Wonderwall

I wonder:
- Why I put the gym schedule inside my lolly cupboard?
- Why so many Africans are named Hope, Faith, Charity?
- Why we have to check Fronter every day?
- What I'll do my master thesis on?
- If Cape Town is anything like Melbourne?
- How much a person can do before it says stop?
- Why mums always worry?

I said maybe
You're gonna be the one who saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall

What the fuck is Mat.Nat?

Øltelt (beer tent). It has the same wonderful associations as "utepils" (beer in the sun), "jentekveld" (girls' night in/out) and "hjemmebrent" (moonshine). When you hear it you smile, first with your eyes, because you remember something fun happening on a previous occasion where beer tent/girls night/moonshine was involved, then with your mouth so the whole world can see you have good memories of beer tent/girls night/moonshine too.

Today I had my first day at the master program at Oslo University College and this year's first beer tent experience at Oslo University Blindern. And unfortunately I was hit by the one thing I thought my appearantly eternal student-status would cover up. My age. Because yes, at 24 you are no longer 18 (daah), and whether you wan't it or not, times change. First of all I study a course that mainly attracts girls, secondly the only boys I met tonight where out-own-town master students, which for obvious reasons where out of bounds. Thirdly, universities, especially the ones focusing on social scienes and humanities, overall attract more girls than boys, so I was stuck at a place with bitchy teeny poppers fresh out of puberty, and no fun in sight. As a master student, this uni stuff is freaking serious. No more mucking around not showing up for class. No more ignoring to buy the recommended books because they are too expensive. No more three-days-in-a-row-drinking-sessions, because you have to go to work tomorrow. I visited two new Blindern-pubs tonight, Uglebo and RF, and I wanted to run out of there screaming, pulling my hear and being a kid again. That's a great start to a master program.

Shit, I miss Australia.

Den som hvisker lyver

technology is fantastic. I am sitting on the bus to Grimstad, writing this blog on my iPod with the bus' wireless internet well connected. No wonder China cheated a bit during the opening ceremony, when it's that bloody simple to amend people's impressions. But footsteps in the sky, really, are we that gullible?

Miseducation

For the second night in a row I've put on my new running shoes and ran (aka jogged/walked) around Songsvann which is a lake close to my house. It is next to the Top Athletic Center in Norway (Olympiatoppen), so naturally I wasn't among the fastest around the lake, but I definitively wasn't the slowest either. I ran past at least two 95-years olds, a toddler and a woman on crutches.

My mind went racing back to the good times with Ivy at Melbourne City Baths, our local gym in Carlton. We'd gone from super-cool Fitness First to this old charming building, with even more charming personal trainers and spent about half the time at the gym in the sauna. Sweating in a hot sauna is good, Ivy said, it's like anaerob exercises or down that road. The rest of the time we spent in the pool, being close to drowning due to laughing attacks discussing past weekends' atrocities and escapades. Here we came to know "Trappetullingene", "Puster'n" and Andrew, and it was mighty good really.

But for a short time now, until the snow kicks in, I will actually try to call myself a jogger. Not only because I quit Elixia and haven't joined Domus yet, but I'll try to see what all the fuss really is about. Yesterday with Trude was quite entertaining, but it took us over an hour (including dinner shopping). Today I was down to 41 minutes (wonder if it helps my motivation by posting lap times here?) (Better laptimes will be deleted from the comment box, so don't try bragging). But it definitively was more fun jogging with someone. Today I was on the last stretch of concrete next to the train line, having just started walking to cool down when an old man in biking shorts came up next to me, screamed through Maria Mena on my iPod "KOOOM IGJEN!!" Well, I couldn't give up then could I, so jerked the headphones out, and started running after him. "Breath in on three, out of two" he said, before adding his wife sucks at running as well, but this breathing-technique was something he learned from his gymnastic teacher back in the old days. I followed him the last 400 meters before he went straight and I went left and I yelled a thank you after him. Bright red, and out of breath I reached home, only to conclude I can do 11 lousy full push ups and can't reach my toes with my legs straight.

But how did this frenzy start? The bikini season is over, 11 months til next time my belly button have to face the world. Well, I was visiting my 6-year old cousin last week, and she wanted me to play Barbie with her. I got an undressed doll and eagerly picked out a cool outfit which I surprisingly couldn't get on. I asked Filippa what was wrong, if I had to pull harder or something, but she looked at me with innocent eyes and said "That's for Barbie's friend. She's thinner."