Lies, deceit and all the other pleasantries that keep the weels turning...

[Eyreplenh]

-Hey, I know you don't wat to hear this, neither of you, I said, but here's the kinky truth -we haven't.

My friends, my old northern friend and his ex, my partner in romatic antics looked at me with their differing expressions.

-Why? What's wrong? he said, getting an almost instant reply from her; nothing's wrong.

There is nothing wrong, let me assura you of this, things are very very right at the moment. Writinggirl has been more or less living with me these past couple of weeks, and I can easily count the hours we've spent apart -sans the time we've spent working- since thursday two weeks ago.

-What do you do then? Just lie around kissing and dryhumping like frustrated adolescents? my very sexual northerner had big trouble understanding any of this. He prefers sexing things up as sonn as possible, sometimes before stating actual sex, names or other meaningless things.

-You really don't want to hear this, I warned him, sending a small smile to my more attuned friend on my left; we haven't actually kissed much either, it happens on occasion and it's nice when it does...

-Freaks! Shaking his head, my friend tries to figure out what possibly could be going on. What is it you do then? Talk?

We talk. We've talked alot. Now so much has been said we don't always say so much. We walk. Long stretches, in daytime and sometimes in the dead of night. We lay close.

-Don't laugh at this cliché I'll drop on you head right now, I smirkingly tell the northerner, but a lot of the time we just look into eachothers eyes.

-Gah! Argh! Stop! You're killing me! His tirade gets broken by a swift punch in the ribs by the ex, I laugh, we all laugh, and I know they are both happy for me.

What can I say, things are turning quite well now, I think. I'm currently at home with my family, and am enjoying the feeling of slightly missing someone -enjoying because it's only for a few days and the feeling is quite noveau for me

This person, writinggirl, connects with me in a whole myriad of ways, like how we, in the company of other people will meet eyes knowingly and smiling at the same things said, wonder at the same things and yeah... I'll say it again, I like her. A lot.

A bonus with her writing her blog is of course that I know a bit about how she feels as well. A bonus, that is, as long as it's going good, I suppose

[Eyreplenh]

I must say, it's no easy thing, spelling, when you're summerdreamhallucinating... I mean, wow. Quite rock bottom.

Anyway. I'm lying in her bed and she's making as if to leave. I grab her hand, pin her to the bed and kiss her, before I tickle her tummy until she screams of laughter and beats at me. I fake letting her go and she starts to get up before I pull her back down.

"Gods" she says, "you're awful!" Her smile tells me I'm not that awful. "Come on, let me go, let me make us breakfast. Lunch. Er, dinner? What time is it?"

"I don't like time" I say, and she sneers at me. Reaches over and pulls out a hidden book from her shelves. Dumps a book in the vicincity of my face and asks "smoothies okay?"

Of course it's okay. I turn over the book -it's Mark bloody Danielewskys new book! Her bookshelves are cooler than mine, both in style and content, but mine's bigger, way bigger, and that makes it okay -but the genious behind House of Leaves! I'm impressed. For the first time that day, but only as one of numerous times the past few weeks.

"Wow" I say "It's gorgeous!" "I saw it at the store the other day, you wrote about that House of Leaves once, remember? I just started that one but it's mainly weird" "Huh" I say and pretend I'm reading.

What I'm really doing is looking at that creature over there, some eight feet away, who's in her undies cleaning up a couple of glasses. I have a deja vu moment but realise it must be from some dream. Am I dreaming? Luckily, I think not -even though I pinch both my arm and hers every morning to make sure she's real and I'm real.

It's only the second time I'm staying at her place, and the first time I've had time to get breakfast. Usually it's me whooping up eggs galore and toast and whatnot, and it looks as if she's glad to return the favour. Smoothies -what a luxurious breakfast! We drink and munch on some nuts and play with eachothers hands.

If we'd been at my place we'd watch old Woody Allen movies and laughed our lungs out, since she doesn't have a tv -what pure sign of quality! -in stead we read some books, I admit to being drawn into Only Revolutions as easily as House of Leaves, even if it's a bit less compelling. Also, there's this annoying voice in the back of my head arguing about whether the man is a genious or just out hiding some okay story in an intricate and effort-taking weird style of writing.

It feels weird, and risky, to say so, but right now, I'm happy. Quite so.

Her name is Carine, and she turned 21 two months ago. She looks, like a friend said the first time she met her, like a cute ballerina. Which is not so far from the truth, she's cute and lots of it, and she's a dancer, even if it's hiphop/modern stuff she moves around to rather than the classics.

We get along like Cedric and Omar onstage, and it's weird, because it's not so much the things we have in common or anything. It's more like we're cut out from the tree, but then went in completely different directions.

Where my parents are still together and provided me with as stable and secure childhood anyone could hope for, her parents spilt up when she was six. That in itself went okay, but her mother then made a few bad choices in boyfriends and they had to move around a lot.

Where I as an uncertain fourteen year old accidentily dumped into a couple of guys that I'm still close with the day after starting highschool, she went unclear with a couple of girls, resulting in some years of what we call mobbing (hey, it's international lingo now I think!), a drop in self esteem and a flirt with eating disorders and hurting herself. At sixteen, still unsecure, I spent about six months before I was for some reason included in the group of four that to this day make up a pretty big part of who I am, friends I'm proud to have. At sixteen she moved to yet another school, still trailing some of the problems she's had, making equally troubling friends and even worse, a friend that one night threw her on the bed and tried to force himself on her.

Still, there's a core to her that feels very similar to my own. "Why", she asks when we ecxhange our very different stories, "do I still feel like you understand everything I tell you?"

That I do not know. But I'm happy I do

[Eyreplenh]

So... longer and longer bouts of time goes without any posting in here. No doubt that is for yours all benefit, but sometimes I still think I have to justify and explain why.

So, without further ado, here's the main reason I haven't spent that much time wrinting long, pointless and not so good reflections lately. It's writinggirl!

[Eyreplenh]

I'm back. In colours and dolby surround. I feel good, you know, good. And I'm not just claiming that to make you feel even more miserable

Some financial issues concerning my scholarship/student loan has forced me to quit working, for the most part. The thing is there's a limit to how much you can earn as a student before they cut into the scholarship part of the government payouts you get. You get as much money, but at the end of the year the sum you've worked over your limit is used to convert part of your scholarship into loan. Which means, after my calculations, that every piece of money I'd earn above this limit would yield to me effectively 8,5%. Before taxes. As much as I sometimes like my jobs, that just ain't worth it.

I'm still working about thirty hours a week for the psychologist, but she had no problem with me filing my hours come 2010, so come january I'll be rich. Better yet, whenever my other jobs call me I say no, no, no! Appartently this reason proved enough for me to manage to start using that word no. As I have a legit reason it leaves no foul taste in my mouth either. Still doing the occasional rescue for people in need of a cover, but I'm doing it on the terms they file the hours and pey me in cash. Seeing as I have a card and never ever use cash, my shoebox would have me pinned as a drugdealer or something

So, I'm studying, reading, watching movies and shows, working out and hanging out, amassing plentyful of energy and generally feeling better each day. Full of myself? Probably

Things are all sweet and good with writinggirl, there's no real bumps or problems around. She's writing less these days though, which just goes to prove artists need to suffer. Or maybe not. Sooner or later she'll get annoyed by my antics and I guess she'll have plenty to write about...

As for the psychology thing, it's working out well, and I've had a couple of incidents confirming my belief this is something I can do, and do well. What I do is intelligence and ability-testing at different levels, pretty straightforward stuff most of it, and there's not really anything else I can do, seeing as I have no formal education yet. Still, despite I'm always clear about this and tell people they'll get nothing from me in terms of diagnosis or advice, they open up. The last time it was the boyfriend of a girl who I tested tested for ADD and possible depression who came in after the testing and unloaded everything from failing erections to feeling emotionally crippled before breaking down and crying because he felt he was losing his girl. Now, normally, this would have no real relevance as partners etc aren't really interviewed by the psychol or anything in these cases, but I mentioned it to her as an incident as she was startled as she'd tried to get him to speak but only gotten it's fine and grumpiness in return.

This has happened a few times and it at least proves people think they can trust me. If they can is up to me I guess. But it's nice, I more than ever think this is the right thing for me to do.

Tonight I'm planning to get silly drunk and dance my ass off. Warming up with a few beers and the Major Lazer (Diplo and Switch kicking ass) essential mix before heading clubbing to their protege of sort L-vis. Great stuff!

[Eyreplenh]

I bought a scarf today. I was in a hurry, as I should have been working and just popped out, but still managed to hit three places. And I finally found the perfect one, plain and simple black, soft and delicious cashmere. Right now I checked the tag, originally to see if it was washable (it was) but then a straneg figure jumped up and bit me in the face -I just spent 520 dollars on a scarf! Yikes! How is that even possible? So I guess it's going back on monday, it's no big deal really, I'm just surprised. Has this Paul Smith fellow no shame? And what about the salesperson? I mean, with hair like mine one always looks a million bucks, but how about a little hint...? Like this is very exclusive, and are you sure a student bumfuck like yourself wouldn't like anything from the slightly less money out your ass section?

But it was perfect though. The only reason I've not taken it back already is that it's not for me. Or maybe that's wrong. After all I have a shirt or two that has set me back as much. No, this was supposed to be a gift. Writinggirl, if you're stalking me in here... Christmas will be boring for you!
A gift yes, and I'm pretty sure I'd just get smacked in the head if the rumours about the price ever reached her, when the same money would have taken the both of us to Paris for a week. Or halfway to New York. Not that I have any plans to wallop around in the middle of the Atlantic, but you know what I'm trying to say. Five of those scarfs would've taken me to Oz.

In fact, that money is just slightly less than the price to go all the way to the uppermost corner of Norway where she's spending the holidays -and yes, I'm thinking about dropping that trip because of the price! No, it will not do, not at all...

Sigh. But now I've held the perfect scarf theres no shopping for the second best though, so I'll have to think of something else. Crap.

Shit, if I keep that scarf I'm such an ass!

[Eyreplenh]

I was in a meeting with the psychology department at my uni the other day, in an informal meeting kind of thing, and after a while the other student representative and me gets called out by the head of education:

-So, what's the haps dudes?
-Nothing much to report this month sir, all the folks are pretty much holed up with their exams. So should we be (eyes watch)
-Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah, that's not what I'm talking about. You know you requested some feedback from me about that thingymybob, errr, arrangement thing. You know.
-Yeah, we know
-Well, I've replied!
-Yeah, we know...?
-And you haven't feedback'd my feedback!?

Neat, huh, new words all around

But in that spirit I'll feedback som feedback.

I've taken the scarf back. I'm mostly glad. It was the perfect scarf though, but some mousing around has strenghtened my belief that I'd be clouted rather than thanked if the horrible secret about the price were ever revealed.
As for the questions; no, I seldom check the tag before buying something. It's not so much a symptom of my overwhelming richness (money stopped coming in just because I stopped working -what's the world coming to?) as it might be I'm falling out with this whole shopping thing. I'm out of practice. A part from that I haven't bought anything but groceries for as long as I can remember. I'm even downloading ALL the music and movies I want these days, being a total asshole... Naturally I don't check the tags when I shop for food, since I need to buy it anyway.

Was I relaxed? Yes, I was, and perfectly confident about my card not bouncing no matter what since it was the day after my student loan payout

Did the (sneaky) clerk recite the price to me? No, she did not. She must have been a pro though, or so used to people with money coming out their eyes, becasue she acted perfectly normal. Though, I might recall a certain shielding of the tag at the first showing of the scarf...

*Acting normal in a situation like this is kind of hard. As a retail-hero myself I sometimes have trouble keeping the sham from my face when selling some of our most overpriced crap to naive shoppers -especially if the price is so surprising as in this case.


Yes, I easily could have gotten her an entire outfit for that kind of money -not that that is going to happen. The virtues of the scarf was that it was plain, simple, something she wanted, and above all; one size fits all Clothes for girl is a set up trap I'm not going to fall in. What it will do is pay our way to someplace nice for a weekend or so. For extra points I might get tickets that go via the airport near her mother, I'm not sure yet.

In other news, I have five exams in nine days starting monday. Wish me luck. I have just two this year that I have to get A to progress, but hope to do no worse than Bs at the rest as well, even though this might be a long shot in statistics. I'm way to lazy to properly learn formulas at this point, so we'll se what I can come up with at the exam. It's an open book, bring what you want extravaganza, so failing should be next to impossible anyway.

In preparing for these exams I've also: won my first civ3 game on deity, read qwantz and xkcd from start to end, picked my nose way to much (I have a sore in there that itches furiously), almost completely stopped working out and stared at walls more than I ever thought I would.

[Eyreplenh]

I haven't hit my big yet, that's true. In fact, on monday I might have laid another big obstacle in my way to ever doing so.

My confident prance in here and get my A-attitude got a severe blow just by casting a glance at the first few pages of the exam tasks. Someone was pmsing whilst making the exams this year. The A might still be within my grasp, but damn, that's only if the universe is having a good day. And I reckon that's pretty seldom these days. The statistics exam tomorrow is coming together, but it has taken some of the time I was planning on preparing for mondays exam -on which I again need to deliver a good performance. On tuesday there's another nugget -medicine for non-practitioners, which I'm going to pass but not much more, before I end this years exam-bonanza with qualitative research methods next friday. Am actually looking forward to that one. Almost a full week to prepare, with nothing lurking behind stealing focus. Plus, it's an interesting topic

Sigh. But yeah, failed big-time already at the first obstacle, I was so depressed on monday I had to cancel a visit to writing-girl just to lie staring at the roof. I've drifted for so many years not knowing what I want to do with my life, and now that I KNOW, I can't pull myself together enough to work determinedly with it for a few months to get the grades I need. I disgust myself. Because, in all honesty, I don't know of anyone who can suck up knowledge at the rate I do when i work efficiently, but what does that help when I'm only able to focus for the equivalent of half an hour a week throughout the semester. Bah, all the bloody tortoises in the world beats me to the finish.

During the exam, when I realized this might not be good enough, I did a quick estimate of the situation, and it's not that bad -it's just not what I want. Assuming I get the A on monday, come july I'll be an A short of entry to the professional program at my current Uni, but my grades will probably hold up at two others. Big minuses will be moving away from writinggirl and friends, positives is I'll smoothly quit all my jobs and get a fresh academic start -because, despite mondays embarrasment I feel more motivated to study than ever before. Another thing I might do is take the same subject I had on monday at another Uni and hopefully get an A there that will get me in here...

Assuming I don't get an A on monday either I'll have just the least favourable Uni alternative open -if I'm lucky, and I'll probably have to settle for doing something else. Finishing a masters degree, I guess, with aims at a doctorate that will allow me to teach psychology. I'm entertaining notions of doing this in the long term anyway, I'm just hoping the way to that will be filled with fulfilling time working, not nosing around in research, I think that's not so much for me. Or just fuck it all, I guess, drop out, start working full time and get a house and a car and som kids and a dog and a bigger car and a cat and... Gah.

Fuck grades.

[Eyreplenh]

I've packed up my stuff, cleaned my room and am ready to go home for christmas. I'll be taking a 2500 kilometre detour, but I'll be home by the 23rd. It's not really a detour either, I'm going up north to see writinggirl, who's spending christmas at her grandmothers house. It'll be good.

She lives so far up north it's the opposite of midnight sun there now, it's pitch black most of the day, except one hour called blueing or something. Sounds eerie, and it's probably cool. Northern lights abound, and if I'm luck the seas will be in a bit of a turmoil as well and show off some of it's powers. If it's one thing I miss from my weird year running that bookstore it was living near the ocean. And not some tamed harbour water, the real iceknives in your face kind, dark and green and mighty.

This, of course means I've wrapped my last Dan Brown for the year, said goodbye whilst thinking fuck off to the last customer of the year and all that gravy. It's pretty neat

I've only thought of one, whatsitcalled, imagined self-improvement for next year -and that is to be a little better every day. Even in january. Most of it is related to my studies, because my life sort of revolves around that. At least my cognital functions do, and this years exam-dive left me quite dimwitted for nearly a week (shut it), and I'm thinking that if I'd just do something a little bit earlier, things will go smoother. Yeah.

Ah, it will be good to see writinggirl again. It's my first christmas /birthday/whatever as a boyfriend and I wonder if my presents'll hold up. Actually I'm cocky enough to be pretty sure that they do. I've got about 23 years of being cute that's only been simmering in the pot, ready to explode at the hint of a possibility. And yes, I'm still talking about the presents

[Eyreplenh]

So folks, it's a brand new year out there, all ready to squash and demolish us, ready to scream and shout at our nerves until we scream right back at it. 'Cuz that's what you need to do, stick it to that fucker. This year is ours!

Yeah. I'm happy today, feverishly so. I'm not quite sure why, there are myriads of possible reasons. That Alicia Keys song. I'm back at work for the psychologist. I had a succesful workout today -after six weeks of sicknessishy stuff plus a christmas foodorgy.

Earlier today I wrote a rap song in my head around the phrase I'm so giddish I'm speaking jiddish, but then threw it away since I'm not sure at all as to whether giddish is a word.

More possible reasons. I saw a dude on a bike go down in epic fashion. The temperature is up from -25 degrees to a more liveable -8. My student org finally has seats in the European student congress after, to be honest, not so intense mail activity from me. I think I may have made up my mind as to what to do with my education.

Yet again I've found a way to fool myself into thinking not getting those A's wasn't so bad. but more on that later.

Or could this surge of wellbeing stem from the fact that, what was that? Yep, I'm moving in with writinggirl!

I've known it since christmas, but I carried the first few things from my (old) place to hers just a couple of hours ago. How did this happen, you wonder? It turns out my gifts for christmas held it's own. Hows this for cute:

I built a nice little house of legos and stuck a note inside asking if she'd care to live under the same roof as me (the note also had a debunking of the fact that I presented it as a gift. Living with me. It was not meant in an overly arrogant way). By the point she opened it I already knew the answer since she the day earlier had explained how one of my gifts were to be a key to her place, but that the permit from the landlord had taken too long.

The other notable gifts were a trip to Edinburgh, but we're doing that kind of as a gift to both from both (even though I seem to be paying?? ) and a copy of Love in the time of cholera, in which I've put in notes with select squishy words.

See, all you dumbheaded manfolks running down my store at christmas eve discarding idea after idea because it's not expensive enough? -It ain't about the money!

So yeah, in the next couple of weeks I'll be moving all my stuff about two kilometres, and I'll be doing it the old and stupid-fashioned one backpack at the time way. Yay for exercise!

Hope youse all had a blastedly good vacation and that you entered the new year in timely fashion, which is something like face down in the gutter. But wearing a tux.

[Eyreplenh]

I've started uni again this week. Uni actually started a couple of weeks back, but as I am an independent student it doesn't really start for me before I am there. In a way, what goes on at uni when I'm not there is not real. At least not before it is time for exams, then people are telling me that, yep, this subject does indeed exist, and yeah, I should've known it before today.

I thinking about doubling/splitting my current bachelors degree into two branches, the existing psychology one for obvious reasons, and maybe language and communications for the second. It's something the uni is helpful with laying down the foundations for and as I will have to do some more courses do get my degree approved anyway, it might as well be with a little focus. It will double my range of options when the time comes for writing up a masters, and even before that it will make me sound way more educated for and untrained ear.

So, I hear you cleared up with your bachelor-paper? I would probably have done that as well if I wasn't, you know, doing two at a time

I enlisted in a subject just to fill some requirements this semester, but it's turned out to be a little gem. I figured conversation and textual analysis probably was a bit like literary analysis and that I, with my heavy baggage of one (1) year of studying literature under my belt would skip right through it. I hadn't planned on actually being there for the lectures or anything, but I thought I might pop in here and there. Last week I popped in, and the professor in charge came at me waving her hand (turned out all she wanted was to greet in a proper fashion) saying Hi! and We missed you last week.

The subject has six participants. Five flowery dresses and me. Sitting around analyzing. It's pretty awesome, really. The only problem is that the subject belongs to some obscure and cultlike institute, that the flowery dresses are a part of, and information is hard to come by.

Sometimes lectures are held, or writing sessions, and I wont know of them until the next time I manage to find one of them. Yeah, we did a couple of hours there, no biggie. You'll get right into it. Or lectures are cancelled, group sessions moved, and I seem to be the only one that knows. Like now, I should really be in a writing session, but noone showed up besides me. Professors are of course notorious for this sort of things, but if it was she (the prof is a cute little lady -if it were a man I'd bet it was him befuddling me to get the flowery dresses to himself.) that was missing there ought to be a coupe of other confused students there as well. But they all seem to know. I am, in seinfeldian terms, out of the loop.

I am reading a lot by this dude called Carl Frode Tiller these days. Sadly he isn't published in english yet, but I'm sure he will be as he's swooping in prices by the handful everywhere he is published (and if someone could explain to me the logic in going for a russian edition before an english one I'd be happy. damn literary contractors), and he writes so good. It physically hurts to read. He describes alcoholized, yet often normal-seeming childhoods, struggling relationships and family relations that are a bit skewed. It's so close up, and so well written, it's uncomfortable and it makes my skin itch on the inside. i have to put the books down and gasp for breath sometimes, I'm telling you, this is some of the finest writing I've happened upon yet.

I'm watchin a lot to. Writinggirl and I have yet to aquire a tv in our, hold on, 32 square meter apartment, and so I've turned to downloading movies. Which is quite good, as long as you wait for a version snagged from a dvd rather than a handheld at the cinema. More than movies though, I'm watchin Larry David. Curb your enthusiasm is the best. If you haven't seen it there's six seasons of pure genious just waiting for you.

I'm learning some other stuff to. Like how moving all your stuff by backpack, even though it is just "some" movies, music and books takes longer than you'd guessed but is rather good exercise -that is, if my back don't die from it in the end. I would think living together would have a few lessons for me as well, but so far it is blessedly simple and I'm still quite thrilled

[Eyreplenh]

Moving. What's it all about, really? There has to be some fluidity to the term, as I was only a few weeks back cursing the whole charade and thinking "never again". Now, when I think about moving, all I see are flowers and sunlight and pure green fields. Not to mention all the birds I'm hearing.

I'm starting to get a bit tired of this place. Of school, of work and work and work, of me.

I'm thinking about moving north -and yeah, that is possible.(fig 1)

I have not totally screwed it with WG and feel any need to evacuate because of that, if anyone thinks so, she's still great and she clings to the notion that I am too. For now. School is okay as well, I'm free to do pretty much what I want, the subjects are interesting and there's not too much to do. Work is fine as well. Gaining more and more insight from working for the psychologist, the bookstore is slow and I don't have to be there more than once every week or so. Even the grocery store is working out -I always work nights with new folks that don't know or care about much, listening to music and going through the motions as they deal with the customers.

Still I am sick of it. I am grateful for all the input I get from going around like that, but more and more I envy those of my friends who early on had goals. Who had the courage (yes, for courageous I think it is) to refuse jobs, to stay home and prepare for tests in stead of accepting late invitations to some mindfucked party or other, who were just a little bit onerous to get where they wanted.

This is my motivation for moving to Tromsø; They still have a live option for me to train for a psychologist -which I am still sure is what I want to do.

Pro moving:
New. New everything. The belief that I have right now that if I were to go up there I could focus on my studies and my studies only (well, and reading and writing and writinggirl obviously). No work. No loose ends, no loose friends. Starting the program over again probably only would extend my total time in Uni with one year and if I get in there it's a lot more comfortable to finish than my current position, where I will have to go abroad to finish in one year or three.

Why move sucker:
Why should I think starting over again would change anything? And how long is that fresh feel going to stick around? Why wont things go the way they always do -I start, I feel I haven't got enough to do, I work and mess it up. I'd be leaving the good friends behind as well, and new loose ones ain't that hard to find. Leaving now would make the last two years more or less worthless, and finishing the program in denmark or uk isn't that complicated -and hey, it's foreign! I do like my trips...

But I really want to move!
Just hink about it. I've never really been a student before. True, I soon have a bachelors and three years on my universitary ass, but what have I been doing. Going over the books with rabbit paws, dancing through the paths of no resistance, spending my time and focus elsewhere. Plus, I know in my heart working is really what I am tired of, or at least I think it is, and me not working here in Trondheim is just not happening. I won't ever do it, quit, it bugs me and I hate it, but I'm an addict, a hopeless freak of nature who likes to be tortured by sticky customers and boring coworkers alike, just imagine the freedom of Tromsø- Mornings and early afternoons at uni, evenings and nights free, all the time, free! And the losse friends and sloppy partying -I don't really do that anymore. Writinggirl has closed up that staggering void inside me that used to pull me out into the night so often. I just don't feel that pull anymore, and I've starting saying no when the people from that era is motioning for me to come, me, actually saying no.

You will still be you, moron
What about your folks, how will you tell them you'er dropping everything and moving even further away from them? And what about the few friends you have left in this place, what about M and A who just bought an apartment and that will be bereft of all their closest friends as H too is leaving this summer. Do you really have the guts to tell them? What about R the psychologist who've invested so much of her time and energy to teach you, what about the crushing sense of failure you're guaranteed to feel at leaving?

Shut up!

Ah, I think I have late-onset winter depression.

[Eyreplenh]

It is indeed far from home, my waterbubbly friend, a far far far way from home. Actually, to put it n perspective, it's the distance I'd be from my folks is roughly half the length of Australia. If that helps

Distance is one thing though. Relatively, it's still just a flight. It's a two hour one in stead of a one hour one, but still just a flight. It's a flight and just a flight too, no other options are available -which might be just as well. I have a good heart for trains, but 22 hours or so would exhaust even me.

I am actually leaning towards moving now. It's fairly rational too. True, my education will take about a year longer (that is even the worst case scenario) but it would be much more seamless, and even with one year added, counting both loan and a prospective income I'd come out on the good side financially. Going to school abroad is expensive.

Denmark has good and cheep beer though.

Sigh. I'm still not sure, and the final decision luckily does not have to be done for a few months yet. Writinggirl still has to decide what she wants to do, cute as she is she said that she'll go wherever I want to, but that wont cut it.

Ah, the winds of change, I can feel them again. Only the future will show how long it is possible to run, eh?

[Eyreplenh]

So we're moving. I'd say again, but this is actually the first time I move as a we. She's moved with family wes before, but other than that this is the first time for her as well. Anyway, for the actual process it wont have that much to say, it will still be a hassle, but when we're there and stuff, I'm pretty excited to be a we.

I thin that this probably will be the toughest one yet for me. The previous time's I've moved there has been more clean cut, or more appropriate reasons for me doing so. Moving away from my folks, that's pretty natural, and the first move after that was for a job noone really thought I could get and everyone understood I had to go after. Then it was the dissolution of the group we had in Bergen, that move was natural as well, but now...

It's not that it isn't properly motivated. I have a lot to gain by moving, as per my education and such, but there is not so much understaninding around for that. I am slowly realizing to, that we are, and this is true my friends, geting older. And that is part of the problem. For the past couple of years we've been a small, tight knit group of friends sentered around me and three guys from college. Now, one is leaving for Oslo and work, I am leaving for Tromsø and school and this leaves two guys. One is still a student and has no problems with me moving, he's got friends at school and everything, but it's the other one, you know, the one that's left. He's both working and in a relationship (both things limiting when most of your friends are single students) and both him and her are not looking forward to everyone moving. She even cried when I said we were considering moving. I understand what she's about, she's doing her last semester in school, after which most of her friends will dillute away towards their point of origin -as would she, I guess, if my boy hadn't had that job. And that new appartment they just bought.

Ah, but that will be okay as well. They tride sending a small guilt-trip towards us, but nothing more than what could be written off as a panic reaction. They will be supportive when the shit hits the fan, and as I've told them, I'm not moving that far up north forever. That is no dream of mine.

But it's kind of sad to observe, you know, that we are, inevitabily, turning into that despised generation of our parents, ancient dinosaurs they be. All the more often the nights with friends that always led to dancing and drinking the night away just leads to the couch for some game or other, tv or a movie. The other day I actually managed to get the two most couchridden of my friends (the same couple as above) to go out, after batting away lousy arguments like we can just drink in here, there's work tomorrow and stuff like that, and before we left their apartment that night I heard some words I NEVER thought I'd hear from someone in my group "will you remember to tape The late nigh show" Tape. A fucking tv show. I mean, come on. Two years ago it'd never happen.

But anyway, the move is happening. This because doing the rest of my education proved to be the less viable choice. The timespan turned out to be pretty much the same, and allthough Copenhagen, Stockholm and/or London is a lot more exciting than Tromsø, it would be a whole lot more expensive and complicated, and most importantly, it would leave me without the writinggirl for most of the next few years. Not going to happen

Now comes the part I'm going to enjoy. Quitting and asking about papers from my various employers. I am going to do it the nicest way possible and hope they'll keep me on until mid summer so I can work a small buffer of money before becoming a student for real (I've told thegirl she can deliver swift kicks to the nuts in the event of me starting to talk about getting a job my first year up there). Not looking forward to qutting at the psychologist though, shes so sweet and pretty much a legend by norwegian standards. She'll understand though, she's still young at heart. And especially since losing her son she's been all about embracing possibilities while young etc. I suspect my prospected stay in Trondheim for at least a few years was one of the reasons she chose me in the first place, but since that was true for all the applicants, it wasn't decisive. I'm hoping she'll write me a letter of recommendation that will give me the year at Berkeley I'm dreaming of

Up, up, and awy, my friends

[Eyreplenh]

I was at work the other day. I was listening to Moya with one earplug cunningly hidden in my vast nest of curly hair, invisible to customers and bosses alike. As so often before, the music drained my head of thoughts and refilled it with... melancholy, I guess. I went out of the store and stood gazing out over the city. Even though this was in may and summer should be fast approaching it was a light snowfall in the air this night. The sun though, distant as it might be, has not completely left us, the light is there even if the heat is not, and so this night, the snow was backlit by a beautiful late night summer sun.

Combined with the music racing towards crescendo, exhaustion from a long day of academics and menial work both, the visage moved me, and for a time I was lost. Like Goethes young Werther, it is easy to believe that the worlds beauty speaks directly to yourself, has something different to say to you than to everyone else. At least for narcissist young men it is...

It is easy, in moments like that, to envision the end times. All the flashes of news one see in a week, a day, or even an hour is enough to bring hopelessness down like a comforting shroud.

If you are so inclined. Me, I don't think it's going to be that quick and easy.

These are end times for me, but in a very limited and humble way. I'm quitting this city in a couple of months, and I must say I'm not entirely displeased. My bosses at the bookshop were a bit displeased though, one even cried when I told her I was leaving. My boss at the grocery store was not so much sad or disappointed as he was annoyed he had to find some new people to fill in the slots. As someone who's been there two years I'm a special one in that I almost always arrive on time and work my shift through. My boss at the psychologist office was saddened, but she's a crafty old lady who's had student assistants before and knew things like this sometimes happens.

All in all, that bit went much easier than I'd thought.

Hunting for an apartment in a place you have no possible chance of going to see tha plce for yourself though, is a minefield. Luckily I have a light step