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Archive for the ‘Love’ Category

New years eve:

In spite of the party going well and having fun I didn’t feel too good, and went to bed early.

January 1st, 2011: Praying for death or morphine.

Waking up at around 6 (while a part of the party was still partying in the room outside my apartment), sick and in a really bad shape. The hours that followed included me living on the bathroom floor with a fever and a head-ache, and constantly, accidentally waking my brother (sleeping on my couch) due to a very involuntary and forceful expulsion of the contents of my stomach through my mouth. (Sorry for the graphic nature of this description, I tried to Wikipedia “vomiting” to find a word that sounded less gross… I failed.)
I listened to my friends gradually waking up/sobering up and arriving to make the most epic breakfast ever. Which I didn’t even manage to eat.
The rest of the day I spent with my family, hardly eating and feeling sick.

January 2nd: The evil takes a short break to allow me to savour the smell of stale alcohol and cleaning supplies.

I felt sick, but well enough to go home and clean up after the party. Due to awesome friends there wasn’t much left to do, and even that I got good help with.
Drove home (Oh, yeah, by the way: I got my drivers license last week…) and had dinner with family. Feeling better, but stayed the night just in case.

January 3rd: The evil returns.

Went home as my mother went to work, confident that I would spend the day preparing my move. After attempts to clean out my closet I realized I needed some sleep. Woke up 2 hours later with a fever and feeling sick. Again.
Read an entire book. Slept some. Sorted through some clothes. Took a break to write this.

How are you impressed with my new year? Wishing you could be me right now?

I know, my life is glamorous…

-Frida

Also: In celebration of the fact that I’m leaving in 9 days I tried finding a song with the title “9 Days”. This is one of the songs I found, and it reminded me of Five for Fighting, which is a good thing in my book.

Jordi Zindel-9 Days

Right now there are a lot of people counting down, waiting for the new year to begin. 2010 is almost a mere memory, and 2011 is a not too distant future. In Norway it’s only 13 hours left of this year, and for our friends in different time-zones it’s either a longer or shorter wait left.

I don’t do resulotions for new years. I tried, but I never really understood the whole thing about making a lot of promises on one night, just because the earth has circled the sun, and then break all or most of them before the next morning. And my countdown isn’t for the new year or to see the fireworks. I don’t have 13 hours on my clock, but rather 13 days.

In 13 days I will start my new life in Tromsø. Hopefully it will be just fine and great and sweet and dandy, but like with the new year I can never quite know what it has in store for me. So I’m nervous, and happy, and petrified. A lot of good and bad things have happened this past year, and in my life so far, and it has led to the choice to move away. To start over, in a way.

I will celebrate tonight with friends, but it’s not really the new year-part of the bash I’m the most anxious about. It’s rather the me moving away, and this being my last party in Bodø-part that makes this night memorable to me. And I hope it will be.

To all of our readers, and to all my fellow bloggists on BRBcoffee:
Have a happy new year!

-Sentimentally yours
Frida

(Also: Enjoy this poorly edited picture of me and some friends celebrating tonight…)

Greetings from the icy version of Hell! It is currently 8 degrees (that’d be about -13 for you Celsius folks) outside and I am chilled to the bone. Two winters ago, we had unprecedented snow-fall, last winter we had absolutely no snow, and this winter (oh wait, it isn’t even technically winter yet!) has already been colder than the past 30 winters on record! And they say global warming’s just a myth…

Believe it or not, this is not a picture of me.

Onto another subject matter: shallow bitches. I have decided that there are too many men and women in this world who base “love” on physical attraction. First of all, I honestly do not understand how it is possible to be attracted to anyone based solely on their looks. It has been my own personal experience that the only way to light a fire in the ol’ loins is to get to know someone. Physical beauty is not very stimulating for myself, but things like intelligence, hilariousness, kindness, overall non-douchebaggery…that’s sexy. Second of all, most of the people who do base love on appearance have standards that are completely ridiculous. So you want a girl who looks like that model on the cover of Vogue? Guess what, even she doesn’t look that good- it’s called re-touching. Or maybe you want that dreamy hunk in the latest vampire flick you watched? Unfortunately, there’s a high possibilty that his muscles were painted on with spray-tan and he’s a self-absorped dickhead.

Le sigh…I’ve probably said this before in a blog of mine, but looks are so trivial in the long run! And I’m not just saying this because I am a short, strangely proportioned woman who sometimes has a jew-fro. I’m saying it because I know, firsthand, how whimsy attractiveness can be. Don’t we all? If someone is a jerk, they will start to become more and more ugly to us, and if someone is a sweetheart, they become more and more beautiful. This scenario I mentioned happens all the time, but I have yet to see someone who is a dick on the inside become nicer simply because they look good.

Oh, fuck it all! Let’s start a riot!

[poll id=”25″]

I’ve been working on this blogpost for days, and it’s turning out more personal than I first planned to make it. Readers and co-authors, please forgive me for this.

When it comes to politics, I believe in revolutions. The sudden and dramatic change, hopefully from worse to better, seems like a good idea to me. It’s a fantastic concept, like ripping off a band-aid; It’s quick, effective, and almost painless.

Now the question seems to be: Does this theory apply to regular life? Does it apply to my life? Should the changes be quick, or is it smart to wait and think it over?

For the past years I have wanted to live many other places than Bodø. I stayed here for reasons I can no longer understand, and for a person who broke my heart. So why stay any longer?
I thought I was staying for another year to give me closure, and realized after some time that the closure I was looking for I already had. So now I have mixed emotions, and butterflies going crazy in my stomach.

I realize that this isn’t making much sense, so let me explain:
I was in Tromsø (The Paris of the North) last weekend, for a conference. It has been my plan to move there in 8 months with a friend, to continue my studies. And then the thought hit me: Why wait? In 2 months I will have finished my first year of political science (I started in the spring-semester), the plan is then to retake 2 exams and add a third subject. I can do that in any school, including at the University in Tromsø. I have nothing to lose by leaving Bodø, and a whole lot more to gain.

I have found something, or rather someone, that makes me happy. And why shouldn’t I take a leap of faith and go for it?
I have been playing with this thought for some months now, and the weekend made it all so clear to me: I need to do what’s best for me.

What’s best for me, right now, seems to be change. I need a big change. A new place. Some new people. I need clean slates. These are all the clichées, I know!

So what say ye, readers of the blog: Should I jump? Rip the band-aid straight off? Have a revolution of my own? Or should I stick to the plan, and stay put for 8 more months?

[poll id=”24″]

Music to suit my mood: Maria Mena – I’m In Love

Maria Mena – I’m in love

Love,
Frida

So I know I promised you something political, or motivated by a good book or music or something for my second post. And the emotions leading to this post was motivated by, or has spurred me into, the making and listening to the list of music you will find at the end of it. Question being (as in High Fidelity by Nick Hornby, also my favourite book and author!)  did the music compell us to listen because we were having a miserable time, or did the musicians create the music because of their having a shitty time as well.

I will, of course, believe the last one: Artists in pain will make painfully beautiful music. Or paintings. Or books. Or poems. Or general art.

There is a sentence we hear all the time, and that I remind myself of way too often, which sounds “Better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved.”  Or as a smart guy said to me, earlier this evening: “Without all the pain you’re feeling from having emotions, how would you have known you were alive?”

And it’s true. Unfortunately. Feelings make us realize how alive we really are. Life is more than birth-school-[Metallica-]work-death. And that, my dear friends, is feelings. We have way more than our social standings, our GPAs, our careers and our funerals and final wills to think about. The big feelings. Love, hate, apathy [which I guess isn’t a feeling, only lack of feelings, but we’re all there at some point…], friendship, family and ideologies. And also the smaller feelings. Happiness, pain, disappointment, contempt, meanings and familiarity being examples.

This week I have had all kinds of feelings, and it’s weird. Fear of the unknown, expectations for the unplanned, happiness for the unexpected, and disappointment for the unwanted.

And the only thing on my mind right now is “Better to have tried and failed, than to not having tried…”

xkcd will always explain everything better than me, and I do feel that this is an accurate description.

Yours truly, fully and completely,
Frida

(Musical references/influences for this contribution:
Kut U Up
Deep Blue Something
Postal Service)

(Playlist made along with this contribution:
Just one of those things-or something)