The Flossy Flossy
Keeping it “on the real” the best I can.Archive for June, 2009
Disse Siste Dagene
Det har vært en stund siden jeg har skrivi no, og grunnen er at jeg har vært ganske opptatt. Time—or the lack of it, has a way of pressing you into doing things you otherwise never would have thought about doing.
Last week was St. Hans (or Midsummer, longest days in the year), so I’ve been taking advantage of the good weather and long days and have been out with family and friends. Spent the most time along Borrestranda, with a final rendezvous with Bjørn Einar and Henning in Nøtterøy and Yanzi in Drammen.
Dro til Oslo forigårs for å feire Skeive Dager med Xenia, Eric, Valérie, og av alle mennesker—Yuri. (Han fikk en ganske spesiell erfaring, tror jeg, haha. Men det som egentlig var ironisk var at han dro til Oslo helt tilfeldig uten å vite at det var Skeive Dager og fikk å se på paraden mens jeg ikke rakk det. Uffa meg.) På kvelden prøvte vi å komme inn til én av de skeive nattklubber uten mye suksess på grunn av aldersgrensene, så til slutt sa vi “ha det” til Xenia og Eric, kjøpte oss Ben & Jerry’s og så på Queer as Folk hos Valérie. Sjølv om jeg er litt skuffa var det likevæl en veldig hyggelig og alreit natt.
Yesterday the family had a Farewell party for me; a lot of family and cousins, and a few close friends. After dinner, all us youngins went to play sand volleyball by Hortenshallen: it was one of the most memorable evenings I’ve had.
I think that departing feeling is finally starting to hit me. It was very sad to say goodbye to Bestemor.
Today, I am packing. I feel bad that I am leaving so many clothes behind but it made me realize what horrible taste I had…and what terrible taste Mom still has.
Wanderlust, Thoughts
I’ve never seen Lost in Translation, but judging from what I’ve heard and read so far, I think it’d be a movie that I’d really like.
The reason I brought it up—have you ever found yourself in the middle of this huge place, with people shuffling past you in every direction, and the only one that seems to be stagnant is you? I love that: stopping still and watching the world move—anyway, the title of the movie always reminds me of that.
So on Saturday I was Lost in Oslo S, in the interim between Xenia and Eric’s departure and my train to Holmestrand. Usually I don’t think too much about Oslo—it’s not an exciting place—but I guess in these last days here you start to appreciate everything a little more. So on Saturday, Oslo S was an exciting place to be: the hustle and bustle of people, all headed to different places—the airport, Drammen, Vestlandet, Sørlandet. But I was going to Holmestrand.
Of all the possibilities, of all the different trains you can take from Oslo Sentralstasjon, I was taking that particular one. (Actually, I ended up taking a replacement bus because of “tog innstilt.”)
I guess what I’m really trying to say is: I have a really bad case of the wanderlust.
I want to go places, see the world, do things. I want to sleep in a Mongolian ger, I want to bike around Iceland, I want to go Scuba diving again. I want to be in those pictures you see in those DK Eyewitness Travel Guides, not just look at them. Ahhh!
Two other thoughts that have been nipping at me i det siste:
1. What if you’re not who you want to be, but who you’re good at being? I mean, let’s say a person is amazingly gifted at computer programming. It’s not shabby right? A computer programmer earns good dough! So let’s say this person has everything it takes to be the next great computer programmer, but: what if it’s not his dream to be the next great computer programmer? What if he really wanted, more than anything, to be a weightlifter? The typical clichéd advice would be to follow his dreams right? But what if he was really scrawny and sucked at weightlifting. What would he do then? Continue doing something he’s really good at but not really agreeable “with,” or pursue something he wants but never achieving the success that he wants? What would you say to him then?
Sometimes, I don’t like the things I do, and there are many qualities about myself which I don’t necessarily agree with. But I would never want to be a second-rate version of somebody else, even if I admire them profusely.
2. 这个산쟈오…
I’m not even sure what my true intentions are anymore. I know what my role is and what is appropriate and not, but I’m dancing dangerously along the edge and I’m not sure if I can even control myself. When does this stop becoming “no strings attached?” I will not let passion undermine my morality; I have more respect for myself than that.
PS: There was no appropriate place to integrate this into any of the above so I’ll just write it here.
Etter jeg kom hjem på søndag sykla Mamma, Pappa og jeg ned til en privat strand for å se på solnedgangen, grille marshmallows og feire St. Hans (Midsummer) med Hans-Ingar, Christina og Henning.
Og formiddagen idag tok vi våre kajakker ut til den samme stranden og paddla sammen med Mariëtte rundt Mellomøya og Løvøya. Det var kjampedeilig med sjokolade og bølgane.
VG-Lista Topp 20
That there above is a snippet of my memorable, Italian-infested weekend! Joined Xenia, Eric, and Valerie on Friday in Oslo, where they held a free concert outside the city hall (Rådhusplassen). We had the pleasure of seeing many famous Norwegian and non-Norwegian acts, including:
Alexander Rybak, who performed something other than “Fairytale”…well, he sang that too but we missed it, much to Xenia’s chagrin;
a-ha, you know—the “Take on Me” guys. Yeah, they’re Norwegian, if you didn’t know! I still can’t believe we saw A-Ha, for God’s sake…It’s so incredibly strange;
Tone Damli Aaberge;
Espen Lind, Kurt Nilsen, Alejandro Fuentes, and the fourth guy whose name I never remembered, who performed a raw mix of “Never Easy,” “If I Were A Boy” and “Free Falling” simultaneously;
Karpe Diem, hvor er’u bor hen a?;
Lene Marlin, who might have a picture of me on her digital camera;
and my personal favorite, the Icelandic beauty Yohanna, who you see above.
I have apparently turned out to be quite the Eurovision fanatic. I’m not so sure if that is a good thing, but I’m very glad that I got the chance to see her live. It was a whole different experience actually being there; her voice filled the entire arena and sounded so ethereal.
When the concert concluded up came the fireworks by Akerbrygga, and after that we wasted some time at a nearby amusement park, staring at the Ferris wheel (it was too expensive to ride), before settling on kveldsmat at McDonald’s. There were drunk girls with tampons and cigarettes.
Took the last trikk back to Eric’s mansion-house, where we lounged around some more before retiring.
A suivre–
Departing Feelings
So many thoughts and emotions.
Removing the pin from Katherine’s letter on my wall.
A sudden urge to take a bus ride to Andebu. Pour voir, pour voir comment il vivait. Pour regarder les mêmes bâtiments que, peut-être, il regardait, et marcher parmi les mêmes rues qu’il marchait.
Packing. This shirt doesn’t smell like me. Perhaps some lingering scent from a previous rendezvous. Un uomo norvegese…o forse tedesco.
Lying on the living room couch, room dimly lit by a singular lamp. A comforting orange cast on the ceiling. Tori Amos’ Gold Dust playing; I’ve been here so many times before. The familiarity of it all: the fireplace, the cognac on the glass table, the flickering eyes and that emerging, probing question of whether or not you’re falling in love then and there. E poi, that moment of closing in, brushing lips, moist and tender. It’s a different setting, but the same warmth, the same feeling. And it feels so real. I think I could love him, but that would be stupid.
“Det ordner seg for snille gutter.” Det må.
L’autre, il n’avait que vingt ans quand ils se sont rencontrés. And everything after that fell into place accordingly: even the drama seems to have written itself out a painful yet perfect addendum to their story. Jeg skal fylle det samme nummeret neste år. But will I be so lucky? So fortunate? Blessed? To think, that I could meet “The One” next year—but alas, non sarà lui! (You can’t blame me for thinking. Vi kan ikke være forelska av noen som vi aldri har møtt. Vi kan bare trekke fra våre erfaringer og skape forventninger derfra.) Allora, a guy can hope.
Tengo tanto amor que dar, ¿pero cuando él me va a encontrar?
Io sono qui, staring at a glowing rectangular box. And every time I look at the trees outside my window they seem to be merging together…but they never do. And as much as I crave our union, any union, it’s only an illusion.
Kunne. Det kunne vært annerledes. In another world, another lifetime, kunne han vært min?
