Tracy, where are you? Sunday, July 5th, 2009

G’day!

Here’s what’s on my mind.

I have searched the internet the best I know how for my friend Tracy, but to no avail.

She’s from Edinburgh, Scotland and lived in Reykjavík, Iceland ages ago, from ‘93 to ‘94. That’s where we met. Our friendship started at church were my mum introduced us and I insisted Tracy use my new bike while I travelled to Germany and the States for a few mths to see friends. We were inseperable upon my return, or that’s how I choose to remember things:)

I was, of course, true to form, jealous of her looks and smarts and Gospel knowledge, and so when I sent in my Mormon missionary application papers in 1994 and she joked relentlessly abt me being sent to Scotland, I was not amused, though mostly I was petrified that she’d be right. Nothing against Scotland (though I was hoping for Tonga or the Middle East) but she was always right!!! This also did not amuse me.

You can imagine the depths of my perceived humiliation to have to tell her she’d been right all along when I finally got the papers which invited me to serve in the Scotland Edinburgh Mission. She was rather smug abt the whole affair, understandably:) I remember bringing the papers to her, wanting this to be My Moment to Shine, but knowing it would never pan out as I wanted. Bc she was always right! I wanted to pull the papers out and read something fantastic to her, like “Sister Pieper, you’re off to Some Middle Eastern Country, the first sister mish to be sent there! You will not so much proselyte as just learn Arabic and befriend Muslims and folks of other non-Christian religions to help usher in understanding among people, and world peace.” We sat down outside her house, the sun shining in contest with Tracy’s pretty smile as she said: “So, Scotland it is?” Argh!! I was too proud to deal with this in a joking manner or any other manner for that matter. But it wore off, I think.

And I love Scotland.

We lost touch when I, I think, offended her in regards to the way she lived her life upon returning to Scotland, which wasn’t the way a Mormon missionary thought another Mormon or any other person should live.

I genuinely regret this.

I talked to her on the phone in January 1995, that was our last conversation.

I’ve since lived in Edinburgh, where she’s from, and I’ve searched for her on an off. No luck.

Now I had this idea to blog abt her and tag the post with her names, and see if she googles herself, ha!, and finds this and contacts me:) That would be so cool!

Random things abt Tracy:

• She always carried stamps on her for her frequent posting needs. People don’t post their own letters in Iceland in general, despite there being a smattering of post boxes around, so this was noteworthy to me.
• She also carried a camera around at all times. But she didn’t really like pictures being taken of her. And I cannot find one single photo in my vast portfolio of pictures! That’s not good.
• She had a bff in Edin called Iain, as I recall. He loved to dance to disco.
• Ravenscroft Avenue – that’s how I remember her address, but I am not sure. The ‘Raven’-bit is right, though.
• She has a younger brother and a younger sister.
• Her full name, you ask? Tracy Margaret Christina McLay.
• Short, cute, bubbly.
• She had a lovely singing voice. Or wait, could she not sing at all? It was either really good, or really bad:) And I am pretty sure she read music and played the piano a bit, more reasons for me to be jealous. What a time waster, this jealousy is!
• Birthday, I think, in November. Or December? If not 1973, then somewhere close to that year. 1974?

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Now, Tracy, if you find this – pls leave a comment with your email? Or number? Pls? :) I am nice and you will like getting back in touch with me, alright? :)

Much love, Steinunn xx

wild life echos animated films Sunday, July 5th, 2009

Tired and off to bed. Just have to finish reading some news. Last online article is abt bees and ants. Researchers are interested in ’swarm behaviour’.

They found that bison or fish want to get to the centre of large groups to keep themselves safe from predators.

Ants and bees worked together as a single unit, and were prepared to die for the greater good of the colony.

The study’s findings appear to echo the insect worlds portrayed in the animated films Antz and Bee Movie, in which the characters live in rigidly conformist societies.

come on gang, it's all for one and one for all!

Isn’t that sweet? Not the “rigidly conformist” bit, but how they’ve seen their ideal society work on the big screen, and have endeavoured to apply its principles to their own lives.

I don’t feel totally weird now, spouting all the knowledge I learn from watching telly. If it’s useful to an ant …

Nite x

biking in the sun Saturday, July 4th, 2009

Mokee is well and happy after a weekend at a treatment spa which specialises in the wholesomeness of Mongeese. Poor Mokee had been left standing for just over a year now, outside, though under some stairs, and is well rusted and worn-looking.

He had his chain oiled and gears re-adjusted, and the attachments for a basket put on his steering wheel (or whatever it’s called). Instead, his rear parcel carrier (or whatever that’s called; it’s bögglaberi in the old Icelandic) was removed and put on my sister’s bike. She don’t name bikes. I will have to clean the dust and rust off Mokee. Myself. We’ll see abt that, ha!

I took him out for a spin today, accompanied by my sister Sigrún. The weather was extraordinarily nice, just perfect for a bike ride. As fab as he is, Mokee has a very embarassing gear shifting system. It’s most likely invented for the visually & mentally impaired, I wouldn’t be surprised to find the kind in braille as well, whereas my sister’s bike sports a more adult version. Thing is though, she can’t work the gear shift and is always cycling too rapidly or too slow, punishing herself up hills or riding like a hyper active cartoon figure on straight roads, while my childish braille gear shifts are just great for me:)

We didn’t exactly look a picture of health, panting as we were up hills against the wind, as well as down hill with wind on our backs, bulging in various feminine ways in our tight gym wear.

We looked more like two adorable chubby children, smiling inanely in our mutual bike riding ecstacy. With our right trouser legs tucked into our socks and our cuddly faces hemmed in by our sturdy helmets, we were nigh on cherub like, to be sure. Perhaps not the look we were aiming for, but a ‘look’ nonetheless.

I even have a basket now to fill with toys:) Actually, I’ll stick my kitten in there once I get it. I may have to superglue its paws to the basket or else risk it making a graceful escape. Or perhaps it will enjoy the occasional bike ride. We’ll see.

Paradoxical: we are many species of self Saturday, July 4th, 2009

You know, I really don’t want to be one to focus on the negative as my first choice, or out of any kind of preference at all. This morning I read a report on a Canadian research on BBC, and scary but true I actually understand what they’re on about. I especially relate to this:

(The researchers) found that, paradoxically, those with low self-esteem were in a better mood when they were allowed to have negative thoughts than when they were asked to focus exclusively on affirmative thoughts.

This is what they were more at ease with. Thinking affirmative thoughts was an alien concept to them, or simply seemed wrong, didn’t make any sense. The research showed that building confidence for those who need it, instead of just repeating positive mantras, was the key to feeling better. The reason: people relate to things in real life, things that have happened to them or been said to them, their own experiences. If it’s negative, a positive mantra isn’t going to change that.

Read the article for a more in-depth view of what it’s all about.

I bring this up now bc I have started yet another group therapy thing, bc my very fabulous psychiatrist says it’s the best thing for me. Of course I am hoping to attend for 6 mths or so and be perfectly fine after that. Imagine my shock when the people I met in group said they’d been there for years, and years!! On the upside, they all seemed perfectly fine. They are there to maintain their fine-ness, and also bc BiPolar, depression and other such things doesn’t go away, you get your ultra highs and lows and have to keep ‘em in check throughout your life. So that’s why (some) people choose this method, continual group therapy, to do so.

I went there last Tuesday and it was both a negative and positive experience. I was overwhelmed in a nice way by the wave of empathy which hit me as I entered, and which I felt for the people there, and at the same time I was exhausted even before we started bc I am so sick of talking about and tackling problems related to sickness.

When you are dieting and exercising, to give an example, you see your own progress along the way. When you, or I, when I am working to master this illness of mine, noticing the progress is very hard, very tricky. It’s not as visible, you have to look for it within. And in my reactions to things and such like, so it’s kinda outwardly as well, but still, it’s not as visible as physical change.

And I am sick of it!

My psychiatrist said it was common with people who go through lots of therapy, to get literally sick and tired of it, and to become so involved (bc you have to or else it’s no use) that nothing else penetrates your life. That is what I am sick of. There’s not much balance in my life when I have to focus on this stupid sickness, and balance is what I yearn for.

And when I am really sick of things I tend to revert to the me I have known for most of my life, the one who has lived with the illness and pushed through, managed as much as possible to lead a productive and fun life while repressing the illness but never learning to control it. Smiling through the tears, so to speak. For cheese! :)

And this person is ‘happier’ when thinking negative thoughts, as it were, bc that’s my home turf, those are logical thoughts (or so I tell myself) based on real-life experiences. These thoughts ground me, or cement me!, in my reality. It’s a reality check, a way to tell myself where/what/when/who/why I am, what I am worth, what I can expect from people and why, etc, based on experience. I have found that I need this grounding, this check, bc there is so much tumult, noise and confusion in my head, that without it I’d be even worse off, not know what was up or down, not know where to go. Or would I?

You see, an undesirable part of BiPolar (not that any of it is desirable, except how darn persistent and strong it’s made me:)) is that the thoughts I use to ground myself aren’t (all that) logical, bc part and parcel of this illness is screwed up perception (of most things, on a bad day) based on low or no self-esteem or awareness of self-worth, as well as paranoia …

Thinking outside the box and outside my comfort zone, which unfortunately is tainted by sickness, is what I wanna do, and am able to do often. Yay:) But when exasperated and sick of it all, reverting back is easier, despite the unhappiness and hardship it brings. Weird, eh? But scientifially proven to be the case for other than just me, so there! :)

Now, off on a tangent, a related tangent, though.

A friend showed me the below quote. Note to self: read the entire book. I wonder if everyone relates to this as much as I do? I remember speaking to house mates at college who were devastated feeling like they’d lost themselves when after a psychology class they discovered they react differently to different people and situations, and are therefore ‘many species of people’. They were desperately wondering which one was their true self. I understand their contemplations, but I actually think the below says it all, clears up the confusion. Go with this joyfully:)

Each of us is several, is many, is a profusion of selves. So that the self who disdains his surroundings is not the same as the self who suffers or takes joy in them. In the vast colony of our being there are many species of people who think and feel in different ways.

Fernando Pessoa, O Livro do Desassossego

annoyed, and then not Wednesday, July 1st, 2009

Why?

• Went to see a nice nurse this morning for the removal of the wee stitches from my ‘plastic surgery’. She was surprised that I hadn’t come earlier as stitches in the face are generally removed within 5 or so days, I think she said, rather than 10 days, like mine. Reason: if not removed quickly they leave scars. As it happens, my face, the skin thereof, is prone to scarring. No wonder I am not too happy with it. Now, if the good plastic surgeon had informed me like the nurse did, I would have gone and had them removed earlier. He did tell me to have them taken out within 8 days, 10 for the ones on my body, but as he didn’t say why I couldn’t possibly do as he said. That just how I am. Now I am furious at the thought of being left with a two-stitch pirate scar on my nose instead of the barely noticeable mole that used to be there.

• Got paid, all of it went to the bank. Called them, now I owe them loads of money, as opposed to just being one payment late due to the non-paying imbecils. And I have no idea why. Will  have to talk to them but it doesn’t exactly amuse me to have to sit and speak to bank folk. Damn economic crisis. As soon as I can I need to get outta here so as to pay only a tiny fraction (as opposed to massive taxes and then some) of what my crappy government wants me to pay off the rich men’s debts. We pay their debts, taxes and interest rates are hiked up, and the rich bastards roam free. Weird rules apply to the financially high and mighty.

• Rang ex-tenant. Said I: Waiting on your phonecall regarding paying up, mister. Said he: Well, I’s just waiting on gettin’ paid! Like nothing, like he isn’t the contract dis-honouring scum that he is. Like I believe him when he says he generally gets paid on the 2nd or 3rd. He may get paid eventually, but hitherto he’s done little to render unto St. Pie the things that are St. Pie’s. Same story, over again. Oh but he’s only 5 mths late with March’s rent, and it’s crunch time financially for everyone. Nope, I won’t relent. He will pay up.

I wanna be the person who never gets annoyed. How do I do that? How, when … I don’t have stuff, like some money for food ffs, on the 1st day of the month? Splurged on a fab juicer and blender, and now: enhancing my healthy intake of every & all nutrients, postponed. Why? Don’t have food for money. Why? Bc some rich scumbags wrecked our country and economy and I am paying for it, and bc a poor scumbag refuses to pay me what he owes me, and I am paying for that, too. Oh, also: am sick (not for very much longer, I am more sick of being sick than you can imagine!), can’t work, get hardly any money to live on. Life’s shite right now. I am no impressed with it at the moment.

Oops, is it all abt stuff, bc I don’t have money? And bc I will have a scar on the tip of my nose? No, it’s bc life and the world are unfair, at times. In even greater porportions than what I wrote abt above! Haha.

• Read an article on BBC abt cancer in vegetarians, meat eaters and fish eating vegetarians. Read it. It looks good, like vegetarians don’t get much cancer at all. So, it is an obvious option to go with! But read on. The likelihood of cancer in certain body parts are higher for vegetarians than the rest. Why?

Come on world, give us a break!

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ps: if i weren’t so annoyed, and were i a grateful person, i’d be writing this post abt

• my delightful elder sister who let me stay at hers last night to do multiple loads of washing while watching some weirdo detective monk, and who’se been ringing me on and off today to check on and heighten my mood;
• my lovely younger sister who rang to assure me that all’s well and our plans for car pooling to the gym are still on the table whenever i am ready;
• my mum who rang to tell me she’d fork out for some food for me, plus a family bday bash tomorrow;
• and my friends who are cooking chicken tandoori for me right now in early celebration of tomorrow, and as a goodbye party also as one of them is going away for a little while – leaving me his car to use …

not so annoyed anymore.

infact, i’m feeling rather happy.

i thank them xxx

and for all you fellow perpetual analysts out there: happiness comes from within, obviously, not from external sources. except for nice pear cider or fresh juices, or chocolate. but that’s all ingested (?) so go figure! i am happy bc i choose to focus on the positive. having to write that is evidence enough that things are not always so. and i’m cool with that. i’m open abt my foibles. you? abt yours, i mean? :)

Woke up at the crack of dawn Friday, June 26th, 2009

around 08.30, and quickstepped happily into my kitchen to make my breakfast juice. Drove Sigrún’s car to her’s, picked her and kids up, drove to mum’s where we had breakfast. Regretably, I also had some dead juice and cheesy breadrolls w/ butter & cheese, and honestly, I felt rubbish after. That’ll teach me.

Napped with nephew Kolbjörn while niece Ísafold got herself ready for their holiday week in Akureyri with their dad. Lucky kids, the weather up there is fab these days.

Kolbjörn is a very handsome 15 year old. He’s got beautiful eyes, a pretty nose, lovely lips. He’s a big and strong lad (he squeezes me frequently, it ain’t pleasant), with a gleeming big & generous smile, and an easy laugh. He’s very talented when it comes to music (singing, memorising tunes/lyrics, playing guitar, beat-boxing though he doesn’t know it). Not to mention  ridiculously ticklish.

Our nap turned into this ‘game’ as I tried to help him prepare for the trip:

Steinunn: “Have you packed … pants?”
Kolbjörn: “Yeah, I’ve got 7″.
Steinunn: “Have you packed socks, jeans & t-shirts?”
Kolbjörn: “Yeah”.
Steinunn: “Have you packed a jacket?”
Kolbjörn, tugging at his collar: “I’m wearing this one”.
Steinunn, surveying his fuzzy chin: “Have you packed after shave?”
Kolbjörn: “Don’t need it, won’t have to shave while away”.
Steinunn: “There’s cute girls in Akureyri, you might wanna rethink this”.
Kolbjörn: “I’ll bring my man perfume”.
Steinunn: “Have you packed shampoo & toothpaste?”
Kolbjörn: “Is that necessary?”
Steinunn: “Hmm. Have you packed deodorant?”
Kolbjörn: “I’ve got a spray-on deodorant.”
Steinunn: “They’re the best”.
Kolbjörn: “Yeah! They are the best!”
Steinunn: “Have you packed board games and/or computer games?”
Kolbjörn: “No. Yeah, have one computer game”.
“Won’t be needing play things” was implied by expert intonation.
Steinunn: “Have you packed your iPod?”
Kolbjörn: “Oh yeah”.
Steinunn: “Is it fully charged?”
Kolbjörn: “It needs some more charging”.
Steinunn: “When are you going to do that? You’re leaving in 30 minutes!”
Kolbjörn: “Now. When we finish. Go on”.
Steinunn: “Have you packed – hang on (makes & finishes a phonecall).
Kolbjörn, nudging Steinunn: “Come on, have I packed … ? What?”

And so we continued.

Too sweet!! He’s a big boy and yet he got so into our little game of “Have you packed …?”. Too sweet.

He and his sister left with their father, only to return 30 minutes later to pick up some ‘play things’. Hope they are having fun in the great northern town of Akureyri.

x

on the juice wagon Thursday, June 25th, 2009

Stuff I got out of watching the dvd which came with my juicer (Philips HR 1861; contrary to the word on the street, I do not get paid for my endorsements).

• Keep cutting to a minimum. My juicer is stronger than your juicer – it can juice whole apples and pineapples and melons with “rind”! The Juice Master uses green and yellow type apples mostly. I use red and have to cut them in halfs and quarters, but will definately try the green and yellow ones, or just smaller red ones. Juicing is about “Keeping It Simple” (the name of the dvd) or else you’re bound to give up on it, and reducing needless cutting is part of that. Yay!
• Juice the following (and probably more) with rind: well washed pineapples, wax-free lemons, lime if you want a zingy zesty drink, ginger, kiwi, raw beetroot, even watermelon. Oranges are a NO-NO though: our tummies cannot handle something in their rind, so peel them.
• Pith Aware Peeling (or PAP, haha) – when peeling make sure you leave the nice soft pith on.
• Scoop the following out, no need for precision cutting (just cut ‘em in half, then scoop the rest): avocado, mango.
• Shove the fruits & veggies into the chute immediately upon chopping, if chopping is needed. No need for a prep bowl, or piling stuff up on your chopping board. And when I say shove, I mean shove!* Gently, until there is no more room.
• Use apples to start and finish the chute stuffing, unless you simply can’t fit everything in the one chute. Not sure why, perhaps bc they juice so well?, and Mr Juice Master Sir does this, so … Furthermore, do not place spinnach, cale, alfa-alfa and other such leafy flowery items directly and/or alone in the chute. Sandwich them in between apples and other goodies. That totally makes sense, right?
• If you’ve got my cooler than cool juicer feel free to lean on it hard* or press down hard when juicing the fruit& veg. It’s quick and efficient, no need to be super duper gentle.

I am so in love with juicing, it’s not really like me.

The JM guy said something abt store bought juices – that they are heated before packaging according to rules and laws, killing all essential healthy enzymes (and vitamins?) etc. So what you get in the shop is essentially dead juice. Watch the Juice Master Jason Vale on Norwegian telly.

Moorthy said to me: "Here, Steinunn, start juicing this and other fruits'n'veg and I promise you will devour more of the above than you ever have before, and ever would if you had to chew them!" And he was right!

He also compared the fresh juicy extracts from apples to the apple juice you get in a carton at the shop. Same with orange juice. And wow, the difference is ginormous! Even the colour is totally different. In order to figure out what I should be eating or doing, I sometimes think things through this way, perhaps bc I am still not in love with myself enough: Knowing what I know, would I offer this (juice) to my child or cat? I apply the same irrefutable logic to food, sweets and sometimes tv programmes, and activities:) I do this in a effort to suss out what goodness I should be offering me, too. Sometimes it works, sometimes not. With the juices, it definately worked. I know, I’m an odd one, but whatever works, right?

Jordan is someone the Juice Master has worked with and in this vid she, a trusted expert on most things regarding human nature, diet & whatever else, says exactly what I think: the stuff I make into juices, I’d never eat the whole lot for breakfast or lunch, as in chewing-eating. But I’ll drink it gladly.

I’ve even started to consider the whole raw food movement as a likely candidate for my attention. It makes sense to eat foods which still have all nutrients, enzymes and whatever intact, right? All the stuff that actually builds up your body and contributes to its health. Other than just filling your tummy void.

I wonder if raw food people would frown upon it, though, for “one of them” to eat raw food, yet indulge in a lovely Indian meal or steak with bearnaise sauce on occasion? And ofcourse lamb at Christmas. Not sure I could resist – and then I’d count it as eating sweets. I am sure vegetarians and raw food peeps eat sweets sometimes, which does nothing for the body, except harm it. I, if I were a raw foody, would eat steak like they eat Skittles, on occasion:)

*I take no responsibility for any juicers broken upon heeding my advice. I just follow what the Juice Master showed me on the dvd which came with my Philips HR 1861 juicer (I still receive no payments for endorsing it). Note: he doesn’t say “shove” and “lean”, but that’s what he does. If in doubt abt what “shoving” and “leaning” means in this context, get your own new juicer, watch the vid, and take responsibility for your own actions, you! Or just go to YouTube, you’ll find plenty on the Juice Master there.

happy, mostly Wednesday, June 24th, 2009

My hair is long enough now to tickle the back of my neck, almost by the shoulders, and bother me with the cover it provides on a hot day. It’s still pretty short, and I’ve got a sort of semi-mullet going on for now, though I beg you not to tell anyone. But no matter, it’s long enough to do the above, and that makes me happy.

My good Dr has discovered some reasons for real concern connected to this damned disease, stuff which we uncovered unexpectedly and which took me by massive surprise. Unlike the typical BiPolar stuff, I have no idea how to work through this conundrum which we found exists within me. It might be described as a bonus reel, as it were, to the continuous loop BiPolar flick, so not actually a BiPolar main event, yet it affects a very big part of my life, and the very part of my life where I thought I had ‘control’, ie the everyday in between the polarised high and lows. I know how to handle the highs and lows now, mostly. It’s the inbetweens I’ve struggled with, the normal parts of life, as the highs and lows have required most of my attention most of my life. Now I’m like … like, when I went to see “The Incredibles”, I left the theatre with the fond and vivid memories of “Boundin’”; it ended up taking up most of my memory despite being only 4 or so minutes. Maybe 8. That’s what this conundrum has done, in a negative way: it’s meant to be a biproduct but it’s wrecked more of Me than the actual highs and lows of BiPolar has. It’s affected by and tied into BiPolar, but it poses as totally sane and rational, and it’s taken over control. Or that’s how I think of it now, having only learnt about it on Monday.  I have the good Dr to show me how to solve this, and that makes me relieved and happy.

a picture of wholesome happiness

I’ve started learning again, albeit it simple PhotoShop and complicated Arabic alphabet, and that makes me very happy.

Glastonbury has started, and I am not there, which is where I so want to be. I’ve been once, ages ago, and I shall relive some of that over the next few days in some way or other, and hope that this will make me happy.

My new purchases, a superb Philips juicer and a cracking Philips blender, are in the house and being used. I’d forgotten how excellent the juicer is, and how ingenious the design of the little jug that goes with it is; it leaves out all the frothy foam and gives me a silky smooth wholesome fruit&veg juice, and that really makes me happy.

I’ve been doing some gardening, trying to make the front and back gardens look decent after years of neglect. Having a garden is by no means a must for me, I’m quite content tending to potted plants around the flat. My enthusiasm and interest in the garden therefore pleasantly surprises me, and that makes me happy.

The collection agency I’d contacted to shake money out of my illusive skanky ex-tenant says he’s in to his eyeballs & beyond in uncollectable debt, and therefore they urge me to give up hope. Bastards, the ex-tenants I mean. I won’t give up ‘hope’; the money is mine and I will get it. This doesn’t make me happy, but perhaps all of the above will accumulate to make up for happiness lost over this deal.

Go joyfully:)

random day Tuesday, June 23rd, 2009

Awoke to sunshine & bird song, which took turns vying for my attention with a variety of rain types & bird squabble. After a quick luke-warm-going-on-cold shower, to which I’ve grown accustomed (though I do enjoy a real warm one at the gym or other peoples’ houses), I hurriedly made my way into the kitchen, where the daily massive task of chopping and juicing fruits & veg didn’t bore or overwhelm me in the slightest. On the contrary, I quite enjoyed the smell of fresh produce, and the only thing missing was some enlightening morning radio – unfortunately my crap radio only gives me the AA channel, which is actually more enlightening and amusing than you might think.

I made breakfast (and lunch for later) and then drank & “chewed” it meditatively as the Juice Master recommends. The juices are real tasty, filling, and energy-giving. I have probably eaten more fruits and veg over the last 4 days than I have for the last year! For real. Stuff like celery, spinach, avocado and lime – mmm, when in a juice with apples, pineapples etc, are just delicious. The smell of lime always makes me consider having a drink though, even at breakfast time, haha.

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I had PhotoShop class from 10-12, and I as I borrowed Sigrún’s car I was able to attend almost the whole class before I had to go home, where I’d made an appointment with some people at 12. I can see that I will learn loads at the PhotoShop class, though so far (after a whole 1.5 hrs:)), what I’ve learned I could have figured out easy by just fiddling around with the programme.

I have learned that sometimes what you get out of a class isn’t always what you think you are there for. Like today, there was a woman next to me who came late. She started irritating me right off the bat when she pulled her chair away from the table real loud, despite intruding the class while the teacher was talking, and then settling in her seat real noisily. Opening bags, closing bags, sighing, coughing, adjusting bracelets, unzipping tight fleece jacket, tapping stuff with fake nails, getting up for some water loudly … She leaned over to me real triumphant looking and asked “Were we not meant to bring cameras?”, noticing that I didn’t have one but she did. It got worse. After only a few minutes I realised – this woman doesn’t know the first thing about computers. And she’d taking a PhotoShop course?!!??!???!? She didn’t know how to do the simplest tasks, like opening files, saving them, moving the mouse while holding down Ctrl, and so forth. It was kinda funny, actually, watching her try a command like Ctrl+O. She’d hold down Ctrl, then search for the O for a loooooong time (another indication that she wasn’t familiar with any type of keyboard). Once found, she’d hover over the O and down look to the Ctrl, then she’d lift her finger off the Ctrl, and with sudden courage and intense concentration press down on Ctrl and O – at the same time. With no result. Whoopsisdaisy. Try again. Hilarious.

She honestly left me flabbergasted, as I didn’t think anyone were that computer illiterate anymore. I forgot to mention that she didn’t even try to open the borrowed laptop, she just sat there until a kind person (not the judgmental grump sitting next to her) came by, whom she then asked to open it for her. Open the lid! Not only did she not know how to do the simplest things, she never understood why we were asked to do anything. She interrupted the teacher asking him sadly uninformed questions. A girl who came real late knew this woman and sat next to her as we’d run out of computers. She helped her by speaking to her like a child, and they’d play around with the image doing what they knew how to do even when the teacher had moved on to another topic / lesson, then proclaiming loudly: “The swan is pink now!”, although this had nothing to do with what we were discussing. Argh!!

After the girl arrived I found myself answering their questions abt simple commands, whereas I’d only helped the lady once or twice when she was on her own. I judged her from the get go as the nincompoop who shows up with a borrowed 2.5 megapixel camera to a class in something called PhotoShop, which she didn’t even know was computer based! Intolerable! And upon recognising my impatience with her my heart sank a wee bit and I thought to myself; I wonder when I have come across to someone as the insufferable buffoon they must endure, for courtesy’s sake, or else ignore. I cannot think of a situation where I’ve been as ignorant as the lady I met today, but there might be something like that abt me I just don’t see. Oops! So I am going to play nice:) We all deserve each others’ respect.

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I scurried out from the situation which had started out fine, then become unbearable, then evolved into learning experience in patience and non-judgment, and then into an exercise in these principles, only to find a parking ticket on the car. The car doesn’t lock so, as I actually paid the parking metre this time, I thought that someone had gotten in and stolen the piece of paper telling for what time period I’d paid. This got my blood pressure up for a moment, a moment spent being angry for no reason, as I quickly retrieved the ticket which had slid down on the dashboard below the little black line on the windscreen.

I arrived home in time to get changed and start on the task of getting stuff out of the common-area cellar and out to the sidewalk. Older tenants and residents from years gone by have left the oddest things in there and in a dark compartmentalised area under the stairwell, which I took upon myself to get rid of. There were desks, washing machines, broken toys, radiators, tyres, doors, kitty litter boxes, old pc screens, Martini bottles, planks of wood, shoes, you name it. Under the stairwell we found these big white cloud shaped heavy foam things, perhaps art?, as well as some really old stuff: a sledge, nuts & bolts, tools galore, fishing rod, really cool record player, and other stuff which I believe has been there since the building was built in the 1940s. I rescued some old Pepsi Cola bottles and an old washing machine, and unless some museum wants to pay us for these items, I am going to decorate the mutual cellar areas (the clothes drying area) with the ones that look good, like the sledge and the two mentioned (immediately) above. I will contact a local museum to see if they want the old tools or some of that stuff, whether they pay or not; who knows what’s valuable, historically like.

Some missionaries from the church rang a while back to see if they could do anything for me, and whether I’d like to come to church with them:) So nice, I said yes, and no, and they were okay with that. Asked me what they could do and I told them abt the above task. I can carry pretty much anything (freakishly strong, remember?:)) but I needed a car to transport the junk to the tip and recycling. They offered the mission couple’s van for my assistance and so today at noon two elders and an older couple showed up at my door to do all this work with and for me. Too nice, eh? I like doing stuff like this too, it’s part of getting organised, so perhaps soon I can do this for someone else. We found a huge glass jug and an old knife which I gave to the couple as it just so happens they collect these items. They also helped me with several bin bags of grass, soil and weeds from the garden, taking that to the tip as well, while I rushed off to my next appointment.

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Plastic surgery. Oh yeah:) I went to “my” plastic surgeon today at 14.00, and it’s the second time I go see him. Last time was 5-6 yrs ago, and I went then for the same reason: to have some moles removed. A couple three on my tummy looked suspiciously like cancerous ones (malignant melanoma; they’ve been sent off for examining, so here’s hoping …), and the one on my nose, barely visible to the naked eye (ie simply pink and not brown or red), annoyed me no end as it had a different texture to it than the rest of my nose/skin. Turns out it was really “deep”, and I look a sight with a plastic plaster over the tip of my nose. The ones on my back and arm just annoyed me as I thought they were offensive to the sense of beauty. The good Dr huffed in disapproval, but cut them off anyway. Question is, he said: will you be happier with scars, which always always appear, than the original mole? This is especially a sensitive topic re: the one on my nose. We shall see.

The Dr is really cool, we chatted away like old friends, AFTER I’d been left in the hands of the anesthesia monster Dr who treated me miserably and stuck me several times with his needle right in the tip of my nose which is more painful than, than … just, really painful! I was whimpering a wee bit while he was fooling around with the needle. He kept joking his way round my body, first my back then my front (I said “tummy” above, but the moles were right under each boob, and massively painful, though not as bad as the nose). He’s a good guy, actually, an avid golfer, which is what they also talked about when I wasn’t asking questions or butting in with some remark or other. I got to see when the Dr sewed up the hole he’d cut in my arm, and it wasn’t sickening at all! When I asked him how he knew when to stop cutting down into the skin, he said “he could tell”. That didn’t clarify things much so I asked again, and he then pointed out to me what I could see in the hole left by his knife. “You can see into the fat!” he declared, to which I first agreed happily, glad to understand the fine art of mole removal, until I realised there was an opportunity for being insulted there, so I turned away and pouted. Then he got going on the under-boob moles, but when I jokingly asked for a boob job while he was at it, he just rubbed his finger together as if to say, if you got the mullah, I got the needle. We left it at that.

After my fun experience with the two Drs, for which I payed precious little as most of mole removals is covered by social security haha!, I was shaking like leaf, and that’s without feeling nervous at any point. The anesthesia may have caused this, said the second Dr, plus the adrenalin which starts flowing during tense or exciting moments like these. Hmm. It was so tense that I  accidentally bought a piece of chocolate at the chemist’s next door:( I’ve been doing perfect, and then this! No sweets, just juices, and then this! Oh well.

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After that I spent a couple of hours with a good friend checking out various shops to see where I could find the best priced juicers and blenders. When I finally found them and decided which ones to get, my card was denied. Again I’d forgotten to transfer funds from one card to another. Went home empty handed, made a dinner juice (with borrowed juicer still), but was then persuaded by Sigrún to come over to hers for dinner – without having to eat – as my mum and our cousin from the States, whom I don’t know, were coming over, too. I did, we had fun – and I had some dinner:( I blame the adrenalin.

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My mum dropped me off after a ‘nice even was had by all’, and the moment my feet touched the ground I could hear neighbour cat Skúli meowing in the not so distant distance. He came running towards me when I entered our garden, and I opened the door for him. Doing this generally leads to him coming to visit me and tonight was no different. He spent a good half-hour with me, I gave him water, left the door open so he could go home when he wanted or when he heard his owners open the door, and he just hung out with me, allowing me to pet him and be nice to him. I found out from his owners he has diabetes, and he now gets cat food for diabetic cats, plus shots once a day. This is good, he will get better now, as he’s been so ill. It’s so nice having a cat around – I will never be able to make up my mind abt getting one or not! The upstairs neighbour, who’s a bit eccentric and doesn’t really talk to anyone, saw Skúli come out of my flat and asked whether I’d gotten myself a cat. I said no, he belongs to my neighbours, and he was like, Oh that’s nice. !! This from a man whom I scared away by screaming when he snuck up on me one time, after which time he barely made a noise in my direction!

Humans can always find common ground if there’s a cat is around.

random train of thoughts Saturday, June 20th, 2009

Blogging away. Listening to Buddha Bar VI, which I haven’t listened to in aaaaaaaages. It always reminds me, and always will, of “studying” in my wee room at Palatine House, Durham. I’d manage to go through to the whole cd while adjusting cushions (the desk chair was rubbish), arranging snacks according to size and within easy reach, tidying my desk with trepidation as it entailed arranging items in (many, usually) piles according to their nature and purpose, sharpening a pencil I’d never use, checking all my pens to see if they work, opening/closing windows, chasing daddy long-legs around the room (which turned amasingly big when you had to chase something that small) and setting them free out the window, trying to remember when the local shop closed and whether it was too soon & embarrassing to go back for only a loaf of white bread, chocolate spread and beer, opting instead to run into the kitchen for an ice-cream in the freezer and possibly steal some goody or other from someone else whose cupboard seemed to me to be overstocked, coming back to find books to research from my shelves, then turning to the mirror behind me and putting on (just for fun, while I was on my feet) that new mascara I just bought, plugging in my toothbrush or unplugging it, depending, texting and/or ringing someone, suddenly deciding to dust the shelves and perhaps rearrange my elephant calendar, fake absent mindedly checking my email for lovely words from someone special, getting caught up on a convo on some online chat thing while pretending to be scouring the net for more sources for my thesis, then moving over to the bed for a more comfortable seat and less distractions, only to find that the cd had finished. Then it was time to pick another one; here we go again. I believe what I did most of at Durham is called procrastination. But I don’t really regret it. In reality and in retrospect it was all good.

Over-analysing food. I have this book called 7lbs in 7 days, by Jason Vale (aka The Juice Master). I tried sticking to the juice plan for 7 days while in Edin but couldn’t, even though the juices I did make were delish. I am not the kind of person who isn’t able to do stuff, and I so resent being that way when sick. Resent even more being perceived as a non-doer. Argh! Which is why I will overcome this sickness. So now I am doing the juice diet again. It’s not really to lose weight, though ofcourse I am in the process of doing just that, but more to start building a healthier life style. It’s done kinda abruptly, with only yummie fruit&veg juices for 7 days. I have followed the plan for 2 days now, and done perfectly well. The Juice Master says you have to stick to the programme 100%, and though I always get things done (more and more so the better and more “me” I become) I can’t seem to follow rules 100%. So I have skipped a juice meal or two, just couldn’t be bothered or wasn’t home to make the juices, and the great thing is that the juices are so ridiculously filling that I don’t feel hungry though I skip a meal. Skipping a meal isn’t recommended, though, whether you are dieting or not, and I will try not to do it anymore. I borrowed – ah my fave Buddha Bar song, Cellar 55 / Pro Do Sol – a juicer from my auntie and it turned out to be rubbish, squirting precious juice all over the counter instead of into a jug. So my sister lent me hers and it’s alright. But see, I had the best one in Edin, am used to the good stuff and nothing else will do. So I wanna get that one again, except with a twist – I wanna get this baby here.

I am leaning more and more towards changing my diet more radically than necessary, ie toward the vegetarian way. Not really though. I don’t need meat, I don’t ever feel like I must have a piece of meat or else die (except perhaps when hungover, and then it’s generally salty meat I “need”), but when I do get meat, I really really love it. I love lamb chops, and lamb in general. If I had to choose one meat and one meat only to eat for the rest of my life it would be lamb. Veal, chicken, pork, turkey, deer, whale, puffin I can do without. What else? Seafood, not a big connoisseur, as I eat mainly the normal stuff, haddock and such like. Have never had scallops, lobster, or oyster, and hate shrimp. Well, I do like ‘em deep fried in batter, but I can’t eat it if I see the pinkness of it. Yuck.

I mostly stop and reconsider when it comes to pork. I used to never eat it, for religious reasons, and then when that wasn’t a reason anymore my family just stuck to this principle anyhow. Living in the UK you can’t really not eat bacon, or sausages with pork, so I did, hehe. Mmmm sausages, mash, gravy, mmm.

I am also conflicted over the issue of animal rights. I think I am less likely to go vegetarian than I am deciding to only buy meat and produce which is reared, fed and ‘harvested’ ethically. I buy “vapphænuegg”, the eggs of free-roaming hens (except last time, I was in a hurry and forgot). I used to think that living in Iceland one was really lucky to have easy access to ‘ethical’ food. But as the city and towns are getting bigger, so are the farms and what’s required of them. Therefore we now have these terrible hen prisons and pig prisons etc, where they live on top of each other in all that muck and don’t have very happy, or shall we say natural, lives.

To my sensibilities, it’s also a must that the animals are killed in a painless manner as possible. I once met a girl (a Gentile / non-Jew) who, in a group of “us” Muslims, spoke out and said if we ordered food she didn’t want any from a halal restaurant as she only ate kosher food. Hmm. So a Jew says a prayer and has to kill on the first stab or something, the Muslim says a prayer and is allowed a couple of stabs or something, the western farmer zaps the creature to death while hoisted up on its hind legs or something, and the eastern restaurateur boils his rodents and skins them alive or something, but the only one you don’t want is the halal?

What I am actually more conflicted over is this: can I justify within myself being concerned abt animal rights whilst human rights are being ignored? Isn’t it hypocritical? Or must the world really be fully human rights aware before I can justify being concerned abt animal welfare? Is animal welfare awareness something I can do justifiably (does one “do” awareness?), and reach my goals within this category, as it were, while working on human rights which ever way I can? Yes. Is handpicking what I buy and eat in terms of animal products, yet eating meat, working towards animal rights, or must I be a member of PETA, and forgo meat and eggs from over-crowded egg farms to do so? Mainly I have issues with being consumed with what I eat and hence the rights of animals, and yet not doing something for other humans. I really dislike it when people are more concerned abt animals than humans. Like when Ellen cried on her show bc of one dog she’d made homeless. Go help humans, you!

Speaking of eggs – I know precious little abt animals, and science. Less abt animal science. Birds lay egg. They don’t pee, right? They poo. So they poo the egg, right? I’m not trying to be childish, okay? But they do. And they don’t feel any pain while doing so? If it’s an unfertilised egg, they just lay the egg. But if it’s a lovely bird in the wild laying a fertilised egg, they poo the egg without pain, and a baby comes out. How unfair! Reptiles and birds both lay eggs? Do they go under a common name? Why should humans have to feel pain at childbirth, and not the birds? I mean, all mammals. Sheep, dogs and cats etc feel pain, right? What abt whales and dolphins? And marsupials??? Bears must not feel anything, nor marsupials, as the baby just crawls out and makes its own bed. Fish must be in the bird and reptile category, or not even that, as the eggs often fertilise outside their bodies, as in Nemo’s case. Just watched that again. Cute. Seahorses – what abt them? It’s the male who takes care of the babies – incubated outside the bod? Same with frogs. Except the brooding gastric frog I blogged about:) She incubates in her tummy, then babies exit via her mouth. Looks cute. It’s all oddly unfair towards humans, or perhaps mammals in general.

Money. I have a little money now and can afford to buy poor Ísafold the camera I owe her. I broke hers when I fell on it after slipping on ice in September, and haven’t gotten around to replacing it. Until now. I like to get things sorted, done, dusted, away with, so not getting her the camera has weighed on my shoulders for months now. While I have some dosh I wanna get the above food processor, or a camera. I got some helpful hints on which Canon to get, as I have two good Canon EF lenses which don’t fit so well on other cameras (or so the helpful camera guys told me, I think with no vested interest). I went on this community site for Icelandic camera & photography buffs and shortly after posting my query the answers just rolled right in. They’re really enthusiastic abt helping others, them camera guys!

I was surprised when the social security people deposited money into my account today, but then I remembered that I’d pointed out that they owed me, so … You see, in the time I’ve been here (since April 2008) I’ve become dependant on the state for my monthly income as I’ve been too ill to work. Well, this year I could probably have started working, but I am not well enough to work, function like I do in society AND learn to tackle and beat BiPolar, so the government kindly pays me to not work. Moreover, I’ve learned to “work the system”, to milk this cow for all she’s worth. Like in remembering (2 mths late, but still) to tell the Soc. Sec. folk that I was no longer receiving payments for renting out my flat, and hence was entitled to get more money from them. I feel rather white trashy for saying that, but then I remember that I paid my fair share of taxes of my nice salary when I worked like a maniac in teaching Icelandic etc back in the day. In fact, I was one day accosted at work by some accounting chick who stormed our offices and yelled out my name, and when I approached her she asked: Do you work more than anyone else here? Why are you getting paid so much? She implied that I was making up hours, but when I asked her to speak to me privately, or to my boss, she vanished. Crazy bitch. It was rather embarrassing. I’ve also never received anything from the government before, and in addition these are not easy times to live and work in Iceland, as soon we’ll be paying ridiculous taxes and services will be cut so we can pay off the debts of some fancy business folk who bankrupted the country.

Paying whose debt? That’s right, the Icelandic government, the left wing government I voted for and trusted would mend our situation, thing they nation must take over the debts of those who shamed the nation. They want us to pay the debts of a select group of mostly men who, with their outrageous unrealistic ‘growth’ of businesses, went bust last autumn. The government has taken over the bankrupt institutions, and now these “poor” souls, who still have loads of money left but just less than before, are able to buy up their prior assets and shares at bargain prices, while the nation feels like it’s been slapped in the face 700billion times. The debt is now ca ISK 700billion (ehm, the terminology is a bit off here, we use similar words to the English but not quite, so I am not sure … but the debt is huge). Our descendants will be paying for years to come, for ever, like. For reals. I don’t wanna live here and pay taxes that go toward this debt. We are protesting, and some groups have gone as far as deciding not to pay their own debts, bc they now owe 100% more than a year ago, all due to the above mentioned business folk. My debts have gone up, too, and it’s not my fault, and it’s not fair. It’s completely unnatural, and has nothing to do with normal interest rates. This is reason enough to leave this sinking island.

Gardening. Did some gardening with my upstairs neighbour and her 3 yr old daughter. The grass is pale and sickly looking, and all mossy. We wanna fix that, we want a deep green lawn to mope around in on hot summer days. Lucky us those are few and far between, ha! :) We found 2 fine looking potatoes in the dirt, much to our surprise. The little one really enjoyed that, though she didn’t appreciate me telling her to eat ‘em. You could see her thanking her lucky stars when her mum told her perhaps Santa dropped them when he was abt to put them in her shoe last Christmas. Children only get them when bad.

I went to buy some gardening equipment for the building, and while at the garden centre I saw a peace lily and an orchid, both of which I just had to get. I rushed them to the check-out only to be denied, as I’d forgotten to transfer my money into my debit account. Despite wanting to leave Iceland by this time next year I am quite willing to fill my flat with flowers, but not so keen on getting a cat or two, and having to give them away. You’d understand better if you saw how fast and well flowers grow in my care; it’s not like just anyone can take them from me and care for them as I have. In fact, in the past all flowers thus handed over have died, except the very hardy ones my mum cares for. They are now too big for my wee flat:)

Procrastination. I think I will have to work on this, on not doing this. I have important emails to write, huuuuuuuuge thankyous are due to 2 fantastic friends, birthdays are coming up, my niece needs her (new) camera, I need to choose: camera or food processor, and also buy some curtains and wall paper plus paint doors, wooden panels by the floors, and around the doors to finish up all things flat-related. I should also wash my mum’s car, have my bike fixed, buy a radio for the kitchen with an mp3 outlet. I tend to want to finish the little unimportant things before doing the important stuff. For instance, I’ve waited 2 yrs roughly to contact the people who bound my masters thesis, as I want a copy of it but the memory stick it was on got lost and the laptop I saved it on crashed so I don’t have it anywhere. Sad. I’ve just now contacted mythesis.com in hopes that they save all pdf files sent to them and still have mine. I curse myself for not being more secure in my relationship at the time to order a copy for me. It was a money issue, but still. Why was I like that? This is an urgent matter now all of a sudden, but really, shouldn’t I be washing my mum’s car or learning the Arabic alphabet instead of focusing on this? I seem to want to finish EVERYTHING I will ever have to do before being able to do the stuff I really ought to be doing. That can’t go on! Oh wait, it served me well at Durham. I must get back to procrastinating the academic way, then I’m good.

St.Pie, over and out.