Why I`m bored

You wanna know why I am bored?  I am bored because I sort of kind of want to play more of the crappy PC-game I`ve been wasting my time on for the past week or so.  But I know it is a waste of time, and I know it is time badly spent.  I know that I should not play games or waste my time (especially on such a low-quality old-timer as that one).  I should feel bad for wasting so much time on doing nothing, instead of going out to do something and changing the world etc.  I should feel bad for wanting to waste my own time.  And thus I am stuck here, feeling bad for wanting to do something entertaining for myself but unable to do so, and thus feeling bad for just sitting here doing nothing at all.

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02.06.2011

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Dentistry

This post contains several references to the Harry Potter universe, because I needed to vent my pained feelings to somebody who would know what I meant when I use the Cruciatus curse to describe a particular kind of pain. 

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I was at the dentist’s some 12 hours ago, and fixed three more molars* (whole bottom jaw has now been tortured through), and now only have two more appointments to go before I am hopefully out of that office for YEARS to come (unlike previous years, with all the breaking and cracking of molars**).  The local anesthetic*** lasts for about 5-6 hours, and I started to feel tiny twinges of pain in the middle molar (of those fixed) around that time. “Oh no”, I think to myself, as I have already gone through more than a month of not being able to chew properly with the left side of my mouth because of similar pains in the opposite molar, “Good thing I`m going back there tomorrow anyway”.  After a few hours of small twinges now and then, there’s a slight pause. “It’s over!” I hope. And then the mother of all pains shoots through my tooth, and it is like being hit with the Cruciatus curse for a millisecond before being almost immediately let go again.  And as you stand there, trying to catch your breath, someone hits you again, and even though you were merely hit by the curse for a millisecond, you can feel the ghost of the pain shooting through your whole body, immobilizing you before turning you into a quivering mess, anxiously waiting for the next twinge.  Sometimes a few minutes pass inbetween, sometimes almost an hour. Maybe you start to forget. And then it hits you again; A short burst each time, but it’s enough to drive you mad.

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*  Including a couple of baby teeth, as I have 2 of those instead of proper teeth because my body is stupid.
**  Seriously, I was breaking whole teeth once a week for a while!
***  Not mentioned: My crippling needle phobia and how I have bravely (and less bravely) defied it more times during the past three months than the Potters defied Voldemort.

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PS:  My dentist is new (to me) and he is infinitely better than my many other ones, even though he always insists on sticking a needle in me.  At least he does a proper job, even IF my nerves end up being effed up in the process. ;_;
PPS:  I am going back tomorrow to fix yet another tooth, and HOPEFULLY I can get something done. But if it is anything like the left side, it cannot be fixed. I`d rather lose my whole tooth than go on for days (or MORE??) with this.
PPPS:  I am not writing this to get pity, it was quite therapeutic to just get it out in writing.  I just really needed someone to understand what I mean when I describe a tooth ache by using the Cruciatus curse.

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I totally forgot to post this.

This is my reply when step-sis decides to send me a snapchat of her slightly messy room after packing to go to France or something fancy like that.

I have no sympathy.  I live in the basement!

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“I always worried someone would notice me, and then when no one did, I felt lonely.”

― Curtis Sittenfeld

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Postal-service and forgetful pretentiousness.

If I were to write a letter, and would be unable to send it by such modern means as mail or by regular postal service, but instead would have to send it on horseback and perhaps by ship overseas, I would probably not keep the letter short. Spending so much time and energy as that on something so trivial as, say, a response in 100 words or less would be quite… inefficient; Wasteful, even. In these modern times, almost everything we do is supposed to be done quickly and efficiently. We are not to waste time, and not to waste words. Filling up pages upon pages with adjectives and various descriptions is for the writers, those set on publishing literature for those especially interested. It is not for those conversing, less they be seen as terribly romantic or even pretentious for wasting so much energy on something so time-consuming as the writing or the reading of what could be considered trivial matter for the rest of the world. No; unless you write for an audience of more than one (thus including everyone, should they care to give a damn), you are not to waste “our” time. Speaking of which, I am afraid I have lost my train of thought, thus wasting everyone’s time. Pardon.

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Five Nights at Freddy’s

FUCK THIS GAME.

So here’s my story on why this game terrifies me (besides the fact that I am easily terrified by scary games & jumpscares).  See, I work nights down at the docks. My job is to mostly sit in the small guard-room, and now and then check the surrounding area. It is pitch black outside my door, which I leave open to freshen the air. So when FriendZone decided to play this game live, and it was 2 AM where I was sitting in my little dark room with a small storm outside (complete with dramatic lightning), it became sort of mentally scarring.

It is now 7 AM, which is probably why I decided to word-vomit about it all over the place. I am also procrastinating pressing Play on another playthrough that I wanted (but at the same time didn’t want) to watch, because I am a wimp. My earlier experience with this game was a whole lot of NOPE.

To sum it up:  NOOOOOPE. 

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Reverumpa 22.08.14

Alle bilder tatt med iPhone 4S som vanlig.

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I`ve heard a little bit of thunder in the far distance since midnight, but it seems to be moving away from here. It’s fairly silent now. And there’s no rain anywhere, only cold air and a few clouds blotting out the stars now and then. Perfect weather to relax in, if one enjoys cool weather (like I do).

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PS:  I am so switching the WP writing page straight back to classic mode.

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Writer’s Block

“A picture says a thousand words. Write them.”

aka  I WROTE A THING!

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After one miserable swing, she put her rather pathetic-looking ax immediately back down again and turned around to address her not-so-silent follower.

”You know, you could actually help me with this?”

There wasn’t exactly an answer, but the great lump waiting in the background blew out a small gust of air in what sounded suspiciously like a huff of laughter.

“Some friend you are.”

She heaved her ax again, and hit the giant trunk once more. This was going to take possibly forever, and she was so not looking forwards to however many hours of work it would take her to fell this great-grandfather of a tree. How old was this forest, anyway? She’d tried asking the creature a couple of times, but getting an answer out of that one was a lost cause on most days. She guessed she would have to settle with counting the rings of the tree-trunk or something equally tedious.

“Couldn’t you at least do something other than just sitting there doing nothing?”

No answer. No movement, either. If the creature had closed its eyes at that moment, it would be almost impossible to discern it from the surrounding nature. Said eyes might have shifted a bit, giving the tiniest indication that at least the light was on inside – pun not intended. She had absolutely no idea why the creature’s eyes did that glowing thing in the hours around dusk and dawn, and of course she could never get a straight answer out of that one, whatever it was. Now that she thought about it, it dawned on her that it was already getting fairly late in the evening. There was no chance whatsoever of her even reaching halfway into the trunk before full night would be upon them, never mind actually felling the whole tree. And why had she felt the need to overpower such an old entity all by herself? As she scratched her neck in thought, the light continued to withdraw from their surroundings. Ah, that was why: Shelter; Desperate times, and all that. There weren’t really any other trees of useful size growing in these parts, even if one happened to count the tiny apple tree holding on with its rather impressive roots to the great lump with the now fading eyes, who was not being the greatest of help at the moment.

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Traveling in Oppland 05.08.14

With a little hint of Jotunheimen in the background.

 

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Vaset – 04.08.14

14.00

De andre har gått og lagt seg. Jeg er småsjalu. Jeg er også trøtt. Jeg fikk ikke sove i natt. Sist jeg så på klokka var den ti over halv fem eller seks. Jeg husker faktisk ikke om det var 05.42 eller 04.42. I hodet mitt er det bare «halv fem», men samtidig er jeg sikker på at det var 05.?? som jeg så på displayet. Det er ikke så lett å huske, jeg var allerede ganske ør av å IKKE FÅ SOVE. Da jeg la meg trodde jeg at jeg kom til å sovne ganske snart. Sånn ble det altså ikke. Jeg våknet forresten også av mareritt et par timer med dårlig søvn senere, men jeg husker overhodet ikke hva jeg drømte om, annet enn at det ikke var monster, men heller virkelighetsorienterte redsler som skremte meg.

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«Talk Talk Talk Talk» er en skikkelig fin sang. Jeg husker da musikkvideoen var helt ny, og KM delte den på FB. Jeg så den, men syntes bare den var «meh» og ikke noe spesielt gjen-hørbar. Nå har det gått over to år, og jeg hører på den nesten daglig. Lurer på om det samme kommer til å skje med den siste de ga ut, den med teddybjørnen. Den var også bare «meh».

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Det er et par utrolig irriterende fluer i rommet, som surrer og surrer rundt, og setter seg på ALT man ikke vil ha fluer på. Savner virkelig Vapona på dager som dette, men er vel hjerneskada nok som det er.

15.00

De andre er nå våkne.

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04.08.14

I`m making picture-gaps on my blog.

Thieving birds seemed like just the thing.

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Vaset – 04.08.14 – ANFSCD

Skrevet ca. kl. 14.20

Stein spurte meg i går om hvordan jeg reagerte som liten på at mine onkler var homofile.  Jeg fortalte at jeg ikke husket første gangen jeg skjønte det, at det alltid «bare var sånn».  Det som er med barn, er at de aksepterer det aller meste de blir fortalt. Jeg trengte ikke forklares at «de bor sammen fordi de er glade i hverandre», for jeg så på det som en naturlig ting at de bodde sammen.  Slik hadde det alltid vært, og jeg det var ikke i min natur å se på det som «unormalt».  S&B var to personer som kom til prisen av èn, kan man si.  I mitt hode var det ikke èn uten den andre, og det hadde ingenting å gjøre med legning.  Jeg tror ikke jeg fikk forklart det på den måten da Stein spurte, men poenget var at barn ikke tenker over sånt.  Og dersom det ikke blir presset på dem at det er noe spesielt med det, så forblir det en naturlig del av verden, samme hvor uenige flerparten av verdensbefolkningen forblir.  Men det er jo håp for fremtiden, når denne generasjonen bryr seg mindre om hvor «spesielt» det er at noen har annerledes legning eller livsstil.  Kanskje om noen år, så er majoriteten mindre «stuck» i gammeldagse oppheng.  Men la for all del ikke meg bli talsperson for noen som helst, for jeg klarer ikke engang forstå grunnleggende kjærlighet slik omverdenen ser ut til å se den, hetero eller ei.

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03.08.14

Tåka ligger ganske stille oppover, men ikke nedi dalen.

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Vaset – 03.08.14

(Ca. kl. 19 til 20.00)

Bjørn skriver utrolig pretensiøst i hytteboka. Min bror, altså, ikke mammas. Det er florende, fjongt, og totalt overdrevet. I hvert fall håper jeg det er overdrevet med vilje, ellers må jeg nesten skylle ned litt familiær skam, her. Men jeg tror nok det er med ham som med meg, vi vet å skrive intetsigende BS. For å være helt ærlig, så er jeg egentlig litt sjalu. Etter at jeg selv sluttet å blogge, så skulle jeg gjerne kjent litt av den trangen til å skrive flott, samme hvor pretensiøst det kan ende opp. Jeg savner å blogge. Jeg savner å sette ord på mine indre tanker og følelser. Faktisk ville jeg vært villig til å sette ord på mine ytre tanker og følelser også, hvis det betød at jeg fikk tilbake litt av lysten til å skrive igjen. Denne følelsen er sjelden vare i livet mitt for tiden. Mangelvare. Motivasjon har gått hen med konsentrasjonen; tatt av vinden. I skrivende øyeblikk prøver jeg så godt jeg kan å ikke stoppe fingrene på tastaturet, i  frykt for at siste rest av skrivelyst skal blåse vekk slik den alltid har gjort de siste årene.

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Over brua nedi dalen.  Det har vært overskyet idag.

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Jeg skriver ikke lenger mine lange (så smått pretensiøse) blogg-poster. Jeg skriver sjeldnere og sjeldnere ned mine opplevelser i hverdagen. Dagboken min består av løs-ark, samlet opp gjennom fire år og satt inn i en ringperm. Fire-fem år, og permen er ikke i nærheten av halvfull. Jeg beskriver ikke lenger hvordan det føles å kjøre bil med mamma gjennom tåkeflekker som ligger spredt rundt om i dalene vi passerer på vei til Fagernes. Adjektivene krangler ikke lenger om plassen. Jeg prøver ikke lenger å danne et bilde av verdenen jeg ser, sette ord på lukter og følelser og tanker. Jeg klarer så vidt det er å holde liv på Twitter, av den enkle grunn at det er svært vanskelig å få prestasjonsangst når alt du har å jobbe med er 140 karakter per gang. Takke seg til ADHD-generasjonen; noen ting får også vi  til.

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Stein sier at jeg kan skrive om ham, dersom jeg står fast med ting å skrive om.

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02.08.14

Solnedgang 02.08.14 tatt fra bilen (gjennom bilvinduet) da jeg og mamma kjørte oppover mot hytta en dag tidligere enn planlagt.

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