I really need to get ahold of my sleeping habits…

Just got off Skype with my grandparents. I haven’t told them that I’m gay, so they kept asking about my new girlfriend. Given that I answered all their questions aside from how old she was, their fantasies are probably now running rampant with images of me with some cougar mom. But aside from that, we had some great conversations…

Grandparents: Where are you now?
姥姥爷爷：你现在在哪儿？

Me: Home.
我：在家啊。

Grandparents: Switzerland?
姥姥爷爷：瑞士？

Me: Norway.
我：挪威。

Grandparents: We heard you were returning home.
姥姥爷爷：我们听说你要回家。

Me: China?
我：中国？

Grandparents: Switzerland.
姥姥爷爷：瑞士。

What a treasure. And sadly, this makes me realize that the word “home” is no longer a sufficient answer for anything anymore. I call everything home nowadays. I think I even called Trondheim home when I went up there.

Today was not so eventful. I’m getting over the last bit of my cold. I think this has been the quickest recovery period I’ve ever had, so that’s pretty good. In the evening I played some cards with my floormates: Johnny, Nataša, Elise, and Marta. And of course, I skyped with René. No further developments on plane tickets. I still can’t believe that a round-trip ticket to Zürich costs 435 CHF, while a round-trip ticket to Milan with layover in Zürich costs 200 CHF. I mean…it’s the same plane! How is it that it costs half as much to pay for A and B as it does to pay for only A? It just doesn’t make sense to me.

While I was laying in bed, this little scene popped into my head. It makes me sort of want to be a playwright. (I don’t know why I named the characters Diego and Ivo, by the way. They were just the first two names that came to me.) But I wonder…Argentina just legalized gay marriage. I wonder how long it will take for USA’s 50 states. Ten years? Call me hopeful.

Ivo and his younger boyfriend, Diego, are lying in bed.
Diego: What do you think we’ll be like in 10 years?
Ivo: Hard to say…older.
Diego: Do you think we’ll be married?
Ivo: It could happen. Do you think we’ll be married?
Diego: I hope so…….Yeah…….Yeah. Let’s get married.
Ivo, chuckling: Too bad we can’t.
Diego: Well then…let’s move to Portugal and get married there.
Ivo: I think the process is a little bit more difficult than that.
Diego: Another country, then…Spain’s nice. Or Belgium….Iceland?
Ivo, serious: You want to get married so badly you’re willing to move to Iceland?
Diego: Hey, it’s a beautiful country. We could be Björk’s neighbors. Ride Icelandic ponies.
Ivo: You’re so imaginative. I love that.
Diego: Of course! You have to dream…
Ivo: I dream that one day we can get married in this country.
Diego: Me too….
Ivo, after long pause: …..Let’s get married.

Tumblr just wasn’t the same…

And lately I haven’t been keeping up with writing like I’ve used to. Things have changed a bit since the last time I wrote…some quick updates:

I moved to Norway (again). I am currently spending a semester in Oslo as an exchange student at BI Norwegian School of Management. It’s quite different from Franklin, but I’m trying to enjoy this experience for what it is. I’m getting the opportunity to live my attend-a-big/prestigeous-university dream–but I also realize how right Franklin is for me. Here, I feel so lost and things lose their meaning. Outside of building 24, nobody knows my name: not the professors, not the students. I miss that environment where I get individual attention from a professor, or walk from Panera 7 to Panera 12 in nothing but a towel. I miss the intimacy of school. I can’t imagine how it would’ve been if I had gone to a UC. I think they would open my dorm room at the end of the semester to find some skeletons in front of a computer, haha.

Fortunately, it’s a nice bunch living on the first floor of Kringsjå 24, and when I’m not spending time away from Oslo I really do enjoy staying home and chatting around. But I’ve also been keeping myself quite busy. In fact, I have yet to spend a weekend in Oslo. Between trips to Switzerland and random excursions I would say I am pretty lucky to be so mobile. I’ve had the chance to river raft up in Oppland, and last weekend I was at the Ankomstleir for the new generation of AFSers in Norway.

I feel as if I’m in a current, and time is pushing me from boulder to boulder. My time as an AFSer in Norway has passed, and even if I stay connected with the organization, with Horten, with Norway, with my family, it’s a year that I can’t relive again. I can’t bring back the togetherness that we felt as a group–the togetherness that I could see forming this past weekend. I can’t bring back Francesco and Balázs to Siljan, Tilly and Marie to Asker, Xenia and Yanzi to Drammen, Doug to Sandvika, or Jessica to Gol. They were my group. And we will never be in those exact same places at the exact same time again. I feel like more than anything, it was the feeling of being estranged and isolated that brought us together–our year in Norway clenched us tightly in its palm, but let us go as we swam our individual routes back to California, Winchester, Normandie, Henan, Lombardia, Hungary, Treviso.

I see these new faces, from Minnesota, China, Belgium, Japan, Germany, the Czech Republic, and I really want to be together with them. I want to feel like I did two years ago, be together with them…but something prevents me from doing so. I’m on the other side of a bridge that has collapsed behind me, and they must rebuild it up from their side. I really miss that year, even now. But there is so much emotional toll that I don’t think I can do it again. So don’t underestimate a high-school exchange student’s experience…it’s a lot more powerful than you imagine.

But back to the present: tomorrow I have Business Communication in French, which I’m dreading because it’s so incredibly boring, despite the professional name. I’m thinking of not even attending the latter two hours, where we learn something superficial about each French department and fill out some worksheets. I get more stimulation from smoothing knots in my hair. I think there comes a point where you can no longer learn a language by just sitting in the classroom, and I think the only way for me to work on my French is to use it in la vie quotidienne.

And oh yeah, one pretty big piece of news since the last time I wrote: I’m happily taken, if the pictures to the side haven’t given it away to you already. In fact, I’m flying back to Switzerland again (for the third time in two months–these long-distance relationships sure do rack up the bills) on Thursday to spend a long weekend with him. Perhaps one day I’ll write about what happened during the in-between, but right now I still like telling about it in person. Who knew that it would happen this way? Life is wonderful and exciting. I would know, look where it has taken me: to Switzerland, and to my love. <3

Орн, Сан.

Every night I go to bed, filled with the tiniest bit of hope of everything that could be. Every morning I face the reality of all that simply cannot be.

Comparing hands: one palm against another fremmed one. Marveling over how right it seemed to be, that they would be the same size, that they would lace so well. Our pinkies topple and fall, og det går uten objection. Our ring fingers follow i stillhet, skjer det virkelig? Another one, and I could only imagine the look in your eyes as our hands make a funny gun shape. L’indice après, but we are only in prayer for a second as your thumb moves in front of mine.

Jeg vil kjenner det. Livet er ikke verdt å leve uten kjærlighet.

A Thought

Dans ces blissfully isolated interactions med ham, jeg glemte for øyeblikket världen omkring oss. And I was painfully reminded of it when I saw him lay eyes on her. Er mine fantasier så fragile that they cannot withstand uno sguardo?

Det har vært en stund…

For lenge, faktisk.

Jeg klarer ikke å sum up disse siste tre ukene. The days pass by too fast, and I find myself uten motivation, og uten tiden for å skrive alt ned.

But since I’m still fresh and brisen from Club 1, I feel obligated to share a bit of what’s on my mind.

You ever think mennesker were put her på jordet bare for å underholde Gud? At livet mitt hakke no betydning, og at Han nyter å se på me make a fool of mæsjølv. That it’s funny to see me tumble on my face.

Eller er det meg? Forventer jeg for mye? Får æ ikke lov å ha slike forventninger? Hvorfor finnes det ingen per me?
Det gjør meg svak. Needy. Et chaque fois qu’un garçon est vennlig mot meg, je tombe. Voglio vivere l’amore, voglio sentire, jeg vil elske og være elsket. Jeg trenger å kjenne kärlek.

Non è giusto at noen finner kjærlighet overalt og jeg souffre under deres røyk. Faen, for en drit verden å leve i uten kjærlighet.