Gadgets and gizmos

When we first move into a home, regardless if it is rental or we buy, we tend to look around and make comments on things we need. When time, place and finances are right; we purchase them. (OK, I know there is such a thing as credit cards… but I don’t like them much, besides that is a totally different story.)

So the things we want, and get hold of, are sometimes just fun gadgets which we play with for some time, or they are really useful tools or equipment which play an important role in the maintenance of our homes.

I have to admit I was (by today’s standard) old when I first heard the words gadgets and gizmos. (But then again: I was in my early 20s when I first was online, and if I wanted to find something on the internet; I had to put it out there myself. Yes, that’s how long ago…) A gadget is a small, often funny, tool; a machine if you like, that has a particular function. Often it is thought of as a novelty. Something new we use to solve an old “problem” or to do something entirely new. Sometimes we call the gadgets gizmos. A gizmo is a small piece of equipment, often one that does something in a new and clever way. Apparently very handy, essential and indispensable.  And who doesn't want a few extra little gadgets laying around? They make life easier, and, more importantly, make life a little more fun for everyone

Gadgets make the world go round. They make life more fun and free up time for more important things, like reading or video games. At least that is what the young men in my house tell me whenever I make an attempt to say no to another incomprehensible thing I know will be added to the pile of stuff on my dining table.

I get this feeling we surround ourselves with more and more gadgets. In my house they lay around on the strangest places, never really cleared away, because… well, there is something funny about things which lay around in my house: It can lay put for days… (I sometimes get these fixed ideas of self-righteous stubbornness and I do not remove them. I want the person who pulled it out to put it back in place…) then the first week pass, and I surrender.

I stop nagging and put it where it is supposed to be put myself. But then, like magic, someone finds it interesting again! Suddenly it is back, where it lay for weeks, usually on top of the dining table, because there is space; NOT in the drawer or cupboard or shelf, where I think it should be.

I can’t help but wonder what happened to stereos, with adjustable volume, bass and treble. What happened to the collection of music everybody owned, and which you could browse through and learn about your host/hostess from. Robocleaners which go to their charging station by themselves? Robomowers? Breadbaking-machines? External hard drive for your pictures? (I may be old fashioned, but I LOVE a great photo album with covers and pages to flip through… AND no worries if you will ever be able to open the darned thing again, and your pictures and videos since the last 15 years are STUCK!)

I wonder if I eventually will give up; I still have this plan for my house where everything has its own place, and everything is at its own place. Gadgets and gizmos don’t like it there!

(Wondering what the mug is doing here? It stirrs the contents, by activating a small propeller on the bottom.)

Why I Still blog...

When I started out this blog, my initial thought was to learn how to write in English again. I keep telling my students to write, both in Norwegian and English, but I very seldom did so myself. At least not in English. It somehow felt stupid just to file the texts on my laptop, so posting them in a blog seemed like a good idea.

There are thousands and thousands of good blogs on the net, so I thought: I just keep them to myself, not telling anyone, and it will be “my” blog, which no one ever has to waste time or energy on reading.

I was quite surprised when I found out that on occasions random people from around the world stumble upon my blog and find time to read my scribble.

Time passed and I posted more texts, and now I kind of secretly enjoy the thought of people reading what I write. I have no idea what they/you think of it (basically because my postings are never commented upon, apart from a few emails I have received), but still. There is something, a feeling, about it which is very close to the one you feel when you get attention.

I have been thinking a lot about writing lately... mostly my thoughts are about how to make time, and then... later on... what a bummer it is I didn't. The thing is; I think I know by now why I like writing so much: It is like talking to myself, and I get all the right answers; I give pretty sensible answers to questions... when asked, I think. And in my mind I question many things, all the time. (I am very curious by nature. Mostly I am curious about people. Not gossip or talking about them: I like talking to people, listen to what they like to tell about themselves and get an insight in how they think.)

I like writing, it is therapy, as well as something I can evaluate and see progress or decrease in. Sometimes I am just very frustrated, because I see no progress at all. I find typos and strange choices in words… and my headlines are just pathetic at times.

On the other hand; what is writing well and what is progress?

Well…

To me, writing well means, to me, writing in a way which can fully express my thoughts, opinions and feelings on matters I myself need to figure out. A good text allows whoever reads my texts to relate, and perhaps find new arguments and insight in normal challenges I think we all face now and again. Maybe I at times expose myself as a person, but I THINK I have done that without compromising myself too much. After all: I am who I am.

I think anyone who writes, no matter what genre they write, will agree it is impossible to write without doing so, to some extent.

Progress? I am not sure I make any progress in writing English. I found out, at an early stage, that evaluating your my own texts is really hard. But I do notice that I don’t think about what I should have added as often as I did before. But I have no idea if my rambling-ons are understandable; if there is any sense at all to what I type and put “on paper”.

Or… I am not entirely honest here: I have been told my English is fairly ok, and to me that is a HUGE compliment: Makes me want to continue writing.

Maybe starting out writing in English was a stupid idea. It is not my first language so I am writing about my thoughts in a foreign tongue, but if nothing else I am learning new words by doing so.

My only worry is that I by a mistake should insult or offend somebody, but I don’t really think I have, not yet anyway.