Norway

Apropos what it means to be a Norwegian... My bachelor thesis is actually about this topic and apparently Norwegians under communicate their differences and display equality. Anyway, I wonder if I should use this as empirical material.

;)

To be a Norwegian

When spending too much time watching status updates on Facebook, you're bound to stumble upon something interesting sooner or later. Today, unfortunately, it was later, but worth the wait indeed.

A friend of mine posted a link to an article in The New York Times about the Norwegians' success in the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, claiming nine gold medals. The article in itself is mediocre, but it had none less than 301 comments (which all make it even more interesting to read) and to me it was a small history lesson about one of the great characters of Norwegian history.

Anyway, this unraveled an endless flow of thoughts and questions about what it means to be a Norwegian, and it brought me back to a discussion we had in class around the same subject. In a class filled with about 40 anthropology students and an Argentinean lecturer, not one of us could put down in a sentence what being Norwegian meant. The lecturer asked if it said something in the original Constitution what being a Norwegian was, and to our recon it did not.

Of course the class ended, but the question and the fact that it seemed indefinable would not stop bothering me and it consumed me the entire day. I finally put it to rest when my sleepiness was unbearable and it hasn't awoken until now. The article started up the machinery, but alas it's time to go to bed to recover from the influenza that's hijacking my body. I'll pick up on this lose end some other time, but in the mean time I hope I gave you something to think about.

The one with the knee

Stuck on a couch. Indeed, that's what I've been all day. Studying and letting my mind get lost in many of the fascinating programs on Discovery Channel from time to time. I can't let ppl know often enough how underrated TimeWarp is. Amazing! Anyway, I did actually get quite a lot of studying done. I'm reading a book on how the institutionalized project:development has gone terribly wrong in Lesotho during the 1970s. Believe it or not: it's a page-turner.

I've been very lucky this year with the books on my curriculum. Most of them are very well written and keep a nice balance between theory and empirical observations. As I'm studying anthropology I read plenty of strange empirical observations from all around the world and strange doesn't even come close to describing some of the everyday activities that are occurring all across the globe. Sometimes it feels like I'm reading a fairytale book. It's safe to say that I'm in love with my subject of study.

The reason I've been a studying couch potato today is because I woke with an aching, unbendable knee. What changed between last night and this morning, I don't know. Did I do squats in my sleep? Sure feels like it. I rolled out of bed, into my sweats and onto the couch. Good thing the kitchen's close by or else I would be starving.

From time to time it's nice to study at home, but at the same time I know there's a lot of hidden traps I might, most likely, fall into. Of course there's the regular "now seems like a great time to clean the kitchen" or "I feel like organizing my underwear" and not to mention "I deserve a long shower, a facial, manicure and pedicure". Strange how things like this seem like an incredibly good idea when I know that's not at all what I need to be doing. Thankfully (?) this was not an option today since, well you know, I was glued to the couch.

Then there are the other possible pitfalls. The mental ones. They don't involve much movement. Yes, I'll do them instead. Ahh, geez. Time to get analytic, pessimistic, full of expectations and let the mind wonder off to "what-if"-land. Even thou I can tell from early on that this is going to end badly, I still knock on the door with all the stop- and keep out-signs, only to go down a mudslide to upset- and disappointment-land. You never need to ask a girl twice if she feels like analyzing and trying to make sense out of whatever-it-might-be (yes, it usually includes the XY chromosomed human beings). Be warned: BIG MISTAKE!

So now I sitting here, on the couch of course, pretty upset with myself for having to walk down that road, when I knew so very well were it would end. It's Friday night and I was suppose to go to a concert, but instead I'm, tadaa, on the couch feeling blue ready to watch a sad movie (like icing on the cake). Well, I wouldn't be able to attend the concert anyway due to my knee, but hey when feeling sorry for myself I don't pay attention to details.

On the bus with destination grumpy-town and currently inhabiting in the country of pessimism.

Focus

My Starbucks mug is empty and I just finished the last piece of chocolate (new melkesjokolade with Kvikk Lunch is recommendable). My book is lying wide open in front of me begging of me to read a few more pages. Political anthropology. I could come off as a boring, uninteresting and a not-worth-wasting-time-on-subject, but on the contrary. To my surprise, it's actually the quite opposite.

I've never been too interested in political structures or power methods (as the book refers to it as), but in a cultural perspective the strangest things can lure its way into my interest-zone.

The question then remains: why aren't my eyes focused on the book and not the computer? I guess that's one of the many mysteries of life, and not to mention the mysteries of the human brain. Why is it that we keep wandering off into the realm of dreams and to-do lists, and for some reason suddenly find ourselves preoccupied with something else. I don't know how it happened. Last thing I know I was reading about political symbolism amongst the Creoles in Sierra Leone...

Let me retrace my steps. Reading about Sierra Leone (political anthropology). Drinking coffee (Starbucks). Drifting off to New York (thanks to the Starbucks). Easter holiday in New York (still the Starbucks)? Looking up flights at expedia.com (how to get to NYC). Checking my e-mail (while on the Internet, why not multi-task). E-mail from the library (the books I reserved are ready for me to pick up). Check facebook (while on the Internet...). Couldn't find any flights that didn't include 12h at Heathrow (not a big fan of London or Heathrow). Upset and frustrated (aha, I see where this is going). Blog.

Ok, now that the mystery is unraveled, I guess I have to get the books. And when I get back home, without doubt, I won't be able to put them away. In other words, I can surely close the political anthropology book for now.

Life is fairly predictable.