Interesting test with appaling name:

1. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (100%)
2. Orthodox Quaker (87%)
3. Liberal Quakers (86%)
4. Unitarian Universalism (77%)
5. Reform Judaism (67%)
6. Mainline to Conservative Christian/Protestant (62%)
7. New Age (57%)
8. Seventh Day Adventist (57%)
9. Eastern Orthodox (53%)
10. Roman Catholic (53%)
11. Neo-Pagan (51%)
12. Secular Humanism (51%)
13. Bahá’í Faith (49%)
14. Mahayana Buddhism (46%)
15. Theravada Buddhism (45%)
16. New Thought (43%)
17. Sikhism (41%)
18. Taoism (41%)
19. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (39%)
20. Orthodox Judaism (39%)
21. Hinduism (38%)
22. Scientology (37%)
23. Jainism (37%)
24. Islam (34%)
25. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) (30%)
26. Nontheist (27%)
27. Jehovah’s Witness (22%)

I assume accepting abortion, divorce and homosexuality is the reason for the very low scores of the last four or so. (The fact that those three are lumped together like that does not imply that to me the latter is “of the same nature”, the first two being more of a case of “the lesser of two evils” and should be prevented at cause level (avoiding getting pregnant and not marrying someone you’re not meant to marry), whereas homosexuality seems to me to be a matter of fact, and not something I personally have any right to approve or disapprove of.)

Voice(s) in my head: Bjørn Eidsvåg and Lisa Nilsson in duet – Mysteriet deg

Walking along quite happily thinking about this and that when suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, a whole line of thought just disappears.

Sound familiar, at all? This happens to me occasionally, and this evening it happened in the middle of “But I don’t understand why…” (or, as I happened to be thinking in Norwegian at the time, “Men jeg skjønner ikke hvorfor…”). Bang. Stop. Finito. I have absolutely no idea whatsoever what the continuation of that sentence was supposed to be. I can’t remember what preceded it, either, except I know I had a parallell though process going “Good grief” repeatedly in response to the current choice of music, which was the few bars of the first song from a record collection they keep trying to make people buy on VH1 commercials. I think the artist is called Eric Epstein, as those are the only words I understand. The text on the box is in Hebrew (or, at least, the Hebrew alphabet). The lyrics and voiceover sound more like German, I suppose it could be Yiddish. Anyway, humming just those couple of bars seems even more pointless than humming those few bars from Faith Hill, hence the “Good grief”. Maybe my brain just got overloaded at trying to maintain two lines of thought at the same time? Normally this isn’t a problem, though.

In any case it is very disconcerting. How am I supposed to find out why if I don’t know why what? The answer, obviously, is 42, but what is the question?

I don’t think you need to send the men with straightjackets, I had a bit of a tense day yesterday, what with the FAT and everything (it went well, btw, but I was all tensed up the whole time – 6 hours – just waiting for something to go terribly wrong. Not that there was any reason for anything to go wrong, just the general principle of “anything that can’t possibly go wrong will”) so I think maybe though I was out for a walk (fresh air being considered useful occasionally) my brain might have been even more so.

This responsibility thing takes some getting used to.

Voice in my head: Alanis Morisette singing “these are 21 things I want in a lover” (which, for a welcome change from the previous couple of days I A. like and B. know the complete lyrics and tune of. Nice.)

Apologies in advance to Roger and anyone else who takes umbrage, but really, Enrique Iglesias freaks me out. He’s creepy. It’s not just that I don’t hold with the whole random facial hair and tragic expression look (and I don’t), but his lyrics… “Soon you will find: You can run, you can hide, but you can’t escape my love.” Sure, that might be some people’s idea of being romantic, but it’s not mine. Slap a restraining order on that man, please! Which was bad enough. And then came “I don’t know why, but I love to see you cry.” What? Sorry? Did you really say what I thought you said? Creepy. I’m glad my tv has a mute button.

Creepy. Hm. Maybe I could dress up as Enrique Iglesias for Halloween?

Speaking of Halloween, here’s a Halloween treat for you. Have fun.

Voice in my head: On and off this morning it’s been Faith Hill “Cry a little, die just a little” which gets very annoying as that’s not only the only part of the lyrics I can remember but also the only few bars of the song I know. So it’s exactly like listening to a broken record, except there is no way of turning it off. Courtesy of the theme of this post, it has now changed to Enrique Iglesias singing “Escape” which really is no improvement AT ALL. Really, the choice of music on my mental jukebox is the best argument for supposing me to have a split personality.

Much as I’d rather be at home reading, there is something quite enjoyable at being in at work when there’s nobody else around. I can play cds while I work, and there are no interruptions (except the ones I create myself).

I only wish I wasn’t working on the new server setup – one of the many excellent reasons servers are normally kept in a room by themselves is the noise from the fan. And these are NOISY. At least they are WAY too noisy to be sitting on the desk next to my workstation. They’ll be moved tomorrow, to somewhere out of the way, but while we’re in the setup process, having them immediately accessible is a good thing. Or would be, if it wasn’t for the noise.

Voice in my ear: The servers, humming along to Smokey Robinson and The Miracles singing The Tracks of my Tears

According to my mother, who called me to check whether I’d seen the news this evening – and at my answering no, asked whether I had heard that Richar Harris has died, which is silly, I don’t need to see the news for that sort of thing, this is what the internet’s for, and, oh, dear, this sentence seems to have gone completely astray/awry/aglee (take your pick).

Like I was saying: According to my mother the evening news ran a story this evening on how Norwegian soldiers are being given martial arts training. There are concerns about this, apparently, because – get this – it will enable them to kill people… It occurrs to me that someone, somewhere, must have completely misunderstood the point of an army.

Voice in my ear: Alamis Morisette singing Narcissus Boy

Lucky at games, unlucky in love. Is that an idiom in English at all? Anyhow, I won a bottle in the Friday wine lottery at work again. Is this symptomatic?

At least if I decide to be depressed at the possible implications of my luck, the prize is unbeatably useful for drowning sorrows…

At Not So Soft Meg (or Maggie – *giggle*) talks about adolescent crushes, and I was struck by recognition at the words: “Regardless, I carefully tore them out, and blu-tacked them in a row to my bedroom wall, in a long row above the bed, not because I fancied Rob or Morten or *shudder* Dolph, but because I thought I ought to.”

I had A-ha blue-tacked to the walls when I was 12, a few years later the posters were mostly Bon Jovi. A-ha, well, they were Norwegian. I was obliged to think that they were inexpressibly handsome. In fact, I thought nothing of the sort, I always thought they looked faintly absurd, but such a sentiment would have been socially unacceptable. At 13-15 one of my best friends had a major crush on Jon Bon Jovi, and in order to enter into the spirit of the thing, I had to pick a group member for myself (a member of another group would not have done for the elaborate stories we used to invent), and settled on Dave Bryan. I don’t think I ever wholly convinced myself. I like Bon Jovi’s music, but I have never taken to guys with long hair. Jon’s looks have improved beyond belief after he shed the poodle hairdo. I had to check the official website to find out what Dave looks like now. His hair’s still too long (mind you, Jon would benefit from taking even more of the length off, so he’s not the only one).

In retrospect it’s funny how I chose to conform in this respect. Everyone liked A-ha, so I had to pretend to like A-ha. Everyone had a crush on some pop-idol or another, so I had to invent a crush on a pop-idol. I don’t seem to have been very hesitant about expressing my own opinion, however deviant from the accepted norm, on other points. Well, I guess you’re allowed some “phases” as a teenager, even if you’re trying to grow into an independent and well-adjusted (according to my own standards) individual. You’ve got to try something in order to reject it, don’t you? Well, I’ve tried conforming. I didn’t like it.

I still like Bon Jovi’s music. I never really liked A-ha and still don’t. And my walls are pin-up free.

Voice in my ear: VH1 fashion awards

1. What is your favorite scary movie?
I don’t really like scary movies, actually. Can I go with “The Nightmare Before Christmas”? I thought not. How about “The Silence of the Lambs”? That was pretty good. And pretty scary.

2. What is your favorite Halloween treat?
Well, we don’t really do Halloween in Norway, so I have very little point of reference here. What is a Halloween treat, specifically? Will I ever have had it? I can only think of pumpkin pie, and I’ve never had that.

3. Do you dress up for Halloween? If so, describe your best Halloween costume.
As I said, we don’t really do Halloween. My best costume ever was the Robin Hood costume I had on my birthday when I was ten or so – I had a costume party, obviously, I don’t normally dress up as Robin Hood just for the fun of it.

4. Do you enjoy going to haunted houses or other spooky events?
Not really, no. I used to be scared of the dark as a kid. Still am, to some extent, and my imagination doesn’t need any help in coming up with scary stuff. Which is also whay I avoid scary movies.

5. Will you dress up for Halloween this year?
See 2&3. If I were in the States or if I were invited to a costume party, I would jump at the chance, though. I love dressing up.

Theresa is currently reminding us that it’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Do those checks!

You are a very simple and leisurely person. You are quite contented with your life and have no ambition to improve it. Which Blogging Tool Are You?

I’m 91% freak!!

I have blocked the address in question on the hateful site. For why? For because I don’t want any more messages like this:

“Dear Ragnhild,

You have a secret admirer but you have to list some guesses in order to find out who it is — Find out now!

Here’s a CLUE:

Your secret admirer is between 26 and 30 years old

Best wishes,

The SLY Matchmaker”

Sly is right.

Well. The between 26 and 30 rules out a few people, but still leaves quite a large proprotion of the world’s population. I think I will have to agree with Donna. A complete non-starter, so who cares who it is?

Still. I am saddled with an active curiosity. You know when they handed out character traits? Well, clearly I couldn’t be bothered to stand in line for Patience, I suspect I must have gone over to the Curiosity stand instead to find out what the fuss over there was all about.

We’re having a majorly important FAT on Tuesday, and I feel no kind of ready. I ought to be running around like headless chickens. Wait, that can’t be right, there aren’t enough of me… As I was saying: I ought to be running around like a headless chicken. I’m not, though. I’m taking it all strangely calmly. Well, several days left. Plenty of time to panic yet.

Voice in my head: Singing in the Rain (it’s been pouring down all day, though maybe ut should have been Singin in the Sleet, as that’s what it was when I was outside in it this morning)