Snusmumriken

Around twelwe today, I realised that I wouldn’t be able to finish my exam, as the probably-phneumonia had prevented me from working enough during the first four days of it. And as I actually had been ill, and as i actually had the sick leave in the pocket i wound up using it. I think it was a wise thing to do, and I think it’s all solving itself for the best. My advisorperson is letting me retake the exam before starting my summer holidays, which means that the only big consequence will be me starting my summer holidays later than planned. I’m rather relieved by that. I was expecting this to have the rather unfortunate consequence of me having to have a round of exams in august, which would be pretty stressful.

As i’m feeling alot better than I did, I got a good deal of work done on my other school stuff, which felt good, and around nine I went home feeling rather accomplished.

After coming home, I’ve had a really nice time. I’ve repotted my plants, and they look alot happier than they did before. I found a big flowerpot on my way home from school, and thought it would be fitting for my chilli plant. Unfortunately, I planted it about two inches too deep. Changing soil and cutting it back must be pretty stressful for it, so I guess I need to wait a few weeks before adding more soil to the bottom of the pot. It looks like a sick kid in a too big pyjamas.

I’m pretty fond of the little birds eye chilli. It has provided me with nice smelling nice tasting oddly pungent mini chillies for a year, but lately, it has looked a little under the weather. Lene pointed me in the direction of the hagegal forums, and the people there were really helpful, and has given me tons of advice on how to prevent it from dying. Hope it works.

On another note, the bread I baked today raised to about twice the usual size. I think this “baking all the bread I eat”-project of mine is giving me some sort of baking-superpowers. Unfortunately this also means that it takes more time to bake, so I’m circling the oven and knock the bread every 5 minutes hoping that it’ll be done soon.

The day i started this weeklong exam, I had a throat ache. “Oh well” I thought. “I have a good immune system. I’ll be fine tomorrow.” Yesterday I had a runny nose, a throatache and a fever. I blamed the summer that was happening outdoors when I was indoors trying to write. Today I have a throatache, a fever, a nose running over with blood-stained snot (it’s pretty revolting) and i’m coughing up crusty substances. Oh. And whenever I breath it sounds like someone are playing a flute or something.

I don’t approve of this.

What happened to the good old “drinking tea, havimg my exams, feeling like i’m able to do a good job”. It’s not present in this exam at least.

High up on my list of “stuff i don’t really need and therefore probably don’t want, but which still is awsome” is this Pig speaker and radio. Unfortunately I can’t come up with a situation where i’ve needed to play low music outdoors.

1. If you image google “worst” you’ll get some pretty nasty images.

2. If you make flour with more besan (chickpea) flour than wheat, you’ll get a bread that not only tastes of peas, but which also has a strange texture. If you refuse to throw away food, it will also mean that you’ll have slightly weird food to eat for a long time. Thank god it’s a small bread! I need to retry and make a better one next time.

3. If you have write at home and hold a lecture about it - exams. The band you have been wanting to see live for more than five years, but haven’t been able to, because they just play in really small and remote places of sweden will come to sarpsborg without you being able to go.

I was going to work out today, I really was. I’ve been carrying my gym clothes around, and I was mentally prepared for it this morning. But then something happened. It might have been because I’ve had a wonderfully effective day up at riksarkivet from 9-18.30 (that’s the opening hours), where I’ve transcribed a nine pages long interview from gothic handwriting to machine, where I’ve read and included 20 interviews in my nifty database, and where i’ve written two pages of the chapter that needs to be written this week. It might be because I wanted to go home and write more, because weird and fun contradictions and agendas suddenly popped out of my source material and wanted me to write about them. It might be because it was 6 and a half hour since lunch and I had forgotten to bring any extra food. No matter what the reason was, I decided to go home, make myself some dinner and get some writing done before going to bed. I’ve gotten into a habit of doing an hour of marthe-yoga before going to bed every night, which helps a bit with the sleeping, and i told myself, very convincingly that that would suffice.

I headed home, searched the dustbins, floors and seats of the t-bane for newspapers, and managed to get through three of them on the way. Dagsavisen had a long article about how problematic it is that so many people start working out after new years, and then stop after a few months. “You don’t have to work out much, - start by going twice a week” said the random work out-expert in the paper.

First: whenever I have convinced myself that whatever I decide to do is good and right. The world shouldn’t feel the need to make some sarcastic comment about it.
Second: In what paralell universe is working out two times a week not much? What kind of lives do people have? Don’t they have hobbies, friends/family, jobs that for some reason never finish when the hours are up?

I thought it would be nice to start the day by scrambling an egg without breaking it.

Just to give the pessimists a symbolic finger.

Yesterday, fortid arranged a debate about wartime history. It went well. There were people watching from the corridor, and even after the break, there were plenty of people who didn’t have anywhere to sit. And the audience really took part. NRK even talked about it on Kulturnytt this morning.

To celebrate that it was a wednesday, and that the debate had gone well, we had a few beers. And then some port at Ernsts place. And it was late, but not cold when i walked homewards. When I walked past Kristines konditori, the baker had already started working.

I read. I read alot. I’ve read until all the thoughts I’ve accumulated have gotten messed up, until all that’s left in my head is a thick, sticky porridge made from one part marxism, one part new cultural history and one part postmodernism. It’s all methods and riots.

I’m trying to sort it out, and I’m trying to make it less messy, but right now, it feels like I unlearn everything I read. Like I every word I read makes me less knowledgeable.

Perhaps it’s because it’s a saturday night. Perhaps I’ll feel better tomorrow, when I go to school. I’ve bought good bread and boiled eggs for my lunchbox. Most probably I’d feel better if I stopped feeling that it’s a Really Big Deal.

A month or so ago, I applied for this stipendium from the institute of local history. And I just got a phonecall that I got it.

I’m speechless. And very happy.

Of all the abilities I’ve developed over the last few years, the ability to not be stressed because of exams is the one I benefit the most from. Other abilities, like the ability to drink large amounts of beer, or the ability to dance the troika has given me less. I remember the olden days of anxiety, when I would be almost paralysed because my exams were coming.

I especially remember one night just before my early european history exam back in 04. I woke up, bathed in sweat because I had dreamt that on the day of my exam, everyone else had recieved their tasks in advance so that they could prepare themselves, while I myself was completely unprepared. Being ignorant of something like that would be a real nightmare. But fortunately, a nightmare was all it ever was. When I walked into the kitchen that morning, still a bit shaky from the dream, Martine, who was my neighbour entered. She was just as shaky as I was, having dreamt that Valgerd Svarstad Haugland, who was the minister of culture at the time, had given the exams a cultural reform, so that all early european history exams should be written as ballads, and everyone would get marked according to how well the ballad genre was mastered.

During the last five days, I’ve realised that I might be a bit stressed out after all, and although my mind refuses to be aware of this, I think my body notices. And when my body decides to tell me that spending all my late nights bent over a book isn’t healthy, it doesn’t do it quietly. About a week ago, I lost my ability to sleep. Simultaneously, my body decided that all it’s old food allergies should come back at once. Thus, I lay awake until five in the morning, and when I finally fall asleep, I wake up because of stomach cramps. When you’re really tired, locating pain is rather hard, so I wake up because something’s wrong, and I don’t know what it is. Thank you body. That’s not the way to make me relax. It’s actually the only way to make me stressed.

“Hun bedyrer at hun den dag ikke hadde den mindste smule Madkorn til sig eller s. Børn, langt mindre Penge at kiøbe for, og hun var derfor overmaade Glad ved at have faaet dette Korn til at stille Hungeren med”

I’m at Riksarkivet, and really really relieved. It turns out that reading my source material is less problemativ than I thought it would be. I understand almost everything, which feels wonderful. I've got 1500 interviews, and there’s a big chance that I’ll have to sort out half of them. But perhaps I can use more interviews if I become a really fast reader? Let’s hope so.

Fagsosial samling yesterday was nice. They had invited everyone (professors and master students) affiliated with the Democratic theory project, and there was wine and cheese and biscuits. I think their cunning plan was that the students should get to know everyone, which is nice of them.

Who says that the university is an excluding place that make people isolated and lonely? They must be filthy little liars.

I’m at riksarkivet right now. Hilde bought me lunch and helped me to get access to the book, and it’s thick as hell and I picked a beetle out of the cover in which it had eaten a tunnell a long time ago. I’m pleasantly surprised. The letters are clear and readable, I was seriously afraid of all those squiggly lines that 18th century gothic handwriting sometimes consist of, but this book had letters, and I could read about 80% of it. I've also found a two page long text about the riot itself, which made it look like there are other sources to the event. I need to get down to Tvedestrand within a month or so, to talk to local history people and look at the place. It'll be fun, but I might need to borrow a car to be able to get back and forth without spending the night there.

At least one thing is certain. I’ll be writing about a riot in Lyngør in 1801, and I’ve got 1500 interviews to read. God I’m excited. And I’m a bit scared. It all feels so big.

Yesterday, we were roleplaying, and we’ll have the last session in the campaign next weekend. I don’t want it to end. For some reason I grow really really attached to my characters, just like I can’t seem to let the fictional characters in the books I read go. I know that’s what leads to fanfiction, but not in my case. In my case it’s what leads to the constant “can we play more”-nagging. But Martin is leaving in a week or so, and Aksel is leaving next tuesday. I can't say I'm looking forward to it. I like them. I like having them around. I’m going to miss them when they go.

Watched goodness gracious me with Mikael last night, and it was still funny. I'd forgotten all about it until he came up with the dvd’s.