Oh Armageddon, How I Love Thee

And no, I’m not talking about the movie. Although I do quite enjoy that, too.

I am, of course, referring to the crazy end-of-the-world prediction(s) made by the crazy religious American Harold Camping. “The End is Nigh” – on May 21 2011 the world would come to an end at sunset, meaning that it would start with a massive earthquake in New Zealand at 6pm and travel around the world from there (westwards, naturally, all so that the Americans could sit back and watch the apocalypse unfold on their TV screens before it hit them) – OMG I’VE NEVER HEARD SUCH BULLSHIT BEFORE.

And Camping knew that this was going to happen because he had “deciphered” clues in the Bible. Go check in to a mental hospital, dude. You’re one of those ludicrous religious fanatics, just so you know.

I suppose most of you already know that he also predicted the apocalypse in 1994. Hey, big surprise – it didn’t happen. In fact, the biggest natural disaster in 1994 (in the Western World) was probably the Jan 17 Northridge earthquake in Los Angeles, CA, which had a magnitude of 6.7 and killed approximately 57 people. Not exactly something to shout “doomsday!” about.

Oh and I almost forgot to tell you – I woke up to May 22 a couple of hours ago. And boy, was she a beauty.

You know, if the world did somehow end overnight, and this is what the world looks like after Armageddon, and I find myself stuck here because I don’t believe in the Bible BS, whereas all the Christians were swept away to be with God – then I’ve got one thing to say to all you believers out there: YOUR LOSS.

Also, your loss, our gain. A world free of Christians could only be a better one.

As a student, and an atheist student at that, last night I did what I do best in the face of adversity or, in this case, a crazy prophecy: I drank and partied like the world was about to end. But you know what? Don’t be scared, it’s not going to end, nor do I believe it, it’s just something we do pretty much every weekend.

We don’t need to think that the end is nigh to party like there’s no tomorrow. Because we are reasonable, intelligent young people, not brainwashed, but educated, and we know that the sun doesn’t stop rising just because some madman says so.

Carlson, Brady, Lessing, Stalnaker, Armstrong, Mill, Feinberg, Montague, Neill, Carroll, Hume…

In case Mill didn’t give it away; these are some of the philosophers whose ramblings I’m reading at the moment.

You might detect a slight resentment in that sentence. Allow me to say that you are correct if you think you do.

I wonder how I’m going to feel when I wake up tomorrow morning. Considering I only read one philosophical essay yesterday (John Stuart Mill’s “Of the Liberty of Thought and Discussion”), I was surprised to discover this morning the instant I tried to sit up in bed that I felt like I’d been poisoned or exposed to some other evil; the world was spinning faster than it has ever done while I’ve been under the influence of alcohol, and when I finally managed to stand up I crashed into every bit of furniture in my room in my attempt to get to the bathroom. (And of course I will attribute this weird physical state to having read philosophy.) As I stumblingly found my way back to bed, I was determined not to let the swaying sensation keep me from studying harder than ever before for my philosophy exam (which is next Wednesday), so I fell back into bed, pulled the covers up to my chin, picked up the course reader and continued reading (Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky’s “A Propaganda Model” this time – it’s not even a proper philosophical essay, just a bunch of numbers). My attempt was stymied, however, by a sudden attack of drowsiness – so I dozed off for a couple of hours, and when I finally woke with a jolt it was past midday. Sigh.

Anyway, the instant I awoke I continued my perusal, and I just kept reading and reading and reading throughout the day. I didn’t even stop for the customary meal breaks, meaning I read all day without a single bite of food – unless you count three cups of coffee with a ton of sugar as a nutritional substitute. I didn’t take a break until 7.30pm, when I went to the local fish ‘n chips shop and bought a hot-dog and some chips to take home. (Unfortunately it takes just long enough for the food to be prepared for me to walk down the road to the liquor store and buy a bottle of wine and walk back up to the fish ‘n chips shop in time to pick up the yumminess.) So I got home, and read another essay on freedom of speech and the free press. Damnit, I actually decided today (I swear it was peer pressure – those bloody philosophers) that I’m going to spend a couple of years as a journalist. I suppose that’s what I’ll do to pay back my student loan once I’m back in Norway after I’ve been deported…

Guess what, I’ve decided to join Victoria’s student magazine, Salient. It totally kicks ass, and I feel way more confident writing in English for a larger audience now (I mean, I got an A+ on an English essay this year – not to sing my own praises or anything) than I did at the start of the year. That’s going to help me get a job at a newspaper or magazine at some later point in life, I suppose. Plus, I love to write, so why not?

But I digress. Back to philosophy readings. My brain has turned to custard. Information overload. On several occasions today I found myself laughing at something the philosopher wrote (Feinberg is exceptionally funny), and now I’m worried about my sanity. Is the philosopher actually funny, or am I completely missing the point? Also, what I fear now is how I’m going to feel tomorrow morning, considering the amount of philosophical texts I’ve read over the past two days increased by 400% in a single day. If reading one essay makes me feel like I’ve been on a sea voyage for the last four months and only reached land yesterday, I’m scared to think what effect reading so many more essays today will have on me tomorrow…

But even all this mad studying has its silver linings. It allows me to crawl into my own world of solitude without feeling asocial. Yesterday I did what I said I’d do a couple of days ago; I packed up my philosophy course book and my notes, and went to the Wellington Botanic Gardens, where I have found ‘my’ spot, which is rarely disturbed by other people, plus it’s relatively sheltered from the wind but gets all-day sun. So I went there and lay in the sun for a couple of hours while going over my notes. Sa-weet as. Turns out tanning and studying aren’t as mutually exclusive as previously thought.

All the thinking has also stirred my brain from its slumber, and last night, while I was trying to go to sleep, I had the most important epiphany of my life. I suddenly had a pre-conceived idea for a short film in my head, and I knew straight away that that’s going to be my debut. It just clicked instantly – it is my film, my idea, which no one else has come up with, and which no one else is likely to copy, in fact. I’m so looking forward to the time after my exam next week, when I can finally sit down and write it out, and even create a storyboard; I know exactly how it’s going to look. What’s so brilliant about it is that it’s so simple; I can probably make it without any funding whatsoever, which means that it’s the best kind of short film to be making as my first. I’m so excited!

PS. Facebook, consider yourself no longer part of my life. This separation is good for us.

Opting out

 

A couple of days ago I was asked by the editor of the local newspaper in my home town back in Norway to participate as a blogger on their new website due to be launched in a couple of weeks’ time, and I’m absolutely thrilled to say that I agreed to do it. I’m not yet sure exactly what it involves, all I know is that I’ll be sharing the task with 7 other people, each posting once every 8 weeks. Another blog to maintain, excellent. That ought to get my creative juices flowing.

Speaking of, I have a theory that Facebook kills my creativity. Lately I’ve been trying to study for my exams, so naturally I have spent a good 18 hours every day procrastinating on Facebook. And in less than two weeks my exams will be over, so I’ll go back to spending on average 8-10 hours a day on Facebook again. This has got to stop. So today I made an executive decision to deactivate my Facebook account for an uncertain period of time – all I know is that I will not activate it again until after my exams are over. If I’m past the sweaty palms and fevered dreams stage due to my abstinence from Facebook at this point, I will consider extending my absence indefinitely, to see if this will increase my attention to various creative projects I have started but not made any progress on lately.

This desire to be creative (and thus, to do something to make it happen) has been greatly spurred on over the last few days by the drama surrounding the production of The Hobbit, with the latest reports saying that Warner Brothers have decided to move the production offshore. Apparently they want to shoot it in a studio in England, where they shot Harry Potter. I am simply outraged by this development. Ever since I first heard that The Hobbit was going to be made into a film I’ve had mixed feelings about it, because ever since I first read the book, I’ve wanted to be involved in the making of the film version (preferably I would be the one making it). So at first I was against Sir Peter Jackson directing it. Then they announced that Guillermo del Toro would be the director, and I decided that I’d rather have PJ direct to keep things consistent with the mood and feeling of the LotR trilogy. Then GDT dropped out, and the whole thing was stuck in limbo for a while. It hadn’t been greenlit, the studio was bankrupt, there was no director – the problems seemed to be neverending, and the film destined not to be made. Then, just as we heard words of progress, some Australian douchebag union decided to royally fuck things up. There was a boycott of the film, demonstrations, marches, secret meetings, press statements, verbal abuse, anxiety, still no green light – and all of a sudden came the press release from the studios that the film had been greenlit, PJ would direct, and shooting would commence in February 2011. But wait… There was nothing about where it would be shot.

The fight instantly on between a handful of countries all wanting not just a slice of the cake but the whole goddamn thing, The Hobbit seemed set to be pried from the shores of Aotearoa. Tax breaks, cheap labour, no Australian unions – England, Scotland, Canada and several Eastern European countries all put their offers on the table, and Warner Brothers took the bait. According to the newspapers today, representatives are coming down to New Zealand next week to arrange the moving of the production offshore. After all this time, New Zealand is set to lose one of the bound to be biggest franchises of the next decade.

One of the main reasons I decided to study in Wellington was that The Hobbit was supposed to be made in Wellington during my stay here (originally there were reports that shooting would commence in March this year, but we all know that never happened), and now that is no longer the case, and the long-term effects of this move is likely to more or less shut down the smaller film industry in Wellington, I see no future for me here. Maybe I should transfer to London? I hear they make some films over there…

Home hospitalisation…

 

If you ever want to know what Hell feels like, you should try putting yourself in my current situation (not that I understand why anyone would want to know what Hell feels like) – I’d be happy to trade with you.

I won’t give out all the details, but the gist of it is that I suspect I have a kidney infection. What does that mean? you might wonder. Well, google it. The point is, it’s not pleasant, and it all began last night. When I realised that all was not well, I took two panadols (painkillers) and went to bed to read something for my media course. After a little while, what always happens when I’ve taken painkillers, happened: I fell asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night I woke up with my course reader cutting into my throat, realised the lights were still on in my room, and felt an excruciating abdominal pain and an intense need to, uh, pee. Fast forward to me returning to bed and wrapping myself up in my duvet and blanket and trying to ignore the pain, which also emanates from my back and sides, arms, and neck, and experiencing chills racing through my body, and a dull pain in my stomach. Then imagine me lying there for ages, writhing in agony, trying to get comfortable enough to go back to sleep, and thinking about taking more painkillers, but deciding not to do so because moving even the tiniest bit hurts so much. That pretty much sums up my night. After a while I did go back to sleep (or passed out, who knows), and when I woke up this morning I did actually feel better, but I’d decided to see the people at the Student Health Service, and I stuck to that plan.

I only have one lecture on Wednesdays, and that’s a Media Studies lecture at noon, which lasts for two hours. Seeing as my personal attendance record is perfect, I was not intending to miss or skip that lecture, so I went over to campus earlier than usual to see a nurse at the Health Service building. They got me in really quickly, and the nurse set up an appointment with a doctor after I’d seen her, because of the back pain I’m experiencing. If it wasn’t for that, she would have said that it was just a urinary tract infection and given me some antibiotics for that and sent me home. So 5 minutes later I saw the doctor, who prodded me and asked me questions, and then decided to give me some antibiotics. He didn’t specifically say what he thought it was that’s wrong with me, so at first I just assumed that it was nothing more than a UTI. However, I soon became suspicious that it was something a little more serious than that.

First of all, I can’t just write off this pain in my back as a random co-incidence, because I cannot begin to describe just how terribly painful it is. I’ve never felt anything like it. Secondly, and this is what really made me suspicious, is that when I went to the lecture afterwards, my condition definitely deteriorated. I felt sick, weak, fatigued, I got a mean headache, and throughout the two hours I spent in the lecture theatre, I had chills come over me and I sat there shivering, feeling more or less like a sack of potatoes someone had tried to teach to sit up straight and look presentable. I felt awful. Thirdly, when I got back home, I discovered that two of the main symptoms I’ve experienced are the two main symptoms of kidney infection. Fourthly, the antibiotics most commonly prescribed for UTI does not match the antibiotics I got from the doctor, so my guess is that he thinks I have kidney infection but didn’t want to say anything to me? I know it’s a little far-fetched, but even if he was being honest with me, I still think that what I’ve got is a little more serious than a UTI.

After I’d been to the lecture I decided that I was in no shape to be spending the rest of the afternoon in the library to write the rest of my philosophy essay; which meant that I had to ask for an extension. So I went looking for a form to fill out and was told that there was none – I had to talk to the course coordinator in person, or e-mail her. The receptionist I talked to also urged me to get a medical certificate from the Student Health Service, because that would definitely help. So I went back there, and talked to the most incompetent woman I’ve ever met, and left not having a clue what came out of it (if anything at all), almost in tears because I felt so sick and tired, and a little stressed out.

Then I went home, where I did everything I could to make myself comfortable, and I had a large cup of coffee, before I read on the Internet that I should avoid caffeine when I’m on antibiotics. Gosh. That means one week without coffee. If the kidney infection doesn’t kill me, the lack of caffeine surely will. At the moment I’m lying in bed wearing my pyjamas, with a hot-water bottle on my stomach, in freshly laundered sheets, listening to music and trying to ignore the thudding headache I’ve got. As much as I’d like to work on my essay, I just feel too sick to be able to concentrate. And fuck, do I want chocolate.

Right, I think it’s time for a nap now. I’m so tired and sore all over, and sleep always helps.

Break on a budget

 

So.

 

I’m on holiday.

 

It’s the semester break. As I’m not doing any courses over summer this means that the first half of my first year as a university student is over. I had my only exam on 15 June, and since then I haven’t been doing much. Unless you count the flat rental company business, but that’s just something I got involved with to avoid dying of boredom. (OK that last bit was a lie, but sometimes I think to myself that considering that it’s me we’re talking about, it might as well have been true.)

Unlike many of my fellow students, I have already had a two-week break, and I know I shouldn’t be complaining at all, thinking about all those poor students who had their exam(s) only yesterday and will only get a two-week break in total. I get four weeks.

When my break started I was really excited about it. Really. I was supposed to be moving to Mt Victoria, spend lots of time outside and explore Wellington and hang out with people. So far I’ve accomplished two out of four things: I’ve been spending a lot of time outside, walking all around Wellington. However, after I’d walked around Central Wellington a couple of times, I realised how bad it was for my wallet, as it is so easy to fall into the trap of buying coffee/lunch/a snack at one of the hundreds of cafès while wandering about. So I decided to approach the idea in a different way. It was time to go back to being a tourist.

The first thing that came to my mind was that I still hadn’t seen the famous location used in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring where the four hobbits tumble down a hill and land on a forest path. It is conveniently located in the forest on Mt Victoria, so on a rainy and cold day I defiantly put on some warm clothes, packed a minimal lunch and set off. I despise looking like a tourist, but there’s no denying I must have strongly resembled one, when I made my way past Cuba Street and Courtenay Place dressed in wind-proof trousers and jacket, carrying a light backpack .

I eventually found the location in the forest (I think), snapped a few photos and started making my way back. Of course, it had been raining all the time, but as I was halfway home it stopped, and we didn’t get any more rain that day. It makes sense.

After that wee excursion, I have stuck to wandering about the city itself, mainly because I can’t think of any other ‘nature’ tracks around this area. So I’ve walked along the waterfront a couple of times, strutted through Lambton Quay and up and down The Terrace on several occasions, walked down Willis St (pretty much all of it), sat in Courtenay Place looking for Sir Ian McKellen and otherwise explored more or less every side street in the CBD. All the while trying not to be lured into spending all my money on the fantastic winter sale bargains.

Of course, it’s impossible not to buy anything when the shops sell most things for under half price, but after I went completely crazy once or twice, I decided that it was about time I imposed some ‘safety measures’ on my spending to avoid going broke. So what did I do? Well, for starters, I bought a ten-pack of noodles. That’s food for a week. Then I went and bought a pair of shoes. I think I’m pretty good at getting my priorities right.

I also decided that I’m not allowed to spend more than about $10-15 each day, and if I spend more than that in one day, it means that I don’t get to spend anything the next day. This seems to be working fairly well. Because I try not to spend any money, I spend a lot of time checking out various shops and supermarkets to compare prices on things I want and/or need. I’ve recently decided to make vegetable soup/stew a weekly meal (after I’ve killed the ten noodle packs, mind), so I wanted to compare prices of the various ingredients. First I went to New World, then I went to a place I’ve never been to before, which turned out to be an Asian supermarket. When I had walked past the fruit and vegetables that were placed at the front of the shop, it was like entering another world. I don’t think I would have been able to name or even identify a single product beyond the fruit stalls. It was glorious – so many weird things, it was simply amazing. Anyway, the Asian supermarket won – their prices were way lower than New World’s, thankfully. My wallet let out a sigh of relief.

So far I’ve been doing most things by myself. No, wait. Everything. I’ve been waiting for a couple of people to be in touch, and I’ve tried to arrange things with others, but no one seems to be keen, or they are busy. Hmph. But this Sunday I’m going to meet some of the All Whites players with a friend from Dunedin who’s in Wellington for the week. Yay, human contact at last.

Today was a wee cracker of a day in Wellington. Absolutely gorgeous. I spent about three hours walking around the city, and bought a loaf of white bread, European style, and some ham, and then I treated myself to a mochaccino at my favourite cafè in Lambton Quay. When I got home I made a late lunch, and I enjoyed every last crumble of it.

Now I’m just going to let some photos sum up the past week, as this blog entry is getting a wee bit long.

 

Standing tall

I. Love. Wellington.

I won’t venture to tell you the entire tale about last weekend. It’s too grand to be put on my blog. On any blog.

I will, however, say something about it.

There I was, sitting by the bar at Public, my favourite place to hang out on a Saturday night. That place always comes with some good stories. The first time I met two lovely women from Auckland, whom I’ve been invited to stay with if I visit Auckland some time. This time I got dragged over to a table surrounded by basketball players. I was introduced to all of them, and I can honestly say it was some of the best company I’ve had for a while. They were all so tall, I felt tiny for pretty much the first time in my life! When they said they were a basketball team from Hamilton I pictured a group of amateurs. Silly me. Last night (Sunday night) I decided to do some research about the team, and it turned out that the Waikato Pistons (which is the name of the team) are the best team in the basketball league (or whatever it’s called), and that several of the players have played for the Tall Blacks, New Zealand’s national basketball team, and/or famous teams overseas. I was a little bit wow-ed. I’m glad I didn’t realise this on Saturday night. Tipsy as I was, I probably would have been a little starstruck. I know, how lame. So I’ve just figured out that when I’m a famous director I just have to be a little tipsy whenever I’m around all those big names, and I won’t be intimidated. Awesome.

Anyway, it was a night to remember. That’s for sure; I got home at 7 o’clock. In the morning.

I swear everything is still happening in slow motion. Still slightly hungover? That’s a possibility. Also, I’m still waiting for my voice to recover. Having to talk over the music for 5+ hours sort of killed it; not to mention that having to talk even louder in order for those tall guys to hear it way up there was a bit of a mission.

Thankfully I had the best Sunday possible, in Tawa, with the best company.

I wonder if I have time for another coffee or two, or three (or four?) before heading over to uni. Or maybe I should just buy a red bull. Yeah, that sounds better. I’ve also got a bottle of Coke. I better get ready. I just got out of the shower (aaah!) - I’ve had such a lazy morning; I got out of bed at 10.30 am. But I guess I needed that sleep, having suffered from sleep deprivation all yesterday (I got 4 hours of sleep Saturday night). It’s going to take me the rest of the month to recover from the weekend. Haha. I’m sure you all got that.

I better go.

Growing Wings

I have now lived in Wellington for more than four months, and needless to say things are only getting better. Which is something you should all be able to tell from my blog, and the fact that I don’t update it nearly as often as I would if things were not that good.

I feel like I’ve managed to settle in nicely, but of course, me being me, that is exactly what makes me want to “break free” again, so my latest idea is to move. To another part of Wellington. The reasons for this decision are many and, let’s say, occasionally on the strange side of the fence (one of the reasons involves a broccoli. Enough said?).

It didn’t take me long to decide where I want to move to. When I first arrived in Wellington I wanted a place close to uni, because I imagined that I would be spending most of my time there, but now I have seen what it’s really like. Mt Victoria is not that close to the university (see picture), but buses run on a daily basis back and forth between Mt Vic and uni, so no worries there. Besides, I’m planning on getting a job soon, and Mt Vic is much closer to the places in the city where I could see myself getting a job, which means that I’ll be able to work in the weekends without having to get my driver’s license and a car first to be able to get to and from work.

I sent a text to a guy this morning, about a room that is available in a 5 bedroom house on Mt Vic, which I really want to get. The rent is the same as I’m paying now, so that would be perfect. I just hope he’ll text me back soon…

It would be so cool to actually live with other students, in a proper house, with two (2!) bathrooms, a back yard with a deck and a bbq… That’s how I imagined living as a student to be like, so please, please, please text me back and say that I can have the room.

Hurra!

I thought today would be the day to make my title Norwegian, seeing as it is, after all, Norway’s National Day today, on May 17. I’m not going to celebrate it in any way, though. I could lie and say that it’s because I’ve got two lectures and a PASS class today (which is true), but the truth is I’m not celebrating because I just don’t care… I’m in New Zealand now, and here we don’t celebrate May 17, so why should I? It’s not like they’d give me a day off from uni to celebrate, either. But I’m still happy today, which is why I decided to at least write a blog entry about it, and not let it pass in complete silence. Fact is, I’m really happy. I’m handing in my English essay today, and after that my next essay is not due until June 3, so I can finally breathe again for some time. And I’ve got coffee appointments for later on today, tomorrow and Thursday, so I definitely feel very much at home in Wellington now. I’m currently sitting on my bed in my pyjamas, bath robe, and slippers, enjoying two cups of morning coffee whilst listening to nice music, so yeah, life’s pretty good at the moment.

Something I made yesterday and glued to my bedroom window.

(OK so maybe I’m just a little proud…)

Standing ovation

I think I’m finally getting the hang of this. Writing essays, I mean. My English essay on the gothic genre is due in tomorrow, and seeing as it’s not my favourite course (that’s an understatement, by the way), I decided it’d be best to start  writing it early so that I could go back to it and make changes after I’d had some time to re-consider. So I finished a rough draft about a week ago, but I had written heaps more on it before that, the only problem was that I didn’t really know in what direction I was going, so I wrote lots of random things that didn’t make much sense, so when I had completed the draft I had written more than 3,500 words, and the essay itself is only supposed to be 1,500 words… Then the plan was to develop that draft throughout the rest of the week, but it never happened (to my defense; I was concentrating on my media essay which was due in two days ago, and which was way more important to me). So today, after several internal discussions, the good person sitting on my shoulder beat the person sitting on my other shoulder, and I went to the library at 2 pm, only knowing that I had to stay there until the essay was finished. Once I started writing, the words just came flowing to me, and the essay had been completely re-drafted and re-written within the next 3-4 hours, and by the end of that time I was so pleased with it (and had half a dozen epiphanies about the text I was writing about) that I just plotted down my references, saved the document and went home. Seriously, it’s getting so easy to write an essay now, I love it. I have to applaud my accomplishments.

*Clapping.*

Thank you, thank you very much.

This is where I belong

I have never felt more at home in Wellington than I do right this moment. “Why?” do you ask. Because it’s raining.

Not like, drizzling. It’s actually raining. Properly. The best part is that it’s still incredibly warm (we’ve had 20 degrees today) and hardly any wind; so big, heavy raindrops are falling almost vertically, with an occasional warm gust of wind just to make you smile. And such great timing! I didn’t have my first tutorial until 3pm, so I had the entire morning and most of the afternoon to just do my own thing, so this morning I put on a pair of shorts and went into town to do my grocery shopping. However, even shorts were too warm, but I mean, I saw people wearing large coats, boots, scarves, hats and so on, so I guess I’d look even more ridiculous if I’d taken my light jacket off and walked around in a T-shirt and shorts when apparently, it’s almost winter. I walked past a shoe shop with a big sign in the window which said: ‘Weeeeee! Winter is here!’ I just smiled at it and kept walking.

Then when I was walking to university I felt a raindrop land on my head, and a minute later I’d walked straight into a shower, but once you manage to get inside a building you’re pretty safe, because you can walk between all the buildings without having to go outside. It kept raining during my tutorial and the lecture I had straight afterwards, and then I was off home. I was lucky, though, because the rain came at a slight angle and hit me on the back, which makes it more pleasant than annoying. Before I was halfway home (it only takes about 5 minutes for me to walk home) I was contemplating just staying outside to play in the puddles and get soaked to the skin, but then I decided against it just because I started thinking about the song ‘Bowl of Oranges’ by Bright Eyes, which begins with the words ‘The rain, it started tapping on the window near my bed’ and this made me want to play it in my room, so I went home.

Oh and lest not forget: I got a test we had before the Easter break back today, and I got an A-. It made my day.

(Completely intentional blurred movement by the way…)

Back to varsity

After two very long weeks of holidays today was finally the day when I got to go back to university. Yes, I really am this enthusiastic about studying. It was great seeing some familiar faces again and asking people how their holiday had been. Before my first lecture one of the girls I know told me that I should do something (I happened to tell her that I’d been looking forward to going back to uni), and mentioned tramping clubs. I didn’t know that such a thing even existed, but apparently Victoria University has one, and I am definitely interested in signing up for it. They arrange weekend tramping trips all over the country, which sounds totally awesome. I get to go tramping, see more of the country and meet new people at the same time! I couldn’t ask for anything better.
VUW tramping club – the tramping club’s web site. I’m so tempted to sign up!

The Miracle

Guess who’s got a ‘coffee date’ tomorrow at 1pm? With a boy? You’re right, that’d be me. And I’m so excited it’s ridiculous. It’s amazing what a brief night out on the town can bring you. Finally, a decent bloke who was kind, interesting, funny, etc, and he invited me out for a coffee. It’s been a long time since I was this excited about a Tuesday.

Hurry up, Monday, go away.

Coffee break

After a long morning of studying (OK, I made that sound worse than it actually was – I’ve been reading a detective novel for one of my courses. It was fun and work at the same time.), I finally have time for a break, consisting of afternoon coffee and a bite of chocolate. I’m not complaining.

An anecdote

I just remembered something. I was sitting on my bed just now, with a bowl of Cadbury ice cream in one hand and Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in the other hand, listening to The All-American Rejects and thinking that I should close the curtains, because it’s dark outside now, and people can see in more easily. Realising this, I also realised that I often change clothes and/or get undressed in my room without closing the curtains first. My across-the-road neighbours must love me. But that’s not what I was planning on sharing. What I had in mind was something that just came back to me, which happened a couple of weeks ago.

Like some of you might know, I live at the top end of a long, steep road, and on the day I’m telling you about I was walking down the road to catch the bus into town. The road is lined by houses on both sides, which are mostly occupied by students. This day my walk down the road started out like any other day, I was listening to my iPod and minding my own business, when all of a sudden I looked up, turned my head to stare at the buildings on the right side of the road and saw, to my astonishment, about four people sitting on the roof of one of the highest houses. They were happily chatting away with each other, and when they saw me staring at them, they waved at me, and I waved back. To put it MLIA style: I still have no idea what they were doing sitting up on the roof, or how they got up there. I have not seem them up there since. Either way, it easily made my day.

Mission Impossible I

Aaaah, you know that feeling when you finally get to sit down on a Friday night, put your feet up, and just relax? That’s the feeling I’ve got right this moment.

Yes, it’s been a hectic week so far, but the last 24 hours were by far the worst. Remember last time I had an assignment to write? I started writing it at 11pm the day before it was due, and it worked. I got it done by 3am, and when they gave us the marked assignments back on Tuesday, I found that I’d gotten an A-! That pleasant surprise aside, let’s return to the second essay I had to write. It was for the same course, which I feel I’ve got the hang of, more or less. Unfortunately for me, this second exercise was more demanding than the first one’d been… I sat down with my notes, books and cup of coffee before 8pm (or 20:00) the day before it was due, so I felt confident that I’d have finished writing the essay by 3am this time as well. However, the more I studied the essay question, the passage in the book we were supposed to analyse and the terms we had to apply, the more I despaired, and the easier I got destracted. But as usual, after I’d scribbled down some rubbish in the first paragraph, the sentences started flowing more freely, and this would soon prove to become my next big problem. The essay was supposed to be about 600 words long, and at a point where I wasn’t even close to finishing, I had written close to 1100 words… So I just pinned down my remaining arguments and then started trimming the text (more like butchering it, in fact). When I felt confident that I wouldn’t get penalised anymore, I shut the computer down and went to bed. This was just before 6am, and I think my flatmate got up right after I’d turned my light off.

I woke up at 11am this morning, feeling rather rested, so I got up and had breakfast and all those things. Then I looked over my essay again and managed to make it about three words shorter, so the final count was 706 words… Desperate to get rid of the essay I went quite early to uni and handed it in before 3:30, when the deadline was 5pm. Mission accomplished!

I then went into town and treated myself to a frappucino (it has been such a lovely day here!) and went to the supermarket and got some groceries and loads of coffee (I have to write another essay during the weekend).

So after a long week where I’ve been stressing every single day about these essays, I am now one down and one step closer to the Easter break! When I got back from the supermarket I cooked tea, a stir-fry which I’ve been craving for ages. I opened a bottle of wine, a rosé, which I just got from the supermarket as well, and enjoyed my dinner while listening to music. The perfect Friday night, if you ask me.

Surprise, surprise

Sometimes everyday-life becomes extraordinary. Like today.

I had struggled my way 3/4 through another Wednesday, which is the only day of the week when I have to get up early, because I’ve got my first lecture at 9am.

I had one tutorial left, which would make up the eighth hour I spent at uni in a single day (continuously). I was so tired, and just wanted to go home and get started on my English assignment which is due in on Friday. Not to mention that I was starving. Anyway (I get easily sidetracked), there I was, in my Media 101 tutorial, suffering silently and begging for it to end. I must admit I wasn’t being very social with the two other people in my group (we were supposed to analyse the music video for Michael Jackson’s ‘Billy Jean’), Alex and Natasha, but eventually we started talking. After some time talking about how we didn’t understand what we were doing, Natasha asked me where I’m from, and I told her that I come from Norway. She wanted to know if I spoke Swedish, and I said ‘No, I speak Norwegian, but I understand Swedish.’ She then informed me that she’d lived in Sweden for two and a half years and only returned to NZ just over a year ago. When she asked me where in Norway I’m from I used the same point of reference that I always use, which is Bergen (I ask the questioner: ‘Have you heard about a city called Bergen? You do? Yeah, well, I come from a small island just south of Bergen.’). Incidentally, this girl had heard about Bergen, and when I mentioned it, she tilted her head, and asked me in a doubtful voice if I happen to know a girl called Anette Loland (Løland). Instantly, I knew that the name was familiar, and after two seconds of twisting my brain I knew where I’d heard it before: She was in a newspaper back home before I went on my exchange to NZ in 2007, and the article was about how terrible EF (the organisation we both travelled with) had been at looking after her while she was on her exchange to NZ. When I read the interview way back in 2006 I got a bit scared by the news, so I contacted her to get more details about what had gone wrong, and was even invited to talk to her face-to-face (which I didn’t). So when I’d remembered all this, I told Natasha that we’re not exactly friends, but that I know who Anette Løland is, and I’ve been in contact with her. We were both quite astounded at this; that we would meet by chance, and actually have a mutual acquaintance from Norway!

Natasha’s mother works with STS, another exchange organisation, and apparently they had had Anette stay with them for a while after she’d been neglected by EF and needed a new place to stay, so they were like good friends and everything! We couldn’t stop laughing at the ludicrous fact that this was happening; it felt surreal and, like Natasha put it, ‘It was a stab in the dark’ when she’d asked me the question in the first place, because, I mean, what are the chances of something like that actually happening?

I definitely think we can call that kind of discovery an ice-breaker. We had something in common, so when the tutorial ended, we walked up the road together and conversated like old friends.

Thanks, Anette, I owe you one.