"On the contrary!"

At the moment I'm writing my essay in psychology,and trying to escape the incoming academic meltdown, I'm taking small breaks to creep around on wikipedia. There, I stumbled across the article on Henrik Ibsen. I've read it a few times before, and suddenly I realized why:

"On 23 May 1906, Ibsen died in his home at Arbins gade 1 in Christiania (now Oslo) after a series of strokes in March 1900. When, on 22 May, his nurse assured a visitor that he was a little better, Ibsen spluttered his last words "On the contrary" ("Tvertimod!"). He died the following day at 2:30 P.M."

You live your life writing plays that can't be said to just be about sugar, spice and everything nice, pointing at how things never were as good as they seemed. And then he goes down like that. Nice.

Åh, til dere som ikke helt skjønner hvordan dere endte opp her; jeg har fått overført alle mine bloglovin-følgere fra min forrige blogg, og over til denne. Håper det er greit for dere fine folk.

Daydreaming? Pfft, never

Sometimes I wonder how the world would appear to me if I was a bird. (No, nono, I've not gone mad, bonkers and downright crazy after all this reading and writing. I think of these things all the time. If that's reassuring.) I mean, I see the world like I do, because I know gravity holds me down. There are places I can go to, and others I'll never see, because I am human and stuck with my feet down on the ground. So, I wonder, how would I look at myself and the world, if I could just take flight whenever I fancied, if I could cross rivers and mountains and roads like nothing? It would be odd, to live with a whole other dimension to the world; to not only be able to go left and right, but to be able to suddenly just go up, in diagonals and swirls.

They're a lucky bunch, those pesky little feather-balls.

Come on, do the idiot dance

Listening to Pendulum after the right amount of coffee and good thoughts, just makes me want to throw my books out the window, drink an indecent amount of alcohol and dance like a complete idiot through the university facilities. Might be because I'm up far too early, might be because my brain's gotten severely injured just by being attached to.. well, me. Or it might be that I need to get out more. Whatever makes me seem less like a total nerd, and more like something awesome. Now, come on, let's dance like the idiots we are.

Drinking perfume

If I could choose to smell like one drink in the world, it would be jasmine tea. It's like drinking perfume, it makes me want to bathe in it just about every time I take a sip.

The other day I found a small cart of a green tea with, yes, jasmine, lying in the back of my cupboard; part of the infinite amounts of tea I brought home from Sri Lanka last year. Curiously investigating the cardboard remains, I found nothing but crumbles and a vague smell of something far beyond good. And, now I could describe how I went about to get my hands onto some of this yummy tea again, how I ran around town with a frantic whisper of "jasmine, mm, yes, woo, I can drink perfume!". But no. I just went down to the city centre, bought a large box and held it like a idol over my head - all the way home to my tea cup and hot water. And glory, glory, it was good.



And that's it. My declaration of love towards jasmine tea. Yum.

In awe

I'm in awe. It's so beautiful, I find it hard to believe it's even authentic. It makes me want to book a flight to a far away mountain and climb it, just so I can see more of this planet. And then I realize the only adventures I'll be doing the next month is climbing the ridiculously large pile of books I've got to read for my exams. The only foreign fields I'll travel, are the ones of theory and coffee so strong it could knock an elephant out cold. Fantastic.

Inhaling light, and all there's to it

Just realized how the title of the blog might make me appear more saint-like and believing than intended. Don't know if it's just the way my own mind works, but it suddenly came off as semi-religious in my eyes. Which, well, it's not. I'm not really the one to dedicate my blogs to any higher force. (I could stretch to dedicate it to my own god though; the allmighty caffeine. Oh, how I pray to Thee and Thy power. Ah, well, ok.)

It is however, a tiny homage to one of my favourite bands: In Flames. Swedish people looking all manly and grinding on their instruments, just oh-so-right. "Inhale the light" is simply a line stolen from their song "Minus". And to raise the bar on this already awesome morning, here's another song:

The anger and shouting and the pointing of fingers

Quite often, while glaring at the books and articles I'm supposed to read and even worse - understand, I find myself asking myself "Why the hell do I need to read this? How on earth is this ever relevant for my education?" Mentally I spit on the authors, I dig up their bodies and punch them really, really hard. And then two, maybe three months go by, and I realize I need everything I've read. In the back of my mind I feel Marx and the whole crew smirk at me, with the I-told-you-so-attitude painted all over them. And I grind my teeth, clench my fists and jump head first into another text I don't see the point of.

I swear, being a student could've given a corpse high blood-pressure.

Fresh

Blogging, to me, is like a rollercoaster - ups and downs come frequently, my interest rising and going down again at what seems like an everchanging pace. Yet, I like it. It's fun, it's supplies me with a place to ramble and put up pictures of the tea I drink and the days I go through.

I'm giving it a go in English this time, as my mothertongue seems to lack a lot of the words I search for when describing things and thoughts. I'm not native in this language though, so we'll see how it goes. So, cheers, here's to a fresh start.