my shadow walks faster than me

I've been thinking about all the traces and tracks people leave behind, all the information and ecchoes that travel ahead and tells the world who we are before we've even had the time to introduce ourselves. The internet tells one story of who I am, what I do, what I've done, who I've been. Friends telling stories of my person gives another impression, another version of me. What the internet does not - and not always the friends either - tell is what I'm able to do or who I'm trying to be.

So I guess even if we try to keep our shadows behind us, where they traditionally belong, there's no turning back - for us or our shadows. People knows a part of you before you want or need them to, through rumours and google-searches. No matter how much you dislike it, no matter how much you kick and scream. That's the world we've helped build. A world that doesn't have to be biased or cruel though.

Busy, busy

I can't believe it's been almost two months since I last blogged (!) It's an outrage, it's a damned shame, that's what it is. And being busy is really not an excuse (at least a lame one). I 'll keep in touch from now on, churplin' away with thoughts and bother you with my profound wondering. mehe.

Anyways, hope all is well and that you will continue reading what I write when I feel inspired (unlike now). Hopefully I'll be taking some pictures in the dark of november as well. So stay tuned.

the idealist

they say time never waits for no-one. they say idealism precedes experience and experience is followed only by cynicism.

I say I'm glad I'm still at stage one. I never wait for time and I'm young enough to still act and think like the idealist. I don't need the attention and certainly not the attraction. what matters is being able to make others prosperous and feel good about trying to beat time and cynicism.

time is the cynic no-one will ever beat or escape. time is what holds you down when you're on your way to greatness.

so I say: once you reach stage two, the one of experience - run and just maybe time won't catch up.

on handing out the proper papers and giving the right information

when you've done something you don't regret, but didn't explain all the things you wanted and should have said. when things get messy and all you want is to try and make it alright. when the chain of events comes right back to slap you in the famous face and life isn't all fun and games. you just didn't know.

news

light balancing the art of shadow on it's way back from darkness or on it's way to brightness. perhaps.




letting go and allowing in just a hint of illumination from somewhere you've never dreamed of reaching. who would've guessed, I guess.

remembering not to look back, but never to give what's ahead the opportunity to blind you. getting ahead and keeping your light in front of you. in a sense.

thinking and churplin' around. Camilla

walking down memory lane

every once in a while you meet people from your past. you can go on for hours just looking back, remembering the good times, the ups and downs, the parties, the charades. and it feels good. it always feels good to know someone appreciated you and can actually recall what you said ten years ago. right down to the tone of voice. it can make you feel like more of a someone than you do in the present.

but sometimes maybe the catching up can be insufficient. maybe once in a while you need to walk a few steps to the left, escape the reminiscing and start making a bunch of new memories. and then perhaps they will be the ones you'll look back on ten years from today. ten years from memory-making-time.

good girls fallin' for bad boys

it may be a law of nature. or maybe it only happens to annoy the hell out of the dreamers among people. anyway it always goes down a little somethin' like this.

good girl feels great, good girl's independent, has fun. bad boy shows his face. bad boy sweeps her off her feet (like the biggest cliche on mars). bad boy wants his freedom. good girl rolls her eyes and carries on.

why you need more friends

you know, for every new person you meet you can learn something about the world and yourself. it doesn't really matter who inspires you, with an open mind and bright eyes maybe you can learn and grow just a bit. no matter who helps you get there. firm and deep. lick it, feel it, never regret anything that made you laugh, don't lose it. 'cause in the end it's the feeling behind an experience that counts. the feeling you get of how many raindrops hits you're bedroom window and makes up a rainy day. if people where raindrops, we'd be too random and dissolved. we have cores, we can't really dissolve in that sense. we're deeper than any rain-pit. and if you can find just one core, that's you're lesson.

just lying around

sometimes you might feel somewhat like a glove or something, anything, else one can throw around, and then you'll just be lying there.

you're just lying around wondering when you'll be able to pick yourself back up. and god only knows you do not want to wait around for someone to find you and just give you a hand. after all you're a glove, you're sick of hands. and that's the whole point, isn't it? you're supposed to pick up the pieces and start all over again.

so let's say you'll lie there for a day, perhaps even for a few, but eventually (after you discover no-one really has bothered to even open the door to where you are lying) you'll gather your glove-y self and not get thrown back down for a while.

but while you're just lying around anyway; you're trying to learn something although the time when you'll be able to get up seems distant. there's supposed to be distance, without it a glove's life would simply be about getting thrown and picked up again. repetition's annoying. some day I'll throw one, or maybe not..

attacking life?

let's do this my way or the high way. 'cause even though you think I'm doing things wrong or seizing opportunities in an odd way, it doesn't mean I should change. right now my thoughts are: I'm only twenty (and I'm gonna act twenty), I'm weirder than the average bear (and I'm gonna be me), you're my friend and I respect your words and input. but still I'm not you. in fact we're probably the two people no-one would ever have expected to become friends. I'm happy we are though, 'cause you're important and annoying.

I'm attacking life, I guess. I'm letting go for once and that's why and when my fall will be higher and harder than ever. maybe that's why you're questioning the whole thing. but I'm alone now, and I've never really been alone. at least not completely. so now my learning-curve is probably gonna go through the roof and my feelings and emotions are basically riding some damned roller-coaster. I need you to come along for the ride and I'm gonna grow more than you've ever seen anyone grow in a year. this is the way to blue, life is the way to living.

While Waiting

in the midst of a long wait, why not put down a few words on...waiting? and not the bad kind of waiting, let's talk about the good kind. the kind that makes you more of a person, the kind that can produce strength of character and take you to the top of the next hill or to the bottom of the coming pit. and pits aren't bad, they're only the lowest lows leading you to a peak. or something like that. but let's dive into the great kind of waiting - the expectations and the art of patience.

to start off the thing is that there are two kinds of waiting. there's the passive and the active. if you passively wait, that's simply a matter of being lazy. and usually no hopes are produced in such a state. in addition productivity and dreamers are normally not exactly offspring of laziness.

but to keep on going, keep waiting once the bushes and torns in the middle of your path are slowing you down, making your journey harder and less creative - that's patience. and if you can endure through the days of hardship and bushes, then what you're waiting for, the result of patience, is probably worth while. what we are waiting for is probably also out there waiting for us. perhaps even what we want - what we've created in our minds during the wait - is out there wanting us back. just a thought anyways.

tudles! Camilla

Lift-off

Now that I've had the low, show me the high. make me jump and twirl on rooftops as night turns to day. give me laughter, fireworks, fine wine and cardemomme once more. I've missed the world and I want it back. Hopefully it'll take me.

An angry girl is an ugly one

men get mad all the time. if it's over the scratch in the paint on his new car or the nagging of his soon to be wife, it doesn't matter. men get angry over nothing and everything. so let me have my anger and rage to myself and let me release it whenever and on whoever I need to.

to me anger is something personal. unloading all your crap on someone and then a sense of relief and control. anger is something personal. but it's nothing personal. I don't mean to be hurtful, I just need to get it out of my system. however, I don't need to unravel mysteries and burst out quite as often as I do. if I could get down to, hmm. let's say once a week that'd be an accomplishment.

I guess nothing's wrong with me for being angry. at least it's better than being sad and nonproductive. when I'm angry, at least I bring a change, a new thought to the table. but I don't need the headache, the tense muscles in my neck or the sore fists from clenching them. I don't need the consequences, pretty much.

Delays and

First of all, sorryyy for not writing anything in ages. what can I say, inspiration's a bastard. just comes and goes as it pleases. anyway, I don't really do the whole 'writing the longest blog'-race. like to keep it fairly short and fairly reasonable. I don't really have the need of the twenty year old Dylan Moran to show off. it gets somewhat boring, so I try to say only what I need to say and not tell you what you need to hear. still, I'm gonna write a few paragraphs on lies and lying to ourselves.

I bet you found yourself lying when you were alone. I lied about feeling good being on my own for so long that I actually started believing I was better off with just me. I wasn't in love. I basically had one friend (at least one bloody good one). and I was afraid of doing anything about it. also I feared that if I stayed the way I was, I would never get to go back.

second, I found myself lying when I fell in love. I found myself lying when the friends quadrupled and someone really cared. again you were afraid. I feared that if I was just me, they would all just go away and I'd be alone again. which didn't happen by the way.

these irrational thoughts. our lies. our guilt, pain and fear, represent life. never have fear or never take a chance, and you'll probably end up not finding what you want and need. people will come back, people will be the centre of your attention always. it's just that the people change and that's when fear enters the stage. I think maybe one key is to not fear to be afraid.

The one in between

Torn. not into pieces, but left on hold 'till she gets back. wondering what it'll be like when time comes. I never thought I could be in this deep in such a short time, but now she's there, I'm here and it doesn't feel right. I feel bad, I feel good, I feel weird. I wanna tell him it's gonna be alright, and I will. still I know he's not easily consoled. I wanna help her be happy, but she's too far away and not the easiest to lend a hand.
I miss when things where simple. when the band was the band. when I knew what was happening, but never knew what would happen next.

Being a journalist

we've just started a project called Brostein. we're supposed to update an online newspaper every day for three weeks. it's interesting. we're learning quite a bit. we're running around playing journalists. we're exhausted. but check it out: www.brostein.uib.no.

...

maybe I'll tell you sometime. how you make me feel. who I wanted. what you needed.

the highest highs and the lowest lows

you want things to be less complicated. you need life to pass by smoothly, without doubt or questions. laughter is easy, breathing is automatized, life is just there. relationships and friendships can be uncomplicated. they can be the root of the root and the bud of the bud of all the meaning you need in life. nonetheless they're not always easy, they're not always simple. allow your relationships, your love and laughter to teach you. let them all bring those perspectives and lessons we seek so desperately. why does everything have to be smooth. who claims simplicities and necessities are good.

you can learn if you allow people, lessons, songs, films, books, creatures, flowers and trees in. our obstacles may be nothing but root systems we trip on while reaching higher. but never lose perspective, never lose faith. never lose your way, never forget where your going. for as you go along; pick up all those amazing little and big trials, the obstacles that get in your path, grab them and hold on to them. use them for all they're worth. they'll make you, shape you, break you and slowly build you back up again.

behind my moon

do you think of me across your universe. do you see me above the stars.
are two roads this far apart, even if we try.

at the end of a world you'll hear my eyes. I've forgotten how you cried,
still see the words you choked.

I'll be the one you remember,
you're the one I can't forget.

An evening with Frost

think of all the beautiful belongings no-one else have looked quite far enough to find. remember every experience and try cramming each one into language. believe you found what no-one will ever reach. imagine the two roads diverging as one. look to the one you took, the one you stumbled upon, the one that made all the difference and tell me you regret it.

That wasn't so difficult, was it?

walking on bricks on a sunny day alongside my new friends, the missionaries. seeing it all from a different perspective is something I can highly recommend and I feel you can really learn from taking a step back and just be the observer. of course it'll take a while to digest and think twice about what I'm experiencing, but here I've come to know a pair of young, passionate, open and patient men who has found their way in life. I guess in a sense what they have found at such a young age is what we all seek in different forms. as human beings we pursue happiness and meaning, and once we've found it (or think we have) we wish for nothing but to share it with others.

to observe how people react and interact with these two is entertaining, enlightening, awkward and pleasurable. but to hear their own thoughts on what they experience is nothing but admirable. they are too aware of the fact that people are generally skeptical and doubtful and know all they can do is keep on walking on bricks on a sunny day alongside their new found friend, the observer.

The Observer

as a photographer you can disappear, you can blend in, you can capture almost anything 'cause no-one has to notice you. as a reporter on the other hand you're the visible bastard who asks the annoying questions and...well...you're the one that's there, always switched on. is it impossible to blend in as a journalist? without going undercover and doing the whole wallraffing-thing, I mean.

Colours and Shapes

On Fear

the idea is there. the emotion and drive is there. the protagonist is almost there. but then there's the fear of picking up the bloody phone and actually finding out if it's all a possibility. we're talking nothing but stupid, evil, gratuitous fear. I guess there's not much to do than get over it. still it's intimidating calling someone you've never met, someone you don't know how will react to your request, someone who is just living his life as normal ignorant of the nervous caller-to-be on the other end. I don't even know what I'm scared of, 'cause I guess the worst answer one can get is 'no'. still it's weird, it's not natural calling a stranger asking him if you can invade his privacy. I don't know, maybe he'll be flattered, I guess I would've been. I'll just do it, 'cause the worst thing he could say is 'no', isn't it? I'll call, but I'll wait 'till tomorrow. today I need to calm my nerves and have a cup of tea.

Fire, Shadow and Bubbles

Fire - the voice in your head at any important time. the drive that makes life worth living and people worth meeting.
Shadow - the darkness that follows you everywhere you go. the reminiscence of what has been and what has made you grow and be you.
Bubbles - the tingly unique feeling inside once you sense something that makes you laugh, love, cry, fall apart. it's the feeling of not being in control.

extreme lack in the picture-taking-department, but still.

don't know if you've ever noticed, but when you're happy it's amazingly difficult to write anything that'll last. still, there's one thing I'd like to share: I think I disagree with Forest Gump (!) 'cause to me life isn't like a box of chocolate at all - it's like a glass of whisky. you need to drink it slowly and take time to taste and remember all the different flavours, smells and emotions you experience along the way.

certain things you'll only taste once. that's when it matters the most to get caught up in the moment and just fly away. if it's making a wish to a shooting star 'cause you think that's what your supposed to do when you see a shooting star or talking all night to a friend/lover 'till you both discover the sun interrupting your privacy between the mountains. it doesn't matter, as long as you recognize the moment as unique. a unique moment can freeze time and maybe make goodbyes unnecessary. in your mind at least, so that souls never part and hearts never leave.

A short walk in the sun

as I left the blue door behind the wind slapped my face gently and almost forced me to run back inside. but as I turned the sun-beams read my mind and dragged me out of the alley. and although the sloppy snow reached my knees, the sun was in quite the superior mood. she kicked the mushy white devil way into next week. so I left the alley smiling stupidly and I do believe the proud sun planted one on its own glowing face as well.

Something Special

Lu, Dyr and the band.
'This is a book about what writing is, about how you do it so it works, and how you do it so it lasts.'
'Original. Smooth and mellow.'

Red

bus-sheds, fruit trees and sidekick-journalism

let me hide behind a camera, a bus-shed, a brick wall, something. but don't put me in front of a camera, a bus-shed, a brick wall, anything. no matter how present I may be, I'm not there. let them worry about the future, what they love and want to do. I have no idea of what the what, what the substance, of life will be. only who the whos, who the subjects, are - always. if you tell them your lost, they probably wont believe you, and I'm not lost. I'm just finding my way and the way is quite the royal pain in the arse. I wish I could find the way to blue on my own, in my own manner. options are basically the bastard in the chaos we call freedom when all a poor soul wants is to capture and provide people with the beautiful and brittle nature of the world. but maybe that's not enough in the cynical business of journalism. maybe there just isn't room for the naive, openminded and kindhearted. the future is coming and maybe it's all right that I don't know what it'll bring. but I don't know if Louis Theroux's sidekick-journalism is for me. he's so there, in the moment and straight forward. I'm not there, I'm not even here. being invisible, that would be an amazing ability for any reporter to have. why can't I act invisible and avoid all the pay-offs to my obvious set-ups? I don't want them to respond to me as a journalist, I want them to respond naturally, to another person. 'cause in all simplicity that's all we all are, we're people trying to understand eachother. I want to know what you love, what you need, what you do and not least why you love, why you need and why you do something - anything.

time is of the essense I hear, but time is all we've got. what is journalism, what is reporting. it's displaying reality and I want the simplicity, purity and honesty of relations and people to return to the reporting. utopian? maybe. still, it's a suggestion, a hope, my way to blue.

On saying goodbye

When you look back on the year that's passed, when you concentrate to remember where, when and why and all you can recall are the little things that made it amazing and hard to ever forget. the light reflected on their faces, walking home those cold autumn-nights that didn't seem cold at all, their smiles, popcorn flying through the air, her goodheartedness, his sarcastic remarks. everything has been fun and simple, yet so detailed, intricate and brittle. but now, let the snow fall, let the memories fade. they'll never disappear and goodbye isn't always goodbye. but when you get back, can i have a ham sandwich....with a pickle?

Laugh.Love.Live

there's life and beauty everywhere you turn, as long as you remember to look, listen, smell and feel for it. smiles that make you smile, eyes that break your heart, crows nesting, water freezing. there should be beauty in most things, unless most things have forgotten how to be beautiful.

*

is the element of distance key to feeling strange to a stranger or close to a friend. or is it the element of nearness that allows you to feel near.

He is everywhere

click on the title to listen to the Nick Drake song 'From the Morning' on YouTube:D

A day once dawned, and it was beautiful
A day once dawned from the ground
Then the night she fell
And the air was beautiful
The night she fell all around.

So look see the days
The endless coloured ways
And go play the game that you learnt
From the morning.
And now we rise
And we are everywhere
And now we rise from the ground
And see she flies
And she is everywhere
See she flies all around

So look see the sights
The endless summer nights
And go play the game that you learnt
From the morning.


"He put equal importance on the listener's interpretation as he did his own, rarely being specific as to the song's meaning... The mystery is part of the appeal, it helps the listener bring their own life to the song." (http://www.nickdrake.com/index.html)

...

When the sky is icy blue, you're in a foreign country as an explorer of history and culture and every brick you step on tells its own story. that's when you feel so small, yet so big for being part of the species that has created it all. the beauty is mesmerizing, the survival and indurance overwhelming. still you realize this is only the front, the goldcovered side, of the medal of mankind.

On senses and being irrational

I'd rather be inside than out there.
Smell. the air is filled with cinnamon, humid particles, dust and cardemomme. eyes playing with the fire, the shadows on the floor, the look in her eyes, the movie churplin' on in the background.
Listen. dylan's squeeky, woody voice in the distance. cinnamon and vinyl. listen for what you can see, look for what you should be able to hear.