It’s the middle of the month, it’s vacation, it’s too damn hot, I am doing a whole lot of nothing and everything…

And it’s time…

It’s that special time of the month when I pop back to give my blog a single breath of resuscitation, only to let it wimper pathetically out like a badly plugged air-mattress. I really have no excuse for not blogging, other than that I seldom find myself in the need to actively share deeper thoughts on subjects than what can be poorly put into 140 characters or less. Because I do Twitter. And I still think that’s pretty fun. Perhaps I’m just fickle son of a bitch, switching out this tried and tested blog for a something newer, shinier and a whole less user-friendly.

Well, what can you do. It probably has some slight connection with me being a lazy bastard. But even the laziest bastard-blogger must be up to something, so the question becomes, what have I been doing with myself, and how can I tell you it to you without this blog-post becoming too much of a over-indulgent, self-loving emo text where all the sentences go on forever and ever an end with three punctuation marks and a smiley face.

And should I stop using the word “well” all the time? I have no doubt that I should, but I just can’t stop myself. It must be my happy-go-lucky subconcsious constantly trying to manipulate me into thinking that everything is in deed & thought very well, thank you.

Which things generally are. There’s no denying that, except for the occasional grunt I utter whenever I have to go to work (at a gas station) and try to service people who I’m sure are pretty nice if you get to know them properly, but I’ll be damned if they don’t do they’re very best to annoy me and make me lament the current status of the human species in general. Well, okay, so maybe that’s a bit harsh, but a man can only take so many rounds of “do you want fries with that?” before you go a little crazy. All in all it’s actually an okay job when you’re option’s are as limited as they are up here. You can either: A. shovel shit for a living. B. Wash the shit of old people for a living, or C. Feed people shit for a living. I opted for option C., and I must say that my shit? It’s excellent.

But when July runs out of sun-sets, I’ll be setting sail for more southern parts of Norway, i.e. Oslo. Our capitol. The place where kings and queens recide next to drug addicts and fucking pick-pockets (more on this later) and our fine statesmen and politicians. It’s also the place where the University of Oslo recides, squared away in the busiest street of Norway, which is bizarrely named after our former oppressors. I think there’s something ironic about that, but I’m not entirely sure. Anyway, at this university, I’ll hopefully be studying law and be all serious-like, which will probably only last as long as it takes me to figure out how I can best coast through it without doing all too porly. I am nothing if not ambitious about my work-ethic.

It’s going to be weird though. I just ended my three year long tenure at high-school, graduating with probably the best grades in my entire year – which doesn’t say as much as you’d think, but it says enough – and now it’s off to foreign parts. And here I am, having never lived anywhere else than with my parents. There’s just so much stuff that’s going to change. New people, new places, no prepared dinners, no friends close by, no nothing.

But I bet it’s going to be great. I bet it’ll be just fine. I bet it’ll at least be okay when I’ve settled in tasered my way through the worst parts of the city’s pick-pockets, forever in hunt of the guy who stole my wallet last time I visited Oslo (which was like three weeks ago). He took my cash, my train-ticket home, and of course everything else of value in there. I did get the wallet back eventually though, so at least there’s that. Let’s just say I’m never going through that city without having that third eye installed in my neck. I don’t care if it’s creepy; it’s just necessary, folks.

It could’ve gone worse though. He only managed to take something like a thousand kroners worth of stuff out if it, and I’ll get some of that back from the insurance. The worst part would’ve been the ticket, but thankfully I had my sister close at hand, and she kindly provided a new train ticket home. And on that train I met a really cool Austrian guy who was back-packing through Scandinavia, and we chatted all the way from Oslo to Trondheim and beyond. It was a genuinly awesome experience, and I can’t help but think that I wouldn’t have had it if I hadn’t gotten that new ticket. The guy was going to Bodø last time I saw him. I hope he made it there and back again just fine.

So what was I doing in Oslo, besides getting to know it’s more colourful citizenry? Well, let me tell you: I was there to get my copy of “Best Served Cold” by Joe Abercrombie signed. And I did, even though I was bit shell-shocked at the time, what with being wallet-less and all… But Joe was the epitome of cool, and he inscribed my copy in a way that makes me smile every time I think about it. It sure made it all a bit better. I haven’t managed to get around to the book yet. though I hope I’ll get to it in a couple days’ time.

I just have to finish Martin’s “A Feast for Crows” first, and then it’s on to finishing an hitherto untitled work by my only blog-fan, mister Loki Aesir. I can’t actually tell which project I’m most looking forward to right now, and given how highly I hold Martin’s abilities, that’s saying something.

So… yeah, that’s me right now. That’s where I’m at, at this point in my life. Like the title implies, this isn’t a very structured piece, but I hope you enjoyed it if you came this far. As far as more blogging goes… Gee, I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll get around to it one day. Perhaps I’ll post a review of the new Harry Potter movie (which reviews have in fact convinced me that I might not hate this time around), or would you perhaps like it if I posted some thoughts on a Song of Ice & Fire. I do have some of those stored away by now, four books deep and all..