Pain is easy

Pain is easy

 

The world is full of emotions.

Some bright and shiny.

Some dark and brooding.

The bright and shiny ones are rare. They are the ones you hide away, in fear of them going out. They can keep you warm for days. They are scary emotions, because if you open yourself to them, you also open yourself to remembering. You remember how you felt when life glimmered so. You remember stars whirling around you. The world full of colour. Even the snows cold touch made you feel alive. You remember this, even when the feeling is gone, and sadness comes creeping. And with it comes pain. And so, over time, you hide from these emotions. You brush their presence away with cynicism, irony and sarcasm. You rarely dare dream the dreams where everything is possible.

 

The dark and brooding feelings are easy. They grow in the empty flowerboxes of pity and despair. They thrive on loneliness and loathing. And all of these are easy emotions. You’ve closed of the world. You live in your own shell, and fence off anyone else. Your fights are long and hard, but you always end up tired and in a tie. All night long, you duel with yourself. Attack, Beat, Riposte. You converse without words, and sadness battles anger. Loneliness strikes at despair. You never expose skin. Blood is never drawn. You are always safe, in your shell of darkness.

It is easy to share the lonely feelings. They grow rampant through us, and we can all relate. We know there will be acknowledging nods at the end of the road, if we channel the darkness inside us.

 

But show me your colours. Show me the sparks that scare you and thrill you. Smile at me with joy, not with cynicism! And open up the world of laughter that lies beyond. Show me your wrinkles and scars! Tell me with warm loving what made you smile so wide. Remember the good, and hold it tight. Be human, breathe, laugh and cry. Plant seeds in my garden, and help them grow. And I will plant mine in yours. Be beautiful in everything you are, and dare to show me your face.

 

 

Dette er et nødsskrik. Fortell om ting som er bra! Det er vanskeligere, men gi meg farger i en dag, mot mørke i et liv.

Dyk

PK begynner å bli dyk. Trenger omsorg

Poor Pêkå… Prechious.

I disse cupfinale tider.

Av alle idiotsporter i denne verden så rangerer Fotball høyt. Spesielt i et land der vi er så totalt innkompetente på å behandle den lærkula. Vi spilte uavgjort mot ISLAND! Et land som har like mange innbyggere som vi har fotballspillere.

Alle andre sporter der vi får noe TV/Media tid er sporter der vi gjør det bra. Mellom Dag Otto Lauritsen og Thor Hushovd var Tour de France helt borte. Mellom Schanke og Solberg så du ikke bilsport utover parabolkanaler. Men den hersens fotballen skal dominere bildet, selv om vi blir banket av Uruguais Jente U12 lag.

På damesiden er bildet et annet. Der dominerer vi år etter år både på fotball og håndballsiden. Men interessen uteblir. Vi kan samtidig nevne Amerikansk fotbal. Norge gjør det imponerende bra, og kjemper i klassen til storlag fra Tyskland og Nederland. Alikevell forblir interessen laber. Det finnes sikkert et titalls andre sporter som dette. Jeg tviler det har noe med kjønn å gjøre… Men idiotinteressen til media, og viljen til å bruke penger blandt folk forholder fokuset der det er.

Fokuset må endres. Pengestøtten må omfordeles. Mediene må få øynene opp for noe annet enn runde lærballer. Mannegjengen på tribunen må ta et kurs i “hvordan vise følelser” for å kvitte seg med ekstaseavhengigheten de får utrykke på kamp. Vi må innse at akkurat fotball er ikke sporten for oss, i allefall ikke som utøvere. Send de dugelige spillerne til England, dekk Championship og Premier League og la det være med det!

Ah.. det er lov å drømme i allefall.

More from Pratchet

Right, Here are some more quotes from my favourite author, Terry Pratchet. He’s recponcible for (amongst others): The “johny and the …” books,  and the Discworld Novels. His writing might take place in universes filled with magic, but truly his sharp wit, and pointed characters reflect some of the true absurdities in our own society. I recomend his books to anyone who wake up in the morning.

Suicide was against the law. Johnny had wondered why. It meant that if you missed, or the gas ran out, or the rope broke, you could get locked up in prison to show you that life was really very jolly and thoroughly worth living.

The pen is mightier than the sword if the sword is very short, and the pen is very sharp.

The trouble with having an open mind, of course, is that people will insist on coming along and trying to put things in it.

The truth may be out there, but lies are inside your head.

They say a little knowledge is a dangerous thing, but it’s not one half so bad as a lot of ignorance.

Writing is the most fun you can have by yourself.

‘They can ta’k our lives but they can never ta’k our freedom!’ Now there’s a battle cry not designed by a clear thinker…

What your soldier wants– really, really wants — is no-one shooting back at him.

You can’t make people happy by law. If you said to a bunch of average people two hundred years ago “Would you be happy in a world where medical care is widely available, houses are clean, the world’s music and sights and foods can be brought into your home at small cost, travelling even 100 miles is easy, childbirth is generally not fatal to mother or child, you don’t have to die of dental abcesses and you don’t have to do what the squire tells you” they’d think you were talking about the New Jerusalem and say ‘yes’.

I think that sick people in Ankh-Morpork generally go to a vet. It’s generally a better bet. There’s more pressure on a vet to get it right. People say “it was god’s will” when granny dies, but they get angry when they lose a cow.

Over the centuries, mankind has tried many ways of combating the forces of evil… prayer, fasting, good works and so on. Up until Doom, no one seemed to have thought about the double-barrel shotgun. Eat leaden death, demon…

DiscWorld is based on a slew of old myths, which reach their most ‘refined’ form in Hindu mythology, which in turn of course derived from the original Star Trek episode ‘Planet of Wobbly Rocks where the Security Guard Got Shot’.

1. All fungi are edible.
2. Some fungi are not edible more than once.

Human beings make life so interesting. Do you know that in a universe so full of wonders they have managed to invent boredom? Quite astonishing…(Death in The Hogfather)

Humans need fantasy to be human, to be the place where the fallen angel meets the rising ape. (Death in The Hogfather)

They called themselves the Munrungs. It meant The People, or The True Human Beings.
It’s what most people call themselves, to begin with. And then one day the tribe meets some other People or, if it’s not been a good day, The Enemy. If only they’d think up a name like Some More True Human Beings, it’d save a lot of trouble later on.

Guardian prison

Terrified I stand before a brand new day.

A world full of faces, smiling my way.

I put on my mask, step out in the light.

I’ll wear it like armour way into the night.

 

Guards on all sides, holding me still

No matter the power, a battle of wills.

I’m stripped to the waist, my struggle is endless

I long for freedom, but see no success.

 

My struggle is hidden from faces I meet.

From those at the office, to those in the street.

My masks they are many, they hide me well.

But under the masks, I’m going through hell.

 

With grim determination, the guards stand fast

I feel like a sailor, now tied to the mast.

The guards lock their shields, protecting my flesh

The guards and the masks, impenetrable mesh.

 

And thus I float on, through life’s churning seas.

Forever imprisoned, no days mine to seize.

My guardians and jailors, they never abate

Forever protected, Forever kept straight.

Halloween

Marvelous weekend left behind. Back to the gray mass moving from trains and busses, into building with monotirs and keyboards. Bright colors dance in front of me, as the memories of yesterdays spin off their reel. The computer screen flickers and wakes me for a moment, while all around me the clatter of keys to fingers make their own corrupt little tune.

I wish to make a jar for such memories. A big glass bowl filled with trinkets and toys, reminding me of fleeting smiles and songs that where sung. I would put it next to my jar of burnt out lighters.. Filled with memories of old flames.

Helgen var fantastisk morsom. Alt fra middag med ei veninne, til haloween fest. Fra å få 3 timer alene i et hus uten andre mennesker i 30 meters boble (!!!!! Bor i blokk!!!). Handleturer med søstre, en fantastisk helt utrolig hodepine på søndag, noe som etterfulgte en kjempefest, der jeg gikk fra hobbit, til trollman og tilbake til hobbit på få timer, og selskapet var upåklagelig.

 

Nå er det morgengry for nok en uke. Fylt med nye utfordringer og gleder.

May the fork be with you.