Okay, first of all, I just have to say something about the Air France debacle: the plane disappeared?! Are you kidding me? And now they’ve reported to finding parts of the wreckage. What a shit time to hear about this. I mean, I like flying, and I love traveling, but this just gives me the creeps.

In other news; I need to find a job in Switzerland. Can’t go on leeching off of Mom’s money. And it’s not a matter of wanting to get one. I need to get one. I want to know I can support myself—or at least be able to cover my own pocket spendings—stand on my own two feet. I want to be financially independent. I know the prospects of landing a job in Lugano is not very good, but I’m determined. Have to start working!

Nous avons vu un film en français aujourd’hui qui m’a fait trist et un peu abattu. (Un sentiment trop courant dans ces derniers temps, mais t’inquiète po, chuis correct.) Ceci est ma critique:

It is the story about “an outsider coming into a close-knit community and the effects that [he] has on the people, and the prejudices that are stirred up.”

The writer’s portrayal of the small town is grim, yet relatable: a chilly, impenetrable circle of homogenous Bretons who are more or less unmalleable in regards to their ways and manners with outsiders.

The viewers are introduced to Antoine as a catalyst, but the characters are stagnant, and aside from the gradual warming up on Yvon, there is no real change, which is the most frustrating thing about this movie. It is essentially a movie about a man fail: unpleasant and hopeless, an ironic twist on the film’s title, L’Équipier.

As a foreigner, an expat, an intruder, this film hits a little too close for comfort, and its message is disappointing and harrowing. I was secretly hoping for a more reconciliatory ending.

Obviously, this isn’t the kind of movie that I would have liked to see, but I can’t help but ponder on its accuracy. Why is it so damn difficult to immerse yourself into a small community? People who have never lived outside of their homelands, hometowns, they will never come to know this feeling.

I like traveling and seeing the world, and wouldn’t give it up for the world. But really, where is a place that I can say I belong to? Is the right to a communal citizenship something every vagabond has to renounce? Or is it just me who is floating in between countries and continents?

I leave you with Elephant by Damien Rice, a former favorite that I rediscovered a few days ago. Used to be a huge Damien Rice fan in junior high; such powerful melodies and strong—albeit de temps en temps senseless—words. And you’ve gotta admit the man’s got balls.
‘Cause I am lately…Lonely.
‘Cause I am lately…Horny.

Glurgh, I am so sick of it! How come the guys I like never like me back? Am I just that unlucky in finding love? I feel like I’m gonna die an old lonely spinster.

I think I’ve seen more sun these past two days than I have in all the other 300+ days that I’ve been here in Norway. Chilled with Tilly at the beach yesterday. Transportation problems; walked back to Asker station. Honestly, I think sometimes we’ve become more Norwegian than some Norwegian kids here. I mean, I’m taking hikes and sykkelturer for leisure now.
“Hei, åsen går det? Har du lyst til en tur?”

At night the family minus Marie plus Joakim’s girlfriend, Rebekka, took to Borre Golfbane to hear nightingales and sip cocoa. (Haha, see what I mean? Midnight Songbird Badge: Check!)

Today, we were at a huge family gathering near Holmestrand: lots of tremeninger that I haven’t met before, grilling, and oddball but fun games. They also had a helicopter fly in dropping candy over us, which was pretty darn cool.

As of tomorrow, I will have been in Norway for exactly 10 months, although nowadays, all of us are counting how many days we have left (a month and four days). I don’t think the anxiety of leaving has really hit me yet. I know it’s coming, and I’m expecting it to bother me, but it doesn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to leave at all; despite school more or less sucking ass, I still love many things about Norway. But I can honestly say that after having lived here for almost a year; I find myself…disillusioned. I remember an email from a boy was in Sweden for his exchange year, and he said he had a love/hate relation with his host country. I can definitely understand that mindset now. In a sense, it’s quite painful because I can’t openly declare that I love this country without feeling a bit antipodal. But I suppose that’s how you also know that you’ve truly lived in another country: when that coat of sugar dissolves.
Just something to gnaw on for your brain…