Thursday, 25 November 2010

Winter Wonderland

Sundays can be sort of boring. But this time I decided to "visit myself". As some of you may know I've just bought my own flat (although I haven't moved in quite yet). Consequently, I thought it might be a god idea to get more familiar with my new local environment to be.  

According to the ad you're "only 150 metres away from the woods. Here you can enjoy leisure activities like kayaking, swimming, mountaineering, mountain biking and skiing in greatly groomed ski tracks during the winter season". This sounds great. Although I'm not generally an outdoors guy, I don't mind having forest and field nearby.

Consequently, this Sunday I took the tram to my new soon to be habitat and went into the woods. At first, I walked along "a greatly groomed ski track". But then the Capricorn within me got the better hand of me, making me set out into the woods along a narrow and hardly trodden path. The snow lay soft on the ground, and everything was quite and peaceful. After having struggled through a pretty rugged terrain, I finally found myself on top of a rock, beholding my new realm, the district of Østensjø.

It was getting dark, and I started to worry I might not find my way back. (I have many good sides, but a sense of direction is not one of these.) After having messed about in scrubs and bushes for a while, I could finally see the city lights in the distance. I got on the tram to my own district, where I made myself a cup of lovely hot chocolate. That has always been a part of wintry hikes in the woods.

Saturday, 13 November 2010

In The Night Garden

Dreams are a fascinating phenomenon. Sometimes they seem more real than reality itself. For a while I was determined to form a band playing ethereal dream pop and calling ourselves As Real As Dreams. 

Some claim that you don't dream in colours. Some claim that you can't have tactile experiences in a dream ("pinch my arm!"). Some claim that those who dream never are aware of it themselves. Well, I've just realized that neither of this is true. 

The other night I was lying sleepless in my bed, desperately trying all kinds of sleeping techniques. I've gradually discovered that a good way to enter slumberland is emptying your head of all your thoughts. It requires a bit of concentration, but it's not as hard as you might expect. Instead I try to imagine a scenery, an abstract figure or something like that, and then focus completely on this image. (I guess it's some kind of "zen"...) With a bit of luck (and concentration) I then sink deeper and deeper into this image until I'm sound asleep.

This time, however, my technique failed. I tossed and turned for hours with no result. But suddenly I found myself in a luxuriant garden. I knew that I'd been lying in bed only a few minutes earlier, and realized right away that this had to be a dream. But this only made me even more attentive of my surroundings. The colours were strong and sharp - paradoxically even more "realistic" than what you experience when you're awake. I was surrounded by green trees and shrubberies, walking (barefoot, I think) through soft, dewy grass while tiny insects were whirring around my face.    

As I said, I was fully aware of the fact that I was dreaming. Lately I've had some dreams in which I've sort of floated along some feet above the ground. Quite pleasant, actually. Since this obviously was a dream, I decided to find out whether I was able to accomplish a similar glide here as well. No sooner said than done. With my strength of will I started levitating from the ground and gliding like a ghost through the garden. But then I must have got a bit overconfident. After a few seconds I lost control and crashed into a tree!    

My sleep probably wasn't very deep, because now I started to reascend to the waking state. Right afterwards I opened my eyes and once again found myself in my bed. Damn! But I had at least made a few empirical observations of existence in dreamland, and can hereby deliver a report to you, the residents of the world of the awake.          

Thursday, 11 November 2010

R.I.P. Mac

Last weekend my Mac collapsed. First it caughed a little, then it hawked a little, and finally it died completely. It was heartbreaking.

The last few days it's been examined. And now they've made a diagnosis. It needs to be fixed. And it turns out the costs will be higher than buying a new Mac! And then what's the point? Grrr, a phrase rhyming with "clucking bell" comes to mind...  

Well, now that my Mac is dead at least I can spend the evenings in the company of a digital, text-based medium from the good, old days before the internet: Teletext. There's nothing like 7-bit graphics in eight glorious colours.