One Good Thing About Long-Distance Relationships Is:

Love letters. I used to think, “What’s the point of writing actual letters when you can just call them or send them an e-mail?” The answer is that the feeling is simply not the same. Writing a letter by hand is much more intimate than writing it by email.

René’s letter from India arrived in the mail when I came back from Switzerland today, smelling like Armani; a chunk of it has been torn off somewhere during the mail handling process, but luckily all the text is still there. (I got a nice apology sticker, “Vi beklager at emballasjen er blitt skadet under postbehandlingen. Skaden er utbedret.)

Aside from that, I think a long-distance relationship is terrible. I honestly considered not using my return ticket and just staying there. The day before I left (yesterday) felt downright somber–I think we were both a bit under the weather, knowing that we, on the contrary of what he likes to say, did not have all the time in the world.

On Saturday, we made a day-trip to Lugano, and I got the chance to see Pauli and Emma, and see their new shack up in P14. It looks a lot cleaner and girlier now without me living in it. But we didn’t stay there long; Lugano was alive for the Autumn Festival. We headed to La Bottega for some chocolat chaud first, and then made our way downtown. There, we tried some food, including lamb shish-kebabs and St. Gallen bratwurst, and walked around the city, just the four of us: Pauli, Emma, René and me. (And to think, I didn’t know any of them just a little over a year ago. Life has taken me far away from Fremont, California.) It was a very special day.

I really miss my life in Lugano. I miss my friends, these people who I’ve become so close to within the past year. I miss my school, where the professors know my name and take us out to brunch. I miss the environment, I miss San Salvatore, I miss il lago. I miss the weather; and now that I have René, coming to Norway for the second time seems more and more of a mistake.

To be honest I feel quite sick here. I wanted to come here to perfect my Norwegian, to meet some nordmenn, to enjoy the city life and to right everything I’ve done wrong on my exchange. But I haven’t done any of that, and I feel stuck again–in that same awkward hole. I have neither the energy nor the will to try in this place anymore. Going on exchange with AFS was the best decision I could’ve made for myself, but it took something from me. I had high hopes of making good Norwegian friends during my year, and I failed. They tell you to try and keep trying, that the people are reserved…they falsely reassure you by saying, “Du kommer til å få venner.” Det var vanskelig å ikke innrømme til de nye studenter på leiren at “Nej…det kan hende at du ikke kommer til å få venner.”
I have changed the city, but the people remain the same. And I realize now that I don’t even care to know them anymore. I look around and I see the same girl, the same guy, the same conversations, the same prettiness, the same coolness, the same little venngjenger.

Of course I’m mad! Of course I’m defensive! But am I unreasonable? I’ve lived here a year and nobody opened up to me…if they don’t care, why should I give a damn about them? I’ve given enough, I’ve tried hard. I make initiatives to smile, to talk to people, but I can’t do it all the time if I don’t get shit back. So many nights I wondered if there was something wrong with me…but there wasn’t! The people are so unbelievable…so exclusive. But it’s okay, I’m done. It took me a year and then some of living here to realize that…what–I never want to live in this place! I’m fed up with Oslo. I want to be someplace warm, where the people might be a little dirtier, a little poorer, even a little uglier, but friendlier. And come December I’m done! I’m gone! I’m not coming back to Norway for a long time. As beautiful as it is. As much as I still love my beloved family (without whom I would’ve surely died of misery) and our cozy little house up on Apenesbakken. But I’ve had enough of this love-hate relationship for a while. I’ve had enough of the people, this cold, this bureaucracy, this tonefall, this attitude, this beer-obsessed drinking-culture, just everything Norwegian for a while. I want to be in a place where I feel good.

It has been a long 2 days…

I’m a mess, and life is a wreck right now. I don’t know what to do and all I want to do is curl up in a hole and die. (Die might be an exaggeration…let’s say hibernate.) Let me tell you what happened:

So a week before I am supposed to fly to Norway, I get a call saying that I am not allowed to work there because I don’t have a work permit. After all those brain cells sacrificed in worrying about setting up a Norwegian bank account and apply for a tax card, I overlooked the biggest thing of all! While I am at fault for assuming that my would-have-been employer was going to apply for the work permit, I don’t understand how the employer could have overlooked this problem. Shouldn’t it be pretty darn high on the list of things to get tick on the “Checklist for Hiring Foreign Workers!?”

I spent the most part of yesterday being sad. I spent the most part of today being mad. And ironically now I couldn’t care less in comparison to the problem I am about to tell you.

I might not have a place to live in Oslo for the fall semester. How? Well, it turns out I filed what I wasn’t suppose to file…and either did or did not file what I needed to file. (It is an online application without even an automatic confirmation to prove whether or not you indeed filed the application.) So now, a week after the housing application deadline, no response, no proof, no nada.

After sending two tax card applications, after losing a job offer a week before I was supposed to start working, after having bought a plane ticket for nothing, after realizing that I will probably have to breach my study contract, I am all but expecting to be banned entirly from Norway.

I would love for someone to tell me right now to stop being so dramatic, or that things aren’t as bad as I make them seem. But the best thing I can tell myself right now is, “if worst comes to worst…you can always go home and work for a semester.”

On Monday I will have to go to Locarno to file my residence permit for my semester at BI Oslo, which I am not sure if I will be able to attend because, oh!–I don’t have a place to stay!

This has been, without a doubt, the biggest failure of my recordable life. Can I just say FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

Doldrums

Frustration.
Unable to cope.
Flaky.
Powerless.
Helpless.
Stuck.
Caged.
Am I regressing?
Am I the only one walking around in this frozen world?
Maybe I wasn’t meant for America.
Maybe America wasn’t meant for me.
Or here, at least.

In a country where nobody has any time, and everyone’s got their own agenda, life sure seems to be at a standstill.
But like a good saying says: only bored people get bored.

So I want to have an adventure.
I want to feel my heart thump inside its cage.
I want to jump, and run, and walk the distance.
And look good while doing it.
And I want to fall in love.
No, really, fall in love the right way.
And take that midnight ferry to Fukuoka.
No more crap, no more discretion, no more NSA.

I want to live life seriously.

Non Basta Una Vita?

Here’s a joke that I’ve heard once that stuck with me.

The Husband Super Store

Recently a "Husband Super Store" opened where women could go to choose a husband from among many men.

It was laid out in five floors, with men increasing in positive attributes on each floor. The only rule was that once you opened a door to a new floor, you either had to choose a man from that floor, or ascend to the next floor. You could not go back down a floor, except to leave the store, never to return.

A couple of girlfriends went to the store to find a husband each.

On the first floor, they came upon a door which had a sign reading, "These men have jobs and love kids."

The women read the sign saying, "Well that’s better than not having a job and not loving kids, but I wonder what’s further up." So up they went.

Upon reaching the second floor, they came upon a sign which read, "These men have high paying jobs, love kids, and are extremely good looking."

"Hmmm," said the ladies, "But, I wonder what’s further up." So up they went.

On the third floor, the sign read, "These men have high paying jobs, are extremely good looking, love kids and help with the housework."

"Wow," said the women, "Very tempting." But there were still more floors, so up they went.

On the fourth floor, the door had a sign saying, "These men have high paying jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking, help with the housework and have a strong romantic streak."

"Oh, mercy me," they cried, "Just think what must be awaiting us further on!" So up to the fifth floor they went.

Upon arriving on the final floor, they read the sign on the door. It said, "This floor is empty and exists only to prove that women are impossible to please."

It’s a good joke, right? Sure, it pokes fun at women, but it’s also true. In fact, let’s take it one step further and say that not just women, but humans in general, are more or less in a state of perpetual dissatisfaction. Am I wrong? I mean, of course I’m grateful for what I have, but there’s always something else that’s missing from my life. (Which, at the moment, would be a kjæreste. But that hasn’t really changed in recent times, haha.)

And there’s nothing terrible about that. After all, having goals, aims, and desires is as natural as living life itself. Our existence would be in the doldrums otherwise.

Anyway, I was talking to Francesco in the car on our way back from our hytte today, and he introduced and explained to me a little bit of Plato’s arguments for the existence and immortality of the soul, which was grappling and mindfucking. All the while I was listening to him, I was secretly rooting for the existence of an argument which proves the immortality of the soul, or at least one that proves it keeps on living even after our physical bodies perish.

I don’t believe so much in God or any organized religion, although I do admit to praying to the bodhisattva statues in our living room whenever I was truly stressed or worried. But one thing that I’ve always believed in, oddly, is reincarnation. And I can’t really explain to you why I do other than the reason being out of pure blind faith. Because deep down, I believe that life is too miraculous, too boundless to be lived just once, and that surely we are offered more than only one lifetime to enjoy all its grandeur. Surely these can’t be the only eyes that this soul has seen through, felt alive through. Surely we have to live enough to experience everything from every angle, even if we don’t remember what we have lived before! So of course I was hoping that Francesco’s lecture would somehow confirm my ideas.

Well, they didn’t. But it did make me wonder why I was so set on living other lives that I don’t/am not going to remember. Forget about money, forget about love, forget about the number of Facebook friends: Is one lifetime not enough? No, it sure doesn’t seem like it.

I wonder what my grandpa would say if I asked him if one lifetime was enough. Does your soul get weary and tired as you get older? Or do you just stop asking these foolish questions?

星期报告

哇，这个星期跳了好多的学阿！好像每天都跳了最少一节课。但你能怪我吗？为麦克发这么多的愁，谁能有心上学呀？我真的爱上他了。无论如何……

星期四去了阿斯克见틸리。因为我们最近没有怎么通话，我还怕我们俩的关系不会像以前的那么近。但是在她家住一晚上后又回到以前的亲近了。

星期五我们跟닥在뷔그되위呆了一上午，聊聊天儿和晒晒太阳。晚上닥跟我回霍尔滕陪家吃피사。

星期六继续跟닥在一起。我们骑自行车儿到뢰뵈위아，和回来后看了《远大前程》，麦克最喜欢的影片儿。我实在无法解释麦克给我的反应。我感觉自己像电影儿里的芬一样，被에스텔라完全的迷住了，没法干别的事儿，没法想别人……

好了，该我睡觉的时候啦。今天是마리애的坚振圣事。