1.
a fine cord of flax, cotton, or other fibrous material spun out to considerable length.
2.
twisted filaments or fibers of any kind used for sewing.
8.
that which runs through the whole course of something, connecting successive parts
9.
something conceived as being spun or continuously drawn out
12.
to pass the end of a thread through the eye of (a needle).
13.
to fix (beads, pearls, etc.) upon a thread that is passed through; string.
15.
to make one's way through (a narrow passage, forest, crowd, etc.).
On my way back home, just a short stop at my parents' to say hi to the grandparents and important things like that. Leaving England was super sad. Sad in that really nice I'm-so-glad-I've-connected-so-strongly-to-so-many-lovely-people-that-it-breaks-my-heart-to-leave kind of way. And it's still sad. Sad in that what-am-I-doing-now kind of way.
At the same time it's exciting! Tomorrow I go home to my husband! My patient spouse who will now be presented the highly emotional, overly enthusiastic, bursting with creativity and falling apart of sadness bundle of feelings that is me. I wish him the best of luck with that. But this happy/sad/happy/sad tripping from ending this year has had me thinking about how connected I feel to people, things and places.
When I close my eyes I can see all the thin threads spinning out around me. One is rushing through an olive garden in Italy and from there to a lovely woman in Dublin . A silvery one connects every lemon in the world to a peaceful night in Morocco and the lovely ladies I shared it with. I feel threads running through books I've read, connecting to characters and fictional places. Most things run together in this huge cobweb of memories. The taste of cola flavoured lollipops connects through people and places and loops back to my best friend when I was 14. This is how I see the world. This is why I talk in stories, because everything I experience feels connected to everything else.
This year has filled in a lot of weak spots and woven much stronger connections. I feel like I did when I was young(er) and absolutely everything seemed to be shiny and magical in one way or another. Yesterday, while wasting time, I remembered constellations I didn't know I knew, and I remembered smells from when I was little and trying to learn how to knit. I remembered knitting so tightly that the needles had to be cut free, and all I was left with was a systematic knot of threads.
1. to come upon or meet with, especially unexpectedly
5. a meeting with a person or thing, especially a casual, unexpected, or brief meeting
I am slowly beginning to realize that I'm leaving in three days. Three days until it is too late to do all the things I said I would, too late to get to know all the people I thought I would spend more time with, and too late to say things I'll regret not to have said. Sounds sad, you say? No. This is thrilling! This is a micro-life lived out in fast pace, and it is all about the people I've met, the connection and the encounters.
All the most important connection this year have grown out of random encounters.
I gained a "brother from another mother" through the lack of a bottle opener. He opened my bottle with his teeth, and 7 months later we have spent more time together than I have with any of the friends I have known all my life. We bicker and fight, we chat and play video games, all because of a bottle.
Through this one person and one extra bottle (which wasn't mine) I gained a group. A flat full of friends to hang out with, to eat with, to laugh and cry and joke with. I've had groups of friends before, but this was different, and all because of two bottles.
Every single lecture in one of my classes got better because of one person (I'm still not one hundred percent sure what his name is) sat down next to me, called me 'Red' and laughed at the same oddities as me. We won't keep in touch, but he changed my year, all because of a nickname.
I found Someone who brings me so much excitement and happiness, and whose friendship I hope (and beg and pray) I will get to keep for years to come.
I borrowed money from the girl behind me in line, and was given a co-Potter-fan, who took so many pictures at the Harry Potter Studio Tour I can relive it any time I want. I think we'll stay in touch sporadically, just as we would hang out sporadically, all because of £2 in change.
Capital Punishment Guy was in my discussion group, and filled me with giggles and rage. The American Football Guy sat down at the only available seat and ended up lending me a book I truly enjoyed. The Friendly Taxi Driver let me ride for free because he enjoyed the conversation, the one with the Owl-bag made for funny conversations, and the No-Group-Guy changed my view on sharing.
I got thrown together with a group of strugglers and came out of it with a friend whose conversation can be infuriating and stimulating at the same time.
I have new found friends through an assignment group, friends of poetry, futuristic castles and late night conversations. Friends I had too little time with, but who I hope I'll get to know better.
All of these people have coloured and shaped my year, and every single one of them I met accidentally.
How Lucky am I? (Answer: very)
Also! Today I had my first encounter with archery.
Everyone should find someone and try archery. It was amazing!
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.
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.
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.
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.
