Ablation
I live! I survived the take-home exam, didn't overdose on coffee (though I think 2,4 litres over 36 hours might be borderline), and didn't do anything overly drastic. I pulled at my hair, had desperate video conferences and threw a few books around. We had a fit in the middle of a Stanley Fish-discussion (mad reader-response guy, believes a text does not exist until someone reads it), of just how silly it sounded. Yelling at someone about how the text you're reading isn't real feels ridiculous. I tried to explain it to my brother.
'No, the text doesn't exist until you read it. It's like the tree that falls in the forest. Does it make sound when no one's there to hear it? There is no text until someone reads it. Meaning is created by the act of meaning. Get it?'
'Eeeh, no. I'm so glad I can carry backpack, shoot things, walk in the cold and not do that shit.'
Just now I watched an episode of Sons of Anarchy. Between bouts of gratuitous violence one of the characters got a job offer. And I thought, 'Oh my god, a job offer. Being offered a job. By someone who wants you to come work for them. I'd kill for that.' Not that I don't enjoy the violence, or the men looking intimidating in leather. But the idea of a job offer nearly floored me. I am so sick of the student life.
Anette, Hilde, Marion and I met when we all studied English together. We promise each other to meet regularly, but we only manage to get all four of us in one place a few times a year. We managed three of four last week, for pizzas and wine. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to take pictures. First, we had pizzas at Villa Paradiso. Anette was a characteristic 30 minutes late, Marion had to work late and couldn't make it. The threshold at Villa Paradiso is akin to a magical wardrobe. You go from snow, ice, feeling like you're wearing bubble wrap for a coat, and into warmth, cramped tables, 'Bongiorno', 'grazie' and Oslo's best pizzas. After too much food and wine, we stumbled up the street to Bar Bocca. I had a Stirred Sling, which comes with a warning from the bartender: 'I gotta warn you, that's really just liquor in a cocktail glass. It's good, though. You sure you're up to it?' Who can resist a challenge from a bartender? I had the stirred sling, and some more wine.
Thursday morning I was awake at 6. Considering the number of Stirred Slings I had, I should at least have had a headache. I was disappointingly fine. So I met Kristine for coffee/breakfast, and we went shopping for cast iron pots for her new flat. We felt like domestic goddesses, getting up early to buy discounted kitchenware. On Friday I paid for my frivolous two days, and wrote essays and read environmental law. Saturday morning I got up too early, and joined my parents on a quick trip to Sweden and the cottage (Norwegians go to Sweden to buy cheap food and liquor). For dinner we stopped by Spisekroken in Halden. Another Italian restaurant, run by a lovely Norwegian-Italian couple. He's Italian, and cooks with bravado. She tries to keep him from running off on his bike when the weather's good and the restaurant's quiet. They make delicious pasta and pizza, and espresso that curls my toes.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. I went for a run, nearly killed myself on the ice down a steep hill. I worked yesterday and today I've been writing another essay, read more environmental law - vaguest subject yet, everything is prefaced by 'this isn't really clear-cut'.
'No, the text doesn't exist until you read it. It's like the tree that falls in the forest. Does it make sound when no one's there to hear it? There is no text until someone reads it. Meaning is created by the act of meaning. Get it?'
'Eeeh, no. I'm so glad I can carry backpack, shoot things, walk in the cold and not do that shit.'
Just now I watched an episode of Sons of Anarchy. Between bouts of gratuitous violence one of the characters got a job offer. And I thought, 'Oh my god, a job offer. Being offered a job. By someone who wants you to come work for them. I'd kill for that.' Not that I don't enjoy the violence, or the men looking intimidating in leather. But the idea of a job offer nearly floored me. I am so sick of the student life.
Anette, Hilde, Marion and I met when we all studied English together. We promise each other to meet regularly, but we only manage to get all four of us in one place a few times a year. We managed three of four last week, for pizzas and wine. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to take pictures. First, we had pizzas at Villa Paradiso. Anette was a characteristic 30 minutes late, Marion had to work late and couldn't make it. The threshold at Villa Paradiso is akin to a magical wardrobe. You go from snow, ice, feeling like you're wearing bubble wrap for a coat, and into warmth, cramped tables, 'Bongiorno', 'grazie' and Oslo's best pizzas. After too much food and wine, we stumbled up the street to Bar Bocca. I had a Stirred Sling, which comes with a warning from the bartender: 'I gotta warn you, that's really just liquor in a cocktail glass. It's good, though. You sure you're up to it?' Who can resist a challenge from a bartender? I had the stirred sling, and some more wine.
Thursday morning I was awake at 6. Considering the number of Stirred Slings I had, I should at least have had a headache. I was disappointingly fine. So I met Kristine for coffee/breakfast, and we went shopping for cast iron pots for her new flat. We felt like domestic goddesses, getting up early to buy discounted kitchenware. On Friday I paid for my frivolous two days, and wrote essays and read environmental law. Saturday morning I got up too early, and joined my parents on a quick trip to Sweden and the cottage (Norwegians go to Sweden to buy cheap food and liquor). For dinner we stopped by Spisekroken in Halden. Another Italian restaurant, run by a lovely Norwegian-Italian couple. He's Italian, and cooks with bravado. She tries to keep him from running off on his bike when the weather's good and the restaurant's quiet. They make delicious pasta and pizza, and espresso that curls my toes.
The rest of the weekend was uneventful. I went for a run, nearly killed myself on the ice down a steep hill. I worked yesterday and today I've been writing another essay, read more environmental law - vaguest subject yet, everything is prefaced by 'this isn't really clear-cut'.