hand luggage

I love to travel. To see new places and meet new people is a great joy to me, and I enjoy travelling by myself. Not that I don’t enjoy travelling  with someone, but when you are on your own you get to move in your own pace, you sit down and watch people, drink a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, you get in touch with people who address you just because you look a bit helpless when you turn the map or traveller’s guide in all kinds of directions… and it does not help a bit and you just look very disoriented… which I am all of the time, but that is a well kept secret…. Until now…

Being blond and having blue eyes does not assure people I know what I am doing either. But you know what? I have never met anyone anywhere who was not nice and helpful.

One of the things I appreciate is to check in my baggage and just hold on to my handbag; let someone else worry about getting my suitcase to its destination.

I have never lost luggage, yet, so I have no bad experiences on that department. My well used, worn out brown suitcase, with pink flowers on it, always gets where it is supposed to end up: on the conveyor band in the pick-up zone. Thinking about it now the strange look of it might have something to do with my successful luggage experiences. It does not scream “exclusive contents”, to put it mildly.

Now… most airlines state you are allowed to carry one hand luggage, and there are limited measures for this hand luggage, in order to make sure there is room for it in the luggage rack. Problem is: travellers have a lot more in their hands than just the one allowed hand luggage.

So, people pack a small suitcase in order to not check in their luggage, they want to bring it into the plane in order to make sure they do not lose it, or they just want to be able to leave the destination airport as soon as possible, without the hassle it is to wait 5 minutes for it to arrive, so they trolley their suitcase, with wheels rumbling on the tiles, because it is amazing how heavy a small suitcase can get when you pack with determination.

Then they have their handbag the size of a traveller’s bag, where they keep everything which did not fit into the suitcase, and then they need to stop by tax free shops to get some bottles or snacks or make up or whatever they fancy… (In big, international airports I often see cars displayed. Do people actually buy cars at the tax free on airports? I always wonder when I pass the fancy line up of cars.)

By the time last call is announced for my flight, people line up to check in struggling with everything they have to make sure they remember to bring.

I take my time; the plane will not leave without me as long as I am there in time and my boarding card is ok.

So I sit and wait for the busy passengers who want to get there, where ever “there” might be. (I am not sure if they think the plane will leave early if they push, if they just enjoy being on board so much they will  board as soon as possible or if they know they have so much on their hands they need to get there early to occupy a luggage rack in order to get all their items and bags stuffed in there.)

In either case: when I enter the plane I am waiting in the isle for forever. People stack their suitcase, their computer bag, their handbag, their shopping bags and their jacket or coat and it takes time. Things fall out and need to be carefully nudged in place so they can close the hatch.

Eventually people sit down, with a relieved sigh, and I get to find my seat. I place my handbag under the seat in front of me and struggle to find place for my feet. I do not even think about placing it in the luggage rack, I am not tall and my one experience doing that was an avalanche of things over my head and 3 very annoyed fellow passengers.

On long flights you get a blanket and a pillow… with my handbag under the seat and me struggling to find comfortable room for my feet, there really isn’t a lot of room for the blanket and the pillow… so they end up in my lap.

It is hard to fold down the table when you have a blanket and a pillow on your lap, but even worse is how warm it gets. The temperature in an airplane full of passengers is high, and with the blanket and the pillow on my lap I feel like having the world’s longest hot flash… getting worried this is the exact time my menopause sets in. Not yet, but I have an idea of what it will feel like.

When you have been on a trip, it is normal to mention you have been away, and those you talk with will always comment upon what you tell and give their anecdotes from their own travels.

When I get to the part where I complain about how difficult it is to get comfortable on the plane they burst out with an enthusiastic tirade about how genius it is to bring the suitcase and handbag and computer bag and shopping bags and coats into the plane and just stowe it away in the luggage rack… no sweat!

Democracy, freedom of speech and such...

Sometimes it really gets on my nerves to live in this country. It is a small, but very long country… if you place a pin in the very southern spot on the map, and turn the country around, the circle will cover a large part of Europe… far south into Italy and Spain.

Our straggling country, with its challenging landscape; weather-beaten shore, wuthering heights, narrow valleys, sparsely population, idyllic towns and really, really poor infrastructure (the roads are a nightmare, even in broad daylight) and, at best, cool temperature offers a good life for those of us who think unpredictable conditions a challenge and an adventure rather than a struggle.

Part of living here is the knowledge we live in a free and open democracy. We are considered liberal and open minded, in spite of our set ways of thinking and doing things.

We are all different, and we accept we have differences… so much so that we at times think that our constitution is an obstacle.

Our constitution is founded on Christian objects clause. We used to say grace in schools and kindergartens, but due to so many children coming from non-Christian homes this is no longer the case. We approve of gay marriages (not necessarily all of us, as individuals, but as a country with a state church we do) and all congregations, regardless of religion, get state contribution.

All of this is fair and reasonable, at least I think it is, but like any other free and democratic state we all have our own mind on matters like these.

You see: living in a free and democratic country has the disadvantage of living, working and functioning with people with different ways and different opinions, and there is no law against being stupid. Sorry but true… or maybe I should feel relieved?

We risk getting insulted and provoked because part of living here is the right we have to practice freedom of speech. On the other hand we do not have to agree and tolerate it by not standing up for ourselves. We should speak up when we disagree or feel molested. Even more so if we think someone else is unfairly spoken about.

Freedom of speech is not the freedom to express discrimination or to put others down. Freedom of speech boils down to be freedom to utter what you feel about matters in general, not to specify or frame individuals. We accept that freedom of speech implies responsibilities and limits. To be protected from becoming a victim of racism and degrading acts are more important than a person’s right to say whatever he or she wants.

Still… Have you ever tried to make two lists: one for synonymes to boy/man and one for synonymes to girl/woman. Add all the proper words you would find in a dictionary and all the words you use in your everyday language among family and friends (and be honest).

Boy/Man	Girl/Woman

I think you will be surprised over the result. And as you look at your list and count how many expressions you added, consider this: Are there more positive names than negative? What does the list tell you about how you regard people around you? The strangest part of it all is that what you wrote is most likely not conflicting the freedom of speech.

I embrace our democracy and the privilege it is to live in a country where we include and acknowledge individual differences, but it does not mean I don’t find it annoying.

How blind can I get?

To be blind can be two things, as far as I am concerned.

1: Lacking the sense of sight.

2: Unwilling or unable to perceive or understand.

I have been told that a person with no sight compensate by developing stronger senses on hearing, smell, taste, or touch. He or she will miss out on far less stimuli than most sighted people believe. The slightest change in tone of voice, or source of sound will be picked up as well as any other changes in the surroundings.

The ability to perceive stimuli originating from outside or inside the body will increase to levels we who can see have no premises to understand, and we tend to underestimate blind people because we forget they are so totally aware of their surroundings… it is just the sight, which is not present.  

If you are still reading you must think that I am one of the most shallow and unsympathetic person around. But life taught me how to overcome my own shortcomings (and my less fortunate situations), and when I read what Wes Craven ones said, it was like if he was saying something smart he knew I needed to hear:

“A lot of life is dealing with your curse, dealing with the cards you were given that aren't so nice. Does it make you into a monster, or can you temper it in some way, or accept it and go in some other direction?”

I still try, and make an effort to be the best version of myself, without compromising who I am and what I truly stand for. I am not saying I succeed, but I try. And I strongly believe, judging from those I know who have poor or no sight, that most of them, by far, do the same thing. They do not feel sorry for themselves, they take their lemons and make lemonade.

Which brings me to my second perception of what to be blind is.

As I get older and stop feeling sorry for myself and whatever comes my way, I realize how many people I consider to be quite resourceful (and with a certain level of intelligence) choose not to take a stand.

I am not talking about fighting for a cause or stand on the barricades… I am talking about having an opinion about what they read in the newspapers or take part in discussions on topics important to our community or even neighborhood.

I am far from being an activist, I have no really strong believes or causes that I fight for, but I try to keep updated on what is going on in the world. I try to see things from both sides, and I make up my mind on topics. So far so good, that is the easy part. The hard part is to face the consequences.

I would feel very stupid if I said that I strongly disagree with the use of children labour, and then go on buying cheap clothes without checking where they were made and for what brand.

I sometimes wish I did not have a messed up conscience which gets me into situations I am in the risk of being uncomfortable with.

If I was selective blind to certain issues, I could maybe feel a whole lot more relaxed and at ease. But… a Norwegian poet, Arnulf Øverland, put it so right when he wrote that you shall not tolerate so perfectly well, the injustice that does not affect yourself (freely translated, but pretty correct anyway).

What if my kids were affected by injustice, and nobody would stand by their side?

How blind is it ok for me to get?

the power of words.

More than a thousand years ago we had skalds in Norway. They had great influence on who was ruling because they were known to master both to have a way with words and to recognize the truth. The Vikings were not the only ones to have them in their system of ruling or governing; I am sure these guys had an important position, and served a cardinal purpose around the world, even if they had different titles and status from place to place; i.e. Court jester, minstrel, troubadour. They served the same role in the political, cultural and religious life everywhere.

By using the art of words he (never heard of a female one) could say almost anything to the Viking chieftain, without being threatened to be beheaded. When the skald expressed himself in his clever manner he was listened to, even if what he said was a reprisal in disguise. People would address the skald asking him to propose their problem or cause, in the quest to get a fair and, of course, favorable ruling from the chieftain.

At the same time a wise poet would be a useful adviser, for he could say difficult things in a way that was not taken offensive.

In earlier times few people could read, and even fewer write. So everyone had to carry the words in their head. Therefore it had to be well said, it should be easy to remember. What is in rhyme is remembered correctly more easily, because if a word is wrong, the rhyme fails.

 

Most people think that battling is a new, hip, revolutionary way to compete.The object of a rap battle is to come up with insulting rap lyrics on the spot (not pre-written or pre-meditated) and rap them towards an opponent. The rapper with the best delivery, lyrics, and crowd response usually wins. The Vikings did it too. The chieftain would send his skald out to battle agains an other chieftain's skald to settle disagreements. We find references to battling in literature from other countries and cultures too, so it was not something uncommon or unheard of.

Created during a time from when words only lived in the minds of people, to more knowledge of reading and writing, we started to write events and deals down. Through time and history, helped by literacy, skaldic art lost some of its importance, and developed into what we today consider poetry and even juridical documents.

From oral texts we entered a time where we trust what is written far more than what is said.

Skaldic art is like using words creating music, in its most effective and powerful way. The words employ and intensify the message.

Like music as we know it today, it can (and should) arouse emotions, or create images, or preferably both… Or sound so totally wrong that you just want to shut out and walk away: The kind of situation where you don’t even feel the urge to argue. You just want to turn and leave, even though you know it is not right to let what is said stand without contradiction.

To leave what is wrong alone is, in my opinion, to give credit to the misconception.

Today we are drowned in words. Maybe words are losing its strength  because we abuse them, but there was a time when a thoughtless word could cost lives, or a well-received poem could very well give wealth and honor, yes power. Kings and nobles enjoyed talented skalds or poets because the word of a man lived on long after the man, or woman, was dead.

Not long ago the pen was considered the strongest of weapons… maybe that is still true, if we use our words right.

 

Not expected guests

I have just been informed that what is going on in my house is rather outrageous! Relax, it is nothing bad (from my point of view) it is just not what most people (at least not here in Norway) consider normal. I never really thought about it before, but a neighbor of mine was rather indignant with it, on my behalf, when I told her about my dinner guests over Christmas holidays.

I am not very good at hosting dinner parties. I am not the kind of hostess who will plan for days and days (maybe even weeks) how to set the table, what kind of centerpiece to display, how to seat the guests, what to serve, when and how.

It does not mean I never invite people for dinner, or any other meal of the day. I do! I am just not very… proper. And I never really invite people; my guests are the drop in kind of visitors.

I just suggest they should come over later or, if they are already in the house, stay, for whatever meal is due.

It is not that I am unorganized or overly impulsive but I just don’t feel I have the time to plan events in advance.

When I am invited for dinner, coffee or any other sort of get-together which includes food, I do what every sincere and/or polite person do: I compliment the effort the host or hostess has made to make it a pleasant meal with nice surroundings in good company. I do not only compliment the effort: I honestly and truly appreciate the length they go to, in order to make me (and anyone else invited) feel welcome and at ease.

I love the feeling of being pampered and made a fuss about: To be a VIP.

My guests don’t get that treatment at all. That is: There have been special occasions, even in my life, when I have invited people to celebrate with me, and when you send a formal invitation there should be a planned setting, a menu and timing. I am not good at any of that, but I make an effort when making an effort is the right thing to do.

Anyway, the thing that upset my neighbor was I told her, in the course of a conversation, that I never really know how many will come when I invite someone.

For some reason, a few of my friends find it ok to bring extra guests. If I am lucky they call and tell me, but not always.

I think it has to do with my propensity to cook while my guests are seated around my kitchen table and we all talk. I like fresh food, and I like it to be newly made.

Besides, cooking a meal is far less time consuming than most think. If you have sharp knives, that is. A decent set of knives makes cooking both quick and more pleasant. And to show off throwing tomatoes in the air and see them split when hitting the knife is a good party trick. And some even point out they appreciate seeing me wash my hands every now and again.

I might even have brought it upon myself, as I suggested, at some point, that if you cook for 6 you might as well cook for 10. The mess is the same, you just need to add more vegetables and salads. And sharing a meal is so much nicer than to eat alone.

I like long meals with many people around the table and good humoured conversations. The food itself is not important.

I am not a gourmet, I make eatable food, but I do not think it is the food itself that makes people come. I think it is the knowledge we have a welcoming house. Not a house which is as tidy as I wish (newspapers and Lego have been known to be removed from the table as the guests sit down), and far from quiet, but a home where people are welcome…  as long as they approve of the less formal setting and a table without a stunning centerpiece.

It is not outrageous, as far as I am conserned, to me that is sharing togetherness.

Ten Sing

When I was a teenager I joined the local Ten Sing choir.  This was around mid 80s and Ten Sing was huge in Norway. It was fresh, hip, liberal, social and gave many opportunities the kids would never have been able to experience otherwise:

We would go on Ten Sing weekends (90 teenagers and very young leaders. Imagine the intense social life!), give concerts with lightshows, microphones and mixing unit, smoke machines, impetuous rhythms and loud instruments.

We learned how to read sheet music and those who wanted to play an instrument were taught how to play. We had dancers with choreography and outfits. It was all very new and exciting to us. We enjoyed both listening to and performing music together.

Everybody was welcome, and everybody was encouraged to sing out loud with whatever voice they had.

Our Ten Sing choir was one of the biggest in Norway and thinking about it now I have to say I admire those who took charge and the responsibility. The commitment was amazing. Maybe they were too young to realize what they took on, but we were rather successful and quite good too.

Being part of a new concept and run by very young adults situations occurred;

We were threatened to be excluded when we performed Eric Clapton’s Cocaine… it was changed into “krokan” (= almond brittle) but apparently it was not good enough. People suspected it was not the original intention of the song.

I was offered and tasted alcohol for the first time on a weekend we were to practice for our grand tour. I was not the only one, and it was merely a sip or two… not a big deal for anyone other than me, but not good timing and place nevertheless. Thinking about it now alcohol should of course never have been brought to such an event, and it was strictly forbidden, but maybe the setting of people you could trust and who cared was the best possible. Not saying it was ok, just trying to ease my conscience and justify the misbehavior. After all it was a choir founded on Christian values.

At the end of the day it was all very good-natured and including, both ideologically and in practice.

A great many of the active musicians in Norway today have Ten Sing as the starting point of their career.

Highlight of my Ten Sing career was to me, like it was to all the others in our choir, the tour in Germany. Close to 90 teenagers, 2 full busloads of kids, equipment, a nurse, 2 drivers, (those three were also the parents, who were (and still is) usually required as adults in charge) and baggage hit the road and ended up in Germany. We were to promote Ten Sing and get some publicity. We did. We held concerts outdoors and in gyms, at schools and tourist attractions from Köln to Hamburg and Kassel. We had a lot of fun and it was a lifetime experience. We wore ugly (at the time we thought they were cool) light blue sweaters with our logo on it and jeans. Very mid 80s.

When introducing a new song, we were always asked if anyone would like to sing solo. Many wanted, and a few more often than others. I never really volunteered, but I was pushed forward ones… maybe because they thought it would be fun to see me fail, I do not know, but in any case I ended up singing a rather, to me, challenging song by Amy Grant, a rocked up, breathless version of Love of Another Kind. Listening to the tape today, I still think I did fairly well. Even my brothers gave me credit for that one, and on our tour I got roaring applause, just like everyone else. I had my minutes of fame and I was part of something important to me. And I have to admit it was sweet.

Today Ten Sing is far from as popular as it was then, I know we have a few choirs left, but nothing compared to what it was like. I wonder how kids get to love and live music today?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ten_Sing

Not very mainstream

I do not consider myself a musical snob, but I have strong feelings when it comes to music and musical performances.

Music must be passion, joy, brutal, psychoactive, symphonic beautiful and engaging. And many other things, but never insignificant, thoughtless and physically painful bad.

There are so incredibly many really good musicians out there, who create really strong music and lyrics. And no, I'm not a narrow-minded person who hates pop, and feel that the only true music is one specific genre. I like the whole spectrum.

My brothers are a few years older than me, and they have always been interested in music. They played themselves and recorded a couple of cassette tapes, and they introduced me to Earth, Wind and Fire, Dire Straits and Yngve Malmsteen when I was only a small child.

In the beginning I liked mostly rock. New forms of music came along and I was more than ready to explore and embrace.
Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Willy Nelson and, of course, Johnny Cash taught me to appreciate outlawcountry, country music has an undeserved bad reputation in many circles, there is a lot of excellent country artists worth the while listening to.

Motorhead made me, who was fond of symphonic music ala Vangelis, realize that everything you need to create a massive wall of sound is two or three devoted musicians who give everything they have, and then some. Blood, Sweat and Tears in practice.

Leonard Cohen taught me that one can say a lot even if one is low-key. And later Jeff Buckley showed me that one can always do things better than the original, as long as it has soul and character.

Before he became raving mad Brian Wilson showed that 3 minute pop could be written into eternity as long as it was smart and with heart and soul involved.

Satiricon hit me with a bang in 1990s and made me realize that wild and brutal music can be incredibly beautiful, if you just listen. Past my younger youth I still discovered hidden treasures.
Screaming Jay Hawkins and The Blues Brothers made me like the blues, and later more artists added to the list, which goes on. The night we watched the Blues Brothers three times in a row is still a precious memory, maybe because it was a mad thing to do, but we had fun. It was great.

I could have rattled off singersongerwriter Robert Wyatt's incredibly strange low-key music, for example the song Goccia with Cristina Dona. The strange collective Current 93 which presents goth somewhere far to the left of the one and only Nick Cave.

I like the love Bach strive to describe, through his divine inspiration, through the mighty organ pipes, but I also think Kurt Cobain, Faith No More and Alice in Chains are excellent.

Beethoven's Fifth and Ninth Symphony are powerful, passionate and tumultuous beautiful. But sometimes, instead of weather, you need Kate Bush's strange universe.​​When craving some quality time, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and all the other dead rockers from the 60s-70s, Bruce Springsteen, Tom Petty and the rest of the gang from the eighties. Grunge in the nineties and old pop included.  A little country, not too much but some, and of course gems like Meatloaf, Pink Floyd, Fleetwood Mac, but preferably from the old days, and plenty of metal from the time when men wore tights and had long hair, flow like a mind blowing force of nature from the speakers. Maybe even Dimmu Borgir, Satyricon and their black-minded friends are compatible to my mood at the time.

Positive bands in the recent past is System of a Down and Wolftmother bright steady. The latter makes me always think of hard rock's childhood with Sabbath, Zeppelin, Hendrix, Thin Lizzy and a whole lot of other brilliant bands, while it sounds new and fresh, and makes me believe that maybe the best of things is not over.

It certainly sounds far-fetched for people of today, but I did not actually own a stereo system until I was an adult and moved out from my parents’ house. I listened to music from a tape recorder, it was not fixed either, at first it was a little mono cassette player, the stereo soundblaster was the first thing I bought when I got my first paycheck; I was 13.
The miracle of music sounding was still present. It was not just music, but the joy of having music in my power.

In a world with no MTV and only one channel on the radio playing music primarily addressing the older generations I found Radio Luxemburgh. I would sit by my radio/cassette recorder and record the songs played, using the pause button to edit away the talking. My tape cassettes were a wonderful collection of what went on in Europe as far as music was concerned.

I left my family and friends behind and went abroad, not yet 19 years old. I was supposed to stay away for three months… and came back home a year later. During this year the locals tried to convince me that Bob Marley with his reggae was the only true way to experience music. I was never quite sure if Bob Marley was merely a symbol of a lifestyle or actually the best music they ever heard. I still love Bob Marley, but I never fell for the temptation of adopting the lifestyle. Music was the only drug I needed.

 
The list goes on and on. There are thousands of good artists, and thousands of brilliant songs, probably enough to not have to play the same song over again the first year if you play music constantly non stop.

So, why this list of strange bands who I enjoy and love so much? Even though we have a vast plentitude of radio channels, we very seldom get to hear music played by these great musicians.

We are presented the top 100s or designed music, produced to tickle our ears in order to create high ratings and fast cash, often accompanied with distinguished looks. Image is far from bad, it does emphasise identity and the sense of belonging to a group of like-minded people. But too often image is used to increase the factor which sells the best: sex.

I want to hear Aerosmith, Beatles, Biosphere, Black Debatth, Black Sabbath, BlurBob Dylan, Bobby, Boyd Rice, Bryan Adams before he went ballads (but I admit I have my romantic moments), Turbonegro, Camel, Cat Stevens, CC Cowboys, David Bowie, Dum Dum Boys, Elvis, Euroboy, Frank Zappa, Gary Moore, Genesis before PhilCollins began to sing, Gwar, Hawkwind, Him, Jefferson Airplane, Judas Priest, Kinks, Kyuss, Led Zeppelin, Manowar, Marlin Manson, Megadeath, Mike Oldfield, Mike Patton, Nazareth, Neil Young, Eagles, Oasis, Ozzy, Tough Men, Prince, Queensland, Radiohead, Raga, Rammstein, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Saxon, Sepultura, Sex Pistols, Simon and Garfunkle, Skunk Anansie, Slade, Sliverstein, Soundgarden, Steppenwolf, Talking Heads, The Byrds, The Cure, The Mamas and the papas, The Rex, The Streets, The Sword, The Who, Van Halen, Yngve Malmsteen, ZZ Top, and many more.

But save me from Kim and her girlfriends

A sigh over shoes

When planning my house I failed to consider the consequences of having active children.

Oh, I thought that I was smart and thought of every eventuality, and for the most part I am happy about how it turned out. Still, there is one thing which I am really annoyed at: I failed thinking through the quantities and how to store shoes.

Playing soccer my kids need boots for artificial ground, astro turf, firm ground and soft ground… and living in Norway indoor shoes as well. Soccer alone adds up to three pairs of football boots, times three: nine pairs of boots.

For everyday use they need sneakers, jogging shoes, rubber boots, hiking boots, winter boots, sandals and proper shoes for those dressed up occasions. And then some shoes they just had to have because they look cool or they are really comfortable. Not all of them used every day, but often enough nevertheless. Often enough to require having them. I have not done the math, to be honest I am a bit afraid to, but it is a great many shoes. I know that much.

They grow out of or wear out the footwear and need new ones, and the old ones tend to stay around causing both confusion and disorder.

You see; just like school bags, gym bags and jackets, shoes have this tendency to end up on the floor, just inside of the entrance door. We trample over it all, as we enter or exit the house, and strikingly few of us get the brilliant idea to hang, or place, them on one of the many convenient hooks, shelves or wardrobe closets in the hall. Even fewer of us actually do it, so the hall is constantly the total chaos! A jumble we cautiously tip-toe across in order not to strain an ankle.

The rumour has it that women, in general, have many shoes. I don’t think so. I think most women are like me, and I don’t have many pairs at all.

I only have my slip ons, my high-heeled ankle boots, my low-heeled ankle boots, my flat-heeled ankle boots, my jogging shoes (in case I was to give the impression I am a sporty type of a girl) my sneakers, my court shoes, my high-heeled sandals, my low-heeled sandals, my flat-heeled sandals, my slippers, my hiking boots, my rubber boots, my ski boots and my gardening boots. In addition I have my gorgeous, red, really high-heeled statement shoes… and a couple more court shoes, just because they need to fit the outfit. In other words: just the most essential pairs of shoes. I don’t have much space in my wardrobe (it is a very small wardrobe), so I keep those I can’t find room for there in different wardrobes around the house. (No, I do not hide them, just place them.)

I am not the only mum with three kids around: How do families in normal homes storage their shoes?

I really should... but I don't, or do I?

I have given up on magazines. They cost a fortune and even though they all claim to be different; they are not. They are all the same (and I disregard the x-rated, as I have no experience in them and their contents, just thought it was necessary to mention that).

At the end of the day they all make women feel they are not good enough, don’t try hard enough and do not show enough initiative.

Through October, November and December they tell us how to dress (including what perfect hold-ins and stay-ups to buy), put on the right make up, get the right hairdo, cook, bake, set the table, drink, decorate, make personal greeting cards for the holiday, make time for the kids during planning the holiday and find the perfect present.

Thank heavens for family traditions! I have decided to stick with the old fashion way my mum tried to keep up.

Now that the celebrations are over with, the magazines are overflown with the answer to how to diet and get the perfect body (back) after the excessive eating and partying. The methods are different from year to year, depending on what is in fashion.

This year it is low carb diet and aerobic and pilates which are mentioned a lot, for an effective weightloss. I am not quite there yet, but I see they have a point when it comes to the weightloss itself. It is rather disturbing not to be able to tie your own shoes without heavy breathing. (Just to make clear the thought is not new to me I admit I have bought every dvd I have come across on Zumba. That looks like a blast! Just haven’t gotten around to try it out too much yet, but I will. And I expect to look great in no time… just a glimpse into, hopefully, near future there.)

Scary I know all this, since I never buy the magazines, but the frontpages are screaming at me with loud colours and BIG print.

The good news is that I do not have to pay for the bad conscience, I get it for free.

So, regarding my insight on what modern requirements women face, and knowing I should care more about them, it hits me:

I am a woman, and even though I claim I do not care what the magazines say, I have to admit they plant a somewhat distracting insight in my failure of being the best version of me, and I kind of owe it to both myself and my fellow human beings to be at my best in most respects.

On the other hand: in what way do men face the demands of society? I am just being curious here, cause I hear very little about that, and looking around I know there are many gorgeous men out there. A lot more gorgeous men than women, in fact.

Environmental things...

Saturday is the day of the week when I try to get something done around the house. Laundry, filling the freezer with bakery, sorting out toys, games and strange electronic gadgets I never even knew we had…

Under it all I try to find surfaces I can clean. I am not a compulsive cleaner, I just make enough out of it to feel good about it when I comfort myself thinking “it may look bad, but at the bottom it is clean”.

Anyway; part of my tidying up routine is to recycle rubbish on my way to the store. I have children, and I want them to inherit a healthy world... and it is a fairly easy way to buy oneself a bit of clear conscience. 

Here we have waste containers placed at public places for those who want to do the extra effort to save the world.

I recycle glass, scrap, cloth (what is too worn out to be handed to charity), paper, organic waste and plastic. Batteries, light bulbs and electrical things are to be thrown in special containers we have at home and is picked up ones every 6 months. Writing it down now it looks pretty insane, and thinking about the diversity and number of bins for domestic waste sorting under my sink, it is ridiculous. I have 4 litter bins outside my house. Looks like a small industry area rather than the green heaven I want the entire world to be.

As I was throwing away empty jars of jam I got the image of Al Gore, in my head, doing the same thing I was, and I thought to myself “You and I, Al, we know what is important”.

On my way home I started thinking about it, and I never heard or read anywhere he recycles anything. Does he? Does he do the extra effort?

Just wondering, since I have heard his electrical bill is 20 times as big as the average. There are good excuses for this: Al Gore's home is more than 10 times the average. The house has five bedrooms and is of nearly 1000 square meters. He only uses green renewable electricity, which costs about 30% more than conventional electricity. In addition, he and his wife Tipper each run their own office from home with several employees. It certainly attracts a lot of extra electricity. Probably the average American does not stay at home during the day. Al Gore has security staff on site often, as well as other important guests. So, I give him that…

On the other hand… does he feel at all guilty for using a private jet when travelling around the world talking about environment?

I understand it is important to travel fast and comfortable when you travel a lot, some people are too busy to wait and do security checks like others do. I get that.

http://tierneylab.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/10/12/an-inconvenient-question-should-al-gore-fly-to-stockholm/

Our own prime minister, who adds more taxes to everything than anyone else in the world (in the name of environment), went to the South Pole to celebrate Roald Amundsen. In 11 days he polluted what an average Norwegian pollutes in 3 years. I understand it was cool and an experience of a lifetime, but…

What I would really like to know, as I struggle with enormous amounts of wrapping paper from Christmas eve; do they recycle at all? Do they, honestly?

I am a teacher

I am a teacher. I put it in writing for everyone to see, even if this is something I hesitate to say out loud in social settings.

To some this might seem like a strange manner, but there is a reason for my propensity to avoid the topic: Everybody has a story, a history or a reason to criticize what is going on in school. And even if this is 30 years back in time they feel it appropriate to let me know, even try to make me defend their own misbehavior, based on their own opinion of the situation at the time.

I have no urge to engage in these sometimes heated discussions. I try not to judge (but I do have thoughts on how I would have reacted in similar cases) and speak up. Maybe I should. I know that to lean back and merely listen might be misunderstood as being indifferent to what they tell me (and everyone in near surroundings who follow the conversation), but I am not. I just do not feel it is the time and place to correct or come forward as a smarty-pants in a setting where we should all feel good about ourselves and enjoy. I do not avoid discussions, I love to exchange views and believes, but not when I feel I might come down on somebody who is not totally oriented on the matter, but never the less have strong feelings towards it.

(Just now I revealed what a smarty-pants I actually am, didn’t I?)

I am proud of my job. I am proud of what I do in the classroom. I am proud of what results I get. But most of all I am proud of my students.

Young people of today have in many ways a tougher life than I had when being a teenager. Even if I was a teenager during the 80s when fashion, music, politics and strong ideals changed rapidly and often with great contrasts, I feel society demand a lot more of the young ones of today.

We often complain about teenagers and how they fail to follow through when it comes to what we expect them to engage in, whether it is schoolwork, chores, how to spend money, how to interact with others and many other aspects of life.

I somewhat feel that most of what we complain about is unfair.

They are so busy. They are always engaged with something (unfortunately not always what I tell them to engage in) and most often what they engage in are pretty serious matters.

They have strong feelings of loyalty to others, political believes, ideals, morals (yes; morals, not always my own choices of morals, but then again who am I to judge? I chose my own, it would be unfair to disagree with their choices), environment and materialistic issues. I even feel that they have reflected over their own future.

Through the years I have seen what they become, who they become and what success they will achieve. I hear about their victories and failings. I know that the boys I meet when they are 16 in most cases turn out to be great fathers, good partners and reliable providers for their families. Now, that is, to me, a great motivation to keep doing what I do. And when I run into them, years later, they tell me that they remember I was their teacher. And I have not yet experienced that was, to them, a bad thing. Not something they feel to hold against me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGCJ46vyR9o

Music is a girl's best friend.

It is not diamonds, like Marily Monroe sang, which is a girl's best friend. Not always, anyway.

In my case it is music. Music has always been a passion of mine. My best moments are spent on the floor with loud music washing all over me. That is how I relax when I feel life just overwhelm me.

A long gone friend of mine plays the piano, very musical, don’t know how to read notes but he plays by ear, faultlessly.

Many years ago I lived abroad for a year, and it was during this period of time I met him. It is great to meet people you can have uncomplicated fun with. We would do things like play chess, and even if he is brilliant and I barely know how to move the pieces, we laughed a lot.

He was learning the language of the country, with his terrible strong British accent, I would correct him and we still had fun.

I was there when he decided he wanted to start playing the piano. He was allowed to use the theatre/ concert hall at the facility when there were no rehearsals going on. So I joined him, helping to place the grand piano on the stage and just listened.

Sometimes I wish I could do what he did… he just sat down, let the fingers run over the keys and then he played: Chopin, Vivaldi, Mozart, Metallica, Aerosmith, Prince, Michael Bolton, Toto… I would lie under the grand piano and it was intense.

Sometimes he would ask me to sing. I am by no means a singer, but with some luck I hit the key now and again, and we had a great time.

When he left to go back home I missed the fun and the laughter, but even more so I missed his ways with music. I missed having fun around music, I missed not taking it all so seriously, I missed that someone smart, with great talents, took my friendship for what it was and made me feel good about it.

Since then music has not been only a passion for me. In many ways it is my very best friend.

This year's weather.

I am so terribly fed up with the weather we have had this year. I can’t really say it is unpredictable (7°C and rain on May 17, 7°C and rain on Midsummer night and 7°C and rain on Christmas Eve) but honestly: I am not a fish, yet I feel gills and frogman’s feet growing on me.

Every morning I open the door to my house looking fairly ok, even my hair is done! By the time I reach my car I just look like a sad excuse for a respectable woman. (Believe me: I have no high standards for appearance but even I admit that looking like someone who just crawled out of a pool fully dressed is not recommended as a look suitable for work. Especially as I am supposed to be a rolemodel. (Yeah, I know; go figure!).

Rain itself is no problem, we have umbrellas for rainy weather, but not only do we have cold weather and rain: the wind never stops, and it ruffles up the bits not too soaked in water to cling to my body.

Now, I have to admit I love weather! I am the kind of person who embrace the elements, I see the beauty in the forces of nature and can contemplate the forest or the sea with great gratification. I can dance barefoot in the garden in the rain, or stand on a cliff by the ocean, unfold my arms and face the horizon just to become one with the forces raging.

Still, there are limits. Even I reach a point of satisfaction.

They say storms usually get female names because they are wild, wet, beautiful… and when they leave they take almost everything with them. There is a core of truth there, but now and again it would be lovely to walk my dog and come back home without leaving puddles on the floor and knowing the odour of wet dog disperses through the entire house… (getting so familiar with the stench now I can hardly actually smell it).

I should be grateful for the plentitude of water both because of our clean hydroelectric power and because we never have to worry about thirst, but I really need to dry up now… just for a little while. Just to remember what it feels like to look trimmed.