I’ve got an admission to make; I’m an elitist. No, I’m not part of the elite, I just believe there is one. Since “elitist” isn’t a term that’s very familiar to my Norwegian listeners, I should clarify that elitism is the opposite of populism. I don’t believe everyone should vote. I believe those with an educated opinion should vote. It would be great if everyone had an educated opinion, but a lot of people don’t. Anyway, this blog is getting way to serious, and the point of this post wasn’t really to talk about my philosophies, but rather about an unlikely friendship. Come with me, back to the early eighties…

*time machine sound* (I don’t know, maybe it sounds like a washer/dryer…)

Nearby a small town, there was a hill. This hill separated the people who lived in the town, and those who lived in the forest. The town side was call Uphill, and the forest side was called HereNorThereland.
When the sun would shine on Uphill, a shadow would fall on those on the other side, and HereNorThereland was therefore always drenched in darkness. On Uphill, there lived a small boy. He was a happy kid with slightly large ears, and he spent his days playing in front of the house, together with the other children of Uphill. But as the years went by, their protected lives gave way to boredom and disillusionment. And so, upon one faithful day, they boy ignored the warnings of the parents and ventured a walk to the other side.When he stood there, in front of the dark and dense forest, fear gripped him for a moment, but curiosity soon overcame it, and with a few careful steps, he crossed the line of the shadow.

Once inside, his eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness. At first, there was only silence. The sounds of the town had faded, and soon gave way to the sounds of tractors and young men firing shotguns out of car windows. Fearing for his life, his instinct told him to run, but as a turned, he caught a glimps of a young girl. At first he wasn’t sure if she was a ghost or not. Her pale skin and blond hair reflected the moon light, which was odd, since this was in the middle of the day. He froze in his step. For a moment he just starred at her. She twirled gum around her finger and looked at a block of wood that was carved in the shape of a cellphone. Her nose reminded him of a fox, although he could not tell why. “Hello”, he stuttered. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows, like she didn’t understand what he was saying. He tried once more, clearer and louder this time, “Hello”. She looked at him again and suddenly yelled “WHAT?!?!?”. He fell backwards, then stumbled to his feet and ran.

The years passed, and the encounter in the shadows became a distant memory. The boy, now a young man, wasn’t even sure that it had ever happened. He had a good life, with good, sensible friends, and his career was off to a good start. That is, until he turned around. There, sitting only a short distance from him, she was, twirling her gum and looking at a cellphone that clearly had lived a rough life. At first he didn’t recognize her. “Do I know you?”, he inquired. Then, as she lifted her face to look at him, it all came back to him. He started stumbling backwards. As he ran back to his office in panic, he could hear someone yell at a distance, “WHAT?!?!?”. His heart pounding, he climbed under his desk.

(OK, this was meant as an inside joke, and somehow turned into a short story. Bear with me, as I try to row this wreck ashore, although I have no idea how. Thank you for your patience so far, clearly bored reader.)

The next day she was there again, and the next day. The fact that they somehow worked at the same place, puzzled him. Didn’t they know she came from HereNorThereland? As time passed, they got to know each other. They lived totally different lives. She got pregnant with a farmer she had seen on TV,  he wrote long meaningless blog posts, and they spent half their time together arguing. Nevertheless, she made him smile, and they laughed at the same things, so against all odds, they officially became friends one week ago. The arrogant elitist and the white-trash girl.

I hope this story can be a lesson to the people of Northern Ireland and Israel/Palestine. Keep your stories short and to the point. I hope you are happy now, Anette!

Have you ever read something about a topic you know a lot about in the paper? They never get it right, do they? What are the odds that they get the stuff you don’t know anything about right? I have to say that this mostly apply to publications that cover a wide range of topics, such as tabloid papers. Even major financial papers, who you’d think knew a thing or two about economics and business, are often so wrong on some topics (that I know anything about), that it’s scary. I’m not talking about a different point of opinion. I’m talking about factual errors. And I don’t really think they care.

So why do we believe them on these other topics? I know I do. I blatantly ignore these experiences, and swallow everything they print. It’s incredible the amount of weight we put on other peoples opinions, when we have no opinion ourselves. And not only subjective opinions. We take everything as facts. Instead of saying “I don’t believe it, until I see it”, we more often go for the “I’ll believe everything, until I can check for myself” tactic.

I know, we can’t go around disbelieving everything. We need a certain amount of trust. But there is a difference between believing and believing something blindly. Be skeptical. Recognize that everything you know and believe could be wrong. Hell, we should even take some joy in being proven wrong!

Dreams are wonderful things. I just came to this realization, because I’ve traditionally hated dreams. Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a dream that resulted in me waking up happy in the morning. Usually just relieved.

Last night I had a dream where I was going to the western coast of Norway with my family (which I did this summer), and when we got there, we lived in a small house on a steep hillside. As it turned out, the house could fly. Probably got nothing to do with the fact that I watched this before falling asleep last night:

So what’s so wonderful about this? Well, now I know what it feels like to fly a house. It was a very vivid experience. We had to be careful not to tilt the house in flight, so when someone went to one side of the house, I had to go to the other. I remember diving down a snow covered fjord, and nearly hitting a mountain. Dreams provide us with experiences we otherwise would never have. I know what it feels like to be chased by a ghost, or show up at school in only your underwear. And although these experiences are largely unpleasant, it feeds into our creativity and, dare I say, enrich our lives.

Ok, so there is this rumour going around that the people of the US of A, are going to elect a new president soon. I’ve got one thing to say about that. If you don’t elect Obama, I’m permanently putting the US in a part of my brain that is reserved for suppressing painful memories. I know, it’s your election, but look what happened to the world the two last times you fucked up! The international community should have something to say. Like 30% of the votes. This is too important to leave to chance (hanging chads).

Then there is this Palin woman. Yes, I know she looks quite good, but can’t you use her for anything other than vice president? Why not elect Tina Fey instead? You get more or less the same packaging, but 200% more smarts for your money. What a deal!

Calling this a blog, would be an insult to anyone who has ever written anything on the internets. I have nothing to say. I talk a lot, but I don’t have anything to say. I’m even having a hard time keeping my Facebook status updated. The point of this being? Lower your expectations. A little bit lower… lower. There you go.