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.

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?

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。

我刚浏览完 бельгийский Томас 的春假照片。不知道他在 Пасха 居然也去了 Берген 和西挪威。但虽然我们俩去一样的地方，我们有不同的 опыт。你可能在那儿想，”废话！” 对，你是在根本不能比较我和他。我们俩是不一样的人，有不一样的爱好，юмор，和性格。这个我早就明白了，但是–为什么呀？

我已经对自己承认我不是一个 джок，也永远不会变成一个。不管我活多少年，我也不会对 девушек，球儿，和车有兴趣。不管我跟 Иоаким 住多久，我也不会喜欢 хип-хоп 和 рэп。但是我总是问自己：为什么不可以呢？每个人的爱好都是”学”出来的。我本来生下来的时候没有喜欢唱歌，我是”学”会爱唱的，对不对？所以我为什么不能学会去爱篮球，啤酒，《Сплетница》？为什么不能学会享受跟 Иоаким，Томас，甚至其他的 мальчики 在一起，跟他们配合？

我知道我是我，和他们是他们。我知道对自己诚实是最重要的。我知道人就是这样的复杂和不同。但我还有时候感觉这个 жизнь 太孤独了。我有时候真不喜欢走这到路。没有人可以陪我走吗？

Je suis allé chez toi avec comme alibi que j’étais avec une amie. Je ne suis pas sûr qu’elle m’ait compris, mais elle a accepté.

Je suis entré dans ton appartement, un havre de propeté au milieu d’un ghetto, et j’ai aspiré les effluves de ta vie. Je me suis dévêtu et suis entré dans la douche, et j’ai laissé la bonde rester comme tu m’as dit.

J’ai vu le lit, récemment fait et tentant. J’ai trouvé des bougies dans un de tes tiroirs et ai pensé à les allumer, mais ça aurait été trop romantique. Et ceci n’était pas du tout romantique…

Et après nous avons finit, tu as mis ta tête contre ma épaule. C’était papitant, c’était intense, c’était tragique. Mes doigts ont brûlé de toucher tes cheveux: longues mèches douces d’un or profond qui tombaient de ton front et illuminaient le vieillissement de ton visage. C’était la chose que je préférais de toi.

J’ai embrassé tes lèvres et la menthe qui les couvraient. Je savais que dans dix ans, ces lèvres n’appartiendraient plus au même homme. J’ai regardé dans tes yeux, les rides qui les entouraient. Ton regard était perçant, mais fatigué par l’expérience et trop de vécu. Ils étaient les yeux les plus beaux, au tournant d’une transformation soudaine en quelque chose d’indésirable. Et dans dix ans, ils perdront leurs étincelles, devenant des yeux lassés, sans flammes.

Mais ces cheveux seront toujours magnifiques. Dans dix ans, au moins. Et bien sûr, comme tout le reste, ils deviendront blancs et disparaîtrons.

Je ne sais pas pour qui je plains: pour toi–l’homme qui prend de l’âge; pour moi–celui qui souffre te voir vieillir; pour nous–et notre relation qui ne fleurira jamais; ou pour tout le monde–car rien n’est pour toujours.

Nous avons parlé de ton passé et de mon avenir, de tes premières aventures avec des filles espagnoles, et ce que tu faisais en 1992, de moi qui écrirai un livre quand je serai plus vieux, et lorsque tu ne seras plus là. Et cette pensée m’a fait le plus peur: que quelqu’un avec qui je pourrais être si intime ne soit plus là. Je voulais pleurer, mais j’ai dû prendre le train.

This past week has been pretty fun. Went to Scotland on a school trip from the first to fifth of March. We stayed in a hostel in Glasgow and spent most of our time there, with a one-day excursion east to Edinburgh (or if you rather, Edinbruh). I remember not really particularly looking forward to Scotland–we’d just read MacBeth last year–but aside from the weather, which was pretty Shakespearean, it was pleasantly nice.

We had a lot of time to ourselves, so I think I really got to know downtown Glasgow. Shopped a lot, ate a lot, drank maybe a little too much. (EuroHostel Glasgow, I’m really sorry about your staircase…) That suddenly reminds me, if you ever get the chance to visit Glasgow, go check out La Tasca: it’s this Spanish tapas restaurant and bar with excellent food, drinks, service, and ambiance. I know, shame on me for recommending a Spanish restaurant in Scotland, but really–do yourself a favor and eat there, or at least order a rebujito. We also went into some authentic Scottish pubs and tried just about everything under the sun: rum, vodka, schnapps, whiskey…pretty nifty (just like my rhyme), and ate some haggis: the whole gastronomical nine yards.

Came home Thursday and went up to the family hytte on Friday with Mammà, Pappà, Marie, Hilde and Morten. Alltid koselig å være på hytta vår.

So lately I’ve been harboring this really sweet and irritating feeling. The only way to describe it is like my heart can’t be contained within my ribcage. I’m emblazoned with a violent urge to do more, to be selfish, to go after what I really want. I’ve felt like this sporadically, and there’s no doubt Keith Urban’s latest single has a little something to do with it. (It also explains my sudden pregnant-womanlike craving for contemporary country. Just no Taylor Swift, please.) I love this feeling; it’s so motivating. It makes me want to get off my ass and do stuff and make something out of my life. But at the same time, it’s a humbling feeling: I feel so small, so unimportant, so there’s almost a need to move, faire, fare. It’s a fusion of desire and desperation. It’s the thought that “It’s a stormy sea ahead, but you’ll sail through it if you really put your mind to it.”

So anyway, to assuage myself, I’m planning on learning “You’ll Think of Me” within the next two weeks. Ambitious (for a gee-tar retard like me)? Yeah. But things feel different this time…

À suivre…

My name is Greg, and I am 19. Gotta get used to saying that. Man, I feel old. It’s like, all of a sudden, I’m being bombasted by these regrets of “typically18″ things I missed out on. (Not that I even know what they are. Sex on prom night, maybe…) It’s like that one episode of Friends when Phoebe laments about not having done any of the things she was going to do at 30. I don’t know, sometimes it feels like I’m just not doing enough. But that’s something else entirely.

Had a little gathering last weekend–first birthday party I’ve had since the 5th grade. (Went a lot better this time, though.) Invited a few from AFS and some others from school. Xenia made pizza, Balazs sang “Ring of Fire,” and Hauge–well, it’ll be a while before he sees hair on his right breast again.

Other than that, things have been normal. After falling sick and taking absence from school almost all of last week, I am pretty proud of my so-far perfect attendance this week. (I even went to History; I don’t think I’ve been in that class for over three months.) Hope I won’t screw it up by blogging this late.
But you know, today, sitting in class, I realized something: I’m starting not to make a big deal out of things anymore. Well, it must sound pretty obvious, but it happened really subtly: I don’t log about “who I talked to at school/what I ate today” anymore, I’m getting used to the snow (and I’ll admit, sometimes walking in it can be a real drag)–it’s not that I don’t appreciate these things, but they’ve become so normal to me that they’re no longer worth mentioning. It’s a very strange thought, on s’habitue à tout. Even if we have something, permanent, unforgettable, it loses its extravagance eventually…a preferred dish, a favorite song. Change is the only solution.

I watched The Curious Case of Benjamin Button today, an excellent and thought-provoking film. And parallelly thinking, even if we could capture ourselves in a dance, a night, a moment and stay that way, would our satisfaction in that moment be the same? If Benjamin and Daisy were to have stopped aging or de-aging then, would things still have remained as beautiful? Surely it would wither into something average–the charm is in the ephemerality of it. 
Perhaps it’s best to let memories stay in the past and enjoy the fleeting moments while one can. Perhaps these memories are the only things that remain the same, snapshots of one’s emotions–but only to be reflected upon, never to be relived. And in a bittersweet way, perhaps it’s better this way.

Okay, so I haven’t blogged in a while. With samarbeidsuka and hytteturen this past week and a half, I’ve more or less put blogging on the backburner. So here’s what’s been up:

Samarbeidsuka var kjampekoselig. Jobbet med mange søte barn på Mammas barnehage. Det var en nydelig pause fra skolen—ingenting å bekymre meg over unntatt barna. Bare lekte hele dagene—bygget med Legos, laget snømennesker, osv.—noen ganger mer enn dem, faktisk. Men det var slitsomt óg! Tenkte ikke at jeg kunne være så sliten av leking! Realiserte at jeg er sikkert ikke klar å ha barn enda, haha.
Også på den fredagen hadde vi en svensk vikar på barnehagen. Hadde en ganske interessant samtale om California, Norge, Stockholm, og opplevelsene mine som ”utbytesstudent.” Følte meg helt stolt at jeg kunne forstå henne til tross for tonefallet sitt. (Det var helt annerledes. Så overraska var jeg å kunne prate med henne, siden jeg aldri forstår hva de sier på SVT.)
Blei kjørt til Holmestrand togestasjon rett etter jobb. Tok toget fra Holmestrand til Drammen og der møtet jeg opp med de andre AFS studentenes. Og så tok vi et annet tog fra Drammen til Hønefoss som var helt opptatt—hadde å sitte oss ned på inngangen. Fra Hønefoss togestasjon gikk vi til bussholdingplassen og da tok vi en buss til Smeden, where we were finally picked up.

The weekend up in Hønefoss was amazing. It’s always so nice to see everyone again, to be with people who are in the same situation as you and understand you. Spent quite a lot of time playing and kosing in the snow (which, as I have found out, is actually quite enjoyable and not nearly as cold as it sounds out to be) with Xenia and Jessica, and had some good conversations with Jessica and Doug. It was also great to see Anbjørg again; last time we saw her we couldn’t even understand her, but it’s nice to see how much we’ve all learned in this past half year. Even if everything’s less than perfect or expected, we’ve come quite far.
And it came as a surprise to me, but I even got a little homesick on the second day—for my family here!

But I guess the good times had to come to a stop sometime, and this time it was Monday. So anyway, I had a History & Philosophy presentation on Max Weber’s theory on the relationship between Calvinism and capitalism to do on Monday, right?—something which I spent all of last week and Sunday night working on, and something which I was looking forward to present.

但我新奇一去学校的时，老师并不在。所以我只能坐下来等他。谁知道等着一个半小时！等这一堂课快要结速了，他才近来。到这时候，我已经有点不耐烦，所以告诉他，＂我不知道你今天在那儿，但是我有我的 presentation。知道他回个什么答案吗？＂你应该查网上，我贴了一个 post。＂既然给我态度！
一：你从来都不个网上写东西，突然写这么一次我就应该知道？你把我是读脑人哪！
二：你知道我费了多少的时间和功夫去做这个 project 吗？你从前留过学！你应该比谁都更知道一个留学生的困难！你怎么可以这么不了解哪？
肏他奶奶的！把我气疯了。

And that was actually the first time I’ve cried since I came here. Ironic, isn’t it?: not because I don’t have friends, not because I miss home, but because of a fucking philosophical theory. Typical of me to get worked up about something academic. It seems kinda stupid now to cry about it, but fuck, I was so pissed! I have half a mind not to show up to History & Philosophy for the next two weeks.

But anyway, that kind of wraps it up for the past week and a half. And now I am going to take a lunch break because I’ve been blogging since school started in the morning. (Yeah, take that, school. This is some serious rebelling.)

Hmm, it’s been a somewhat turbulent week–lot of emotional ups and downs. I think generally, December and January have been the most dejecting months thus far. I find myself questioning a lot of things, especially in regards to how I fit into all of this. It’s a strange thought to think of yourself as a piece of…well, I don’t know what–to be plucked suddenly out of your environment and implanted into a new foreign niche. And sometimes, it just feels so unright–a bit too many jagged edges sticking out and empty grooves to be filled. Of course, I knew what I was getting into, but there’s just no way you can really prepare for it.
Or I don’t know, maybe it’s just the weather and lack of sun. I’d like to convince myself to think so. At least now I know why Norwegians travel south so much.

It probably sounds worse than it actually is. In fact, there were plenty of great things that happened this week. On Tuesday Joakim, Marie and I spent the evening at Silje’s (my local AFS contact) playing Risk. Friday, we saw Jan-Erik in concert, Saturday I spent the entire day at Rudi’s house playing ping-pong and chilling, and today I cooked corn chowder for the family and spent some good quality time with Joakim out and about in the snow.
Also, lately I’ve been taking a lot of night walks with Luiza, which I’m really beginning to love. And, I’ve been keeping to my new year’s resolution and am beginning to take to the barbells.

And this coming week, I will be skipping school and working at Mamma’s kindergarten. I think it will be a refreshing break, playing with kids all day. And at the end of this week, there will be an AFS hyttetur in Hønefoss. Hopefully that’ll recharge my batteries.

Because I was inspired by Chris, I thought it’d be an artig idea to come up with my own personal highlights of 2008. I suppose it’s good to look back once in a while to remind yourself of the things that you did do right and are proud/fond of. Although, I can’t be too sure how well this is gonna turn out considering I have the worst memory, so I’m bound to forget things I probably should remember…

1. Tim Papp. ‘Nuff said.
2. Telling Mom I “can’t make up my mind about meat and vegetables” on my 18th birthday.
3. Asking Nick Sherred to Senior Prom on Jesus Christ Superstar’s closing night. It didn’t work out, but I’m happy to know that at least I don’t have anything to regret.
4. Getting the Talon Award. I’m probably the least deserving candidate but I never thought I’d get an award like that. And it’s nice to leave high school knowing you’ve left your mark, however minute it is.
5. Last days spent with Katherine in the USA. It was so bittersweet. We were both so excited for the future, but it also meant saying goodbye to everything that we’ve known for the past six years. And for the first time, eating at Texas Roadhouse, I got a glimpse of ourselves doing the same thing five years later: cracking peanuts over gossip, plans and current events. I couldn’t have thought of a better way to capsulate our high school experience.
6. Hytteturer: canoeing, shooting cans, icebathing, sitting by the campfire listening to Josh Groban while looking at the Milky Way, far far away from the world’s troubles–it’s heaven.
7. Pizzakvelder med Beatforbeat.
8. Coming out…again. Gotta stop doing that.
9. Juleavsluttening and fucking up my song. But at least now I know the purpose of a sound check. And hey, something good did come out of it, I suppose. Vi får se da!

Ja vel, det var 2008: a year well-spent, for the most part, I think.

Forresten, do yourself a favor and go see Hugh Jackman Australia. It’s got the whole family talkin’. (Mais de quoi parlons-nous exactement–alors, vous trouverez.)