Clever Trevor.
Oh yeah. I got 6/5 on my særemne (important Norwegian thingy). Groovy.
I think that's quite good, considering the state I was in. I hadn't slept more than max three hours, I got up at 5 that (Monday) morning, was dragged to the bus stop (literally), had bus, boat, tried convincing myself I wasn't sleepy, danced to BigBang, arrived train station (Nationaltheatret), bought orange juice and ice coffee, helped crazy 25-year old brazilian guy find Stockholm (hopefully), took the train to Lillestrøm, waited, took the bus home, fetched bus, was promised to be driven, was late because my dad is like me/I'm like my dad, arrived school 15 minutes too late, almost fell asleep, ate breakfast, felt slightly panicky because I couldn't think of anything clever to write, wrote 8 pages of draft and then 11 1/2 pages in neat-writing (innføring). I improvised quite a lot during the last 3 1/2 pages, and during the whole innføring in general.
So yes, I am pleased.
Had New Norwegian test yesterday, I wrote a portait interview about Wildenvey ♥. I'm rather pleased with that as well, but I keep thinking about sentences I wrote and think how I could've done them better, and last night, in the middle of falling asleep, I was thinking about what I wrote at the very last page (the 7th page), and actually opened my eyes and said "faen" because I realised I'd written "skole" instead of "skule". Idiot me. And, yes, geeky me.
Now I'm going to have eurythmics. Or whatever. We have a theme day at school, it's about mental health, and I've heard about this guy talk about how it is to work with youths who want to kill themselves and stuff, and I asked him 23590823905 questions, Miriam asked one, and Other People asked 0. So, I win. Kind of. He said that we should ask if we wondered about stuff, but even the first time I asked, he seemed annoyed, as if I was trying to ask a difficult question he couldn't answer to make him look stupid. He did answer, though. It's in my BLOOD, OK? My friggin' JOB is to interview people ABOUT their jobs. So there. OksoduringthebreakIalsoaskedhimifhecouldjustmoveabitaway
fromthewallbecausehewaslikethreemetresawayfromusanditwasa
largeroomandhisbackwasclutchingtothewallandheused
amicrophoneanditwasafrigginGYMNASTICSHALLandhejust
readaloudfromapaperanditdidnotreallyseemlikeheknewhisjob. He was like "Yeah, so I'm a... *reads note closely* Enviromental therapist, and I'm... S... Swedish, yep" and stuff. MIRIAM SAW IT IT'S TRUE HE WAS REALLY LIKE THAT.
For closure:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Inger!
I think that's quite good, considering the state I was in. I hadn't slept more than max three hours, I got up at 5 that (Monday) morning, was dragged to the bus stop (literally), had bus, boat, tried convincing myself I wasn't sleepy, danced to BigBang, arrived train station (Nationaltheatret), bought orange juice and ice coffee, helped crazy 25-year old brazilian guy find Stockholm (hopefully), took the train to Lillestrøm, waited, took the bus home, fetched bus, was promised to be driven, was late because my dad is like me/I'm like my dad, arrived school 15 minutes too late, almost fell asleep, ate breakfast, felt slightly panicky because I couldn't think of anything clever to write, wrote 8 pages of draft and then 11 1/2 pages in neat-writing (innføring). I improvised quite a lot during the last 3 1/2 pages, and during the whole innføring in general.
So yes, I am pleased.
Had New Norwegian test yesterday, I wrote a portait interview about Wildenvey ♥. I'm rather pleased with that as well, but I keep thinking about sentences I wrote and think how I could've done them better, and last night, in the middle of falling asleep, I was thinking about what I wrote at the very last page (the 7th page), and actually opened my eyes and said "faen" because I realised I'd written "skole" instead of "skule". Idiot me. And, yes, geeky me.
Now I'm going to have eurythmics. Or whatever. We have a theme day at school, it's about mental health, and I've heard about this guy talk about how it is to work with youths who want to kill themselves and stuff, and I asked him 23590823905 questions, Miriam asked one, and Other People asked 0. So, I win. Kind of. He said that we should ask if we wondered about stuff, but even the first time I asked, he seemed annoyed, as if I was trying to ask a difficult question he couldn't answer to make him look stupid. He did answer, though. It's in my BLOOD, OK? My friggin' JOB is to interview people ABOUT their jobs. So there. OksoduringthebreakIalsoaskedhimifhecouldjustmoveabitaway
fromthewallbecausehewaslikethreemetresawayfromusanditwasa
largeroomandhisbackwasclutchingtothewallandheused
amicrophoneanditwasafrigginGYMNASTICSHALLandhejust
readaloudfromapaperanditdidnotreallyseemlikeheknewhisjob. He was like "Yeah, so I'm a... *reads note closely* Enviromental therapist, and I'm... S... Swedish, yep" and stuff. MIRIAM SAW IT IT'S TRUE HE WAS REALLY LIKE THAT.
For closure:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Inger!