The Flossy Flossy
Keeping it “on the real” the best I can.Archive for norwegians
People I’m Thankful For
As if God himself had heard my shittacular week from above and decided to divinely intervene, today was pleasantly nice. Spent the day chez Elaine with Gayoung making food, playing piano, and being silly. It’s days like these that make me go ”I’m not ready to grow up.” On second thought, maybe it’s just an Asian thing; we just don’t age as quickly as other races, physically and mentally. (And by that I don’t mean we’re mentally slow, but that we retain our youthfulness long after everyone else has matured into the seriousness of adulthood.) Think about it, it makes sense.
Anyway, it made me realize that in my passionate insobriety, perhaps I had been a bit too inconsiderate. I don’t retract what I say about the Norwegian social culture–c’est encore le goût de soufre et j’en déteste–but there have been a few people here that have made my life here very special and enjoyable, and at times, bearable. They have been so welcoming, patient, and genuinely warm, and though I don’t spend nearly as much time with them as I would like to, I cherish those fleeting moments. Breddeidrett and Historie og Filosofi with Anniken, Samfunnsøkonomi med Gulli, kveldsturer along the beach with Bjørn-Kristian, conversations about culture-shock and immersion with Gayoung, these are the moments I want to remember and take from my experience. These are the memories that truly matter. Takk.
Done, Part I
L’inquietudine
Well, considering I’ve smoked half a carton and downed a liter of beer within the past two hours, it warrants me an excuse to blog now and regret later.
I’ve had as much as I can take. I’ve tried to keep my mind open, my spirit up, my attitude positive, but I can only keep up this façade so far. I’m tired, and I’ve stopped trying. If you were to tell me to pack up my bags tomorrow for California, I wouldn’t argue a word. I’m ready to leave.
I’ve held my trap for as long as possible, thinking “just wait it out, it’ll get better,” but now I see that it won’t. To say that I hate Norway would be an overexaggeration and an insult to my family here. They’ve been nothing but patient, generous, and kind to me and believe me, I’ve guilted myself enough for thinking what I am about to say.
But I hate it here, I really do. I can honestly name you all the people that I talk to at school on one hand. I wake up in the morning to the thought of “How am I going to get through the day? Who am I going to talk to?” Do you realize how hard it is to wake up every morning to that thought? To even worry about how you’re gonna get through the day because you’re afraid that you might not make it to 3:30 without going bezerk? And you wanna know what I do at school? Break? Lunch? Stare at my fucking computer screen.
But I suppose it’s my fault right? That I’m not putting myself out there. That I’m not trying. That I’m not persistent. Or desperate enough to keep on leeching to people that don’t give a damn about me. That don’t want to know me, that won’t even remember me, or if they do–only as “that one kid last year that was boring and didn’t say anything and was by himself the whole time; that ‘mann.’” That after nine fucking months here I’m still as foreign as the day I set foot in Horten.
And I suppose it’s my fault that people here are only friendly when they’re flat out wasted. Because they need the liqueur to warm up their frigid Scandinavian hearts. Because they need 22 cans of Tuborg in order to truly feel free. To say “Hey! How’s it going?!” To give you a high-five, a pat on the back, a hug. Because without alcohol, there’s no way they can even greet you in the hallways!
I know these people, I watch them everyday, and I know that they’re not cold. I can see the way they interact with each other and they are as lively as any American, but they’re so fucking private and excluding. “You get used to it, it takes a long time to be accepted into their circle.” Well you know what? They can keep their privacy and their drunken stupors. I’ve lived without it for nine months, I can live without it for two more.
I came here with an open heart, ready to love this country and know its people, but Norwegians have really disappointed me. I’m sorry that I came here. I’m ready to leave.
