None of the bookshops in town seem to have the missing books (Have his Carcase and Lord Peter) so now I have to wait for them to be ordered. It might take weeks! Help!
Maybe I should read some Sartre? I bet that’ll cheer me up.
Music in my head: Love Surpreme (Robbie Williams – do you see a pattern here? Well, actually, I think that last one was playing in the shop, so that’s why that got stuck. Still, it fits nicely.)
Every man is an island.
Well, f**k being an island, I want to join a continent.
Great, I read a crime novel, and now I’m having an existential crisis.
Had to reread much of Busman’s Honeymoon yesterday, in an attempt to clear my head. It sort of helped. At least got two things clear.
One is the old “cynic romantic” contradiction, viz. I believe in “the one and only” but have a bit of a hard time believing I’ll ever meet him. The cynical part of me keeps whispering that as I have yet to meet anyone who I’d even consider (really), quite apart from them being available or interested in me, the chances that I’ll ever meet anyone who can live up to the ideal (and no, I’m not going to publish the list of requirements, you’ll have to figure it out for yourself) who would also happen to think I might live up to his ideal seem very remote. The romantic part of me is humming “I know him by heart” (Vonda Shepard). Right now I’m in a mood to prefer falling in love with someone who doesn’t want me to not falling in love at all. Thinking back, I don’t think I ever have been properly in love, I thought I was, at least once, but with hindsight I think that was more of a case of desperation than anything else. I certainly snapped out of it soon enough. And for those of you who now conclude I’m repressing something or other, I really do not give two hoots if Mr Right turns out to be Ms Right instead. Experience suggests otherwise, but who am I to say?
The other thing that seems clear is that if I were happy with the rest of my life right now I probably wouldn’t feel quite so bad about the lack of romantic complications. And I’m not going to detail the problems with the rest of my life, either, I don’t know who’s reading this thing, so I have to watch what I say. One major problem you will find if you look at the friends page. I’m living in the wrong town. However, there doesn’t seem to be any town I could live in which would any less wrong.
Oops, a meeting coming up…
Music in my head: Find My Love (Fairground Attraction)
Home! Home sweet home! My home is my castle! Phew!
Think I might want to clarify those sentiments in the previous entry a bit, but still need to get some things clear in my head. Especially “Why does this story affect me so much?” Have never reacted this way to a novel before, and, considering how fond I am of reading, it’s left me a bit shell-shocked.
And I have no idea why I’m airing this in public, either, I’m not normally one for wearing my heart on my sleeve, unlike Donna. I suspect I might sometimes give the impression of being brutally honest, but I do keep some things rather private. Oh, well. I’ll get back to you on that, too.
Music in my head: One line from a Lisa Loeb song: “You don’t understand, you don’t understand me, and I want to be understood.”
By the way, I’ve been dreadfully unsociable all weekend, of course. I’ve had to be broken away from the books with a crowbar, not much company in me.
Music in my head: All I Really Want (Alanis Morsette – is that really the title, I wonder?)
I figured out the mobile connection thingy, so I am now communicating with you with no actual physical connection. Wheee!
I’ve finished reading about Lord Peter and Harriet, and it’s put me in a very odd mood. Problem with fiction is you get these relationships that may not actually be possible in real life. Like Lizzy and Darcy, or like Briget and Mark, or Lord Peter and Harriet. Problem is, I’ve very rarely come across one where everything was both so right (in a we were meant for each other kind of way) and where the feelings involved to make it difficult were so like my own. So now I’m depressed in an elated sort of way (makes not much sense), and don’t know what to do about it. I suppose there’s nothing I can do. Reread the books would be good, but I’m not sure that wouldn’t just make it worse. I resent Sayers now, she’s seriously upset my sense (however false) of equilibrium.
And I badly need to go home and be by myself and sort my brain out, and the first bus is not until 2 pm and takes three hours to get me home. Help!
I know it’s kinda sad, but my parents’ friends are really cool. Also, they’ve all managed to keep in touch for eons, which is quite impressive considering they’ve scattered around the country a bit since they went to school together.
Anyway, going to visit my grandparents this weekend, which is good in a increasing cosmic well-being kind of way, as they’ll be happy and also it’s my grandmother’s birthday on Sunday, but is not good in that all I want to do is go home and creep into bed with Lord Peter. Ech, that came out sounding even less healthy than I thought it would. And it doesn’t help saying that Harriet can come, too, does it? Anyway, I’ll go. I’ll bring my nice little Olympus and take some pictures and I’ll get a grip and sort out some HTML or something so that you can get to see some of them, too. However, I have mislaid my phone-line adapter thingy, so unless I can figure out how to make the mobile work with the modem, I’ll be cut off from the world until Sunday evening. Yikes.
Still, I’m sure I can sneak off with Lord Peter a bit at some point during the weekend. There’s always the coach-ride to get there, too, and that’s boring enough to be in need of some romance to make it bearable.
Music in my head: Man on the Moon (Roger, you have got to change that livejournal name or I’ll have to stop reading it! I am getting heartily sick of having REM hanging around crooning in my head, and I used to quite like the song)
This has not been a good week for sleeping. Sunday night I couldn’t sleep (don’t ask me why). Monday night Norwegian television ran the J.K. Rowling special from BBC (Harry Potter and Me), which I’ve been wanting to see as people have been talking about it everywhere, at way too late o’clock (was a rerun from Friday, but I was out Friday). Tuesday, hm, got to bed pretty early Tuesday, but woke up feeling I’d only slept for 2 hours anyway. Yesterday I started Strong Poison (Sayers) and had to finish it. Tonight my father’s in town and we’re meeting some people at Justisen. Doesn’t bode well (for sleep, I mean, am looking forward to the night in general).
Problem with being tired is I feel thoroughly disinclined to work. Also feel thoroughly unqualified, but I think that might be my imagination.
I have a very annoying cough. It is all the more annoying for being infrequent, because it makes it seem a bit silly to go to the doctor. Thing is, it’s been going on for some time. I get one or two coughing fits a day, very dry, feels like I’ve got dust (or a hair or something equally ticklish and icky) stuck in my throat. Water generally helps. But I must have been getting these fits since way before Easter, which would make it a month or so at least. Can you get smoker’s cough when you don’t smoke and generally avoid people who smoke? Maybe the doctor isn’t such a bad idea after all. I think I can even book an appointment over the net (mmm, I like the net).
I got the camera. Yay! Next time I have aliens outside my window I can take their picture to show y’all.
We’re having a Quality Review at work tomorrow, which means I have to be here and can’t go to the lecture I’m supposed to be at (and want to be at). :( Today I’ve tidied papers. Probably a good idea.
Music in my head: Bring me some water (All Donna’s fault. Good music though.)
Just saw Runaway Bride on tv. I think there’s a lot to be said for ditching people at the altar, you get to wear the dress and all and you can do it all again next year without having to go through all the bother of a divorce.
Actually, it’s rather a sweet film.
I have a view over the eastern part of Oslo from my window and right now there’s this odd blinking orange light, ooh, somewhere slightly east of Akershus Castle. It’s very odd. Judging from the distance, it’s too spread out to be one single roadworks vehicle, as it seems to stretch along a block at least. Also, it’s moving. Very odd. Maybe it’s a UFO? (Actually, since it’s not flying it’s more like a UDrivingO or a USlidingO.)
Oh, it’s out of sight now. Never mind.
No, I’m not going mad. I don’t think.
Ok, now I’m getting worried. There are two of them now, there’s another one slightly further up the hill.
I think I am going to go to bed. That seems like a good idea.
Music in the room: Narcissus Boy (Alanis Morisette)