Is what I’m doing at the moment, and I apologise. I apologise to you (as in You, Him with a capital H, the possibly-but-I-really-have-no-idea-man-of-my-dreams), it must be very confusing. And I apologise to the rest of you (my constant and occasional readers), this must be getting pretty monotonous.

So I am apologising. I am also asking for forbearance, as the aforementioned shilly-shallying is likely to go on for some time, I seem powerless to stop it.

Take this week. For at least two days I was convinced I had cracked it. I wanted friendship, nothing more. Yesterday, however, the sort of mood I was in made it excessively likely that had He (you) come over and said “How about it, then?” I would very probably have said “Oh, yes, please” and we could have walked happily off into the sunset. It may have had something to do with mental exhaustion from various other things going on, especially work (work, work and work), and I might have regretted my rashness seconds later. We’ll never know. And today? Well, today I’m back to “Well, I don’t know, maybe not”. I have no idea what sort of signals I am sending anymore. Tolerably confused and confusing ones, I suspect. For this I apologise also.

And I’m still at work. I have masses more to do. All I really want to do is go home and sleep for a week, though, and I think there is a merit to knowing when to call it a day and go home. Cleaning up code that has been done in a state of befuddled exhaustion is liable to take a lot longer than actually writing the code afresh in the morning.

Voice in my head: Vonda Shepard repeatedly insisting “Why would I subject myself to this kind of disaster?”

Chilling newscast this morning. The British and US representatives in the UN apparently had something of a major disagreement. Not good.

The US ambassador to Norway is not happy either. Not good either. On the other hand, he seems to have missed out on a lot of history classes. Apparently he has held a speech or similar saying that the US are disappointed in Norway’s attitude to the war on Saddam. The US, he says, have always come to Norway’s support, and think that maybe they could, reasonably, expect some support in return when their own security is threatened. ‘Scuse, me, but when, excactly, have we had help from the US when our security has been at risk? During the napoleonic wars, Norway, being under Denmark, suffered from the British naval dominance in that imports were largely cut off and a lot of people starved. Granted, the US was, for a time, at war with Britain and allied with France, but I don’t think we saw much benefit, to be honest. At other times, the US was neutral or even in half-alliance with Britain, which certainly did us no good. WW2 (see, Norway hasn’t been involved in all that many wars lately), yeah, so, ok, you chipped in. It took you a couple of years to do so, however, and I seem to remember something about a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour being the deciding factor in bringing you into the conflict. That was December 1941. We’d then been under occupation since April the year before.

What else, oh yes, the Marshall Plan. Well, we’re very grateful. I fail to see that it has much bearing on the current issue, however.

And don’t even try to tell me that the main point of NATO, from the US point of view, was, for many years, anything but preventing the Soviet Union from getting any bases nearer US territory than they already had.

I’m sorry. We’re just not buying it.

From the quite excellent mailing list/webpage Word Spy, a word for my perpetual condition:

earworm (EER.wurm) n.

The Germans use the word Ohrwurm (rhymes with “door worm,” where the
“w” is pronounced like a “v”) to denote these cognitively infectious
musical agents. Whenever somebody complains to you that he just can’t
keep the latest pop tune from running through his head, tell him he
can dispel it by calling it by name and by thinking about the
original German meaning, which captures some of the mnemonicalli
parasitical connotations of the word, for Ohrwurm literally means
“ear worm” and is also used to refer to a kind of worm that can crawl
into the ear.
–Howard Rheingold, “Untranslatable words,” The Whole Earth Review,
December 22, 1987

Oh joy! A diagnosis!

Voice in my head (or earworm if you like): Ole Paus – Blues for Pyttsann Jespersens pårørende

I feel like quoting Joan Armatrading (Voice in my head: “So why don’t you?”), more specifically, the start of a song that was used in a pretty daft film a few years ago: “I’m not in love, but I’m open to persuasion.” According to her official website, it’s her best-known line. Well, it’s the only one I know, so that doesn’t surprise me.

Anyway, I’m sure there was I point I was trying to make before I got sidetracked. Ah, yes: I’m sick of persuading myself that it would be very convenient to feel this, that or the other. I wish, for once, someone else would do the persuading. Or do I?

Voice in my ear: Melissa Etheridge – the record simply named Melissa Etheridge, very good music for when you feel a lot, or want to feel a lot.

My apologies for having gotten you all excited (to those of you that were). I doubt there’s anything more than friendship in it, after all. I seem to have come to my senses somewhat before getting myself into a “what the hell was I thinking” situation for a change. Not that new friends aren’t a source of excitement, because they are. But, you know, don’t wait for the invitations for my wedding just yet.

Just as well, really. What with my schedule (exhibit A: I was at work from 8 am to 8 pm today) at the moment, the last thing I need is a boyfriend. Yes, ok, so it would be kinda nice to have one at my beck and call, one I could phone up when I felt like it (“Hi, come over please, I need a hug.” or “I’d quite like company for dinner today. Oh, you’ll cook? Great!”), but wouldn’t expect anything in return, but that’s a bit one-sided and hardly the sort of relationship I’m looking for.

Which is another proof that I’m not as interested as I wish I were. Surely, if I were falling in love, thoughts like “Oh, lord, he’d expect me to spend time with him” would not occur to me?

Or am I so worried about talking myself into something I don’t really feel (something I am very good at) that I am now talking myself out of something I do really feel?

I dunno. Time will tell.

On a lighter note: My neighbour’s rather dishy.

Voice in my head: Prefab Sprout – Cruel

annoyed OR annoy
i-n-t-j annoying
OR annoyance OR

It makes no sense, but then, neither did the referral search string which supplied all the words for this week’s haiku.

Linda cut my hair on Saturday, and so far almost every person who’s noticed has asked me whether I’ve done anything to the colour, too – it looks lighter, apparently. This confuses me. I’m also contemplating the benefit to letting my hair grow way too long and scruffy before I cut it as a means to get a lot of compliments on how good it looks once I finally get it sorted. A pity I have to go around looking scruffy for weeks first, though.

Voice in my head: We’re in random medley mode. So far this afternoon we’ve been through The Weeping Song (Nick Cave), No One Needs to Know Right Now (Shania Twain), Nobody Does it Better (Carly Simon), Wishing Heart (Lisa Loeb), Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word (Elton John), I Don’t Like Mondays (Boomtown Rats), Grease Lightening (from Grease), Gonna Wash that Man Right Out of my Hair (from that other musical), Sheela-na-gig (PJ Harvey, I just learnt something new by doing an internet search on it) and Vargtimmen (Hedningarna)

I’d be most grateful if someone could explain to me how this works (btw, you need to move the cursor away from the object once you’ve clicked to get a reaction). Most especially I would like to know why it only works when you come up with the number in the specified way.

Confuzzled.

Voice in my head: Nick Cave and Shane McGowan “What a wonderful world” – Is it just me or is the idea of this pair walking round the park and saying pleasantly to each other “Isn’t the world wonderful?” somewhat surreal?

Learn to count with the Friday Five

1. What was the last song you heard?
Icehouse – Crazy

2. What were the last two movies you saw?
8 Mile (excellent!)
Easter Parade

3. What were the last three things you purchased?
The Rough Guide to Ireland.
A pint of cider.
6 felt-tip pens.

4. What four things do you need to do this weekend?
Pick Linda up at the train station.
Go to Akademika to spend a gift certificate which expires very soon.
See “Jeg er ikke Dina” Saturday night.
Sample Arve’s whisky.

5. Who are the last five people you talked to?
Nils
Magne
Ireen
Riaz
Bjørn

I was asked: “Well, what do you like about him, then?” and I was puzzled for an answer. I did say, quite candidly, that at the moment I’m not sure whether there is anything I like about him, or whether it is simply a case of “there is nothing that I don’t like about him”, which is not the same thing at all. It might be mostly a case of “He’s there, and he’s available.” There is a reason why I am proceeding with caution here, you know.

On the other hand, I am not quite that cynical, or that desperate. There are specific things I like, of course, why would I want to be friends if there weren’t? I like his sense of humour. I like the way he talks, the way he argues a point, the way we agree on a lot of things but not everything. I like what I know about his taste in books and film and other stuff so far, and I’d like to know more. I like the way he tells a story. I like… Uhm. I can think of a few more things I like, but they’re hardly anonymous, so I’ll leave it at that for the time being.

So far, you’d agree, friendship is really all there is to it.

However, I also like his eyes. And I like his general shape. And obviously: looks matter, not in the “tall, dark and handsome” sense, but in the “he looks just right” sense, which is way more individual. I want to find out how it feels to have his arm around my shoulders while watching a movie. I want to try slow-dancing with him. In fact, the thought makes me go all gooey.

I like the way he seems to like me, an attractive feature in any guy who isn’t otherwise totally repulsive (though not enough on its own, obviously, or I’d have been married years ago).

Most of all, right now, I like the way I seem to have gone into a schoolgirl crush. I’d forgotten how thrilling it could be. The way an unexpected glimpse of him from the bus the other day sent my heart skipping. The way I feel like giggling every time he looks at me. I think I’ll just enjoy this for a while.