My meeting with the Norwegian health system

There they are. Sat in wheelchairs. They eat breakfast at 10, lunch at 12, dinner at 3, afternoon coffee at 17, evening meal at 19. They are spaced out. They need help with everything. Loose their teeth, forget their names, no memory of their past, no idea of today. Its my job at the moment. I am not sure I am cut out to do this. 

How do they do it? Just move on like that? I cant. I simply can not. They find a way to erase you. They find a way to become null  again, just jump the stuff and move on. I don't know how you work that. I haven't got it in me. Just like that it's all gone tomorrow. Its gone. He can. Erase me now: YES
Why can't I?

Walk the streets alone at night

There is something magical about walking alone through empty city streets at night. Just got back from one of those walks. From 01.30-03.00 AM. Besides a cat and two junkies I did not encounter a single soul. Wonderful. Some women are scared to walk alone at night. Although I respect and understand that, it's sad they will never feel that utterly eerie yet exhilarating feeling you get from walking alone in empty streets at night. Long shadows, streetlights, buildings look different, you can hear your own footsteps in the most busy streets all of a sudden. I used to love walking the streets of Vienna at night. In the summertime. Often with my heels in my hand coming home and sobering up in the soothing night-air. An occasional taxi passing by or the sound of a lovers spat out of a window. In Glasgow it was next to impossible to find empty streets as it's always filled with students staggering home. Some fantastic memories from Malta as well. I've had the privilege of having the entire Promenade to myself. I've always loved the night. I  am an owl. The night is my friend. It wraps me like a velvety blanket and stimulates my mind. No clutter. My best thinking, problem-solving and decision-making has always occurred strolling the streets at night.    

I'm feeling old.. But should I?

Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don't mind, it doesn't matter.  ~Mark Twain

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt; as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear; as young as your hope, as old as your despair.  ~Douglas MacArthur

Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.  ~Chili Davis

In youth the days are short and the years are long; in old age the years are short and the days long.  ~Nikita Ivanovich Panin

In a man's middle years there is scarcely a part of the body he would hesitate to turn over to the proper authorities.  ~E.B. White

Wrinkles should merely indicate where smiles have been.  ~Mark Twain,Following the Equator

Youth is a wonderful thing.  What a crime to waste it on children.  ~George Bernard Shaw

Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative.  ~Maurice Chevalier, New York Times, 9 October 1960

Do not regret growing older.  It is a privilege denied to many.  ~Author Unknown

Facebook is toxic. Turns anyone into stalking loons

I have for years used Facebook normally. Hardly posted a thing.
Ever since the break-up with captain I have shamefully become this perverted stalker. It's not helped that from being a fairly "medium/light FB user, hes now using it like the average teenager. It's like he found a new toy or drug.
I'm suddenly obsessing over this idiotic social page like Sherlock Holmes on a good day.
All the time feeling disgusted with myself. Always asking myself "what the fuck am I doing?"
I have often scorned the people who spend their lives on Facebook. "Get a life", I said. And then some.
Yet, here I have been hunting for posts, threads, comments and what not. Trying to piece together whatever nonsense and lunacy I can think of. Hardly healthy, but highly addictive.
Forgetting as well that the lives people reflect on Facebook is the sunny side up.
I's no accurate reflection of how people's lives are in-between the glory and glitter posted and tagged.
But it stops now. I've put myself on a strict FB detox. I've used all options available for blocking, deleting, hiding- you name it. This nonsense stops with immediate effect. Let his and everyone else's perfect lives float in cyberspace, and I will beever on with my own quite average and boring life. But at least not feeling perverted or at least not with the need to post and comment every 2 hours.
My new FB cleansed life starts now...

Forgiving oneself.. Getting past the past

Why is forgiving oneself for past mistakes so damn hard? I am such a forgiving person to others. People have gotten away with murder and I just cannot seem to get past my past.
Its a movie that loops featuring "every mistake I have made". If rumination was a sport I would be in olympic class. What is rumination really? My friend Wiki tells us: Rumination is defined as the compulsively focused attention on the symptoms of one's distress, and on its possible causes and consequences, as opposed to its solutions.^[1] Rumination is similar to worry except rumination focuses on bad feelings and experiences from the past, whereas worry is concerned with potential bad events in the future.^[1] Both rumination and worry are associated with anxiety and other negative emotional states.^[1]

So.. Why do I keep up with this? Most people will have forgotten my mistakes. Most people will remember me for the good times, whereas Im paranoid thinking Im remembered for my flaws and mishaps only!
This has to stop as its ruining my future and my focus.
I wow that I shall not ruminate today and work towards forgiving myself when and as soon as I can. 

Norway did not work out

I dont know how to move forward. I can't move sideways. Backwards is impossible. I don't cast a shadow anymore. I move around looking for things I can't find. Things that don't exist. There was brilliance in me once. Or at least I think there was. Or it is comforting believing that there was. Norway ate me. Everything here is organized. Systems. Observation. Letters. Emails. Sms. Do this. Fill in that. Report, supply, obmit, deliver.. Im choking. To the point where I dont even think I can breathe anymore. Feels like I dont. The Norwegian government is breathing for me. 

Back i guess?

So im back in Trondheim.. My hometown. And i thought it would be easy piece lemon-squeeze..
Not at all. The whole experience has been a bit of a shock. Not even sure what i had in mind.
The city is larger. The laws are stricter. The bitching is strong. We don't like gypsies, we don't like seagulls, we are soon to make Stoltenberg go.. we have a new law for barren women to have kids with egg donation.. Nobody pays cash here. Sheep walk the streets. Im confused. Still there is the smell of cut grass and daddy longlegs/longjohns..whatever captain calls it.. and field strawberries.. and magpies, owls, sparrows and squirl, bats, mice, ferrets, and an occasional shy deer walking across your lawn...

In Norway again. Hola Trondheim

So.. Back living in Trondheim after years and years abroad. The new life has not been as sooth as expected, but hey, story of my life..nothing ever is.
The summer breezed by nearly noticeable, but not without good parts.
Moving is stressful. Settling in more so.
Captain is practicing his Norsk and I'm on the job-hunt yet again.
Some new observations on my home-country/ town.

IN TRONDHEIM

- You can fish in the city-center and eat it too
- Every girl between fifteen and twenty five wears thick tights and hotpant short denim shorts coupled with either converse or mad heels
- There are sheep in the streets.. gnashing away in peoples gardens
- Norwegians have gone stark raving mad.. They exercise themselves to the point of lunacy. Everyone seem to own roller-skies, scott mountain bikes, nordic walking sticks, step-counters and every gadget and flashy outfit available for sale.
- A good night out is five hundred EURO
- The local dialect is the coolest of all Norwegian dialects
- I have to stop smoking