booking tables at the right moment

tumblr_n50aixdtvu1rvnsnmo1_1280i like to go through the stuff i have done and thought and learned in the passed year – i guess I’m not old enough yet to get terrified by time passing. instead i find it exciting how many things have changed – mainly subconsciously, as a result of living and everyday choices. especially the decisions i haven’t been aware of at all, where i dont look for the results of my actions, and then dont feel responsible for whatever it causes further. like reading a book for instance, which sometimes just feels like spending time, an action you dont expect too much out of. it serves you something, but you dont actively think that a book powers future actions. i have been surprised how books, bot have managed to affect me and how I’ve been able to forget books i was so sure would have a greater impact on me (and maybe they did? the reason why i would be able to forget about a piece of work was because it was somehow internalized?).

i read the flamethrowers last spring, in may-june, a book that really changed things for me while reading (present actions, but also how i suddenly looked at me in my own past from a new angle). now, i can remember the feeling of reading it, having the book around, and i recall how much i liked it by reading through numerous notes where i reflect around the book and the characters. at the same time i cant really remember too much of the actual book. perhaps it was how occupied my life was with other stuff, that ended up being more evident memories. but are actually books just a way of observing, or is it a participatory side of reading? did i forget so much about what i read because it simply was reading several hundred pages, or did it have a greater impact? either would it have a greater impact on me if my present life wasn’t so full of actual incidents and changes, or the book itself did merge into my own actions and thoughts.

language has been a huge part of my life the last year. one thing is that i has a french exam, went to denmark several times and tried hard to understand what they said, moved to germany and got an english boyfriend. i still try to listen to peoples conversations at cafés, in lines, on the ubahn, but don’t understand as much it distracts me when i do something else. it is a nice place in between. another aspect of language is how i went through so many social phases, approached various social settings for the first time in years. i just got out of a relationship (simultaneously graduating), out of a safety zone i didn’t appreciate any more, but suddenly i didn’t know where to put myself. however, when i recently read lydia davis’ essay on learning norwegian, and her expression of enjoyment, i realized how much i enjoy language, picking up language in all its different forms, explore the subjectivity of each from of language – also the unique ways of socializing represented. learning a language is also a way to understand something beyond language, and can therefore be just as interesting and consuming as learning french or whatever. but i enjoy looking back on the year and try to see how my way of speaking, frequently used words and phrases, have changed, and therefore probably what i think and talk about.

is it coincidental that i read a really influential book simultaneously with graduating and going through a (deliberating) breakup – in other words, being completely free for the first time in my life? is it coincidental that i read and loved a book when i moved to berlin, which i had read before and hated? is it about how I’ve developed, or rather about time and place? leaning on something recognizable, therefore safe and easy to like, as everything around me was new and unpredictable.

about paris etc

tragedies has always been a phenomenon that has affected me a lot, simply because I haven’t been able to be touched by tragedies in the way i feel obliged to. tragedies are something that suddenly occurs, and suddenly have an effect on everyone’s situation and state of being, however we don’t really know who to blame, who to canalize our emotions at, and this creates a common feeling of helplessness, grief and a community (følelse av fellesskap). but which reactions and emotions are real when you react as a part of a community, and all pains are results of the people around you. especially with social media’s presence, we are immediately approached by the tragedy, or whatever happening, through the reactions of other’s. sometimes this can mean reflected and diverse points of view, but mainly this is mostly based on the expectations people have about what you should feel, think and do at this moment. because, as we are all aware of that we are part of a community – even more presently now than before the catastrophe.

the tragedy brings us together, but it also makes us a lot more aware of how we express ourselves, because we know everyone around us also are put in the same position as you are. this sense of community is however not creating the basis for diversity and discussion, but brings up, although not loudly, the ideas of values and common sense. how you react upon this incident will have a huge impact on how people see you, because the strong sense of fellowship will tell wether you value moral or provocation the most. suddenly there is nothing in between.

in a community based on equality, as for example the communist (utopian) society, you would easily notice people standing out. and the different opinions would automatically be perceived negatively, not because of the content of their opinions, but simply because their opinions would stand out from the common opinions. in one way, the post-tragedy society is good in the manner of being including regardless of opinions, but at the same time that is the main problem: opinions are getting in the way for the sense of community and interaction. then what is actually the values of a community? when you are open beyond opinions, or when the principle of openness goes beyond actual opinions and freedom of expression?

at the moment i am having the incident in paris in mind, which I’m not capable of seeing as a tragedy any more, more through people’s reactions to the tragedy. and people’s reactions become less and less personal and (most of all) lack any sincerity as grief becomes a shared activity, but also an institutionalized activity. what do you actually express when you transform your profile picture on fb into a french flag because the ability shows up as the first thing on your fb feed? the opportunity to show love and care becomes an order to be emotional – especially when everyone else are. not changing your profile picture into a french flag becomes just as much an expression of showing that you care, because you might at the same time say that you have a more personal opinion on the situation, as well as you see the incident in a bigger picture. should this just be an act to respect france, or should it be an act to show awareness of the tragedies simultaneously happening in the world, that are just as large in scale, and of greater importance. they are just not concerning a wasp population, and is suddenly not of the same importance. 

although more present, emotions lose their effect as they become a group activity. but if we reverse the situation and look at it from another perspective, how can you sincerely show any care or express grief in a situation like this in other ways than being critical to the majority’s opinion? must it be necessary to be well formulated or have an intellectual opinion that is well thought through to express emotions, which are, in the very end, not an expression of words or rationalization?

dear

almost laying on my bed: mac on bed, upper body and butt and thighs on bed, leaned on elbows, feet on floor, listening to travis scott. my bedroom door is open so it smells dinner from the hallway, i know my parents are preparing food, i can hear the sound of the thin plastic bags (you put fruit/vegetables in at the store) and the tap water flowing now and then. it has been raining all day today and yesterday and i have thought about writing something here for so long – not just the last days, but all summer. or all summer since i came home from holiday about a month ago, and finally had my laptop with a proper keyboard available (even though im surprised how well i write on my phone. maybe the way i need to prioritize what to write on my phone is different, unconsciously, maybe the places i write on my phone are different, my physical position. for instance i guess i lay on my back more often when writing on my phone than on my mac). instead of writing on my computer, i’ve been writing a lot in my notebook, my diary if you want to call it that, because it is where i write down all my thoughts about my own life. however, everything i write atm (as i am done in school) feels like thoughts on my own life. what i do and think and why. to write good fiction, if just to sketch a situation, is what i’ve considered ideal for so long. each time i’ve written something else, i’ve sort of been disappointed of my own abilities to write, since i’ve told myself several times that creativity needs to be forced, you can’t just sit there and wait. but i start to write, i kind of force myself to write fiction despite having no idea about where to start or where i’m heading, but i give up as it doesn’t feel like taking me anywhere. i don’t have any idea and don’t end up with more of an idea – usually. (i can surely remember the feeling, often the setting as well, when i’ve sat down to write something fictional and it all turns out so good and so natural, that one idea or sentence immediately leads to another. like a smooth flow, a waterfall. yet i never look up those good writing sessions again later, i rarely read my own stuff over again later at any time, i don’t understand why. maybe it is uninteresting bcs its my own work, but at the same time i feel a greater enthusiasm about my own work than anyone else’s, simply bcs it’s me).

after eirunn and i had been to the national gallery in oslo, watched a nice show with weaved rugs by a norwegian/swedish woman from the mid 1900’s, both political and pretty, we sat down at a café and eirunn wrote all her plans in her new calendar while i drew her writing. i realized i’d filled more than half of the thick notebook i bought in late june, weighed the pages id filled between my fingers and then the blank ones. despite not having written more than two-three pages of fiction (or i dont know, it feels like none) since i bought the book, i’ve written a lot. almost every day, probably an average of two pages every day, maybe more, and my handwriting is tiny, people always tell me so. and i’ve written mails, i often do on my way to places, in situations where i’m waiting for something or someone. for the first time i wrote an email when i was out, while waiting for my date to return with more beer. i didn’t send it immediately and read it and continued in a park a couple of days later, when i just had missed a yoga class and didn’t want to return home yet. so i sat in the grass, still damp from the night, drank my post workout smoothie, finished a mail that was written at 1am with a lot of spelling mistakes. when i actually reread what i’ve written, if so just a draft for an email, i see a value, or potential value, the value of the casual writing, in what i’ve written without thinking more about it. it has felt more like a routine (not a ritual) and the product itself hasn’t been of any particular importance – probably the reason why it turns out so good, and why i read it without being too conscious of how i should read it, how i should accomodate my own “product”, as i never considered it a product.

i write this as a way to postpone the more fictional piece im supposed to write for a magazine. guess it’s my critical sense waking up as soon as i think about that work, and i just know it wont do me any good.

red light mix may

after nine hours on a bus after nine days at an extremely hot and dirty festival camp, i am home in oslo. been eaten half a watermelon and half an avocado with tahini, had a clay mask and a hair mask on for too long. did all the bathroom stuff i usually dont bother to yet i love theses bathroom routines, ie the way i touch my body when i apply body lotion, like a commercial. as my family has gone to spain and i have the house all by myself, i thought the transition from sound and music and trash everywhere, to silence and waking up alone and piles of clean, wrapped clothes on my desk would be overwhelming, but it is not. after being exposed to so much, been a part of a thing that was so much for so long, i’m not in need of anything specific, as long as i got my bed and my clean clothes. it is like being perfectly pleased after a meal.

after years of thinking

Skjermbilde 2015-06-18 kl. 08.37.48

after years of looking through magazines, as well as the steady feed of the best editorials which are posted on the internet, i’ve developed a high standard of what defines a good editorial. it isn’t good enough only to have a good styling or a pretty model or location. for that matter, that an ed is shot by one of my favorite photographers doesn’t seem that much any more. it is more like some aspects or ideas outside the team seem to define the outcome of a series – if the team is able to cooperate in the right way. i know that using the term right way makes it hard to express what i really look for, but maybe that’s the reason why a photography that actually works, is so right, by no doubt. you can’t directly express, at least not through words and language, what you want to achieve. visual references are tricky as well – it is easy to look at a photo that you like in order to recreate something, but a new styling or new model doesn’t make it a new picture. it will probably turn out to be a good looking result, but there isn’t anything more about it. it is this word, more, that is so hard to define and therefore so hard to reach as well. almost platonic, yet a reality.

i don’t have a solution to this, but when i find i photo that i really like, i immediately try to understand what i like about it. rather, what makes it stick out – not in the matter of originality (i don’t really believe that originality is the solution to a lack of creativity – almost the opposite), just that it manages to express something more. what this word ‘more’ consists of is hard to say, i don’t know.

it is my first morning after my last exam ever (i am officially done with school! however, i thought yesterday, from the minute i walked out from my exam, would be the best day of my life. instead i had a strong feeling of loneliness that i just couldn’t let go. i went to bed early and feel asleep immediately), and i lay in my bed, i’ve been doing that all morning so far, except for making tea and eating watermelon by the kitchen counter. i’ve been looking through sites of art and editorials – all the stuff i haven’t allowed myself to do since my exams began. i am surprised, and happy, to see that there are so many nice eds around at the moment. yet, the pictures that caught my interest the most, was a series of a tan girl in a studio. especially the ones from behind where you see her thighs and almost her butt. she is touching her butt with her hands, and i realized i like this photo so much i had to write about it (here). as i’ve never found myself attracted by a woman, never felt any fascination of the naked women in the gym wardrobe, and i feel that i observe my friends’ bodies from a more objective perspective: they are beautiful, but so what. yet i have to admit that the beauty of a woman’s body indeed is present. a man’s appearance is attractive, fascinating, hot, while women have a beautiful basis. of course, there is so much more to a woman than that, don’t get me wrong, but first impressions of men and woman are based on different focuses and expectations. a woman is easier to dress down to make a “pleasing” photo – but is that all there is? am i tricked to like this photo, only because i can see her but and it looks nice? or is that the idea about the photo: we know we caught your attention easily, so now it is easier to convince you about the rest.

mafia

marfa journal was launched one of these days, and i am going to order it as soon as i manage to have my wallet next to me while i am at the computer. i just relax in front of the computer and never do anything smart or productively. maybe because i always prefer to write by hand and never do school work by hand and write my notes by hand, so my mac isnt connected to doing smart or constructive stuff. i have several shopping baskets all over the internet that i end up forgetting about because i never bother to find my wallet while i am in front of the computer. maybe it is a good thing. as a child i never got all the toys i wanted, and i remember the strong desire for something i wanted but couldnt get. i would draw it and look at it and think about it for days and weeks instead of having it, playing with it, get tired of it. i remember i loved to look through all kinds of catalogues – rather than books and magazines. the catalogues represented something i only would be able to have in this passive form – which was the best form of them all.