Planning for Christmas

I always plan what to do, when, to get ready for Christmas.

Getting ready for Christmas means that the entire month of December is filled with activities and spending money... at least on paper it is.

My list this year looked something like this:

November 29^th and 30^th: wrap and number all the gifts for the kids’ Advent Calendars.

December 1^st:           Hang the Advent star in window.

                                   Hang the outdoor lighting.

                                   Get the advent candelabra ready.

December 2^nd:          Bake one kind of cookie.

                                   Attend the lighting of public outdoor Christmas tree.

December 3^rd:          Plan and get hold of everything I need to make Christmas cards.

December 4^th:          Make Christmas cards and write them (List of receivers)

December 5^th:          Bake one kind of cookie.

                                   Cleaning the windows on the inside.

December 6^th:          Write Christmas cards

                                   Wrap the gifts to be sent by mail.

-       - - - - - - - - -

December 13^th:        Remember white coat and tinsel for kindergarten > practise song

Bake saffron buns > the day of Saint Lucia

December 15^th:        Birthday party!

December 16^th:        Bake one kind of cookie

... and the list goes on.

The problem with writing lists is that you plan as if everyday life is predictable. I fall into the trap EVERY time.

I never planned of being appointed examiner and external examiner for make-up examination.

I never planned on heavy snowfall and following extensive snow clearing. (This part of the country never plan on snow... it is abnormal to have heavy snowfall here. Not like where I grew up, where it is the rule.

I never planned on serious traffic chaos, causing hours of delay getting anywhere.

I never planned on my son wanting to celebrate his birthday arranging a gaming night and sleep over.

I just ignored the possebility of things happen. All of these nothings which end up being time consuming when added up. Everyday life must go on; I can’t put life on hold just because I want to do something extra.

Today’s state: Advent calendar made,  advent candelabra displayed and two lights lit, windows cleaned, all the lighting planned on hung... Day of Saint Lucia marked...

Difficult being young(?)

There is a lot which can be said about young people of today, but in spite of (or maybe because of) all the chaos they need to deal with; working with teenagers is never boring.

Oh, it is tedious, straining, challenging, time consuming, difficult, sometimes sad, but the entertainment value is  insuperable! There is a lot of good humour going around, and the excuses they give for undone work or absence are so much more inventive than anything we ever came up with when I attended school as a student.

Even though they question the world and their own opinions, I sometimes feel that a lot of the problem we tend to ascribe them, is based in the fact that teenagers are open to ideas, but lack the ability to give serious thought and reflect on consequences these ideas may have. And that makes sense, as they do not know yet what impact their future responsebilities will have on their life and their way of living. Adult life has not yet been exposed to them to its full extent.

Still, being a teenager means you have to make major life decisions. Society expect you to plot the course for the rest of your life. Your future and what you intend to do with it.

Maybe the impact they are exposed to is so massive they feel they need to move on, rather than slow down and get things sorted out gradually. Issues pile up and unresolved matters pop up at the most unconvenient of times.

I have no problems understanding that sometimes school comes last on the prioritylist.

The other day I read a report saying that 23% of all young adults have been given professional help for mental issues. 36% think they, at some point in life, needed that kind of help.

At the same time relatively few under the age of 18 have been given help; an indication that many get help too late. Getting help too late may cause more comprehensive problems later on, as time pass.

I can’t say I knew of anyone who got professional help, among my peers, when I was a teenager. Maybe it was more secret: nothing we spoke about or wanted anyone to know.

If that is the case, I think it is a good thing we have moved forward and acknowledge that there is nothing abnormal about having problems, and some times we need help to sort them out or identify which ones are real problems and which ones are part of dealing with life.

Maybe some teenagers act out just because they think they are expected to and therefore they think they can get away with it.

It is easier if you have parents to support you, but many parents feel almost alienated when trying to get involved in their kid’s life. They feel that they are to blame if things are not on track and that society is more of an opponent rather than a resource for getting help.

Being a teacher I often see how grateful the students are when they know you go that extra mile for them: When you guide them or provide answers, even though they know it is not really part of your job.

Parents, who understand we take action not to break them or their kid, but to introduce them to solutions most times express relief.. Even when the solutions interfere in their household or perhaps even take charge of aspects in their life. System of society is a hard maze to figure out.

I get the impression that many teenagers feel they have a heavy burden on their shoulders because they need to make crucial  decisions even though they have not made up their mind what they want to do for the rest of their lives, or even know what they take a serious interest in. Imagine to get up every morning, for the rest of your adult, working life dreading the day that lays ahead, just because you hate your profession or job. As an adult with a full time job I know how many hours you put down in your job, and how it affects both your life and you as a person.

Further on they think that if they make the wrong decision then they are screwed, especially if they are not sure what they want to do yet. They have a lot of expectation on them, but at the same time they are still treated like they don't know anything at all, most of the time. And (and I have not quite figured this one out, because either it may be a stroke of genius, or they are really so naive they think it really should be so) they often act as if they expect to be perceived as clueless.

That being said: I have the impression we way too often underestimate teenagers and young adults. Yes, life itself and society generously hand out challenges and problems. Thing is; life does not discriminate. Everybody at all ages have to face what life brings.

I am lucky to remember my own teens. I remember them as busy and full of dilemmas, but it was great, most of the time... I think teenagers of today will feel the same way... in 20 years.

Yummy Christmas.

Christmas is just around the corner, and here, in Norway, part of the tradition is to bake cookies. It is common to count 7 different kinds, but most have more than that at home. They don’t necessarily bake them all (the store has a lot of delicious options) but most have cookies and cakes in cookie jars and tins, ready to be served if someone should drop by during the holidays. And people drop by all the time at Christmas. I love it! (And as soon as we think we hear someone coming we rush to open the caketins and jars and freezer and get the coffee started (yeah, we Norwegians drink coffee, not that often tea).

The discussion on which kinds of cookies we should count as the real deal is an ongoing issue through out the country. There is no key or set rule to which ones to bake (or buy), but most families have their own traditional cookies they would like to include. On the net I found  the most common ones are:

«Smultringer», «sandkaker», «sirupssnipper», «berlinerkranser», «goro», «krumkaker» and «fattigmann».

Thought I would tell about the most common ones in my house....

Smultring (plural: smultringer; English: lard ring) and hjortetakk (sometimes spelled hjortebakkels) are Norwegian doughnuts. They are smallish and usually prepared without glazing or filling, and are often flavoured with cardamom.

Smultrings are torus shaped and sold from trucks and, at Christmas time, from stalls. They are described as being "thick heavy dough fried in lard – best eaten while hot and with the grease still dripping!"
^{(source wikipedia.com)}

Goro were traditionally the "rich man's" cookies in Norway – they are prepared from what used to be really expensive ingredients like butter and cream and they are baked on specially smithed irons that very often are family heirlooms. The cookies have a texture that's a cross between a cookie, a cracker, and a waffle, lightly flavored with cardamom. I just love the pattern these cookies get in the iron when baked. I don’t make them very often, though. My grandmother had an old fashioned iron, which had to be flipped, as it was heated by the fire or cooker, but my iron is a modern, electrical one and the cookies are just too thick to become as delicate and crispy as I like them.

Another cookie, which is made from almost the same ingredients as Goro is Fattigman, or "Poor Man Cookies" which are twisted into pretty knots, quickly fried in oil or lard, and sprinkled with vanilla sugar or confectioner's sugar. They're a favorite in Norway and Sweden, and easy to prepare either with a special fattigman cutter or with a pastry cutter.

I don’t really make these either. I have tried, but... I just never got the hang of it. They just turned fatty and not that tasty at all... maybe I have the wrong recipe. My family never really had a tradition for baking these.

I truly love our delicate Norwegian krumkake cookies. They are baked on a circular cookie iron, then rolled into cones or cigars. They're guaranteed to crumble when eaten, in such a delicious way! There is no way you can eat these in an elegant manner, but I love them! I do not bake them in a large scale... I make them when I plan on serving them or when someone asks for them, as they are the best when just made. Or at least I think so.  I serve them alone, but most times I serve them filled with whipped cream mixed with fruit or berries (cloudberries is very popular around Christmas time) or with ice cream.

Serina Cookies are the ultimate Norwegian butter cookie, with a light texture that comes from using hartshorn (a.k.a. baker's ammonia or hornsalt) rather than American baking powder. Sprinkle them with pearl sugar and watch them disappear! Lovely to dip them in hot coffee and add some mocca taste to them  (I know, not very proper, but I do that to chocolate as well...)

"Sandkaker" (sand cakes) are formed in pretty fluted tins (I was fortunate enough to get my mother's as they cost a fortune!!!!!!), quickly baked in the oven, and then served either inverted to highlight their beautiful shapes or else used as tart shells for both sweet and savory fillings. I usually fill them with vanilla custard and berries... or diced fruit. Any kind I have at hand makes these cookies a real treat.

A cookie I do bake a lot of and put in the freezer is Sarah Bernhard. An almond base with chocolate butter cream and chocolate icing.

When I am to serve them I take them out of the freezer, put the coffee on and they are thawned just right for serving by the time coffee is done. They are delicious and just melt in your mouth with an explosion of jammy taste of chocolate.  They are ok for Christmas, but I would turn big as a house if I made them all year round.

We also design and build a gingerbread house for each of the kids to decorate with sweets and confectioner's sugar. They get to crack it and eat it New Year’s Eve.

We also bake big hearts and tie a bright red bow in them and hang them, i.e. the windows, for decorations... and then some figure shaped smaller ones for eating.

There is a vast number of other cookies which people here in Norway bake for Christmas, and they are all Scrumptious!

getting away and unwind: quality time with family

Most people, who are parents, would recognize and identify the feeling of anticipating what life will be like when your child is born.

Then, one day, you wake up from the trance everyday domesticity cast upon you, you watch your child and wonder “Just how did he/she grow up to be so big, already? What happened to everything I planned on doing with my child? What about the treasured moments I held out expectations of?”

“How could I miss out on making that newborn baby plaster cast of my baby’s hand and foot? How could I miss out on collecting ANY of those mementos I looked forward to sigh for and display.?”

Moments passed and lost forever. You realize you can’t turn back the clock and live those hours, days, weeks, months, years over again.

When I look back, what I regret the most is the hurry. During those flustered musts and doings we lived through, in order to let the kids participate in as much as possible, I feel like we just briefly took a glance, rather than experience. We didn’t calm down to enjoy life... we just lived it.

But when on vacation, after that first week when I learned how to lower my shoulders and put timeschedules aside, I am grateful to say we unwind. We took the time to relax and just inhale the spirit of just being at ease.

Or, did we? I can’t say I remember much from our vacations. Not when I really think back. I remember what I see when looking through our photo albums. Albums where I have glued in programs, tickets, tiny objects picked up here and there, along with the pictures, where careful notes are written down... at least on those first four pages.

The panic when packing and you have to explain your kid he can’t bring an entire suitcase stuffed with toys, and definitely not the teddybear the size of himself (never plays with it, either, but found it when packing and just felt he needed it for the trip).

The passports just disappear 10 minutes before you HAVE TO rush out the doors, and just in time you find them in that small pocket in your bag, where you always keep them when travelling.

I have a special bag when travelling; it has room for everything, and then some, and is very convenient.

Being a mum means that you end up being a beast of burden. Even though all the kids have their own rucksack, I end up with all the waterbottles and small matters they collect and buy.

It stresses me to always carry a heavy bag, when what I really want to do is to just carry my camera, and keep cash and credit card in a pocket. Especially when I am always trying to keep track of where my lovely ones are at all times. (I am not a tall person so after three days my neck feels four inches longer than it does the rest of the year.) And my eyes get that wandering, searching gaze you recognize all parents on holidays by.

The feeling of being disoriented is intensifies by the numerous free, and bought, maps which you get hold on to get where you want and do and see what you want at site. They are very seldom updated, and toilets nearby are forgotten about. Everybody with kids knows how important it is to know where those facilities are at... they are needed NOW, preferably ten minutes ago.

Those things have completely slipped my mind... also the fact that I never look sharp when travelling with my family: sticky sunscreen, melting ice cream and sand everywhere are never becoming.

Just struck me now: the things I have no pictures of, but which characterize our holidays the best, are bags, maps and wet wipes...

a bodily work of art

Not long ago I heard about a man who was granted a substantial financial compensation and a divorce, in court, because his wife had not told him that she had gone through several plastic surgeries to get her looks.

 http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/weird-news/man-sues-wife-for-being-ugly-1415695

Suppose it was only a question of time untill this would happen. We have an old joke saying “This couple got married in Las Vegas, and the next morning the man died from an heartattack caused by shock: he woke up with a strange woman he had never seen before... during the night she had removed her make up”.

Well, make up, or “war paint” as my students call it (teenage boys can be gruesome in their judgements), has been around for centuries and is one of the more common accepted  ways to improve appearance.

We are so preoccupied with looks; So desperately chasing youth, that we choose to ignore what consequenses our actions might have, not only to ourselves but to those we include in our lives as well.

A quick search on the internet informed me that plastic surgery may sound appealing but:

· the procedures are costly.
· a considerable amount of time that is needed for recovery from some of the procedure
· risk that you might not be happy with the results
· there could be complications.
· Some of the cons or side effects are so dangerous and everlasting that they can even lead to death.
· risks of plastic surgery include wound commotion of overlying skin and infections.
· breast augmentation include bleeding of the gel, encapsulation and the prospect of loss of silicone in the body.
· liposuction include discoloration, depigmentation, numbness, bruising and pain.
· Facelift plastic surgery also involves various side effects such as nerve damage which makes the person's face insensible.
· mild side effects such as feeling pain in the affected part
· inflammation which can disappear with the time.

There are so many women and men out there with perfect curves and no wrinkles, looking stunning with every accessory right... apart from the non-existing smile. The personality hidden behind an expressionless face.

I understand why it is beautiful, but...

In my grandparents’ faces I always saw history written in every line, wrinkle and grey hair. The goodness of them beaming from their hundred different smiles.

Their worries and joys showing in their lines and wrinkles around their eyes.

I believe that life puts its mark on a person, both good and bad. Maybe it is a good thing to erase your past from your appearance, but I myself find something recognizable and soothing in that history. It is where I come from.

I also think I would be saddened if my parents altered their looks because they did not like their features.... which they passed on to me.

Through the years we have seen, in media, how devastating the outcome of plastic surgery can be, but the drive to look good makes us still wanting to take the risk. Because, after all, there are some great results as well.

Personally I know seven people, who I mingle and talk with on a regular basis, who have gone through gastric surgery in order to lose weight. Two of them even gained weight in order to qualify for the operation.

I think about it as medicine has made it possible for them to avoid taking action on their own lack of self dicipline.

Then, because their weightloss is so extreme, they get surgery to remove the tracks the weightloss caused. Stomach, back, thighs, arms and boobs are tucked in, tightened and sculptured to become as perfect as can possibly be.

In all fairness and honesty it is not my problem, not an issue I should preoccupy myself with. Their lives and doings are their concern and yet it affects me in ways I never expected:

We used to have good talks about nothing and everything. Now it seems like every topic can be related to bodysize, size in clothes, scars, elastic bandages and gordles. And calories. Not lack of calories in food and diets, but the relief they can eat anything delicious with no thoughts on the risk of gaining weight.

The other day I talked to someone who have chosen the opposite solution to how to both rebel against the commercial ideal  of what a body should look like and commercial dieticians.

ok, I have been watching body building posing... I am soooooo, soooooo glad we all have different hobbies. Even way back when I had a fairly ok body I never displayed myself with such ease... and never to anyone else than friends at the beach. But.... it is still fascinating to watch... I think I discovered my triceps too (as I in secret tightened a couple of muscles.. just to compare, of course, not the posing drill)!

Bodybuilders have their own standards to what a body should look like. The sculptured muscles with defined lines and proportions are goals reached by dicipline, hard work, time and dedication.... and fake tan.

In my world this has always been some kind of a shady sport, not even worthy being called a sport, with lots of illegal drugs and methods connected to the miljeu. At least that is what we hear, when it is talked about. We know better, don’t we? Effective methods of cheating can be found in all kinds of human lifestyles.

I have to admit that a fit and toned body does look better than my pale, untrained self. I suppose we were not really made to live lives as couch potatoes... I think perhaps it is time to find my own golden compromise.

“Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, But beautiful old people are works of art”

~ Eleanor Roosevelt ~

The One

"Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life."
— Bob Marley

Fish in a fishbowl...

I used to have goldfish. Two orange, lovely looking fringetails, which seemed to live happily in their quite generous bowl.

I fed them every day, changed their water every two weeks and bought new water plantain on pretty regular basis. The fish didn’t eat a lot from the fish meal I bought, but they sure loved the plants.

I decorated the bed with tiny ceramic pots and plastic pearls. All in all it was a pretty decorative ornament in the livingroom.

Of course I didn’t really choose to get the fish to begin with; my son had a friend who lived in a house with a huge fishtank, and every now and again he presented his wish; that he too would get a goldfish.

One night I attended an annual meeting. We were quite a few people at this meeting, and the tables were decorated with nicely folded napkins and a vase with water in it... and a goldfish swimming in tiny circles.

At the end of the meeting the chairman announced, in a way too cheerful way, that we needed to check under our seats. Under one chair at each table there would be a note taped to the seat, and who ever sitting on that chair got the fish... and the vase to bring it home in.

I was so relieved not to get the note. I am a mum; I know who will end up tending to the living creature, and believe me: it is NOT the kid who really wants and wish for it.

The relief didn’t last very long , though, cause my friend sitting next to me handed me the vase and declared that: “This is from me to your son! I know he wants a goldfish, so this is not for you: It is to your son!”

There are many ways to corner a person; this is one of the most efficient ones.

So... reluctantly, I walked home on the icy street balancing this vase with a goldfish in it. To be honest I considered, several times, to unfortunately slip and by accident drop the vase, but then I thought about the broken glass and kids who might cut themselves or bikes with punctuated tyres and I decided against it.

Then I came to think about how I would end up picking the  squirmish fish up, trying to save it because I could never cope watching the fish just die, and I ended up saving myself from my own stupidity.

Which proved to be a good thing when I got home.

When I got home, my son looked up briefly to say hi, then looked again to notice the vase.... and then, he looked again and was totally extatic! He jumped up from the sofa with a giant smile on his face, took the vase from me, placed it on the table right in front of him, sat down resting his chin in his palm and just watched the fish... for quite some time. (I think I developed fond feelings for the fish then and there. To make either of my sons to sit still for some time is quite an achievement.) Then he ran to his room and came back with a notebook and a pen:

“We need to write a shopping list! The fish needs a bowl, grass, food and a friend!” You can’t really argue when your son is showing consideration for someone’s or something’s wellbeing, so he wrote the shopping list and went to bed.

After work the next day I went shopping. It was not a cheap visit to the pet shop, but it was worth it. My son beamed with happiness and the bowl looked beautiful.

However, it didn’t take long untill my son lost interest, and the only time he bothered to comment on the fish was when he knew it was time to change the water and clean the bowl.

My friends comforted me when I complained about the fish and the routine (and I did complain, even though I secretly enjoyed the pretty element on display in my livingroom. I placed it in front of a mirror, under a spotlight and it looked gorgeous).

They all told me not to worry: goldfish do not live for long, it would soon come to an end.

Two years later I began to worry the fish would die any day.

It is strange, now that I think about it,but i didn’t dread or worry about the fish dying untill then.

4 years and 3 months after my son got the fish as a present from my friend, he died.

I wanted so bad he would just vanish... but he didn’t.

The limp fish had to be scooped out of the water and I put it in a big matchbox, wadded with cotton, for my kids to bury him in. They were very persistent about that. Later that day I stood in the pouring rain, freezing my fingers numb, as I watched the surreal burial my kids arranged for a fish who had lived for so long in a bowl in our livingroom. Beautiful, and yet so little paid attention to.

6 months later the second fish died. During those 6 months I fed him every day, changed his water every two weeks and bought new water plantain on pretty regular basis. The fish didn’t eat a lot from the fish meal I bought, but he sure loved the plants.

I decorated the bed with tiny ceramic pots and plastic pearls. All in all it was a pretty decorative ornament in the livingroom.

Every morning I dreaded and worried about the fish would be dead when I went downstairs...  And then, one morning, he died.

I wanted so bad he would just vanish... but he didn’t.

The limp fish had to be scooped out of the water and I put it in a big matchbox, wadded with cotton, for my kids to bury him in. They were very persistent about that. Later that day I stood in the pouring rain, freezing my fingers numb, as I watched the surreal burial my kids arranged for a fish who had lived for so long in a bowl in our livingroom. Beautiful, and yet so little paid attention to.

And suddenly it was over. No more routine on tending to the fish. No more feeding every day, no more changing the water every two weeks and no more buying new water plantain on regular basis.

Strange how something so trifling affects your everyday...

Makes me think about my own life. The paralellism might be somewhat far off, but I am a woman, a mother, a housewife, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a teacher, a coworker, a coach, a customer, a friend (at least I hope I am considered one), and many, many more. I act out many roles and I am brave enough to say I often wish I didn't have to. Yet, they are all parts which make me me... and then, once and again on those rare, but treasured, occasions I get to be just me. And when that happens I discover again how I miss being and doing all the little, trifle things I do every day without anyone really noticing, and together they add up to be what makes me the person I am.

The full music experience...

I listen to music, a lot of it and most genres. I talk to people about music, and most are into one, or just a few, genres because of the beat or lifestyle connected to it.

I am not very hung up in genre, I am interested in what artists have to say. Or perhaps express is a better way of putting it. That is where I focus.

It's the artists that give me good, present texts I continue to listen to, those who give me challenges in

addition to the music; Regardless of instruments, beat or image.

I like the songs I feel that I totally understand. Music which express a mood, feeling or stand, in addition to contents. I so admire the skills some musicians have to work their instrument, to tear sounds from their instrument, or voice, which express emotions and create harmony in me. At times I just turn the volume up high, lie on the floor and let the music wash over me. Feeling as one with the elements.

I admit it: I'm a word freak. I do not always notice the sound cheating or if the bass sounds a bit sour. Maybe because I do not listen hard enough, and instead think: I know these songs, I know the lyrics, I know the pauses, the phrasing, the transitions, the voices... But I love to hear them again and again directly mediated through the intense communication between me and the music. I anticipate the text, a line that I might hear something new into, that gives me a new way of perceiving the song.

And often, when I hear the songs I listen to them, over and over again: the first, the second, and third time...

And listening to the music often gives me just as much, if not more, as if I read literature. You know; proper literature, reputabel literature, written by authors highly regarded for their wordcraft.

Music provides the chance to experience a contemporary community that's there without having to talk about it. In many ways both music (with its sound and lyrics) and literature activates some of the same receiver unit in me. I open myself to someone else's thoughts and engage in dialogue with another's view of the world.

I try to understand and harmonize with this view of my world, and to make it something I can relate to and understand.

When I read, I listen to someone’s voice, his view upon life, just like I do when I listen to, or read, lyrics

Sometimes I communicate with a particular song, almost arguing with it, and then I find I relate indifferent to it. It depends on how I set my mind there and then. I don’t always feel the light attitude towards life. It is not always the right thing for me to live in the moment... but some times it is.

Music is all about movement. It's all about rhythm, the communication that may change between performances in different settings.

If you know the songs well, you notice the differences in performances.

Music has two dimensions to create their expression, whereas text has one. Musical highlights invites text into dialogue with it; it can verify it, or it can disprove it.

Both the music and the text reaches the listener and goes together in a whole. The lyrics with its poetry or prose creates meanings and engage in dialogue with the reader or listener. The musical setting limitsthe lyrics. The music can be changed and varied, while the text remains unchanged.

A song engage me differently if it is performed by a band with full power, or just vocals and guitar or saxophone. Rock beat gives me a completely different experience than when I hear it acoustically. Same text, different perception; Same contents. The whole package; setting, beat, lyrics, mood... gives me a different inner experience of the contents every time I listen. And to me, that is the gift music gives me: The possebility to admire how someone out there express my own existence so much better than I can ever possibly do myself.

To lead and be led...

Being a leader must be very difficult: You have to make decisions and have the last say in matters which concern others. Not only people, but also the place, environment and standard they find themselves in.

At the most basic level, a leader is someone who leads other. A leader is a person who has a vision, a drive and a commitment to achieve that vision, and the skills to make it happen. You make things change (hopefully to the better) and function, and you make it all happen by loyal subordinates, who have the qualifications needed to get the job done.

If one, or more, of those postulations are lacking, you really have a hard time trying to be a leader. Simply because you are not... at least not the leader you ought to be.

If I were to call a meeting, and the people to attend agreed to both time and place, I would expect them to be present and prepared. Regardless if it is a parents committee meeting at my children’s school, the team at work or some charity work group.

Efficient meetings have an agenda, and the agenda has significanse to the job instruction. In other words: to participate in those meetings is part of what you are paid, or signed up, to do.

Ever participated in one of those meetings with no agenda? To me they come across as pretty meaningless because nobody really knows what they are supposed to have opinions on, or what to check on beforehand.

I get so frustrated when grown ups expect me to waste time on meetings which often end up as a pointless exchange bazaar of recipes. I think there is a time and place for everything. If I am effective at work; well, more time to play.

Further on I would be really upset if someone brought their underaged child to the meeting, and when commented upon I got the answer that they all totally accepted the child’s presense. I may be totally wrong about this, but I think there are issues which are adult problems and worries... just like I believe there are activities that apply to adults only.

In addition I would be really upset if the participants just popped by for a few minutes, especially if that participant was the head of department...

To be a leader means you would just tell the rude, totally unengaged head of department to sit down and participate.

Tell the parent of that child to find somewhere else for the child to be during the meeting.

If the emloyee takes his liberty to consider your meeting unimportant or insignificant there should be some kind of consequence. There must be fait in the understanding that the leader knows, and act, according to the workplace's and the emplyees'  best interest. We are not very good at anarchy, you see.

Do what a leader is supposed to do: take charge! And demand they act according to the responsibilities they have in their job. (Reading this I do understand why I could easilly come across as a rigid nerd..)

Just like the leader. The leader is responsible for every call he or she makes (at least that is what we expect he or she does...  That being said; I notice that lately being the best at blaming others, has been the goal.)

Even more so;The scary part is that he or she is even more responsible for the desisions not being made.

Every day I teach classes of teenage boys. They do not really want to be there, they just want to get done with it. Get their education and get on with their lives. I consider myself a leader. I have learned through trials and failures, and I have been trained in classroom management. I know what it takes to be a leader.

When people hear I am a teacher, I usually get the “Oh, that must be hard. How do you cope? Do you get their attention?”

Yes, I do! Because my students know what I expect of them. They know I prepare classes where they are to learn things which are, and will be, important for them. I do not just muck about. Time is precious and we do not waste time just to make time pass.

The difference between being a friend and being friendly is huge!

I would expect grown ups, with important jobs, to have the same respect and attitude to their work as my students do to theirs. When they come to us, they may not be quite there, but it does not take long untill they are on board.

In private I am no control freak. I probably am one of the most disorganized and distracted person I know of.

But when at work, I am given a responsibility which I am paid to act out. My time and my person belongs to my employer. If I do not do my job it is like buying carrots in a store and go home with a bag full of chocolates. Very nice (and everybody who knows me can relate to this analogy, cause I just adore chocolate!), but not all that suitable for dinner... except for dessert, perhaps.

The thing is; if we only eat desserts, all the time, we end up being unhealthy and unfit for fight.

I wonder if many leaders, with great cvs, let their subordinates run their own comfortable show, eating desserts.

a shopping phenomenon...

I really don’t like shopping. I just get too frustrated when things do not fit or I can’t find what I am looking for. The endless search, wandering from shop to shop, tax my energy and patience.



...proves women have more fun....?

 I know that many, if not most, go shopping for recreational reasons. They wander about in shopping centres and small boutiques, just to scout for something nice which could be added to their wardrobe, home or workshop. They spend several blessed hours considering buying that one perfect item. They study every interesting object and consider design, fit, colour and brand just to make sure it matches what they already have. Or, they wonder what else they should get to match this new purchase.

It must be wonderful to forget about time and chores and just shuffle about, with no specific direction in mind, other than what catches your eyes.

Some have specific shops they just have to check out, because they feel the style or image of that place fits their lifestyle.

Some have no other goal than to discover the ultimate bargain, others want another item of a certain brand. Maybe another screwdriver, the 184^th of an ongoing  increasing collection, is what feels absolutely necessary to get hold of.

For the most part I shop online, but now and again it is necessary for me to go to a store and get what I need. Yes: need.

I have promised myself that while my project on getting rid of clutter in my house is in progress, I am not going to buy anything which does not serve the purpose of creating order.

However, there are exeptions, and one store I take time to slow down and observe people, is IKEA.

Even though IKEA has expanded their  range of goods to include note pads, bags, shower gels, bathrobes and other “have got to get”  items, they mostly deal in rather dominating things. Things and furniture that will make an impact in your household.

As I walk through the store, deliberately not picking up a shopping cart (without the cart I have to pass by quite a few intriguing things I deep in my heart knows are totally useless, but nevertherless intriguing then and there), I see people filling up their shopping carts with this and that... and a few of those.

Huge piles of glasses and pillows and another basket (to store what you bought today) and a fancy lamp to light up a corner (which doesn’t really have space enough for the lamp) and weird looking twigs to decorate the hallway; twigs which will nab the jackets and coats to everyone passing through the entrance door... but they look nice, once you have put them back on display.

I find the thought of people paying attention to the look and comfort of their home quite pleasant. The sense of taste is really outstanding, for most people, and when the price is affordable; they seem to find pleasure in making their surroundings look the best they can.

Now, IKEA do have full kits to equip a room, (luckily not everybody choose these options, or we would end up having a million homes looking the same, without any personality shown) but you still need to deside to get it, purchase it, bring it home with you and put it on display.

So, by the insane number of people shopping there, I take it that noone mind the prices, the design, the colours, the compatible capacities of the items, sometimes even the lack of useful qualities... what I do hear a lot when slowly walking by customers is: “Wow, that looks cool! Where could I put it? Where can I make room for this chair/table/vitrine...?”

And next time I see them, they are handling a shopping cart AND a shopping trolley. By now they do not only have a pile of items in one cart, but they also have a mysterious number of unwieldy, really heavy, flat cardboard boxes on the trolley.

When at IKEA,  noone really gives a thought to what consequences their buy will have. They pay, stop by the sweets and treats counter, to get a soft ice, a cheap pizza or hotdog... with soft drink. Happy, knowing they have been temporarily distracted.

How to get room for everything in the car is not really important... It is easy to borrow a trailer. For free...

What I do notice, though, is how many out there who complain. Not about the items, but about the disturbing outbursts of frustration which occures, when everything is to be mounted.