Wednesday, 20 August 2014

hallo i luken

jeg lever altså. har fullført tre års utdanning ved uea og mottatt en 2:1 i engelsk litteratur & kreativ skriving, hatt den beste sommeren her i norwich med mannen i mitt liv bestående av sykt mye grilling, helt utrolige temperaturer + campingtur, sverigetur og en liten norgetur. nå sitter jeg ved stupet av det store og fryktinngytende gapet som heter "voksenlivet"  og ja, jeg er ikke mye klokere enn hva jeg var før sommeren starta. vi blir i norwich enn så lenge. til vi har spart opp nok penger til å dra på eventyr rundt om i verden. jeg har lyst til asia og hele amerika, sør så vel som nord. jeg vet egentlig ikke hvem jeg skriver dette for, fordi det er ikke så mange av dere som fortsatt titter innom. men noen av dere gjør fortsatt det, jeg aner ikke hvem dere er eller hva dere håper å finne her, men dette er ikke en plass jeg kommer til å befinne meg så veldig mye i framtiden. jeg kommer alltid til å elske ideen om å skrive og det at folk leser det jeg skriver, men jeg føler ikke denne bloggen er akkurat det idealet jeg har i tankene. personlige tanker om eget liv er ikke noe jeg har lyst å bruke så veldig mye tid på. men det er jo en fin plass å publisere egne tekster, så kanskje, når jeg kommer inn i skrivinga igjen etter en lat sommer så kan vi finne ut av det. puss.

Wednesday, 28 May 2014

la oss hylle dovendyret






It is estimated that there are anywhere from 30,000 to 40,000 sloths left in the world in early 2013. There are six different species of sloths. They are all medium in size and a type of mammal. Most ground sloths are already extinct. Sloths are very good for the environment because they may house any number of fungi, beetles, algae, cockroaches, and moths. Sloths have been around for about 60 million years, though they have changed in many ways to adapt to the environment.

Wednesday, 14 May 2014

to bøker jeg har lest denne uka


the blade itself av joe abercrombie (den første i the first law-trilogien hans). jeg har hatt denne på kindle'n min veldig lenge og nå som jeg endelig er ferdig med utdannelsen min (japp, leverte min siste oppgave ever (har ikke eksamen, hvor smooth er ikke det?) forrige mandag) så jeg endelig tiden for å lese denne 600-siders mursteinen. dette er grimdark, en sub-sjanger innenfor fantasy-litteratur, og en av den beste av sitt slag. det tar godt over hundre sider å komme inn i den, syntes jeg. vi begynner fortellingen i the north hvor vi møter logen ninefingers som har kommet vekk fra gjengen sin og som nå må klare seg alene. vi går deretter sør hvor vi møter inquisitor glokta, en mann som jobber med å få tilståelser av folk som kanskje eller kanskje ikke har begått noe kriminelt. dette foregår som oftest under tortur. glokta er selv et torturoffer og tilbragte 2 år i fangenskap hos et land the union (landet glokta kommer fra og hvor mesetparten av handlingen finner sted) var/er i krig med. glokta er en krøpling i kronisk smerte og beskrivelsene av glokta som må gå opp og ned trapper for å gjøre jobben sin, samtidig som han befinner seg i enorm smerte, er noe av det mest grøss-inngytende og fæleste jeg har lest på lenge (og dette er en bra ting, i min bok). vi møter også den største idioten jezal som trener til å være med i en fektekonkurranse, samtidig som vi blir gitt lange tirader om hvorfor han er det beste som har skjedd verden ever, mens alle andre rundt ham er smålige peasants. en gammel magi (aka trollman aka gandalf the grey) kommer til hovedstaden for å ta tilbake det som hører til han, en gærning i nord vil ha krig og en kriger besatt på hevn ender opp i hovedstaden og er litt vel ut av hennes komfortsone. jeg likte denne boken sykt godt og hadde det ikke vært for at jeg ga meg selv et løfte om å hvertfall lese ut de 12 (nå 11) bøkene jeg ikke har lest på kindle'n min hadde bok nr to i denne trilogien vært neste bok på min leseliste. 

world war z av max brooks. jeg lasta ned denne ganske kjapt etter å ha sett filmen, fordi jeg fant ut av boka er så mye bedre og siden jeg ikke har lest en zombie-roman før tenkte jeg at dette var en grei plass å begynne (jeg ELSKER zombier). vi befinner oss i en nær framtid, i kjølevannet av en zombie-plage som nesten sendte menneskeheten til utryddelse. hva vi får er historier, store og små, fra ulike deltagere i denne krigen mot de udøde; hvordan det hele startet, hva de ulike landene i verden gjorde da de innså at "shit we've got a zombie apocalypse on our hands!", hvor menneskeheten failet, hvor menneskeheten seiret. den leses nesten som en novellesamling, men det spiller egentlig ingen rolle, fordi alt har en sammenheng. og det er virkelig noen perler i denne boken. vi har en pilot som har krasjlandet i et sump-terreng i louisiana, omringet av zombier, men som får radiokontakt med en kvinne kalt mets, som hjelper henne gjennom hele greia. vi har en japaner, blind etter usas angrep på nagasaki i ww2, som bestemmer seg for å dra ut i naturen for å død, istedenfor å være en byrde for samfunnet. en australier som befinner seg i verdensrommet på the international space station, som sammen med teamet sitt er vitne til, ved hjelp av satelitter, de mange grusomhetene som finner sted på jorda. og en av mine personlige favoritter, historien om en mann som driver en veterangård for pensjonerte hunder som forteller sin historie om hvor stor del hundene spilte under krigen.

Friday, 2 May 2014

i know just what you're saying so please just stop explaining don't tell me 'cause it hurts



jeg husker da jeg var lita, sikkert 6 år, så var denne sangen min anthem. når den kom på tven så brukte jeg å skifte klær og hadde på meg en gul kjole med polkadottprikker på, det nærmeste jeg kom gwen stefanis marineblå kjole i en av de beste videoene of all time. jeg husker da jeg spurte mamma hva "don't speak" handla om så sa hun at den handla om at gwen stefani hadde slått opp med kjæresten sin. jeg kunne ikke engelsk da, og bare nikka og sang med det jeg trodde var ord men som bare var hvordan ordene hørtes ut. denne våren har jeg gjenoppdaga no doubt og tragic kingdom, og denne sangen treffer meg sånn i sjela at det river. det river godt.

mer no doubt:







gwen stefani er idolet mitt ikke engang i i en å din kule faen, men mer i en religiøs tilstand.

Monday, 7 April 2014

katter er awesome.

'Last of all came the cat, who looked round, as usual, for the warmest place, and finally squeezed herself in between Boxer and Clover; there she purred contentedly throughout Major's speech without listening to a word of what he was saying.'

- Animal Farm av George Orwell.

Saturday, 5 April 2014

Slip

dette er en tekst jeg skrev for et par måneder siden. har ikke vært så mye skriving her på lenge så tenkte jeg skulle poste denne. enjoy.

*

I'm slipping away, chunks of me flaking off, spiralling angrily down, down...

I've been a ghost for a hundred years. I died and chose to stay. Why do we choose to stay? In life, we spend so much time fearing death. We fear dying and the after. But when you die, that fear goes away. The view is different from across the veil.

I spend my days haunting the house where I used to live. I've haunted generations of families and it's currently behing inhabited by a family of four.
    I haunt the nursery. The baby is so cute. He looks up at me and he still smiles, his face moulding into a giant lump. He giggles and sucks his fingers.
    And it makes me so angry. As time etches away on me all that really remains is the anger. It's growing. I know it makes no sense, but I am beyond caring. I am years beyond caring about my apparent insanity.
    So i break a few light bulbs. They spontaneously burst around me, drenching the room in darkness.
    The baby starts crying.
    I move on.

 To Lisa's room. I know it's Lisa's room because she has a plate on her door that says Lisa's room, with happy horses running on a green field at the backdrop of an orange sunset. Lisa really likes horses. Her bedside lamp has horses carved on the shade, throwing horse shadows around the room. She has a stuffed one in bed with her, big as a melon. She holds it fiercely, furring her brow.
    Suddenly, she wakes up. She looks right at the spot where I'm standing but Lisa can't see me. Lisa can only see the horses. She shrugs and shakes her head, and notices the horse teddy she's still clutching. She holds it up for a long time, sighs and goes back to sleep.
    The mirror on her cabinet shatters, the horses on the frame crack and break apart. I watch the horse teddy tear right down the middle, revealing its white woolly insides.
    I'm out of there before she even wakes up.

I'm vibrating as I head over to the master bedroom. The last occupied bedroom of the house. It's a shame, really, not filling this house with people. The world around me is decidedly emptier than  it was a century ago.
    In the canopy bed the woman lays curled up by the man, her head gently resting on his chest. He is resting his head on hers and is that.. is that a smile on his face?
    I hear windows break, I'm assuming all over the house. All over the street. Probably all over London. I've never been this angry before. I burn with it, almost shatter against it. A cacophony of broken glass echoes in my head, like an endless scream.

Sometimes, the anger takes me back.

David is looking down on me, holding my hand, the pressure feels enormous, while his other hand is clasped against my cheeck.
    I'm sweating, I'm in pain and every time I look at him a torrent of emotion grapples through me.
    I love you.
    I hate you.
    I'm in labour.

The world is on fire. I want to scream, but there's so little left. So little left of me. Is this what it's going to be like, being a mother? Barely containing any semblance of self? Is it going to be all about the baby now? I feel like I should've known that, that I have always known that, but I'm only now minding for the first time. I've always wanted it to be about the baby, he was my one perfect gift.

'This is the last push,' a voice is saying, softly and far away.
    I push, one more time, already numb from pain, but as I do, it's as if something tears. Could it be my soul? Or is it my whole body, finally bucking under pressure? Everything is silent, like I'm far away, not really there. I don't know if there's a baby, it doesn't seem to be important.
    Blue flowers are falling, landing on my body, encasing me. They smell of spring - wet grass and sunshine.
    'Can you see it?' I ask, sighing.
    Then everything goes dark.

It's more of a retreat, this look at death. The labour itself I didn't much care for, but everything after 'Last push' is worth holding on to.
    I shatter all the vases that don't contain blue flowers. I do this repeatedly, methodically, like I'm swatting flies. Before I know it, the entire house is covered in blue flowers. It's the only way I know how to get what I want.

I stand before a vast crater. I hover over it, want to sink into it, disappear underneath the rocky blanket, but I can't. I know someone is meant to be screaming, but I'm stuck in a vaccuum, as if I'm residue from the meteorite that created the crater.
    That's when I know.
    He never screamed.
    Not once.

'Who are you? What are you doing in my house?' the voice is commanding, stern.
    I become aware of myself and realise it's Lisa who's talking. She's looking right at me.
    'I didn't think you could...' I start to say, but then I notice there's something off about Lisa. She's not grainy, not like a bad signal. She's...
    On the same side of the veil as me.

'What happened to you?'
    'When?'
    'I mean, how did you die?'
    She grunts, indignantly.
    'I'm not dead!' she cries.
    She disappears, but she'll be back.

I must've been gone for a week because when I roam about the house, trying to get any information about Lisa, the house is draped in gloom.
    I find the woman, Lisa's mother, staring out of her window, silent tears running down her cheeks. She doesn't blink, but she mumbles Lisa's name, over and over, like a mantra.
    Lisa's name is the only thing holding her together. She's clutching the toy horse I ripped apart the other night. Is that the one? I'm not so sure. There's no tear.
    Was there even one to begin with?
    Lisa's father is downstairs, drinking whiskey in the library, wearing only his underwear. He's never still, he prowls the room like a predator. He's so angry I can almost see the pulsatins coming off him. He's like a ticking bomb.
    He's like me.

The baby is sleeping in the nursery. There's no one checking up on him. He might as well not exist. He coughs and wakes up, startled. He doesn't cry, but makes more of a moan. Acknowledging his abandonment, the fear engulfing him.
    And I feel... I feel...
    My heart is creaking, expanding and starting to shatter. He looks up at me and those eyes are pleading.
    Don't leave me.
    I have to!
    But he doesn't cry.

Four days pass until I see Lisa again.
    'Hi...' I say as she appears in the kitchen.
    'Why are you still here?'
    'Lisa...'
    'How do you know my name?'
    'Lisa,' I say, more sternly this time. The lights flicker and Lisa looks around uncertainly. 'There's something you should know.'
    I tell her everything. About me, haunting the house. I tell her the reason she can see me is because she is dead as well.
    'But I don't remember...' she whispers, finally.
    I wish I could give her some comfort, but I can't hug her. I can't stroke her head. I can't kiss her.
    Instead I just stare as her entire existence collapses.
    And just as it hits the floor, Lisa's father walks into the kitchen and there's a tense moment. Everything is crips and still, like an early winter morning. I look at Lisa and I can see she's battling whether to run to her father or stay put.
    He can't see her even if she wanted to. She's too young, to new to this. It took me years to be able to appear in front of people. The best Lisa can hope for at this point is to make some curtains ruffle.
    Lisa's mother enters a few minutes later.
    I shrink back, try to make myself as small as possible.
    Maybe it's a good thing this house isn't filled with people.
    I guess I've grown rather introvert over the century.
    But Lisa just sits there, staring at her parents, fully comprehending or probably failing to comprehend how it is that she's severed from them now. The point of no return has come and gone.
    It takes a while before I realise Lisa's mother and father are talking to each other.
    'Are you fucking nuts? I'm not letting some crack pot into my house calling on the-' Lisa's father is saying before Lisa's mother cuts him off.
    'If there's one chance... even the slightest chance... that I get to talk to her again, I will. And there's nothing you can to do stop me.' Her voice is quivering, but it never breaks and Lisa's father looks at Lisa's mother for a long time.
    Finally, he nods and Lisa's mother leaves the kitchen.

'What happened to me?' Lisa yells at me, her words jolting me.
    What happened?

A week later the medium arrives.
    She's a tiny woman, about the size of an eight year old girl, both in height and weight. Her hair, wrapped in a loose bun, is grey, in an almost bluish hue. She's swallowed by a grey, woolly coat, and underneath that a cascade of jewellery sparkles and jingles.
    She takes off her coats, hands it to Lisa's father, and as she does she looks straight at me. Then she nods, as if acknowledging my presence.
    She seats herself at the head of the table in the dining room, clears her throat and watch as Lisa's mother and father scurry over to the table to sit next to her.
    I watch Lisa as all this unfolds, who's sitting on the floor, staring deliriously into space.
    'Lisa?' the medium says in a calm, clear voice. 'Are you there?'
    'Yes, yes!' Lisa says, kick-started by the medium's voice. The medium gives a start and twists about in her chair.
    'Lisa's with us,' she says, and Lisa's mother breaths in, sharply.
    'Lisa... what happened to you?' the medium aska and the question rings like a gong in my head.

I'm back in Lisa's room with the horses and the heavy smell of sleep. Again, she wakes up and looks right at where I'm standing. Again, she fails to see me. She shrugs and shakes her head, and notices the horse teddy. She hugs it with all the love she has, sighs happily and goes back to sleep.
    I want to scream and shatter it all, this happy illusion. Why was this never my life?
    Crack, crack.
    It's all I hear.
    I watch as Lisa's belly tears straight down the middle, slick blood seeping down, drenching the bed. Her insides are laid bare on the mttress, tumbling out, wiry as wool.

I'm slipping away, chunks of me are flaking off, spiralling angrily down, down...


matliste

hva var det siste du spiste?
etter mye om og men om vi skulle bestille nattmat igår, ble det nei og da fikk jeg ordne meg toast istedet.

det siste måltidet, om du fikk velge.
sushi med masse laks, tunfisk, tempura og soyasaus.

beste matbyen?
norwich er ganske bra på mat og nesten hver pub du ramler inn på serverer noe digg. hadde også en helt sykt bra matopplevelse i barcelona; tapas, baskermat, fysøren så godt.










































beste resturantmåltidet?
burger på zak's diner i norwich med sopp og blåmuggost og sweet potato fries. biff på 320 i tenerife, servert med toast og så utrolig godt stekte grønnsaker (skal sies at det var luke som bestilte dette, jeg hadde lam). og calamares på the langtry i norwich (og hvilken som helst pizza).

beste snackset?
popkorn og ostepop!

mat du elsker å ha hjemme?
sjitakesopp, squash, poteter, kakaopulver, rådyrkjøttboller, sennep, cumberlandpølser, egg, geitost, fersk mozzarella, og et godt utvalg italienske skinker og spanske pølser.











































hva blir det til middag?
hjemmelaget pizza forhåpentligvis. på min vil jeg ha geistost, squash, parmaskinke og rødløk!

mat du hater?
bønner. TAKLER ikke konsistensen.

hvis du bare fikk spise en dessert for resten av livet, hva skulle det vært?
ostekake, tror jeg. blir aldri lei.

typisk skolelunsj?
grovt knekkebrød med salami og majones 4 life <3












































hva er det rareste i kjøleskapet ditt?
har to gigantiske butternut squash i grønnsaksskuffen som jeg egentlig skulle ha gjort noe med for lenge siden men... og så har jeg blekksprut i fryseren.

hva har du i grønnsaksskuffen?
squash, paprika, butternut squash, grønnkål, løk, sjalottløk, rødløk og hvitløk.

og ost?
har bare litt revet mozzarella akkurat nå men hadde det vært opp til meg og jeg kunne fylt opp ostehylla med hva jeg ville: geitost, fetaost, fersk mozzarella, gorgonzola, red leicester og camembert. elsker ost hvis du ikke visste det fra før.

beste stedet å handle mat?
jeg har egentlig ikke noe svar på det spørsmålet, har ikke funnet en plass hvor jeg tenker shit her vil jeg handle resten av livet. skulle ønske jeg bodde i barcelona for da ville jeg handlet på markedet hver gang jeg trengte noe og der har de ALT. det er ikke så veldig stor forskjell på supermarkedene her i england men jeg liker asda og sainsbury's.











































mat du ønsker du var allergisk mot?
erm... ingen?

hvem får spise fra din tallerken?
de jeg sier til: herregud du må smake dette er ikke dette det beste du har smakt i hele ditt LIV?  men skal jeg være ærlig så liker jeg å ha det helt for meg selv. is it such a crime?