Høst

utkast ... under tvil.


Jeg går i ett med høsten.
Med mitt flammende hår
ferdes jeg under trekronene
som et dyr på lette poter.
Kamuflasje.

Jo eldre jeg blir
jo mer liker jeg trær.
De har verdighet.
Er variert pålitelige,
varige.

"Var jeg ett tre hadde jeg stille gleder"

Høsten er lang iår.
Kanskje begynte den sent,
bladene gulnet ikke før slutten av september.
Nå synger bjørkeløvet på siste verset
men den røde brunfargen hos eika
og de lyse ospebladene
har minst en uke på seg.

Bøkeskogen er vakrest
nå som da den sprang ut.
Svarte stammer siluetter bak enestående nyanser i brunt og oransje.
Nedfallsløvet skaper optiske effekter
som en sky mot speilblank sjø.

Jeg trekker en pologenser over håret.
Det gyldne stråler mot kontrasten av sort.

Anti-climax. Random thoughts.

Back from the UK. I have acquired a new blouse (for the interview), two bras, a bumper sticker for my brother (on the subject of fishing), a Jamie Oliver cookbook for a friend, and a new and so far unknown dislike of the English.

It started out good. I was thrilled to be back, seeing familiar brand names and shops, houses and landscapes. The hotel looked nice, but they wouldn't let me check in till two. So I went shopping.

The room turned out to be wonderful too, and I have no complaints on the quality of BBC, both TV and radio. The town was rather dull, but you could live with that. The crucial point was the interview, and added to the remarkably lousy service everyone gave me - disinterested politeness at most - that wrecked the whole experience.

What went wrong? They started me flat-footed. I hadn't so much as caught my breath, nor had I filled my water glass before the questioning started. And truthfully, I can understand the desire to put me on the spot and see how I cope with pressure. That's fine. What I cannot get over is their own lack of enthusiasm. In no way did they bring forth the idea that they were looking forward to the work, or explain how things are done in the group. And granted, I had my ten minutes for my own questions, but by then I felt suffocated and wanted out.

I know I did ok, though, - what I know I know, and what I don't I don't, it's up to them, and the other candidates. And I'm strangely disappointed. I so wanted to be excited once I sat there, I wanted to burn with desire to come to them. Instead, they killed off the already large enthusiasm I had from reading the material on the web. To go there for five years is now totally out of the question, and it feels dodgy to turn down a job too. The two-year-job might still interest me, but I will need reassurances. All things considered, I rather hope I don't get the jobs so the decision won't be mine.

Another observation was how ugly people are. No dress sense, and very sour or dour facial expressions. No open smiles, - on my way back I looked for people who looked nice, and they were all Scandinavian. Ridiculous, really, I've never had that reaction to any other people before.

As we speak, I have a hard time concentrating. It's in part getting around the interview in my head, but mostly it's to do with the man issue.
I confess, I am not patient. Once I know what I know, I want things to happen. Being told that "I'll get back to you" in the end of a short, but very nice phone conversation is somewhat unsatisfying, since I first of all don't know WHEN. This also means that the niggling fear that maybe he won't has some room in which to roam, but my reason tells me that he hasn't let me down much yet, so the empirical evidence is good. And still. You see, I'd really like to see him soon, now, yesterday, - so I need him to call me sooner rather than later.

I'm also debating whether it is a good idea to let him know what I know, - even though I am an all or nothing kind of girl, he might not be. Man, that is. Or if my moment of surety is before his, it could cloud his decision. Go with the flow, I guess. He is the leading man, after all.

This is thus an attempt of writing the doubts away, and getting the ridiculous down on paper.

I'll let you know.

D-day

It keeps getting closer. The Job Interview.

My tickets are booked, the hotel reservation has arrived, and I've received information on the when and where.
The when and where indicate that there may be rather few shortlisted candidates.
Bloody scary.

Scare 1: I may actually get the job.
Scare 2: I may lose on a 50-50 chance ;)

I don't know what I fear the most.

Surprise, surprise!

Surprise, surprise!
there's a man in my bed.
Surprise, surprise!
with a kiss I was led.

Surprised? Oh sure;
I was nursing my beer
and fearing that he
would disappear.

(It may seem harsh, -
no argument there
but I've met men
who gave me a scare.)

And I who thought
that I was so wise
This really has been
quite a surprise!

This is the way of our lives (poem)

The loom spanned the Garden of Eden
Myriads of color, texture
Saturated greens and golds, purple,
midnight blue and ruby red
Capped by the joyous tone of a nightingale
a slender silvery thread enhancing the weave.

The warp circles the earth.
Each (of us) weave but a little piece,
crisscrossing and connecting,
spanned by time.

The weft is
everyday tedium,
stupendous joy and
tremendous sorrow.

The yarn is
waterfalls and
oceans and
tears
Forests and mountains
and the laughter of children playing

This is the way of our lives.
The cloth patchy.
Wholesome and woolen touches upon
the sturdiness of denim
or delicate chiffon that breaks
if you tear it.

The secret of the loom is the spinning of the yarn
Thus befall parachute silk, spider filament,
baby wool and linen:
A parent's hand
A siblings tear
A lover gone
The star in the sky
The waves in the sea
You
and me.




20/11 2003 sign.

Disinterested

Yet another rant on the status quo.

What feels like my biggest problem right now is the apparent system failure involved in setting my moods. I can't seem to get enthusiastic about things for more than an hour at most, and I certainly don't feel happy about things I know there are plenty of reasons to be happy about. Maybe it's pretty revealing when I confess that I get relieved rather than glad?

It may be a good thing, though. Enthusiasm takes energy, and steals attention.
On the other hand, enthusiasm fuels the engine.
And boy that engine needs a boost.
It's possible that it needs a really big rest, - I didn't have that this weekend.

But some examples. A paper got accepted for publication. Do I jump for joy? Nah, I shrug, wonder if I think it was good myself, and file it away for a later date.

Actually, come to think of it, I have been enthusiastic for some things, - for instance yesterday, when some neat results fell into place. And when the email about the job interviews came. And when the email of the interview details came. It just doesn't last very long.
And then I walk down the hill and see the incredible shapes and colors of trees in the middle of fall, when half the leaves remain on the branches and the other half cover the ground as a tapestry or a blanket.

And I am cautiously happy about a date tomorrow. There is that.
I just wish I was more... myself. More through and through, more efficient, more me at my best. Maybe losing this cold and not staying up late reading Nora Roberts novels will help things. Though they can be a source of enthusiasm, at the right time.

Stjernestøv (poem, Norwegian)

Alle er vi stjernestøv.

Når du ser en overlever
som har valgt det lyse
framfor mørket
ser du universets storhet.

Og har valget
å bli liten
eller også
velge storheten
i deg.