Year (how to accurately measure a year that is less than 12 months long)

Year - noun 1. a period of 365 or 366 days, in the Gregorian calendar, divided into 12 calendar months 3. a space of 12 calendar months calculated from any point 9. a group of students entering school or college, graduating, or expecting to graduate in the same year; class.

This is not a funny post.

"I'm going to England for a year," said I.

I was very well aware of the fact that it wasn't a year at all. September - May, eight months, shorter than a Norwegian school year, shorter than a calender year, but a year non the less. In the future, I will talk about the year I studied in England. This year. A different sort of year. A year measured in units so big and unimportant or so small and important that they stretch out and cover a calendar. It's been a really good one.

My year is measured like this:

46 Novels
Which seems a lot, but I have not felt as if I've been reading a lot. Many of them were for school, a lot of them were for fun. A few of the highlights:

- Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman's Good Omens, which I've read 9 times before, but still surprises me every time.
- Phillip K. Dick's Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep 
- John Green Paper Towns

150 000 Words
This is approximately what I've written this year. 65 000 in my first novel (now being edited), 50 000 in other creative projects (including my second novel,which is not done) the rest in assignments and blog posts.

3 Tubes of Toothpaste 
This year has been a lot about me taking care of myself in new ways, about me failing to take care of myself and of me trying again. Which is a good thing. However, I have a very picky relationship with tooth paste. I want the tooth paste to burn a little, and make me feel like I'm murdering bacteria more than brushing my teeth. This has not been easy in England, and for a year I have, every single morning and evening thought "Tomorrow, I should buy new tooth paste."

30 Days
Of course the year has had more than 30 days, but 30 of them were particularly important and wrapped around all the rest. Those were the 30 days of November. NaNoWriMo came, went and changed everything. Hopefully a new yearly tradition.

1 Smile 
This year has included a lot of smiles, more smiles than I could ever count, but two of them have been especially important and shines differently, and one of them I think I will remember as a particularly important part of this year.

3 Songs I've listened to 
Music has been important this year, and three songs especially have outlined this year for me.

Rilo Kiley - Portions for Foxes
Sam Phillips - Taking Pictures
Regina Spektor - The Flowers

2 Songs I've sung
For Thanksgiving I wrote a song for all the friends I had invited over. They got a verse each and I played the ukulele. That was a good night, although the singing-part is an awkward memory.
And then there was karaoke-night...

6 Encounters 
Encounters that changed things. Which will be the topic of my next posts.

1 Year
The year I went to England. Now: time to go home.

Direction (and why writing about gay rights can get you fired)

Direction - noun 2. the line along which anything lies, faces, moves, etc., with reference to the point or region toward which it is directed 3. the point or region itself 8. management; control; guidance; supervision 15. a purpose or orientation toward a goal that serves to guide or motivate; focus

Dearest internet.

A little while ago I wrote a (slightly sneak) post about why homosexuals shouldn't raise their voice. I admit that I did choose the title and the way I wrote the article to trick readers into reading it all, regardless of which side of the fence they cling to.

I received a couple of very sweet e-mails and comments, and two of them actually brought grateful tears to my eye. This is, after all, why I write - to make a difference (big or small) in someone's day. Now... the gay entry might have done a little harder for a certain Mr. X from one of those small and slow states in the US. He didn't like being tricked to think I was on 'his side' at all, and he actually found my post so provoking, he decided I should die for this heinous trickery. So, ladies and gentlemen of the internet, I received my first death threat.

It greeted me with "You whore" and went on to tell me in quite some detail how I would get to experience the treatment of "real men" (I'm guessing he thought I was a lesbian), I would then die a quite horrible death and burn for my depravity. There were in general a nice selection of the not-so-creative-threats people of the internet's underbelly tend to deal in, and quite a lot of idiocy about gay rights and such. It was signed "Someone who will get you."

Now, internet, I don't know much about death threats, but I know this - If you're going to show muscle and threaten someone's life - you should probably not include the auto signature from your e-mail software.
Mr. X forgot this simple rule, and gave me both name and (even better) workplace.

So I did a quick Google-search, and then e-mailed his boss. I wrote a very nice and polite letter, giving him a copy of the e-mail I received from Mr. X, and asked if these were the official company views on homosexuality and equality. I made it clear that it was fine by me if they were, but that it was something the public might want to know.

Turned out it wasn't. It wasn't the company's views at all. Oh, Mr. X. I wish you all the best in life, seriously. I suggest you start from any side of any library, and read until you see the light. Based on spelling, grammar and intelligence, may I suggest you start with Dr. Seuss. The Sneetches will be good for you.

An illustration I did for an article about French idioms. It has no relevance for this post what so ever. I just like it.

In other news:

1. I've started using Pinterest. I keep inspiration boards there for my novel, and I post random things that make me happy or make me feel creative. If you're on, give me a shout. You find me here 

2. My brain is struggling. I am now 27, and should by all standards approach a point where I know what I'm doing with my life. I'm not. I study for a translation degree, I write a couple of blogs, I've finished one novel that I'm trying to get to a send-to-agents-ready point, I'm writing the sequel, I'm writing a young adult's book at the same time, I illustrate for a magazine, I own a yoga web shop, I am starting a new company, I am involved with two different game projects and I am planning a large  mountain project. There is a vague red thread in all of this, in all projects there are elements of writing and communicating. That's what I do. But how do you figure out which project to focus on, and turn into the thing you want to do with your life? I don't want to carry each and every project with me into the next phase, but I don't know where I'm going, so I don't know what to leave behind.

How did you figure out where you were going?
How did you end up where you are?
Or, if you're not there yet, what's your plan to figure it out?

Any suggestions will be gratefully appreciated.
Oh, and Mr. X. I'm sorry about your job.

NaNoWriMo (Why picking the right metaphor will always win an argument)

NaNoWriMo - abr, noun, verbable noun, lifestyle. National Novel Writing Month Project each November in which hundreds of thousands of aspiring writers slowly lose their mind as they try to write a 50 000 words (or longer) novel in 30 days. Great fun. Accepted forms: WriMo, WriMoing, WriMoer, WriMoes, NaNo- as adjective form.

This month is not NaNaNoWriMo. It is in fact April, as the clever ones of you might already have noticed. And April means Camp NaNoWriMo! NaNoWriMo's chubby little cousin. The concept is the same - write a set number of words in 30 days, but the setting is more relaxed, you're grouped together with other writing campers in your digital cabin, and you set your own word count goal. Some take the opportunity to go for a lower, more easily achievable number. Some aim for the stars and do triple or quadruple word-counts. I, once again, run for 50K. An average of 1667 words a day for 30 days.

Now, the intention is always that you should write one continuous text, but WriMo has always been relaxed in it's rules. If you do anything outside the intended function, you're not a cheater - you're a rebel! This year, I'm rebelling. I'm writing two different novels at once.

One of them is the sequel to my NaNoWriMo victory (i.e. the novel I wrote in November, if you need the less gloaty terms). It is easy and fun to write, I know the characters well, I play with words and references and have a blast.

The second project is a text I've been trying and retrying for years, but finally think I found a voice for. It's much more serious, more realistic, less word play, more feelings, more thinking - just a harder write. Now, to begin with I just wrote out a few pages of this one because the thought of it was clouding my Book 1-time, but the switching back and forth worked much better than I thought it would, and I've kept going.
It feels a little like writing out a split personality disorder, but it works.

However, well meaning friends have offered input, and taught me something important about metaphors and similes - it's all about choosing the right one. Also, it has taught me that I should be forever grateful I communicate so much via e-mail and chat, so I have proper time to think out obnoxious ways to 'win' discussions. Even good girls should be allowed some fun.

Well meaning friend: It's like being on a train journey with two different end stations, at some point you'll have to choose which part of the train you're going to stay on.
My response: No, the train is going to station 50 000 words. I'm just enjoying the view from both sides of the train.

Well meaning friend: If you are to give equal attention to two projects, your focus and creativity will be thinner on both sides. Why not do one at a time, spread your brilliance thick, and then do the other later?
My response: I've divided my creativity and focus equally and spread it thick on two half pieces of toast. I'll butter the other halves later. It's like economic breakfast.

Well meaning friend: It's not like these two writing projects are the only thing you're trying to do though. You have school and work and all those other projects too. You're making a huge garden, with tons of flower beds but you only have so much water and fertilizer or whatever. Makes your flowers all weak and pouty.
My response: No no, I only have one flower bed, but instead of filling it with like two types of flowers, I put in 10! Makes it look a little more like a wild field or something.

Well meaning friend: You're just arguing for the sake of it now, aren't you?
My response: Yeah, pretty much, but I still won.

They're probably right. But I'll deal with it when I've written 50 000 words. This post is technically on the procrastination station, so I should get back to work.

Also, this made me laugh:

Gay (why homosexuals shouldn't raise their voice)

gay - adjective 1. of, pertaining to, or exhibiting sexual desire or behavior directed toward a person or persons of one's own sex; homosexual 2. of, indicating, or supporting homosexual interests or issues: a gay organization. 3. having or showing a merry, lively mood 4. bright or showy

There is one thing that annoys me a lot these days, and it's the way homosexuals always have to raise their voice. They always have to talk about equal rights for equal love, about how it shouldn't be shameful to love someone of the same sex, and how religion shouldn't dictate human rights. Every time questions of marriage, adoption, bullying, equality, prejudice and religion comes up, I feel they have to raise their voice, and it annoys me so much it burns me up from inside.

It annoys me so much it brings tears to my eyes.
It annoys me so much it makes my cheeks flush.
It annoys me so much it makes me cross my own boundaries for "personal space" to get in people's faces, and that takes a lot of annoyance!

Why does it annoy me? Why does it annoy me that they always have to raise their voice?

Because they bloody well shouldn't have to! 

1. Being gay; it's okay. 

It might not be the way you want to live, or the way your interpretation of your religion thinks people should live, but it's not up to you, is it? Accepting that being gay is not something one becomes (science supports this), that it can't be cured (science supports this) or treated (science supports this too), that it is in fact common in the natural world (science supports this) and not a disease, mental disorder, defect or choice at all (science supports this) gets us to a point where you should ask yourself: had you accepted this treatment of anyone else?

Have you seen how much outrage there is whenever the "fight against gingers" are mentioned? How many horrified people are talking about how despicable it is that "ginger" has become a derogatory term, and how terrible it is that children don't feel safe because they get bullied over hair colour? Hair colour? If you raise your voice for the gingers, how come you let the homosexuals fight their fight alone?

2. Words are powerful 

Whenever you allow the word gay to mean lame, bad, worse, less important, less good or any other non positive thing, you contribute. Whenever you don't speak up, you help bring about the feeling, belief and notion that gay is less than perfect. Every time you hear someone say gay in this manner and don't speak up, you help spread the hate. And it is your fault. Every time.

3. We're talking about human rights.

It is important that we take a step back from discussions of sin, hell and religion and look at human rights. Keep the discussion of what will happen to homosexuals when they die for later, let's talk about how they live. Let's discuss why religion should dictate who are allowed to marry and have judicial marital rights. Let's discuss why some people should be allowed to live their life together with the person they love, and sit next to their life long partner's sickbed when they die, and why others should go through the exact same life, but have to leave the sickbed when it's "family only". Let's discuss that. 

Think hard, think long about this question: What threat does gay marriage actually pose? What threat does it pose to society? The only real answer I've ever gotten had to do with procreation, but are we not all very much aware of the fact that our world is overcrowded already? I understand that if we were 50 000 people left on earth it could be considered unfortunate if the gays refused to contribute with their DNA. However, since we are not about to die out, I hardly think this should be an acceptable argument. (Plus, as the English royal line has shown time and time again, in times where you really really really need an heir, 'close your eyes and think of England' is a valid strategy.)

4. We (as in you, me, straight people, bisexual people, gay people, religious people, old people, young people) shouldn't accept this kind of hate, intolerance and prejudice. 

We say we don't. We shudder when we hear of children (children!) taking their own lives because of their sexuality. We agree, in principle, that it's not okay that people are beaten up, harassed or hunted for whom they love. But we shut up. We let it slide. This is their battle.

The blacks fought their own battle, why shouldn't the gays? Provocative isn't it? I heard this argument said, out loud, in good company. Know the worst part? Only I spoke up. Of all the lovely, intelligent, bright and good hearted people present, no one but me spoke. Because we were wrong the last time, I said, and I knew it's wasn't even a full truth. The fight for equal treatment of skin colour isn't over, the gay's fight has only just begun, and we are all so horribly quiet about it.

I bet we are more. I bet we are more people who generally agree that there should be equal rights for equal love, than there are haters. But we allow the haters speak louder. We allow to speak for the rest of us. And we force the gays to raise their voice, on their own behalf, every time.

Makes me want to scream.
Oh, and yeah. I put that thumb in the wrong side around.

_________________________________________________________________________________

About comments: I will allow all respectful comments, even if you don't agree with me. All comments with real arguments and with respectful content, is fine by me. The hate I will not publish. 

Fever (why butterflies are bastards)

fe·ver - noun 1. an abnormal condition of the body, characterized by undue rise in temperature, quickening of the pulse, and disturbance of various body functions. 2. an abnormally high body temperature.

I am one of those lucky people who, at the age of 27, still gets fever fantasies when my fever gets too high. It has carried on since childhood, and has lead to me hitting my husband (to get rid of his beak with which he was planning to beak me to death), throwing books through the air (to hit the helicopters) and numerous hours under the duvet, hiding from the hot air balloons.

I get sick every now and then, and usually I understand what's happening quick enough to stop the fever from getting too high. Usually I have a couple of days with burning cheeks and shiny eyes, a little less energy than normal, but carrying on as if nothing is wrong. And I try not to whine about it.

I'm a real trooper, marching on with fever burning in my cheeks and glistening in my eyes.
Suffering in (close to) silence. 

But then every now and then, I just get worse. Usually if I'm too busy during the first stage, and don't get enough sleep. Funny that. They keep telling us that sleep is important, but I never listen.

Then the whining starts, and my body slowly shuts down. Then, I sleep a lot. Somewhere in that drowsy world of pillows and comforters and softness.... I let go. I float away. I become sick, and convinced it is okay to fly away on that magical cloud.

Probably dying of a common cold

This is the stage I entered today. The staying in bed stage. Tired and lonely, I was absolutely thrilled to discover I had gotten a visitor. He was sitting perched on my pillow, just waiting for me to open my eyes.

Mr. Butterfly gesticulated wildly and made a sound like  zzzmm zzzzm when he danced. 

Me: Mr. Butterfly!
Him: Hello!
Me: What are you doing here?
Him: I don't know, you invited me.
Me: I did?
Him: Yes, you know we butterflies can't enter a room uninvited.
Me: I thought that was vampires?
Him: You watch too much TV.

Then he started dancing on my head. A butterfly dancing makes very little sound.

Me: Something feels weird, are you sure you're supposed to be here?
Him: Oh, yes! We always come to see the sick.
Me: Oh, that's awfully nice of you, thank you, I was getting lonely.
Him: Oh, it's just to see if you're dying. We like to hold parties on dead people.
Me: I'm not dying.
Him: No... not yet.
Me: No... erh... sorry about that? I mean... I don't want to die. But sorry if it upset you?
Him: No worries, you can't win them all.

At this point I was getting slightly worried that there was something wrong with Mr. Butterfly's head. He was acting all erratic and kept jumping in and out of focus.

Me: Are you allright Mr. Butterfly?
Him: No! You need to calm down! Your head is clearing up. Stop!
Me: I'm just turning on the computer to check Facebook.
Him: Nooo!
Me: What is wrong with you? Why can't I check my Facebook?

He then disappeared for a little while. I logged on Facebook and noticed the profile pictures were moving and the text was slanted. A sudden sneeze reminded me I was sick.

Him: You think too fast, go back to bed!
Me: I need to take some pain killers, I obviously have a fever.
Him: You really shouldn't, you might get an ulcer and die.
Me: I thought that was what you wanted anyway?
Him: fair enough, I hope you die.
Me: You're a bastard Mr. Butterfly.

Close up proves I'm right. 

The fever is now going down, and Mr. Butterfly is gone. Which is sort of sad, because I'm still sick and lonely. Oh, well. You can't win them all.

----

In other news: you should all check out the fabulous blog of Darcy Perdu, called So Then... stories. It is really funny and sweet!

She gives out free t-shirts for the first one to subscribe from every country, state and planet, so check out if you're one! Our very own Flickster is hailed with the honour of being the very first subscriber from a parallel dimension!
We're both very proud, and she won't shut up about it. 

Grimace (I am woman, hear me roar)

grimace - noun, verb 1. a facial expression, often ugly or contorted, that indicates disapproval, pain, etc     2. to make grimaces.

I am mostly annoyingly positive. That kind of positive that people choke on, because they want to be angry about whateveritwas, and they want to bitch about it, without hearing "she-was-probably-just-trying-to..." And I get that. The rage faces I have managed to summon, in being rational in meeting with other people's anger and annoyance, could fill a book, and it would be a scary book. A book of rage. I try to get better. I've now learned the survival mechanism called "nod and agree," it works like a charm, but I keep forgetting (mostly because I know I'm right, she WAS probably just trying to...).

However, in the interest of being fair. In the interest of sharing. Here is a list of things that makes me irrationally annoyed, angry, and no matter how much I try to see the other side of the argument, it only ever makes it worse.

In short this post will present the things that can make this transformation  occur.
Notice how even my hair bow gets angry when I'm angry. THAT my friends, is commitment. 

1. People who do anything but watch the movie, at the movies (click this, it is a link)
I've written a separate post about this. It splits my personality, 'nough said.

2. People who say "calm down" when I don't feel uncalm
It gives me an immediate Hulk-reaction. My face contorts, my heart races, and I feel like digging into the jugular vein of the person saying it. I do have a, let's say, a charmingly lively personality, but I'm (mostly) not bouncing around, screaming, waving my hands in people's faces, being high pitched, aggressive or yelly-shouty-naggy. I'm just happy, and I love discussions, and I can be awfully clear if I think something's not right. If I ever go all she-hulk on someone's ass, being told to calm down in any of these situations, will be the thing to make it happen. A friendly warning, so to speak.

3. Rice
I hate rice. Not to eat, but to boil. I cannot for the life of me get the cooking right. I'm a fairly decent cook in other aspects. I can magic up quite impressive dishes, but I cannot for love nor money, with all the help, instructions or guidance in the world, boil rice. Now, let's get one thing clear right from the start, I am able to do the student-cooking of rice. I can fill a pot with water, add rice, and then drain it when it's done. No problem. People who say "I can cook rice" and then do the student cooking, should probably be on this list.

I am talking about that thing, where you add the right amount of water, boil over perfect heat, and end up with this light, fluffy, perfectly cooked rice, that's not burned or sticky, just perfect and delicious. I keep trying, however, and it always ends in all sorts of aggressive behaviour, rice covered walls and unpleasant sounds.

4. Women who backtalk other women, for doing the exact same thing they're doing themselves
I don't think this needs any explanation. Pure aggression. I think everyone should live by the Bambi-esque motto: If you can't find anything nice to say, you might  be evil.

5. People who think socialist is a swearword
It's not.

6. Lord Voldemort

7. My own complete lack of structure 
I am such a messy, unstructured, unfocused person and it annoys beyond belief. I occasionally have serious talks with myself where I go "you need to tidy your room and make a study plan for the week!" and I am all sulky and go "yes, yes, yes, I know, I know, I'll do it right away," and then I go on Twitter for an hour, and then I play some Skyrim, and my brain goes "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US?" and I'm like "relax, I'm just having a break, I'll do it later," but then I don't, and the next day we go through it all again, until someone calls and goes "can I come over?" and I'm like "erh, in an hour" and then tidy and clean and fix like crazy.

8. People who list things that annoy them.

I showed you mine, now show me yours?

Topic (why people shouldn't eavesdrop)

Topic - noun 1. a subject of conversation or discussion: to provide a topic for discussion. 2. the subject or theme of a discourse or of one of its parts. 3. Rhetoric, Logic. a general field of considerations from which arguments can be drawn.

Me: I think it would be an interesting experiment for us to kidnap a child and raise it together
Santa: Really?
Me: Yes, there's just no way that child could turn out good
Santa: Because of the biological parents, of course.
Me: Obviously. It would be just our luck to pick the worst child in the universe. Oh, look at her! She's adorable!

A stroller with a cute little girl is pushed by. Right as she passes us, the girl does her best The Omen impression. She stares at us as if she is cursing our souls. 

Santa: That... was creepy.
Me: I thought you liked the wicked?
Santa: Wicked people. Wicked children I just can't abide.
Me: Oh, look! It would be perfect timing too, there's a sale on diapers!
Santa: What if the child is too old for diapers?
Me: I feel we've done a poor job in kidnapping a child if we end up with a sulky 19 year old in the back seat! It has to be a young impressionable child. One we can mould to fit our image.
Santa: Yes, that would be better.
Me: Plus, a 19 year old would be all grumpy and do the wrong things.
Santa: I would teach him to smoke, so he could get a job, and buy me cigarettes
Me: That makes sense. Wait, when did you learn to drive?
Santa: What?
Me: The teenager, it's in the back seat.
Santa: I can do a great many thing if I need to.

Somewhere during this part of the dialogue, a woman walked in behind us. 

Me: It would save an awful lot of money though, abducting a teenager. We wouldn't even have to let him live at home.
Santa: We'll arrange some sort of family drama, and kick him out after the first day.
Me: Hm... but how do we stop him from returning to the birth parents? Will we kill them or just take him far far away?
Santa: I think it's better that you don't know.

Her expression as she passed us is the reason why people shouldn't eavesdrop. I felt like running after her and say "this isn't real, we were just playing with the idea of kidnapping a toddler," but she walked really fast, and I was carrying groceries.