellbeing of an already unfortunate person who cannot walk as far and long as you and who cannot carry as heavy as you can.

If you do not need a handicap space, please do not under any circumstances park there! Someone needs it and trust me, there are more people out there with a permit than you would think! Just be happy you don’t really need that space…cause suddenly one morning you may wake up and find that something is not right with your body, and before you know it you have the need for a handicap space. And at that point it is too late. You wish you could exercise, run, wear high heels or simply carry a heavy bag. Stuff most of us take for granted…stuff so many people wish they could do. Why add to their misery? How can you be so selfish? Why is your laziness more important than other people’s wellbeing? If you have legs to walk on then walk. And if you don’t, get a permit before you park illegally.

I think I will start carrying a permanent marker in my bag. And every time I find an illegally parked car, I will write in big letters on the back window: “I am more important than handicapped people”. That way the driver will have to drive all the way home in embarrassment before he can wash it off with spirits.

Next car could be yours. Think about it.

I slept through a big fire last weekend...

Half my block is gone, and no one even bothered to wake me. It has been 3 days and the firemen are still there…making sure the fire wont start again.

Its strange how some situations can open your eyes. You always imagine these things wont happen to you…and you still don’t believe it when its happening. I guess for me, it didn’t really happen. I talked to a police officer at the scene who told me they had considered my building safe…I guess their idea of “safe” is a bit different than mine, in view of the fact that I live 2 houses down from a burnt down building.

Ive always wondered what I would bring with me in case of a fire...If I had 2 minutes to gather something before I had to evacuate, what would I bring? I dont own that many things, but the ones I do own have a lot of meaning to me...obviously Im not personal with my plates or my towels, but I do have a lot of pictures for instance...and memories in shapes of decorations, candles, books. Most of it irreplaceable...not because they're pricey or even particularly old...but because they are attached to a story. And Ive been wondering how I could possibly separate them in value.

Which story is worth more than the others?

How could I possibly choose? You can argue and say that the stories will still be there even if the mementos are gone…but sometimes you need to hold an object in your hands in order to remember details about something…or to even be reminded of stories. I have stuff Ive bought on trips that sparks a memory I wouldn’t be able to recall had it not been for the very thing I bought. I can look at a picture Ive taken and remember what happened right before the picture was taken…or right after. How could I possibly make the same neural connections without the picture? The same goes with objects…the wooden carving I bought in Tanzania…I remember the smell of the store…the smiles on the salespeople…the very shelf it stood on and how I almost tore the whole thing down by accident when I picked out the carving I wanted. I can look at the item and remember this…but if the item goes…how will my mind be able to keep the memory? And how could I value this memory over or under others? Obviously it wasn’t a life changing episode of my existence, but it helps me recall the feel of a country I fell in love with.

I guess what Im trying to say is; Its not the objects but the stories I am afraid of losing…and you cant get insurance on stories.

Reviving blogs

Ive been sensing the subsequent death of my picture blog lately...Not because I dont take any pictures, but because I usually store them on my laptop and not the computer I use at uni...and as we all know how I love to procrastinate, I usually update my blogs at uni. So today I decided to, figuratively speaking, give a little mouth-to-mouth and blow a little life into the poor dying thing. I have therefore updated my "Life in pictures" blog (link on right hand side) with pictures from Tanzania and some from the past weekend. I have no idea if this is interesting to anyone but myself, but I did it anyway. Mostly because I felt sorry for the blog...and no blogs should die alone. So there you have it.

Other than that, I really dont have anything to report. Nor do I have any major topics and personal views I feel like sharing...so I will pat myself on the back for updating one of the blogs and come back to this one later.

To Be Continued

Respect

I was going to write this post in my film blog…but then I realized I had more to say than what my film blog is about…which is simply my subjective view of films Ive seen…and not so much beyond that. This film requires a bit more.

Last weekend I watched ‘The Dark Knight’ and I cannot remember having been more frightened by an actor. The scariest actor to me has always been Christopher Walken. I don’t know why, but the guy scares the crap out of me. The way he plays bad guys makes the little hairs at the back of my neck rise in fear…But after having seen Heath Ledger as the joker…Chris has an equal match.

Ive been looking forward to ‘The Dark Knight’ for about a year now…I absolutely loved ‘Batman begins’ and the thought of a sequel in the same dark, gothic style had me shaking with anticipation. Don’t get me wrong, I dig ‘Batman (1989)’ and even ‘Batman returns (1992)’ but they are completely different films. Theatrical and colorful characters, insane but somehow less intimidating than they easily could be. ‘Batman begins’ was way darker, moodier and more serious. It also tried to explain why there are so many wild characters in Gotham, -an explanation I had been looking for. So as soon as ‘The Dark Knight’ premiered, I made sure to get tickets.

I have to admit I was skeptic to all the hype around Heath Ledger. Not because I have any doubts about Ledger as an actor. He was a terrific actor. I first noticed him in ‘A Knight’s Tale (2001)’ and I have followed him since. My skepticism was more based on the attention that naturally follows a type of tragedy that was the case with Ledger. History is full of amazing people being praised after they’re no longer with us. People who had the skills and talent to be recognized while still alive, but due to competition and over-exposure to other talents, somewhat drowned in the masses. In situations like this, it is not until the person is no longer here, that they get acknowledged and sometimes even over-praised. I believe that most people are good, and when a good person goes away, you wish to say something nice about that person. So to clarify, I did not doubt the skills of Heath Ledger in ‘The Dark knight’, I simply had doubts that he was as amazing and world-altering as the reviews said he was.

There was however no reason for doubt.

I found myself being almost bored with Christian Bale and the other characters of the film (I say “almost bored” as I wasn’t bored at all…but you know…trying to make a point here). …not because they didn’t do a good job, they did, but because Heath Ledger was in a league of his own far above the others. And I say this as a person who loves, loves, loves both Sir Michael Caine and Morgan Freeman. I have never seen a more shocking performance by an actor before. Heath who has played a knight (A Knight’s Tale, 2001), a fighter of mythical beings (The Brothers Grimm, 2005), a ladies’ man (Casanova, 2005) and a men’s man (Brokeback Mountain, 2005) outdid himself as the Joker. A character so completely different from anything else he has done and he shines stronger than ever.

I left the theater all excited and worked up, yet deeply, truly sad. Excited because Heath Ledger has never been better. Sad because he will never have a chance to be that great again. This guy truly died at the top of his game and it is with sad realization I accept the fact that we will not have the fortune of following his growth as an actor. Imagine how great he would have become with even more experience…

I look forward to watching his very last performance in Terry Gilliams (one of my favorite directors); ‘The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus’ but somehow I feel ‘The Dark Knight’ and Heath’s version of The Joker will be the most memorable performance of his career.

And what a performance it is…

Forgotten joys

My shoes actually fell apart today. Literally speaking.

We are going through a major heat wave in western Norway these days…its awful and wonderful all at once. Awful by the fact that we are not used to this kind of heat and wonderful because of that very same thing. So, Ive been wearing my favorite sandals the past couple of days, sandals which my feet are not used to and which therefore chafe my feet…between the toes…very sexy…Hence, today I had to dig deep into the back of my closet and clean the dust of my old trusty Adidas slippers. These slippers have been in my possession for at least 10 if not 15 years…and they have been wonderful. They have been good to me. I did a quick inspection of them and noticed a small gap in the rubber sole on the left one, but it didn’t look serious and I thought nothing more of it.

I have about a 20 minute walk to uni and I was enjoying my walk with my comfy non-chafing slippers when I suddenly, half way to uni, lost one of the slippers. At first I thought perhaps I had kicked it off while walking and felt a little dumb as I picked it up again. –But on closer inspection I noticed that the small gap in the sole had caused the entire cross band to loosen on one side of the shoe…and we are talking slippers here. No cross band, no shoe. With a slightly confused and somewhat amused face I walked over to the nearest bench to figure out what to do next.

I find a large rubber band in my bag (note to guys: Gentlemen! This is why we, the ladies, always have a lot of crap in our purses. You never know when it might come in handy) and tie it around the slipper…hoping it will hold all the way back home. So I start walking home again when after about 15 feet I notice something coming off the slipper. It is still stuck to my foot, but something fell off. So I turn just to see the back half of my slipper laying 2 feet behind me. I am now wearing half a slipper stuck to my left foot by the help of a rubber band. As I find this intensely amusing I decide to inspect the right slipper as well, knowing that if irony is playing its usual joke on me, this one will be falling apart as well. And sure enough; the front half of my right slipper is about to come off, held together only by half an inch of rubber. At least the cross band was still intact…

I decide that it will look way dumber limping all the way home on the front half of one slipper and the back half of the other, than it will look walking barefoot. So that’s what I do. I walk barefoot in the middle of the city on a sidewalk next to traffic. And I love it.

I simply love it. I have not walked barefoot since I was a little girl playing with my friends in the streets (streets entirely without traffic…can you believe it?) running around with a water balloon in one hand and an ice cream in the other. I had forgotten how comfortable it is walking on hot, dry asphalt in the middle of summer on your bare soles. Its surprising how soft your feet are if you give them a chance to support your body without the confinement of shoes. I would have walked all the way home had it not been for the fact that I was in the middle of a busy city where you may suddenly find yourself stepping in glass or on some unfortunate souls’ used syringe…(although, to Bergen’s defense, it is a very clean city and I saw no glass nor any syringes on my way) so I walked to the nearest shopping centre with a huge smile on my face.

With new slippers on my feet (slightly more feminine than the adidas ones…) I could finally get back to my original schedule, but with a surprisingly good feeling inside. It is amazing how life can throw you a bone suddenly and unexpectedly…and usually when you need it the most.

Asante sana

Imagine this;

Early morning. The temperature is cool, yet warm enough for a thin sweater. You know the sun will overcome the thin morning mist any time now as you’re driving, along a dirt road, with all the windows open and no roof. Suddenly you notice the tall grass move on your left side and you stop the car. A small yet lumpy face takes a curious look at you from in between the grass, before it decides to get scared and take off. The face and its adjoining compact body makes a quick turn and runs into the bushes with a thin tail pointing straight up like a radio antenna on an automobile. You’ve just seen your first wild warthog…the laugh is spontaneous, and you cannot help grinning from ear to ear as you watch the thin erect tail disappear in the grass.

Let’s stick to this image a little longer…

You start the engine again and continue down the road until you reach a narrow path just wide enough to fit the car. The sun is out now and it is warm enough for you to take your sweater off. As you are struggling to get the jersey over your head you sense the car stopping again. The driver turns off the engine and everything gets quiet. Then suddenly you hear a roar followed by a light growl. The roar makes you a little uneasy so you hurry with the clothing, almost desperately tearing it off. What you see once you get the sweater off your head is something you’ve never seen before.

The car has stopped in the middle of a lion pride. The roar came from the dominant male who is sitting by a pond trying to drink. A young cub is climbing on him and was just told by daddy to “get the fuck off” (human translation). Everywhere around the car are lions. You count 11, one male, 7 females and 3 cubs. One of the females is only 3 feet away…and you sit there in your car feeling very small as you have eye contact with her…the window is open and all she has to do is sit up and lash out. But she doesn’t. She just looks at you. You can almost read her mind by looking into her beautiful yellow eyes.

“What are you? Why are you sitting in this metal thing? You bore me”.

You expect “daddy” to get uneasy about your presence. You expect him to stop drinking and move towards your car, letting you know your presence is unwanted. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t care that you are there. He is not afraid of you and it seems almost like he is completely unaware of your existence. The driver tells you how most animals view the car. Apparently the car is just another large animal…beings inside the car is just a part of the car. Simple as that. You drive away with a desire to leave these beautiful creatures alone…feeling smaller than you ever have in your entire life.

This image…or fantasy or whatever you wish to call it, is not a dream. Not anymore. This has been my reality the past week. I have had the incredible fortune of spending a week in what I now regard as one of the most beautiful countries in the world; Tanzania.

I knew little about the country before our arrival. I knew it was a poor country in Africa with an average income of $250 a year, making it one of the 25 poorest countries in the world. I knew there would be spectacular wildlife. I did not know how spectacular. I did not know how amazing the people would be. How generous and giving they would be despite of abject poverty.

The week went by so very fast…a week filled with smells, visions, sounds and tastes so very different from the usual ones.

It is hard to describe the feeling you are left with. Perhaps the biologist in me was hit way harder than the average non-biologist…but I have never felt more insignificant and unimportant than I have these past 7 days, and I have never felt better. It is a bit of a contradiction, isn’t it? Feeling insignificant yet happy and satisfied. It is a sense of happiness that comes from acknowledging your own bliss and fortune in life. As well as the feeling of joy that comes from witnessing some of the world’s true wonders.

(pictures: http://pixelsandstuff.blogspot.com/2008/08/tanzania.html)

Fighting Prejudice

For roughly 7 years now (I cannot believe its been that long…) Ive been working in a grocery store. As Ive also been a student all these years, the job has only been part time, allowing me just enough cash to have a more varied diet than noodles. No offence to noodles… its just not my favorite dinner.

Ive always thought about my job as a fairly easy way of making money. A way which requires minor levels of brain activity and little responsibility compared to a pretty decent income (about 25 bucks an hour). Add that up with a boss who understands that Uni comes first, and you get a good reason to stay. However, my views of this being a simple job which requires little effort and concentration, seems to, unfortunately so perhaps, also be the general view reflected by the public.

I recently read an article in a news paper which placed cashier at supermarket/grocery store as the lowest status job you could have. –Somewhat similar to the dung-handlers of the low castes in India. I have to admit I was not very surprised by this article, as Ive seen signs of this view for quite some time.

For some reason people automatically assume that the person behind the register is lazy, unmotivated and/or extremely dumb.

Ive personally been subjected to this kind of attitude on many occasions by several customers; You have the family fathers who look at you as if you have an IQ of 30 when you ask if they would like a plastic bag. –“Does it look like I can fit all this into my pockets?” (usually accompanied by a sinister laugh). As smartass attitude from a cashier is highly unappreciated you are forced to swallow your pride and do nothing but smile and hand the customer his plastic bags. Obviously while doing this you imagine the reply you would give if you weren’t dependent on the job: -“No sir, I can see your beer gut is preventing you from putting anything at all into your pockets, but you wouldn’t want me to charge you for plastic bags if you brought your own, would you? You’d be surprised to know how many actually do bring their own…especially those who worry about the environment.”

Dumbass…

Then you have the middle aged women who feel the need to tell you why they are giving you 305 NOK (Norwegian Krone) instead of the 255 NOK the items cost. –“That way you can give me a 50-bill instead of all the change”. Again you just sit there and smile…pretending you had absolutely no math at the high school you went to, nor the university you are currently attending.

But I have to admit, it is somewhat a relief to have people assuming you are dumb. No one expects anything from you. If you make a mistake (which of course happens from time to time) people are very understanding as they expect nothing else from you. –Very different from the academic environment at the university.

The condescending attitude is easy to deal with, especially once you get used to it. It is a little bit worse dealing with the nut jobs.

Every store has a customer which is referred to as “the weirdo” or “the stinker” or “that guy with the awful finger nails”. You know the type…usually male, although occasionally you will find a woman in the same category…Often this woman turns out to be a man on closer inspection though...This is the type who has poor personal hygiene and for some reason this person is always interested in body contact. He is not happy with giving you the money quickly and efficiently…No, he wants to give it to you one penny at the time…and usually by pressing it deep into the palm of your hand… To the point where you can feel the fingernails digging into your skin…and although you cannot directly see it, you feel yesterdays dinner (digested) being scraped off the nails and onto your skin. I say this as a microbiologist who is used to dealing with E. coli and other microorganisms…I am not a germ-freak (unless you count 'above average' interest as freaky)…Microorganisms don’t scare me…but these people (and their flora) do.

Fortunately the freaks are few and far between. And although unnerving, it is perhaps the angry customer which is the scariest one.

The angry customer is unpredictable. He or she can be of all age and social groups and it (I will call the angry customer for “it” from now on…as they sometimes scare me like the movie did) is easily recognizable by the lack of friendliness in the facial area. Usually it has seen something or experienced something in the store which was of unsatisfactory nature and therefore it feels it is its obligation to report this to the person behind the register.-Often this is conducted with a high pitch voice and severe redness to the facial skin.

Obviously it doesnt matter that you as a cashier have no control over how the meat section pack the meat or how other customers react when they tear something down and break it (for some reason they always leave it there on the floor without reporting to anyone who can clean it up). All that matters is that you are present. So you'll have to deal with it.

So as you can see; being a cashier requires far more than being able to scan various food items and accept money.

I guess what I am trying to get across here, is the hidden aspects of what seems to be a fairly easy-going, simple job. It is not as easy as you may think. And I feel cashiers deserve a little bit more respect than we usually get. Even though you may go grocery shopping after work when you are tired...remember; We get tired too. We work hard as well, and believe it or not, but most of us have already spent 8-9 hours at school/uni before we go to work...so our workdays may be 13 or 14 hours.

Just think about that the next time you go shopping

A Series of Unfortunate Events?

I believe that at some point towards the end of last week, I came in contact with a portal in the space continuum. I cannot tell you exactly when nor where this happened, but I am pretty convinced that it did. I believe that the said portal brought me to the year 2008 on an alternate time-line.

No, I am not insane…

I started last week with the ironic event that I mentioned in my previous post, but somehow I managed to land on my feet. I worked well in the lab and was even rendered eligible for a job in October (when Im supposed to finish my thesis). Everything went according to plan. That is, until Thursday. Thursday afternoon I was going to sign my name on the list for use of the electron microscope on Friday,-only to find that the microscope was shut down for the rest of the week. Obviously this fucked up my plans for the following week, as I now had to use the microscope on Monday…Not a big problem, just unfortunate. I am not sure if this is when I entered the portal, but it may have been.

The weekend went by without any significant issues, -it was actually a pretty nice weekend.

Then come Monday.

Monday started with an empty tank of Carbon Dioxide gas in the lab, and certain death for my algae. Then followed a talk with my supervisor telling me we would have to apply for a deadline extension for my thesis. Hence, Monday brought longer period of lab work, longer student existence for yours truly, higher student loan and the loss of a possible job in October.

I took the rest of the day off.

Tuesday. –The plan was to ignore the dismays of the previous day and treat myself to a membership card at the gym. –Work off the anger and all that…So I skipped Uni, packed my sweats and showed up at the gym. –Only to find that I couldnt buy a semester card until July 1st, unless I was willing to pay half the price of 6 months for 1 month of work out…a month of which I will spend at least one week on holidays. Obviously I couldnt afford this and would have to wait a month. No exercise and more anger. –I went home and did some sit-ups…but it just wasnt the same.

Wednesday. I decided to get over myself and swallow my anger. Went back to Uni with a slight feeling of optimism. After all, three’s a charm right? The third day would be good.

I am standing in front of the main door, Wednesday morning, ready to swipe my keycard so that I can enter my office and get to work. I swipe. Nothing. Swipe again. Nothing. Nothing but a red, no-access sign staring me in the face. Mocking me. My card is blocked. I no longer have access to my office. I walk down to the main building to see if I am blocked from the lab as well. I am not, but while entering I meet one of the people in charge of the algal cultivation lab who tells me no tank with gas will arrive until Friday. Goodbye algae. I will have to start my experiments from scratch…Wonderful.

In an attempt to fix my keycard I arrived at the main science building to find that the one single person who could help me had the day off.

Fuck it. I took the day off too.

Today is Thursday. I tried to get my card fixed but nothing will happen until tomorrow at the earliest. Tomorrow will be Friday. I am right now outside with a notebook and a pen, writing this while looking for a portal to take me back to the time-line I was born on. The time-line that holds my friends, my family. A place for reason and positive predictability. The time-line where even the crappiest of events make somewhat sense.

I am not confident that I will find this portal, and if I dont, this post will be my letter of warning.

A warning that portals exist. That is it possible to transfer from one time-line in the space continuum to another. And a warning to let you know that the two worlds can be so alike you wont know the difference before the shit hits the fan…

If you never hear from me again I might have found a different portal for a different time-line. That…or a flying De Lorean.

In the meantime; Consider yourself warned.

A religious argument, -Free of charge.

There is one specific thing in this world that opens me to the possibility of God.

I am a scientist, if not yet professional (still working on that master thesis), I am in heart...so I do truly believe in evolution and the laws of nature. I, for instance believe that we fall in love for the purpose of procreation. As humans invest so much time in their offspring, -a method that has shown to pay off for our species, we need to be picky as to whom we decide to breed with. -As the person you rub units with may be in your life for a while. Obviously when it comes to fish or rats this isnt as important as they invest none to very little time in their offspring. They can play with the first chap that comes along and have babies which are, after just a few weeks, left to themselves in the big world.

Now, even if I have this very scientific view on the concept of love or falling in love and having a crush, I still get just as carried away with it as anyone else. I am human after all. I just cant get myself to believe that we fall in love because a higher being or spirit or whatever one wish to call it has taught us to...or given us the ability to. At least if God made us able to fall in love, He or She must have done so to make sure we have enough sex to maintain the human species....which I admit could be a possibility.

However, there is one thing I cannot find a scientific explanation for;

Irony.

I was faced with this concept no later than yesterday. Picture this:
-Stressed student in the lab. 4 tubes with algal culture. A desperate need to have at least one tube with a synchronous culture.

That was me yesterday. I examined my tubes to find out that ONE of the 4 tubes might become synchronous within the day...something that was absolutely one hundred percent necessary if I was going to be able to do any work at all this week in the lab...and with an approaching deadline... Safe to say I was desperate.

I put the tubes in a rack and placed the rack in the window post, carefully making sure they were stable. I turned around to have another look in the microscope, just to hear a crashing sound of the rack tipping over. One of the tubes fell out of the rack and onto the floor, spilling all the algal culture across the floor. Now, you have probably already guessed which tube it was that fell down...

Of course out of all the 4 tubes, the single one I might be able to use had to drop.

I cussed. Then I had to laugh. It was just too ironic.

Its the same thing that happens every year in May. I cannot tell you how many times Ive spent weeks and weeks indoors in beautiful weather, preparing for an exam, just to walk out the door after my very last exam of the season, getting drenched in rain...And people wonder why Im pale...

Irony could very well be the proof of the existence of God. I am actually a little surprised that hasnt been used as an argument before. Ive heard all kinds of strange arguments to why evolution is crap...and they all show evidence of lack of knowledge... but irony... -How the hell do you explain that scientifically? It cannot be coincidence. It is too predictable for that. It cannot be entropy. The pattern is too obvious.

-Its the result of someone's, or something's, bad sense of humor. Thats what it is.

I guess the next time someone tries to preach to me, I will see if they can give me an explanation for irony, and if they can...then who knows. Perhaps you'll see me in church every Sunday some time in the future.

Romance

”I love you” she said, gazing into his deep blue eyes.
“I love you too” he said, running his hand through her blond hair…pulling out big chunks of it as his hand moved down towards her back.
“I think perhaps you should lay off the hair bleach for a while, baby” he said, removing the locks of hair from his fingernails.

He never saw her again.

Ive been thinking about romance lately…I find it odd what members of both sexes do to attract a significant other. I noticed getting off the bus the other day that 80% (give or take a few) of all the girls between 10 and 19 had long platinum blond hair, two sizes too small jeans (often with a nice accompanied fat-roll over the belt) and a low cut cleavage. I also noticed that the guys of the same age group all had short gel-styled hairdos with highlights and huge “diamond” ear-studs in both ears. I couldn’t have told them apart from each other if you held me at gunpoint in a snake pit.

What Im wondering about is who it was that inspired this look…Who decided that this is the ultimate sexy appearance? Who told these kids that this is the way to go if you want to be attractive? My initial thought was the media obviously. I find the media very easy to blame, as its always there and doesn’t target one specific person. All over the place you hear people talking about its influence on the young souls of today…and perhaps there is some truth in it. Perhaps the young boys have been watching P. Diddy and 80 cent or whatevertheFok that guy is calling himself with huge studs in their ears…and perhaps the girls have been watching the same music videos with half naked women dancing…or strutting around. And the kids copy it. But still…why is it sexy? Or is it sexy at all? -Cause I really cannot see it.

And another thing…why does the hair have to be blonde? And more so, why does it have to be white? They walk around with hair so white they look 90 years old from behind…you find yourself praying to the weather gods to keep the wind away…knowing that one small gust of air will blow locks of hair off the scalp on the girl in front of you. It scares the crap out of me…

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the need to look attractive. I, for instance, understand womens need of showing cleavage while enjoying a night out with friends. You try to show off just enough to draw attention from the opposite sex (or same sex if you’re into that). And we all know men love boobs. Just as women love a good man-ass.-Not to be mistaken for an ass-man (somehow I find boob-men easier to handle…at least you can see the hands coming)….or asshole for that matter…The clue is knowing exactly how much to show off, without showing off too much. Too much can send out the wrong signals.

I don’t think guys understand this issue…knowing when too much is too much. After all…as a man you don’t really have to worry about that, do you? Pants don’t show off much…you can accentuate a nicely shaped ass…but that’s about it. A shirt, if tight, can show off muscles…but no one will react if you wear a loosely fit one. We ladies have bigger issues; is the cleavage too big? Is the cleavage too small? Is this top too tight? Is it transparent? Are these pants too big? Are the pants too tight? Do I have a fat-roll? Sometimes I think being a man is way easier…

Personally I suspect men of not caring…I’ll bet they never even think about whether or not a cleavage is too small…they’re probably just happy its there. Is the top transparent? -Wooo-wee! Men are simple that way. They believe if the pants are expensive, they’re stylish. No questions asked.

I guess we’ll never fully understand why men do the things they do…and why we women do the things we do. Somehow it must work…’cause all over the place I see white-haired girls in yeast-inducing pants holding hands with diamond-studded, pimpled boys…And I see worried women in great clothes holding hands with men in over-prized, poorly designed jeans…

It’s a strange place this world we live in. -But intensely fascinating.

Hands Held High

Turn my mic up louder, I got to say something
Lightweights steppin' aside when we come in
Feel it in your chest, the syllables get pumping
People on the street then panic and start running
Words on loose leaf sheet, complete coming
I jump in my mind, I summon the rhyme I'm dumping
Healing the blind, I promise to let the sun in
Sick of the dark ways we march to the drumming
Jump when they tell us that they wanna see jumping
Fuck that, I wanna see some fists pumping
List something, take back what's yours
Say something that you know they might attack you for
'Cause I'm sick of being treated like I had before
Like it's stupid standing for what I'm standing for
Like this war's really just a different brand of war
Like it doesn't cater to rich and abandon poor
Like they understand you, in the back of their jet
When you can't put gas in your tank, these fuckers
Are laughing their way to the bank, and cashing their check
Asking you to have the passion and have some respect
For a leader so nervous in an obvious way
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
And the rest of the world watching at the end of the day
In the living room, laughing like, "What did he say?"

Amen

In my living room watching it, I am not laughing
'Cause when it gets tense, I know what might happen
The world is cold, the bold men take action
Have to react to get blown into fractions
At 10 years old, it's something to see
Another kid my age drugged under a Jeep
Taken and bound and found later under a tree
I wonder if he had thought 'the next one could be me'
Do you see the soldiers that are out today?
They brush the dust from bulletproof vests away
It's ironic, at times like this you'd pray
But a bomb blew the mosque up yesterday
There's bombs on the buses, bikes, roads
Inside your market, your shops, and your clothes
My dad, he's got a lot of fear, I know
But enough pride inside not to let that show
My brother had a book he would hold with pride
A little red cover with a broken spine on the back
He hand-wrote a quote inside,
"When the rich wage war, it's the poor who die"
Meanwhile, the leader just talks away
Stuttering and mumbling for nightly news to replay
The rest of the world watching at the end of the day
Both scared and angry, like "What did he say?"

Amen

With hands held high into a sky so blue
As the ocean opens up to swallow you









Photo: Corbis


http://www.linkinpark.com

The end of the world as we know it...

Here's a thought;

Why worry about our planet?

Ooooo...I can feel your resentment towards me now. All the way through your computer, across the world wide web, into my computer and out through every pore in the plastic covering my laptop. Give me a chance to explain. Please. I am not insane. Nor am I arrogant. I am simply realistic.

You see, the world is changing. We know this. We also know that it has changed before. Some people claim the recent changes is due to natural oscillation in temperature…that it was and is to be expected and nothing to worry about. Others claim it’s a change due to human influence. -One theory which removes responsibility from the hands of humans (“it’s simply no ones fault!”) and a second theory which gives humans galactic destroying capabilities. We can argue about which theory is correct till the end of our days. The fact of the matter is; the planet is changing. I am guessing the change is a combination of the two aforementioned theories. But that would be a third theory and a third theory makes it all more complicated…and it also renders it impossible for us as humans to push the fault over on someone or something else.

Get to the point you say. I will. I just had to explain the issue a bit before I start answering my own question of worry.-or lack of it.

Planet Earth as we know it has been in existence for roughly 4.5 billion years. Obviously if you are deeply religious you may disagree with that number, but either way our planet has been here for a shit-load of years. It is also huge. Perhaps compared to other planets its not so big, but if you compare it to…lets say a Hollywood mansion (which are quite a lot bigger than what Im used to), its pretty f-ing big. Now…what exactly is it about us humans that make us believe we are in the position of destroying this ancient as well as enormous object we inhabit?

As humans we are granted the ability to adapt to our environment without including genes and tedious evolution. Obviously we have evolved, but we can go on winter holidays to Aspen or the Swiss Alps without going through millennia of evolution first (-That would seriously suck by the way). We can manipulate the environment around us in order to increase our fitness. –And since survival is based on fitness (remember Darwin and “survival of the fittest”?) humans have been able to “take over the world”. Obviously this is an illusion since there are far more insects in the world than there are humans…but you get the idea.

So, what does this have to do with environmental problems? It is actually very simple. By treating the world the way we treat it today…polluting the air and the water, building houses where there should be forests, fishing the oceans empty, we simply reduce our own fitness. –And low fitness results in low survival rates. Did I lose you yet? Think of it this way. If you throw a rat into the water in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, you drastically reduce the rats chance of survival.-Or its fitness. It won’t die right away, as rats are pretty decent swimmers, but its chance of survival is based on how close it is to land and solid ground…and how far away the sharks are.

So when we pollute the air, the average temperature gets higher. This in turn leads to changes in weather. Tropical storms destroy villages and crops. People die. Water rises and takes out Denmark, Holland and any other low leveled area. People die. Drinking water gets polluted and makes people sick. People die. Certain crops can no longer grow where it used to due to the change in temperature. People die. The people who used to live in Denmark, Holland and other low leveled areas will be forced to move to higher land. It will get crowded and diseases will spread more easily. People die.

See my point?

We are not destroying the planet...We are destroying our ability to inhabit it. –And it doesn’t worry me. If it gets to the point where it is too late…well, then we just get what we deserve.

My only worry is the species we will take down with us. But hopefully it will be with the planet as it is with forest ecosystems after a fire. -The perfect opportunity for a fresh start.

I guess only time will tell.

The weekend

I am sitting here feeling hopeless wondering just how unceremonial this day will get. Once again I find my fretful self in the lab looking at the bowed sunshine outside. For some reason the weather is always extra valueless when i have long days in the lab. But thats life. -Or atleast it seems to be for me. I really dont have any chillier news to report...since I do spend so much time indoors in the lab. I DID go on a sobering hike last weekend though...which also happened to be my amphibious birthday. The trip was absolutely radioactive and my sister and I both agreed that it had been blending. -Which is something we both really needed. Later that tackier night my invulnerable boyfriend and I went out to dinner, which was pretty romantic and barbarian if I may say so myself. He also surprised me with a lustrous New York cheese cake later that evening. Something tells me Ive been talking about New York a lot lately. Gosh I love that gastric city. The cake was fermented and perfect. In fact it was so good I had 3 more pieces for breakfast. Now, I dont usually eat cake for breakfast...and certainly not 3 pieces in a row...but it WAS my oblivious birthday. So I though "The hell with it! If I want glittering cake, I'll eat just that". So I did. And it felt good. The rest of the following day was spent preparing myself for a adulterant night out with my colleagues at work. -Which usually ends up being scented and quite shameless. -Usually involving exciting amounts of alcohol, -and this night was no exception. I think that is all I am going to say about that night...Although I would like to add that I remember everything I said and did, and I looked unfit while doing it.

Sunday came with the traditional inactive dinner party followed by more restrained cake...or plural "cakes". And birthday gifts...which is always a nice gushing tradition.

I guess while reading through this, I actually HAD a weekend this time. It is amazing how much more interesting a story can get by adding adjectives...especially when you have no power over which adjectives to add. I wrote the story above (which is an actual account of what I did last weekend) with open spots where I wanted to add adjectives...then with the help of an online adjective generator I inserted the words highlighted in green. So there you go. My weekend.