Friday, August 20, 2004

Così così, oggi non sta molto bene...

Dear Diary.
House messy. And cold. I rule the world. I do. Seriously, I do. Whatever I say, goes. Whatever I do, is for the good of people. For humans. For humanity. But honestly, screw you.
How come I always want to talk I don't have anything to say? And when I do have something to say, I sit down and shut up. Because I want to.
I have this song in my head. Not even a song, but a piece of music. Classical music. It runs through my head over and over, escalating on a steady level. I guess I could find out which composer made it, but I'll live. I won't bother to run and turn on my fantastic classical hits cds.
The cds are kinda a contradiction in themselves. When you hear the expression classical hits, greatest classical pieces, etc, you think its dumb, right? But I'm not a connaiseur (please shut up if i misspelt that one) in any type of music. Yes, honesty is killing my credibility right now. But I do like classical music, even though I do not listen to it "the right way". As with any other type of music.
THAT'S my taste for YOU, darling!

Wednesday, August 18, 2004

the sun will never go down on me

Dear Diary.
Lovely day, lovely day, another 12 days and I will get paid. So not the next Monday, but the Monday after. Seems a very long distance from here. In 3 days my family leaves. That's too freaky to even think about, I just assumed the day would never come. Its just too unreal.
The sun is shining now. Of course, as today is a day I'm working. Inside. I bet that on Sunday there'll be a hailstorm or something. This summer the weather gods have hated me. So have the god of money and the god of friendship, as well as the god of willpower. Yikes.
A change is coming, it has come, I can feel it. Finally I'm doing something that makes me happy, something I know brings me closer to my goals and/or dreams. Finally I feel contempt. Not happy, no, but contempt. Happiness is overrated. When I am happy, it acts as a lightning bolt. I don't have to explain that comparison, do I? You are smart enough to understand it.
In only 4 hours work starts. I guess that means I have to get off this compy and get dressed, some studying must be done before the earning of cash.

Monday, August 16, 2004

Disappointing shocker

Dear Diary.
Worked at that stupid place again today. Any "normal" person working there goes insane. Any insane person working there sinks deeper into their insanity. I am crazy, I'm not just unwell.
Saw Fight Club yesterday. For the first time. My little sis wanted some action, I persuaded her to rent Fight Club. And don't I regret it. I see this film as a sucky action film trying to be clever. Had the director chosen to go for only one of the directions in this movie, it might have been good. The actors were great, though. But seriously, don't see this film. See Pulp Fiction or A Beautiful Mind. Not this piece of ****. When you set out to make a cult classic, this is the result. An embarassment.
And I thought it was really good!

Saturday, August 14, 2004

write an article for the times instead

Dear Diary.
Chicken Tikkamasala is for dinner today. House cleaning is the schedual this evening. No, actually, I mean organizing. I do love organizing. It seems weird coming from me, being one of the messiest people in the world, but I am actually fixated with organizing. The reason it never gets done is because it requires a lot of tidying up before the fun organizing part starts. I'd love to Feng Shui the entire house, but that is never going to happen.
I hate poetry. I really hate it. Poets are a group of people that think they are too DEEP and COMPLICATED to be authors. So, they write a lot of bullshit. No, I'm not too stupid or too dumb to understand their "poetic language" or whatever you might call it. Me, myself, I love imagery and hidden meanings, etc. I just think there's a limit. What poets often do is make a dry loaf of bread seem like a wedding cake. It's got all the right cream and ribbons and loads of other decorations. But when you taste it, its boring, flat and maybe even disgusting. Had they put a little bit more effort into their ingredients and/or craftsmanship, they could at least have made waffles! But no, to them the important part is the exterior, the first impression. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying all poets are like that. Yet a good handful of them give you that vibe.
I just don't like poetry.

Friday, August 13, 2004

yikes! what was she thinking?

Dear Diary.
I had this horrible dream. At least, to me, it was horrible. You see, my fam's moving to the states for one year and I'll be staying in our big house with one tenant, a friend of mine from Disney. She's renting a room on the ground floor, quite big, you see.
Well, here's the dream. That room was slightly longer in the dream and my mom had split it in two unequal halves. My friend was supposed to stay in the bigger half and four old ladies in the other. Three of them were 75. In this dream, I thought it was a dream and went along with it. But later I realized this wasn't a dream and blew up on my mother. I was so angry, I think I'm still stressed. Funny thing was, our entire family was visiting and they all supported my mother. The reason I was so mad was because I knew she had gotten these old ladies to watch me. Thing is, I actually said, word by word. "I thought I was dreaming this, but it is true!" I got so mad I pushed a tree over and carried it around.
Then I woke up and realized that the whole thing was REALLY just a dream. Phew! Or else it wouldv'e turned out to be a real live nightmare.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

one sticky day in august

Dear Diary.It has been a hot couple of weeks. I'm sitting here, feeling like a moist cucumber. I know, disgusting comparison, but that's really how I feel. Nice, innit?
There's a bug at the StudentWeb at UiO that I suffered, but hopefully they are fixing it now. At least they should be, considering I reported the damn thing.
In less than 2 hours I'll be sitting at work, bored and sweaty. What a nice thought. Almost makes me smile... The heat is making me delirious. Cheers!

you can fix it yourself

Dear Diary.
I feel so satisfied with my choice of study at UiO. I'll be starting on Italian Litterature next week and I can say that that's the single thing I've been looking the most forward to do since Disney. Except, of course, moving out of this country. But that'll come later. That is a promise I've made to myself.
I enjoyed a "welcome-lecture" today and it kinda tipped me over the border of pondering whether or not this is something I am interested in. To the "yes"-side, fortunately. I have never looked so much forward to studying in my entire life. Now I see it as necessary relief from a busy schedual of working and smiling, working and smiling.
Other than studies, my life is, as usual, a drag. But hoping for improvement.

Monday, August 2, 2004

everything is everything

Dear Diary.
Things are gonna change. And not for better.
But change is important. Even though I might not like it, it is still change, and change makes the world go round. I can't stand this place anymore. This country. Yet I'm staying here for a while. At least another year. I wish that people would stop being so angry, negative and pessimist. Yet I feel it coming on when I live here. Every slight detail annoys me. But I don't explode. I sit back and let it gnaw away at my mind. That's the way it always has been.
I feel I've lost a friend. For that, I've cried. But it was somebody's choice and for that I will not forgive. I will not forget. When my advice is only taken when it is convenient to that person, I understand that it does not matter to them. Then I realize I don't really matter to them, at least not compared to others unmentioned. It is devastating to me, but it is real.