Jag gillar dom här människorna

Känslan fortsätter. Glädje, trygghet, min plats är säker, hur jag står i relation till kollegor, handledarn (min före detta, haha), vännerna. Balansen är återskapat, än så länge, får jag inga tjänster innan jul kan det ändra sig.

Sitter i ett kök och garvar och pratar trams och flår paprikor. Jätteäckligt.
Sitter vid datorn och garvar åt alla töntiga mejl från kriminalreportern i bibelbältet.
Får nytt mejl från körledaren i nya kören, konserttips och information om att Emelie har fått kontrakt på Metropolitanoperan!

Och känner bara att Jag Gillar dom här människorna. Värme, från alla håll.

Post-doctoral bliss

I've always liked September.
September is quite often quite sunny. It's warm enough to wear ligth jackets, the foliage is beautiful, and as I was cycling to work this morning, the fallen leaves were doing intricate circular patterns in the blowing wind.

I've also, I think, always liked the return to normalcy after the summer holidays. Even as an adult, this reflex remains. In September, one is still rested from vacation and soaking up sunshine, and this constructive energy makes thought processes and other activities run quite efficiently.

This September has been infused with the glory of post-doctoral happiness. My brain started working again some time in August, meaning that I was actually able to get more than one thing done in one day (and we were talking of quite small things). Yesterday, a colleague said to his PhD student "a lot of people must be jealous of your project". And I thought, NO, nothing compares to being through and done. Two days ago, at lunch, I looked around me and noticed that only one was not a Doctor. I had moved from one group to another, and hadn't noticed, really.

There are other reasons for my happiness. Setting myself up - or, really, giving myself something to do in my unemployed state, I've already presented my work twice this fall, and will again next week. Feedback is priceless. Being invited for an interview in the UK for a very attractive research position is another boost, after my initial ambivalence. And singing, baroque music, twice a week.

My back is straight, my lungs clear, and nobody can ever take away that I DID IT!

And that is post-doctoral happiness!

I en parallell virkelighet.

Et eller annet sted, i et parallelt univers, finnes kanskje en versjon av meg som ikke er så molefunken nå. Som er flinkere til å bryte med såkalte venner som ikke er det. Jeg vet ikke, kanskje ville jeg ikke likt henne så godt om hun var det.

Den parallelle meg kan godt være flinkere til sånt som jeg syns er litt vanskelig. Å få til noe som ligner en date med noen som er litt fremmed. Å vise at hun liker noen før ting er avklart og enklere. Litt bedre i alle fall.

Mens vi er igang kan vi regne med at hun andre padler i kajakk galant, selv om det er kaldt, og ikke hadde issues med pardans som ung. For balansens skyld antar vi dog at hun overhodet ikke kan synge, og er misunnelig på de som automatisk blir gode venner med barn. Og selv om hun kanskje kan spise hva hun vil uten å tenke på BMI og denslags har hun neimen ikke flammehår langt ned på ryggen. Det tror jeg nemlig ikke.

I det parallelle universet finnes en meg som er ennå litt barskere og flinkere og tøffere og jeg tror neimen ikke at jeg liker henne. Hun virker nemlig ikke spesielt snill, og i hvert fall ikke noe ydmyk.

There's a new kid on the block,
and boy, that kid is tough,
that new kid punches hard,
that new kid plays real rough,
that new kid's big and strong,
with muscles everywhere,
that new kid tweaked my arm,
that new kid pulled my hair.

That new kid likes to fight,
and picks on all the guys,
that new kid scares my some,
(that new kid's twice my size),
that new kid stomped my toes,
that new kid swiped my ball,
that new kid's really bad,
I don't care for her at all.

(Jack Prelutsky)

En samtale

jeg kjente gitter gå opp og vegger gå ned
og blikket vike ...

There was stubble

on his cheek. I only noticed upon saying goodbye, and not hello. That is when we hug. Hello - goodbye.

We've met four times. He is exactly like his written persona, only better.

And I don't know if we are - dating?
or just, hanging out. Or
buddy-dating - whatever that is. It just feels descriptive of the situation.

I had only walked some
fifty meters when I turned around (and couldn't see him).
We meet too seldom, I thought,
understandably because of the distance. But all too seldom. I haven't told him that.

We talk about
politics
and work and friendship relations
cynicism and
tactics.
And weddings. And what we like. Who started that? I like a crinkling smile.
Something he has, and I forgot to say.
And that his eyes are brown.
No, that was not even on the agenda.

We talked about
being picked up. and compliments.
He thinks he gets less than he gives. And that drunker girls are not attractive. I concur.
He hasn't complimented me. Apart from the assessment from the first encounter.

And I don't know if
we are flirting.
Or if he
likes
me.
He likes me well enough to squeeze me in between a company dinner Thursday and a drive to Oslo Saturday. How much is that.

But come to think of it, he said "I'll play it for you sometime", when we talked about a piece of music
that they all played, his student orchestra, while lying down
(in a fountain).
So I should think he sees some future there, for us and not a
closing down
(and thanks for all the fish).
And I have never scorned as friend someone I truly liked.




- I am in like (- and you?)
Good night!

Internet connections

- why do I bother.

My regular forum is getting on my nerves again. It seems like everyone is 23 and talking about how old they are. And I feel they are extremely young and inexperienced. Sometimes cute, but young.

And then my name is popping up way too often. I mean, my nickname. I know I'm there of my own free will, but some of these kids do not know the first letter of integrity.

On the other hand, some seriously disturbed girl started school this week and felt that something I said was good advise. And just seing her make it, the first week, is worthwhile.

I don't know. Dialogue is more interesting than blogging, in a way. Hell is other people.

Gotta go.