<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041</id><updated>2012-02-10T10:20:52.342+01:00</updated><category term='Good times'/><category term='Ida-o Volume II'/><title type='text'>The Little Blog That Could</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>91</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-381431559350012267</id><published>2010-01-23T00:01:00.008+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-23T00:08:19.753+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Night Moon</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/S1ovgfjjXSI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/regAh5N4q0U/s1600-h/goodnight_moon.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 177px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/S1ovgfjjXSI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/regAh5N4q0U/s200/goodnight_moon.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429704536021490978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the great green room&lt;br /&gt;There was a telephone&lt;br /&gt;And a red ballon&lt;br /&gt;And a picture of-&lt;br /&gt;The cow jumping over the moon&lt;br /&gt;And there were three little bears sitting on chairs&lt;br /&gt;And two little kittens&lt;br /&gt;And a pair of mittens&lt;br /&gt;And a little toyhouse&lt;br /&gt;And a young mouse&lt;br /&gt;And a comb and a brush and a bowl full of mush&lt;br /&gt;And a quiet old lady who was whispering "hush"&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight room&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight moon&lt;br /&gt;Good night cow jumping over the moon&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight light&lt;br /&gt;And the red balloon&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight bears&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight chairs&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight kittens&lt;br /&gt;And goodnight mittens&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight clocks&lt;br /&gt;And goodnight socks&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight little house&lt;br /&gt;And goodnight mouse&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight comb&lt;br /&gt;And goodnight brush&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight nobody&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight mush&lt;br /&gt;And goodnight to the old lady&lt;br /&gt;whispering "hush"&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight stars&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight air&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight noises everywhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Good Night Moon"&lt;br /&gt;Margaret Wise Brown&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-381431559350012267?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/381431559350012267/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=381431559350012267&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/381431559350012267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/381431559350012267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2010/01/good-night-moon.html' title='Good Night Moon'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/S1ovgfjjXSI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/regAh5N4q0U/s72-c/goodnight_moon.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4075473941115265556</id><published>2010-01-05T23:46:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2010-01-06T20:16:25.345+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeg tenker at det er for kaldt</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/S0PBhos7bdI/AAAAAAAAApk/QzIEe_4XUOo/s1600-h/15842_241034791489_597186489_4926854_5705962_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/S0PBhos7bdI/AAAAAAAAApk/QzIEe_4XUOo/s320/15842_241034791489_597186489_4926854_5705962_n.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423391159889915346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; På Hedmarken er det vinter.&lt;br /&gt;Det er 28 minus. Jeg tenker at det er for kaldt. For kaldt til å gå meg en tur, for kaldt til å øve, for kaldt til å lære....for kaldt til å stå opp? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luften er så tørr at jeg tror det begynner å gå sprekker i meg. Jeg våkner midt på natten og har sandpapirfølelse i halsen. Hendene er røde, stygge og ru. Digg. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg tenker at ingen av buksene mine er er sydd med tanke på at det skal være plass til ullstilongs under dem, kanskje med unntak av skibuksa. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kulda biter seg fast i alt. Likevel er det jo varmt her inne på rommet mitt. Det har liksom ingenting å si. Det er fortsatt 28 minus og det påvirker alt, enten det er varmt inne eller ikke. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg tenker at jeg egentlig ikke er så glad i vinter. Jeg trodde jeg var en person som likte vinter, men har i senere år måtte erkjenne  at dette ikke er sant. Hvert år truer den med å dra meg ned i mørke hull, og hvert år bruker jeg alle mine indre og ytre krefter på å prøve å unngå det. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vel, det er 28 minus og mye kunne være annerledes. Men. Jeg stiller hvertfall sterkere i år enn i fjor. Og slik ender denne teksten, med et positiv utblikk. Utrolig! Det var ikke en forutsetning, men så ble det nå slik. Godt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4075473941115265556?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4075473941115265556/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4075473941115265556&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4075473941115265556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4075473941115265556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2010/01/det-er-28-minus.html' title='Jeg tenker at det er for kaldt'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/S0PBhos7bdI/AAAAAAAAApk/QzIEe_4XUOo/s72-c/15842_241034791489_597186489_4926854_5705962_n.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5097792229906715648</id><published>2009-12-19T10:27:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-19T10:31:44.852+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Intellektet har ingen sjans</title><content type='html'>11:21pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hur er läget?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:22pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;joa&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jeg har ikke vasket ennå&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jeg er litt depressiv&lt;br /&gt;11:22pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jeg forstår&lt;br /&gt;11:22pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;men jeg leser bloggene til folk, og det er litt fint. M har skrevet en ny.&lt;br /&gt;11:22pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jeg så det. den er fin&lt;br /&gt;11:22pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;med deg? are you in love?&lt;br /&gt;11:22pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ja, jeg er jo det&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;men jeg vet ikke om gutten er det.&lt;br /&gt;11:23pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sjæl.&lt;br /&gt;11:23pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;men jeg tror det er en viss interesse&lt;br /&gt;11:23pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;det håper jeg!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;fikk du det?&lt;br /&gt;11:23pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;men jeg skjønner ham ikke. det verste er at det drar meg liksom til ham. dette vet du alt om. men jeg merker også at jo mer jeg jobber, jo mer forståelig tror jeg han kan bli&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;11:24pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mm. sånn tenkte jeg i går. i dag er det borte.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hvorfor synes vi den mystikken er tiltrekkende?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;det er jo naturstridig?&lt;br /&gt;11:24pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;å, hvis jeg hadde svaret på det&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;er det?&lt;br /&gt;11:24pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;det er naturstridig forplantningsmessig.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;å trekkes mot de vanskeligste.&lt;br /&gt;11:25pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ja&lt;br /&gt;11:25pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;og det deiligste.&lt;br /&gt;11:25pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;men hvis man vil se slik på det er det jo utrolig mye vi gjør som er naturstridig&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:25pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;du har så rett.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;jeg røyker, for eksempel. og så gjør vi generelt mye idiotisk&lt;br /&gt;11:26pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ikke sant, der har du det&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;intellektet har ingen sjans&lt;br /&gt;11:26pm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;mm.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5097792229906715648?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5097792229906715648/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5097792229906715648&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5097792229906715648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5097792229906715648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/12/intellektet-har-ingen-sjans.html' title='Intellektet har ingen sjans'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1104969965038467602</id><published>2009-12-17T08:48:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-17T08:48:40.666+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Har du fått nok julemusikk? Hør på Fleetwood Mac. Det gjør jeg&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3KahwrDSbdA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3KahwrDSbdA&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1104969965038467602?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1104969965038467602/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1104969965038467602&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1104969965038467602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1104969965038467602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/12/har-du-fatt-nok-julemusikk-hr-pa.html' title=''/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4865116805080064443</id><published>2009-12-03T14:16:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-12-03T14:27:36.968+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello December 3rd</title><content type='html'>Well here I am, sitting at the kitchen table at the ‘rents house, eating eggs and listening to Ella singing christmas songs. I’m drinking coffee out of one of those old diner-like white coffee cups and this I find very pleasing. Somehow the whole drinking experience can change based on the cup you’re drinking out of. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m at home this week recovering from the knee surgery I had on Monday. About two months ago I had another little basketball accident, and my left knee cartilage was what was left to suffer. I believe the area is called the meniscus, but the condition is also called runner’s knee, if I am correct? I guess runner’s knee is in reference to the wear and tear of the cartilage, while I had more of an acute injury. Anywho, I’ve been fixed, but am still on crutches and feeling pretty handicapped at the moment. However, I am seeing progress every day, so I am hopeful that I will be back on my feet in no time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is December 3rd. This is the first day I have put on Christmas music. I find I tend to start with the “easy” Christmas music first, and then as Christmas draws closer I delve into the heavier, “holier” stuff. Today I started with Ella and am now listening to Christmas Swing with Bing and the Andrew’s Sisters. That title tickles me excessively. I have been reading Jane Austen lately and I think that’s why I’m using words like “excessively”. Perhaps I could have written, “Indeed, I find the album title excessively diverting.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think most of you know that I am studying music this year. So far it’s been wonderful! Of course also at times demanding, strenous and tiring, but I think it’s supposed to be. What’s interesting is that in these one-year colleges we have all over Norway, there are no exams. Your attendance is the only thing that is required. Yet, I find that I am not working any less because of it. On the contrary, the relief of not having to worry about convincing someone else that I am learning what I should, is a welcome change. This is probably the last time I’ll ever get to have that, so when I am complaining about everything else, I am going to remind myself that I should appreciate what I have this year, because I already think I will be looking back on this year with many good memories. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of complaining. Sometimes I complain about everything, sometimes I am content with everything. Usually however, I am somewhere in between those two. I’m not the kind of person that thinks all complaining is bad. It’s a natural reaction to natural feelings, of not being content or satisfied with a certain situation or condition. I don’t think it’s stupid to send back your food at the restaurant, because someone in southeast Asia doesn’t even have a meal to eat. Our complaining cannot be made just or unjust by always comparing them to other people’s problems and tribulations. Yet, sitting here at the kitchen table at home, with my newly opearted knee resting on a pillow, a warm home, a full stomach and beautiful music, I start to wonder about what I have and about what I don’t have, what we have and what we don’t have. I guess it’s the time of year to be reevaluating ourselves and our lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In material things, we have sooo much. We all know we don’t need it, yada yada yada. But whatcha gonna do? Have a universal garage sale so we all can feel a little better about ourselves? My friends and I are all in our early 20s now and we frequently have conversations about where we are going to take our lives, and about how difficult it can be to be a grown up, and how to make the right choices when you have a million to pick from. I think we all made our worlds a bit smaller a while ago, by accepting that most of us weren’t going to go and study in Beijing, St. Petersburg or Costa Rica. But we know that if we had wanted that, we just might have been able to do it. And we still know that, even though we have figured out that staying a little closer to home, maybe isn’t the worst way to go. It’s still at the back of our heads though, all the opportunities that we have, but are not seizing. So what’s it like to have been born in the late 1980s in Norway? Some of us feel like we got the world on a platter, and then we turned 20 and realized that our stomachs weren’t big enough to swallow the world. We were just trying to digest what our own small worlds were all about, and that was enough of a challenge. Sometimes it feels like our parents were expecting us to seize the world, just because we could, and because they couldn’t in the same way when they were young. Don’t get me wrong though! I don’t know if I would have wanted it to be otherwise either. The point for me isn’t to answer that question right now. I’m more interested in trying to understand what my generation has grappled with, what we are still grappling with, and how it has formed us as a generation, and as individuals. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize I rarely sit down and write like this anymore. It happens, but not as often as I did it before. Often just to write for myself, sometimes to share it with others. It’s not necessarily an unwelcome change though. I am enjoying what I am spending my time on these days. Sometimes however, I guess I could have a little bit more peace and quiet than I have right now. I’m sure if I had it though, I would wishing for a bit more noise and chaos. So there ya go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is so much I could say about all of this, but it could fill so many pages, that I think I won’t. You can be sure I’ll be thinking about it though. And I hope you will too, when you have moment to yourself. I think we have more to be thankful for than we remember to think about every day. I also think that by being so materially satisfied as we are, the things we are missing, are less visible. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My idea of Christmas is about simple pleausres. Good food, nice people, light in darkness and warmth. Maybe for a couple of days, my life can be a little less complicated. Maybe I won’t succeed, but I will try, so we’ll see. Advent is certainly the best time. It’s a big thing in Scandinavia. The waiting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I will wait for Christmas, and hopefully it will be a good one, and maybe a white one. What with the weather being so unpredictable now, we never know what we’re going to get. If nothing else, it keeps us on our toes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until next time&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4865116805080064443?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4865116805080064443/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4865116805080064443&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4865116805080064443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4865116805080064443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/12/hello-december-3rd.html' title='Hello December 3rd'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2045642075689894825</id><published>2009-11-18T17:14:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T17:16:28.173+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dagens</title><content type='html'>Skal spille dette i strykekvartett. Det er så fint!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/iKyMkjF51qw&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/iKyMkjF51qw&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2045642075689894825?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2045642075689894825/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2045642075689894825&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2045642075689894825'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2045642075689894825'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/11/dagens.html' title='Dagens'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1913228885599781224</id><published>2009-11-18T16:59:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-18T17:00:26.266+01:00</updated><title type='text'>FAKTA</title><content type='html'>Dagens fakta:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;man har større nese om morgenen enn om kvelden&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1913228885599781224?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1913228885599781224/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1913228885599781224&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1913228885599781224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1913228885599781224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/11/fakta.html' title='FAKTA'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5503365075693295127</id><published>2009-11-12T20:45:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T21:00:50.221+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hallo ja</title><content type='html'>Jeg er alltid for sliten i armene til å srkive på dataen. Dagene kommer og de går og jeg skjønner ikke om jeg egentlig finner den roen i tilværelsen som jeg trenger. Hver dag er som 3 dager her, for fra morgen kveld tar det aldri slutt. Til tider ser jeg på selv soving som en jobb. Jeg tenker "jeg må sove så kroppen kan jobbe med armene mine og kneet mitt". Først var det senebetennelsen og så gikk menisken. Det er ofte det er en fysisk ting som ikke fungerer helt som det skal. Tilfeldig? Ja, og kanskje ikke. Jeg tar den liksom alltid helt ut. Enten øver jeg 4 timer eller så øver jeg ingenting. Enten gir jeg 100% når jeg trener eller så orker jeg nesten ikke prøve. Ok, så det er ikke alltid helt slik, men jeg har en tydelig tendens til å leve livet sånn.&lt;br /&gt;BALANSE&lt;br /&gt;Kanskje roen kommer hvis jeg finner litt mer balanse. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blogg er hvertfall ikke noen prioritet. Hvem leser uansett liksom. Jeg har det bra. Musikk dagen lang. Har akkurat fått cellokonsert av Saint Saens i a moll. Og i dag har jeg lært om tritonuserstatningsakkorder. Det er et veldig langt ord egentlig. Men det slår ikke supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Snart er det vinter. En kompis sa at vannene rundt her fryser ordentlig over om vinteren, bekker og elver også. Skal jeg endelig få ha a river I can skate away on? Jeg håper det!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha det så lenge&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5503365075693295127?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5503365075693295127/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5503365075693295127&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5503365075693295127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5503365075693295127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/11/hallo-ja.html' title='Hallo ja'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-8178344207078961278</id><published>2009-10-18T10:28:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T11:00:05.703+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday Under the Covers</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/StrSQ1hrPyI/AAAAAAAAApc/WPjt7i15g3g/s1600-h/Photo+107.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/StrSQ1hrPyI/AAAAAAAAApc/WPjt7i15g3g/s400/Photo+107.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393854690417655586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-8178344207078961278?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/8178344207078961278/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=8178344207078961278&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8178344207078961278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8178344207078961278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/10/sunday-under-covers.html' title='Sunday Under the Covers'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/StrSQ1hrPyI/AAAAAAAAApc/WPjt7i15g3g/s72-c/Photo+107.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-6623657584505454117</id><published>2009-10-01T23:18:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-10-01T23:23:04.288+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Who are we? Et spørsmål jeg ikke skal besvare</title><content type='html'>Det blir mye musikk nå. Jeg har ikke alltid de riktige ordene til å si det jeg egentlig vil si. Det er så mange andre som sier det så bra. Som John Lennon for eksempel. Han er kvalitet, han. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Kio4vTbL-so&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Kio4vTbL-so&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at me&lt;br /&gt;Who am I supposed to be?&lt;br /&gt;Who am I supposed to be?&lt;br /&gt;Look at me&lt;br /&gt;What am I supposed to be?&lt;br /&gt;What am I supposed to be?&lt;br /&gt;Look at me&lt;br /&gt;Oh my love, oh my love &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;What am I supposed to do?&lt;br /&gt;What am I supposed to do?&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;What can I do for you?&lt;br /&gt;What can I do for you?&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Oh my love, oh my love &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look at me, oh please look at me, my love&lt;br /&gt;Here I am&lt;br /&gt;Oh my love &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who am I?&lt;br /&gt;Nobody knows but me&lt;br /&gt;Nobody knows but me&lt;br /&gt;Who am I?&lt;br /&gt;Nobody else can see&lt;br /&gt;Just you and me&lt;br /&gt;Who are we?&lt;br /&gt;Oh my love, oh my love, oh my love&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-6623657584505454117?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/6623657584505454117/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=6623657584505454117&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6623657584505454117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6623657584505454117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/10/who-are-we-et-sprsmal-jeg-ikke-skal.html' title='Who are we? Et spørsmål jeg ikke skal besvare'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7142589261313357808</id><published>2009-09-30T23:04:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T23:06:43.680+02:00</updated><title type='text'>On Chocolate</title><content type='html'>I'd like to say a thing or maybe two about chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) It's good&lt;br /&gt;2) too good&lt;br /&gt;3) It's good, but more often than not does not leave a person 100% content&lt;br /&gt;4) Addictive&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it obvious that I have eaten too much?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7142589261313357808?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7142589261313357808/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7142589261313357808&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7142589261313357808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7142589261313357808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/09/on-chocloatei.html' title='On Chocolate'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1856805952648117426</id><published>2009-09-28T21:16:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-28T21:35:33.040+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Nina Simone for you</title><content type='html'>"Hvilken röst!", som min ex-roommate ville sagt. Lytt og enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/pDIK4KhPPO0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/pDIK4KhPPO0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1856805952648117426?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1856805952648117426/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1856805952648117426&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1856805952648117426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1856805952648117426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/09/nina-simone-for-you.html' title='Nina Simone for you'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4994988414459989875</id><published>2009-09-18T10:25:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T10:31:20.927+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Thoughts on a Friday</title><content type='html'>My life is a forest path. It winds itself up mountains, across fields, over streams and down hills. Sometimes it's all uphill, sometimes it walks across miles of open field, and at other places it's all downhill. Sometimes walking downhill is just as difficult as walking up. Now again I trip and fall, because it's not always easy to keep one's balance, and so falling down might be unavoidable. Most times I get up. Sometimes it takes longer than other times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This path goes in a circle. There is no beginning, middle or end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SrNE_v95ffI/AAAAAAAAApM/J9t1xFSlVW4/s1600-h/Forest+path.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SrNE_v95ffI/AAAAAAAAApM/J9t1xFSlVW4/s320/Forest+path.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382721841636408818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I know the year is dying, Soon the summer will be dead. I can trace it in the flying Of the black crows overhead; I can hear it in the rustle Of the dead leaves as I pass, And the south wind's plaintive sighing Through the dry and withered grass. Ah, 'tis then I love to wander, Wander idly and alone, Listening to the solemn music Of sweet nature's undertone; Wrapt in thoughts I cannot utter, Dreams my tongue cannot express, Dreams that match the autumn's sadness In their longing tenderness." &lt;br /&gt;- Mortimer Crane Brown&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4994988414459989875?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4994988414459989875/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4994988414459989875&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4994988414459989875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4994988414459989875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/09/two-thoughts-on-friday.html' title='Two Thoughts on a Friday'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SrNE_v95ffI/AAAAAAAAApM/J9t1xFSlVW4/s72-c/Forest+path.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3702934577515204345</id><published>2009-09-06T03:41:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-09-06T04:19:21.767+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Beyond</title><content type='html'>Sene, fine og slitsomme kvelder og det er dette jeg kommer hjem og hører på. Musikk er alt. For meg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/v98zJfn0Y4g&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/v98zJfn0Y4g&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3702934577515204345?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3702934577515204345/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3702934577515204345&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3702934577515204345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3702934577515204345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/09/beyond.html' title='Beyond'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4814683835051551824</id><published>2009-08-21T00:24:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T00:29:19.023+02:00</updated><title type='text'>En klok kvinne sa</title><content type='html'>Fra: http://kjeksogsmule.blogspot.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Sommeren toger forbi meg. Den er sand som renner gjennom fingrene. Kortvarig lykke. Ekte lykke. Kanskje er det det som blir gitt oss i små doser vi setter aller mest pris på. Små delikatesser servert på en stor tallerken. Sommeren er en eksklusiv rett vi spiser i bittesmå biter og håper vil vare for alltid. Og alltid blir den spist opp. Sulten blir bare såvidt temmet. Til vinteren er vi like skrubbsultne."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg kunne ikke sagt det bedre selv. Jeg er ikke mett, men ikke sulten heller. Det er vel det som er starten på høsten...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4814683835051551824?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4814683835051551824/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4814683835051551824&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4814683835051551824'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4814683835051551824'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/08/en-klok-kvinne-sa.html' title='En klok kvinne sa'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7509497538112949818</id><published>2009-08-18T20:21:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-18T20:24:30.151+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Stevie Wonder Is My Man Today</title><content type='html'>Yup, he really is&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/C5pX7oZ747w&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;border=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/C5pX7oZ747w&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="445" height="364"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7509497538112949818?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7509497538112949818/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7509497538112949818&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7509497538112949818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7509497538112949818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/08/stevie-wonder-is-my-man-today.html' title='Stevie Wonder Is My Man Today'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-6824467046331616862</id><published>2009-08-16T15:15:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T00:31:24.279+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Life, Scars and the 4th of July</title><content type='html'>I started thinking about scars yesterday. Just the other day I burned the palm of my hand pretty badly, and looking at the blister still on my hand, I'm pretty sure this burn will leave me with a little scar. Realizing this, I started looking at the other scars I have gained over the past 22 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a kid I had a habit of falling a lot on asphalt, especially running around in the summers with shorts on, so there are several scars on both knee caps. I just couldn't help picking those scabs off – I mean we thought of it as entertainment – and now I have the scars to prove it. Other scars that come to mind is the one right under my lip (not visible) from when I collided with a kid from daycare. We ran straight into each other, his forehead smack into my lip, 10 stitches later and there you go. Another noticeable one is on the back of my left ear from when I had ear surgery at the age of 10. These past few weeks however, there's one scar in particular that has had a special significance for me. Barely visible, it's located on my lower arm and it's from a day when my Grandma and I were ironing flags, many years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was early morning on the 4th of July in Milwaukee, and we were about to head over to the 4th of July parade in the park. I was about 8 or 9 and not very proficient with an iron yet. Naturally, I poked the tip of the iron right into my arm instead of down on the ironing board. I don't remember crying about it, just feeling a little worried. I seem to recall Grandma rushing me into her bathroom to run cool water over it and putting a bandaid on my little burned arm. There's not much more to that story than what I have written above. Yet I like it, and it's special to me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Grandma died two weeks ago on Friday. When people die, if it's someone close to you and if you're lucky, you are left with so much from that person. At the same time, you are also left with conversations that will never be had, and feelings never to be shared. I think the two weigh each other out, or possibly the former trumps the latter, I'm not sure yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have scars and some of them have stories. Actually, most of them probably do. There are also many scars that are completely invisible as they are on the inside, and their stories are more seldom told. Despite the pain these scars inflict at the time of the burn, I know I wouldn't want to be without them. Had I not burned myself with the iron that day, I probably wouldn't have remembered that moment. Sure it was painful when it happened, but having that physical mark now was worth that half hour of pain I had to endure then. I look down at it, and I smile – thinking about my Grandma and how one day, a summer long ago, she and I were ironing flags for the 4th of July. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It's a shallow life that doesn't give a person a few scars.”&lt;br /&gt;Garrison Keiller&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SogXYwlYZuI/AAAAAAAAApE/nQgKMWMqXBs/s1600-h/50.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 223px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SogXYwlYZuI/AAAAAAAAApE/nQgKMWMqXBs/s320/50.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370568269765306082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One 4th of July. My sister, and Grandma and me in matching tops!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-6824467046331616862?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/6824467046331616862/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=6824467046331616862&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6824467046331616862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6824467046331616862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/08/life-and-scars.html' title='Life, Scars and the 4th of July'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SogXYwlYZuI/AAAAAAAAApE/nQgKMWMqXBs/s72-c/50.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5354760849218423558</id><published>2009-07-30T18:05:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-30T19:14:34.437+02:00</updated><title type='text'>“Comfort me with strawberries: for I am sick of love.”</title><content type='html'>Strawberry and banana pancakes and a cup of coffee. It's pouring rain and I do what I can to make up for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SnHE4eYbjSI/AAAAAAAAAo8/y96vdV3LU3o/s1600-h/DSC05959.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SnHE4eYbjSI/AAAAAAAAAo8/y96vdV3LU3o/s320/DSC05959.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364285105682222370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5354760849218423558?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5354760849218423558/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5354760849218423558&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5354760849218423558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5354760849218423558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/comfort-me-with-strawberries-for-i-am.html' title='“Comfort me with strawberries: for I am sick of love.”'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SnHE4eYbjSI/AAAAAAAAAo8/y96vdV3LU3o/s72-c/DSC05959.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4340515422323818389</id><published>2009-07-27T00:36:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-27T00:44:12.787+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Et lite notis om små ting</title><content type='html'>Jeg ble syk forige uke og fortsatte med ting som om jeg ikke var det. &lt;br /&gt;Nå har jeg blitt syk på ordentlig og må innse at jeg må chille, roe ned.&lt;br /&gt;Jeg har ikke ro til å se på film eller poirot på nrk1. &lt;br /&gt;Ida M og jeg har hengt mye i sommer og hun er fin å ha. &lt;br /&gt;Vi lullet oss gjennom fredag ettermiddag/kveld før jeg ble syk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmzbPt8k3uI/AAAAAAAAAos/VtceB24ZLic/s1600-h/DSC05913.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmzbPt8k3uI/AAAAAAAAAos/VtceB24ZLic/s320/DSC05913.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362902319369608930" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmzbPzWIe3I/AAAAAAAAAo0/mxVHG1uXlK4/s1600-h/DSC05915.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmzbPzWIe3I/AAAAAAAAAo0/mxVHG1uXlK4/s320/DSC05915.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362902320818977650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg har lyst på kamera til bursdagen min.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4340515422323818389?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4340515422323818389/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4340515422323818389&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4340515422323818389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4340515422323818389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/et-lite-notis-om-sma-ting.html' title='Et lite notis om små ting'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmzbPt8k3uI/AAAAAAAAAos/VtceB24ZLic/s72-c/DSC05913.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7275625513382715547</id><published>2009-07-26T01:32:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T01:41:24.111+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Now At Last</title><content type='html'>Jeg har kjøpt meg albumet til Feist som heter Let It Die. Jeg digger den dama!&lt;br /&gt;Vel, dette er kanskje den tristeste sangteksten. Den er så trist at den er vakker, eller den er så vakker at den er trist. Kanskje begge deler. &lt;br /&gt;Hun synger denne sangen med en skjørhet som beveger en. Det er vel det den gjør med meg akkurat nå. Jeg ligger hjemme og er syk og mitt forsvar er nede.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oP2wtW6fO94&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oP2wtW6fO94&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NOW AT LAST&lt;br /&gt;Leslie Feist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now at last I know&lt;br /&gt;What a fool I've been&lt;br /&gt;For I've lost the last love&lt;br /&gt;I shall ever win&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at last I see&lt;br /&gt;How my heart was blind&lt;br /&gt;To the joys before me&lt;br /&gt;That I left behind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the wind was fresh&lt;br /&gt;On the hills&lt;br /&gt;And the stars were new in the sky&lt;br /&gt;And the lark was held in the still&lt;br /&gt;Where was I&lt;br /&gt;Where was I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the spring is cold&lt;br /&gt;Where do robins go&lt;br /&gt;What makes winter lonely&lt;br /&gt;Now at last I know&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the wind was fresh&lt;br /&gt;On the hills&lt;br /&gt;And the stars were new in the sky&lt;br /&gt;And the lark was held in the still&lt;br /&gt;Where was I&lt;br /&gt;Where was I&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When the spring is cold&lt;br /&gt;Where do robins go&lt;br /&gt;What makes winter lonely&lt;br /&gt;Now at last I know&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7275625513382715547?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7275625513382715547/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7275625513382715547&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7275625513382715547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7275625513382715547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/now-at-last.html' title='Now At Last'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1208697957938708559</id><published>2009-07-20T01:43:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-20T01:59:52.024+02:00</updated><title type='text'>En liste over uheldige tendenser</title><content type='html'>Ting man gjør når man er hjemme alene en hel regnværsdag med forkjølelse, som man ikke gjør ellers:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- spiser et helt brød. da som eneste næringskilde hele dagen utenom et par bixit med blåbærsmak i 4-tiden som smakte dritt.&lt;br /&gt;- drikker så og si en hel flaske cola. 1.5 liter liksom&lt;br /&gt;- ser ringens herre filmer som man har sett tusen ganger før, mens man gjør andre ting samtidig&lt;br /&gt;- hører på den samme plata om og om og om igjen&lt;br /&gt;- ser på slankekrigen på tvnorge. får litt dårlig samvittighet, men tar en ny runde brødskriver og cola for det.&lt;br /&gt;- blogger unødvendig&lt;br /&gt;- finner ut at man ikke burde være alene i så lang tid da det uunngåelig leder til uheldige tendenser.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1208697957938708559?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1208697957938708559/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1208697957938708559&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1208697957938708559'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1208697957938708559'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/en-liste-over-uheldige-tendenser.html' title='En liste over uheldige tendenser'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3790411133032456670</id><published>2009-07-19T13:51:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T14:13:31.091+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Ella Fitzgella</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmMNBnGsk1I/AAAAAAAAAok/DJXOSH2F8lM/s1600-h/ella-fitzgerald.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmMNBnGsk1I/AAAAAAAAAok/DJXOSH2F8lM/s200/ella-fitzgerald.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360142302829122386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Dagens sang er definitvt The Way You Look Tonight med Ella Fitzgerald. Jeg tror faktisk ikke jeg hadde hørt henne synge den før nå nylig, og det er allerede min favorittversjon. Som Big så skjønt sier til Carrie i sex og singelliv, "It's not corny, it's classic", om sangen Moon River sunget av Andy Williams sier jeg det samme om overnevnte sang. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det handler om ro. Jeg får ro av denne sangen. Også hjelper det med regnværet, og den lyden det lager når alle de små dråpene treffer bladene på trærne i parken utover. Man hører på musikk liksom på en helt annet måte når man er alene. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det som er så greit med Ella for meg er at jeg liker henne på to plan. Hun er fantastisk flink og jeg liker musikken bare av den grunn, pluss at jeg fikk henne inn med morsmelka slik at jeg får den fine nostalgiske følelsen av søndager hjemme hos mamma og pappa når jeg hører på henne på dager som i dag. Vel, nok nostalgi. Livet er godt.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3790411133032456670?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3790411133032456670/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3790411133032456670&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3790411133032456670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3790411133032456670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/ella-fitzgella.html' title='Ella Fitzgella'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmMNBnGsk1I/AAAAAAAAAok/DJXOSH2F8lM/s72-c/ella-fitzgerald.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5689148816178761344</id><published>2009-07-17T18:37:00.015+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T20:02:59.133+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeg elsker sommer</title><content type='html'>En fotoserie ved navnet, &lt;br /&gt;"Jeg elsker sommer - gjør du?"&lt;br /&gt;Juni - juli 2009&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bare en shitload av bilder fra noen utvalgte hendelser&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC7Fm31WNI/AAAAAAAAAn8/C2yjQ70ZNEw/s1600-h/DSC05568.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC7Fm31WNI/AAAAAAAAAn8/C2yjQ70ZNEw/s320/DSC05568.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359489261579360466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6s8EfSYI/AAAAAAAAAn0/dh62hAVxv1A/s1600-h/DSC05571.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6s8EfSYI/AAAAAAAAAn0/dh62hAVxv1A/s320/DSC05571.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488837772855682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6si-HLRI/AAAAAAAAAns/1hnYZCjgluY/s1600-h/DSC05574.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6si-HLRI/AAAAAAAAAns/1hnYZCjgluY/s320/DSC05574.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488831035223314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6sFBH5zI/AAAAAAAAAnk/LVmTkQPtSsA/s1600-h/DSC05577.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6sFBH5zI/AAAAAAAAAnk/LVmTkQPtSsA/s320/DSC05577.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488822994790194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6r7IpBqI/AAAAAAAAAnc/Oyax6644EHc/s1600-h/DSC05586.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6r7IpBqI/AAAAAAAAAnc/Oyax6644EHc/s320/DSC05586.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488820341966498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6rr-ReRI/AAAAAAAAAnU/j_nHjbT3YSw/s1600-h/DSC05593.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC6rr-ReRI/AAAAAAAAAnU/j_nHjbT3YSw/s320/DSC05593.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488816271948050" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5-CsQXCI/AAAAAAAAAnM/2baMWeIcL2Y/s1600-h/DSC05599.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5-CsQXCI/AAAAAAAAAnM/2baMWeIcL2Y/s320/DSC05599.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488032096410658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC59cx8svI/AAAAAAAAAnE/dTlcKcydCvo/s1600-h/DSC05604.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC59cx8svI/AAAAAAAAAnE/dTlcKcydCvo/s320/DSC05604.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488021919740658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC8faLCEdI/AAAAAAAAAoE/_e7u64Iayyw/s1600-h/DSC05606.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC8faLCEdI/AAAAAAAAAoE/_e7u64Iayyw/s320/DSC05606.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359490804358451666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC58hPsKCI/AAAAAAAAAm0/qNBq0yzGaiI/s1600-h/DSC05610.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC58hPsKCI/AAAAAAAAAm0/qNBq0yzGaiI/s320/DSC05610.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488005938358306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC58psQ8zI/AAAAAAAAAms/EpWlwEbYPXE/s1600-h/DSC05622.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC58psQ8zI/AAAAAAAAAms/EpWlwEbYPXE/s320/DSC05622.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488008205693746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5moQi1bI/AAAAAAAAAmk/13uOnW8dtu4/s1600-h/DSC05626.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5moQi1bI/AAAAAAAAAmk/13uOnW8dtu4/s320/DSC05626.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487629863867826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5mU-blaI/AAAAAAAAAmc/IeeB_z8WISY/s1600-h/DSC05646.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5mU-blaI/AAAAAAAAAmc/IeeB_z8WISY/s320/DSC05646.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487624687621538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5lR1fQ4I/AAAAAAAAAmU/Yk6Eo645484/s1600-h/DSC05648.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5lR1fQ4I/AAAAAAAAAmU/Yk6Eo645484/s320/DSC05648.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487606664938370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5k5mca8I/AAAAAAAAAmM/dmrIBXofWyo/s1600-h/DSC05656.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5k5mca8I/AAAAAAAAAmM/dmrIBXofWyo/s320/DSC05656.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487600159386562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5khV7qiI/AAAAAAAAAmE/C8v8BkKM1ao/s1600-h/DSC05658.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5khV7qiI/AAAAAAAAAmE/C8v8BkKM1ao/s320/DSC05658.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487593647680034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5LR3AorI/AAAAAAAAAl8/803DrVtWKn4/s1600-h/DSC05661.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5LR3AorI/AAAAAAAAAl8/803DrVtWKn4/s320/DSC05661.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487159994720946" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5K6eS9xI/AAAAAAAAAl0/QY5nQPvY7MQ/s1600-h/DSC05664.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5K6eS9xI/AAAAAAAAAl0/QY5nQPvY7MQ/s320/DSC05664.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487153717049106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5KuOrZOI/AAAAAAAAAls/u4bo_SW1k0Y/s1600-h/DSC05673.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5KuOrZOI/AAAAAAAAAls/u4bo_SW1k0Y/s320/DSC05673.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487150430315746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5JxJ0dcI/AAAAAAAAAlk/HJwCE0az5dw/s1600-h/DSC05674.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5JxJ0dcI/AAAAAAAAAlk/HJwCE0az5dw/s320/DSC05674.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487134035375554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5JSRuvqI/AAAAAAAAAlc/k8ZHudFw1iI/s1600-h/DSC05677.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC5JSRuvqI/AAAAAAAAAlc/k8ZHudFw1iI/s320/DSC05677.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359487125747056290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4ruwBoVI/AAAAAAAAAlU/uywFwbmfjOY/s1600-h/DSC05678.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4ruwBoVI/AAAAAAAAAlU/uywFwbmfjOY/s320/DSC05678.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359486617994240338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4rM-WPXI/AAAAAAAAAlM/FiTpX5yuBdo/s1600-h/DSC05686.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4rM-WPXI/AAAAAAAAAlM/FiTpX5yuBdo/s320/DSC05686.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359486608927505778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4qlx_XMI/AAAAAAAAAlE/Y91nJq-3yfY/s1600-h/DSC05690.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4qlx_XMI/AAAAAAAAAlE/Y91nJq-3yfY/s320/DSC05690.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359486598406692034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4qJ1zNkI/AAAAAAAAAk8/9bnzq0cB0Bo/s1600-h/DSC05691.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4qJ1zNkI/AAAAAAAAAk8/9bnzq0cB0Bo/s320/DSC05691.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359486590906480194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4p6dGRTI/AAAAAAAAAk0/21JUFNOGE4c/s1600-h/DSC05694.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4p6dGRTI/AAAAAAAAAk0/21JUFNOGE4c/s320/DSC05694.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359486586776339762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4HGz1iDI/AAAAAAAAAks/XJefanSv43U/s1600-h/DSC05706.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4HGz1iDI/AAAAAAAAAks/XJefanSv43U/s320/DSC05706.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359485988797515826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4GquUFDI/AAAAAAAAAkk/RL9_RVR5isA/s1600-h/DSC05713.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4GquUFDI/AAAAAAAAAkk/RL9_RVR5isA/s320/DSC05713.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359485981258159154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4GMXiUfI/AAAAAAAAAkc/qX2MqbVyslA/s1600-h/DSC05718.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4GMXiUfI/AAAAAAAAAkc/qX2MqbVyslA/s320/DSC05718.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359485973109559794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4F9vPkXI/AAAAAAAAAkU/YF7KZq1OFwU/s1600-h/DSC05721.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4F9vPkXI/AAAAAAAAAkU/YF7KZq1OFwU/s320/DSC05721.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359485969182462322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4Fly60II/AAAAAAAAAkM/0n8fiPJcTI0/s1600-h/DSC05722.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC4Fly60II/AAAAAAAAAkM/0n8fiPJcTI0/s320/DSC05722.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359485962755428482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC0QTT7eTI/AAAAAAAAAkE/0-gyFsYiJ04/s1600-h/DSC05726.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC0QTT7eTI/AAAAAAAAAkE/0-gyFsYiJ04/s320/DSC05726.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481748725659954" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC0QLd4gBI/AAAAAAAAAj8/yPhZd2Q7FI4/s1600-h/DSC05732.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC0QLd4gBI/AAAAAAAAAj8/yPhZd2Q7FI4/s320/DSC05732.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481746619924498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC8geL1Y4I/AAAAAAAAAoU/YmStbF1ECPQ/s1600-h/DSC05735.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC8geL1Y4I/AAAAAAAAAoU/YmStbF1ECPQ/s320/DSC05735.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359490822615425922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC8fqyngjI/AAAAAAAAAoM/lmyqHS5Knq8/s1600-h/DSC05734.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC8fqyngjI/AAAAAAAAAoM/lmyqHS5Knq8/s320/DSC05734.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359490808819450418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC0OGPHOGI/AAAAAAAAAjk/0tucgyFoVYY/s1600-h/DSC05739.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC0OGPHOGI/AAAAAAAAAjk/0tucgyFoVYY/s320/DSC05739.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481710856058978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzwQTkclI/AAAAAAAAAjc/F7ripHAdg-s/s1600-h/DSC05740.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzwQTkclI/AAAAAAAAAjc/F7ripHAdg-s/s320/DSC05740.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481198163030610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzv1GqbHI/AAAAAAAAAjU/ULnQH5eN-68/s1600-h/DSC05745.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzv1GqbHI/AAAAAAAAAjU/ULnQH5eN-68/s320/DSC05745.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481190861139058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzu5bZaQI/AAAAAAAAAjM/lomp8iuRzjw/s1600-h/DSC05755.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzu5bZaQI/AAAAAAAAAjM/lomp8iuRzjw/s320/DSC05755.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481174841977090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzuVEiheI/AAAAAAAAAjE/xrMbo7LsxiU/s1600-h/DSC05759.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzuVEiheI/AAAAAAAAAjE/xrMbo7LsxiU/s320/DSC05759.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481165082428898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzt8UHf9I/AAAAAAAAAi8/xHP3pp29I2Y/s1600-h/DSC05764.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCzt8UHf9I/AAAAAAAAAi8/xHP3pp29I2Y/s320/DSC05764.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359481158436880338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCymVbBhLI/AAAAAAAAAi0/olM2-0qKL04/s1600-h/DSC05768.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCymVbBhLI/AAAAAAAAAi0/olM2-0qKL04/s320/DSC05768.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359479928226153650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCymDGJTtI/AAAAAAAAAis/yTqw6YjtjaE/s1600-h/DSC05770.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCymDGJTtI/AAAAAAAAAis/yTqw6YjtjaE/s320/DSC05770.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359479923306745554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCylqrkhhI/AAAAAAAAAik/cbxNX1DwlXE/s1600-h/DSC05772.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCylqrkhhI/AAAAAAAAAik/cbxNX1DwlXE/s320/DSC05772.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359479916752832018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCylVdsohI/AAAAAAAAAic/3CuNSR4d4eI/s1600-h/DSC05774.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCylVdsohI/AAAAAAAAAic/3CuNSR4d4eI/s320/DSC05774.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359479911057498642" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCyk9cdsgI/AAAAAAAAAiU/cAXEaBq8uYQ/s1600-h/DSC05777.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmCyk9cdsgI/AAAAAAAAAiU/cAXEaBq8uYQ/s320/DSC05777.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359479904609874434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ja, dette var en lang serie bilder. Hvorfor havner de ikke på face sier du? Bare fordi jeg ville blogge dem. Blogg er fint. Og fortsatt god sommer!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5689148816178761344?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5689148816178761344/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5689148816178761344&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5689148816178761344'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5689148816178761344'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/jeg-elsker-sommer.html' title='Jeg elsker sommer'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SmC7Fm31WNI/AAAAAAAAAn8/C2yjQ70ZNEw/s72-c/DSC05568.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2239264345031357277</id><published>2009-07-15T20:50:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T20:52:17.026+02:00</updated><title type='text'>So</title><content type='html'>so no one will read this anyway, because it's summer and whatever, but I would like to share with the world that I am soooo tiiired. Three nite shifts in a row and I feel all weird. I can't wait for it to be over. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well that's that I guess. &lt;br /&gt;happy summer&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2239264345031357277?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2239264345031357277/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2239264345031357277&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2239264345031357277'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2239264345031357277'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/so.html' title='So'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-6525534215912007483</id><published>2009-07-13T20:52:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T20:55:06.787+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Hello Monday</title><content type='html'>It's sunday evening and I'm exhausted. Two executive shifts at work with too little sleep in between has left me feeling tired beyond the usual. Yet, I'm still not ready to collapse on my bed. Because I have that sunday evening feeling. It's an evening that almost always creeps up on you without notice. Suddenly it's there and a new week is there, right around the corner. For a couple of hours you find yourself in that between state of something ending and another thing beginning. I often find myself alone on sunday nights, usually home by my bedtime (whenever that is). I like it a lot. Especially tonight because it's raining, washing the old week away, giving the new one a fresh start. That's how I like to see it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so&lt;br /&gt;good bye sunday&lt;br /&gt;hello monday&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-6525534215912007483?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/6525534215912007483/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=6525534215912007483&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6525534215912007483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6525534215912007483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/hello-monday.html' title='Hello Monday'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7077093978549127926</id><published>2009-07-06T00:41:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2009-07-09T01:35:33.704+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Scattered thoughts. Blame it on the rain.</title><content type='html'>Det er søndag. Jeg sov til klokken tre på ettermiddagen etter å ha lagt meg halv seks på morgenen. Forige natt "brøt" vi oss inn på Tøyenbadet. Vi forlot Revolver i tre-tiden for å ta en dukkert og se på himmelen begynne å lysne. Nå er det 5 timer til jeg skal opp og jeg sitter bare og skriver det som står nedenfor. Ikke smart selvfølgelig. Men hva skal man gjøre?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to write again. I need to get a word prosessing document on my new hard drive. Need need need. There are so many things I need to do, and thinking about all of them are taking too much space. I need a balance between what I want to do and what I need to do. Can I do them both at the same time? Can I do all that I need to do without going crazy?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beauty. I am looking for beauty in my life. I am looking to be guided by my heart and I want to find the peace that I know lies within me. I find that I love conversing with people. I love talking about so many things, but I don't like talk for talk's sake. I don't like talking with people who constantly interrupt and who don't listen. So many things interest me, but a lof of trivial things don't. They are trivial to me, but they might not be for other people. I see that and therefore respect that a certain topic of conversation might be of significance and worth for someone else, but not for me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love silence, but I find I interpret silence in my own way. I can have silence with music playing and with the sound of a fork scraping a plate or somebody talking in another room. In the dictionary the word silence is defined as being "the complete absence of sound". That is not adequate then. The word I'm looking for is quietude. Ah, what a heavenly word!  The dictionary defines it like this: a state of stillness, calmness, and quiet in a person or place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want quietude. Sometimes I wonder if my craving for this atmosphere, this feeling, is something that I crave a lot of in this moment of my life, but that it's not necessarily something I will need in the same way, for its entirety. As of now, I cannot say either way. Despite wanting to have this, a lot of the time I am doing things which state or atmosphere are probably the opposite of quietude. What do I want? I want to have some time before school starts to get some quietude. I think I will have to leave this city to get it. Actually, I don't think. I know it's a fact. It's so easy to dance around the truth, but it'll catch you in the end no matter what, so you might as well let yourself accept it the moment it reveals itself. You'll get much closer happiness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a new job, and I realize that there are two reasons why I have this job. Number one: I need money. I need to make it myself. Number two: I am afraid to not have anything to do, alone in the city of Oslo. By alone, I am referencing to the feeling of being alone. I am not alone. Perhaps I can think of it this way - I always have the love of the universe no matter how I feel. I have the love of the force of the earth. It's going to hold me steady if I let it. I think that means I have to listen to the earth, and to myself  and find a way in which the two can be in harmony. Oh God, I sound like an ex-hippie turned new age yogi or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think the whole world should all go on a vacation together. We should all take one long trip, the kind where you stay up late and drink beer and play guitars and bond and make funny inside jokes. And everyone that has ever starved would get filled up to their heart's content, and the one's that have always had plenty would ........I can't finish my utopian vision. The idea is too far fetched and surreal to even put into words, let alone imagine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sweet music is lulling me to sleep this sunday evening. I have a long challenging work day ahead of me. It's probably the most demanding job I've ever had. I can only take it as it comes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This summer is on an even tide so far (can you say that?), though my thoughts are so erratic right now. I swear, it's the weather. The rain is humming melodically as I type, and it is totally having an effect. (I'm noticing that my english has become slightly more valley-girlish since my vacation. Lucky it's not as prevalent in writing).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought a necklace yesterday that says love. Love. That thing we are constantly searching for, even when we have it. So if you, in this moment, find yourself without the love you are looking for, it's reassuring to know, that if you can't have the real thing, you can at least have it on a necklace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7077093978549127926?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7077093978549127926/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7077093978549127926&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7077093978549127926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7077093978549127926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/07/scattered-thoughts-blame-it-on-rain.html' title='Scattered thoughts. Blame it on the rain.'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7283524489996157117</id><published>2009-06-30T01:46:00.007+02:00</published><updated>2009-06-30T23:36:56.486+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Words I Write</title><content type='html'>When I can't sleep, I write. Often I am too tired to write complete sentences, but still too restless not to write. So I write poetry. Or I think that's what they call it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DARK ROOM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dark room, with light&lt;br /&gt;switched on by me&lt;br /&gt;to see myself&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no patience&lt;br /&gt;I have no stillness&lt;br /&gt;I have no silence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;my mind &lt;br /&gt;is only in&lt;br /&gt;my mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need my mind &lt;br /&gt;to rest&lt;br /&gt;in my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Music&lt;br /&gt;but not peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes are not tired&lt;br /&gt;I don't know my state&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is limbo&lt;br /&gt;I need peace&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;CONTENTMENT&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;is swimming in a pond&lt;br /&gt;in peacefullness&lt;br /&gt;someone who loves you nearby&lt;br /&gt;and you know that they do&lt;br /&gt;no words are spoken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ripples of water&lt;br /&gt;the sound a mower humming in the distance&lt;br /&gt;stroking the water&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and it lasts&lt;br /&gt;until the silence is broken &lt;br /&gt;other voices&lt;br /&gt;the moment is gone&lt;br /&gt;contentment remains&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;for a little while&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LOVE COMES&lt;br /&gt;in every form&lt;br /&gt;in every intensity&lt;br /&gt;nothing is normal&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;once experienced, you are always searching, even when you think you aren't&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love and control&lt;br /&gt;is all we seek&lt;br /&gt;we can't handle either&lt;br /&gt;trying not to fail at them anyway&lt;br /&gt;realizing there is no such thing as failure or perfection&lt;br /&gt;only life&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;annoyed at life's truths&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7283524489996157117?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7283524489996157117/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7283524489996157117&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7283524489996157117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7283524489996157117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/06/words-i-write.html' title='Words I Write'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-8748431335827474893</id><published>2009-06-23T06:29:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-06-23T16:38:04.072+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Theres a whole lot of singing that's never gonna be heard&lt;br /&gt;Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow&lt;br /&gt;Think I broke the wings off that little song bird&lt;br /&gt;Shes never gonna fly to the top of the world right now&lt;br /&gt;Top of the world&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont have to answer any of these questions&lt;br /&gt;Dont have no God to teach me no lessons&lt;br /&gt;I come home in the evening&lt;br /&gt;Sit in my chair&lt;br /&gt;One night they called me for supper&lt;br /&gt;But I never got up&lt;br /&gt;I stayed right there in my chair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wished I'd a known you&lt;br /&gt;Wished I'd a shown you&lt;br /&gt;All of the things I was on the inside&lt;br /&gt;I'd pretend to be sleeping&lt;br /&gt;When you come in in the morning&lt;br /&gt;To whisper good-bye&lt;br /&gt;Go to work in the rain&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why&lt;br /&gt;Don't know why&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cause everyone's singing&lt;br /&gt;We just wanna be heard&lt;br /&gt;Disappearing everyday without so much as a word somehow&lt;br /&gt;Wanna grab a hold of that little song bird&lt;br /&gt;Take her for a ride to the top of the world right now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;-Top of the World&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dixie Chicks&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-8748431335827474893?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/8748431335827474893/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=8748431335827474893&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8748431335827474893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8748431335827474893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/06/theres-whole-lot-of-singing-thats-never.html' title=''/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4109707528507837497</id><published>2009-06-09T15:42:00.012+02:00</published><updated>2009-06-10T15:12:12.645+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I Get the News I Need on the Weather Report</title><content type='html'>I get the news I need on the weather report.&lt;br /&gt;I can gather all the news I need on the weather report.&lt;br /&gt;Hey, I've got nothing to do today but smile.&lt;br /&gt;Da-n-da-da-n-da-da-n-da-da here I am&lt;br /&gt;The only living boy in New York&lt;br /&gt;--Paul Simon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems a little weird to think about leaving Oslo. First I am going on a two week vacation this Thursday, and then leaving for a year this fall. For some weird reason I feel like I've spent every day here since forever, living and breathing this city 24/7, even though that is not the case. I think it will be good to leave. Then I can miss it, which I know I will. In the good way. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's summer here now and like Paul Simon, I get all the news I need from yr.no now. I don't have much space leftover for the problems and trivialites of the rest of the world, despite perhaps their weather reports. Is that a problem? As of now, I'm going to say no. It will pass, and I will again feel the need to discuss the peace process in Somalia. Ok wait, so I've never tried to understand the peace process in Somalia, though my use of the word "again" would imply that I have. I probably should though. But yeah, definitely not this month. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying out a new cello, but I don't think I'm going to buy it. I'm enjoying it nevertheless though and I have been playing for hours every day. I haven't played in months!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm listening to Feist, washing clothes and biking home to get my passport after that. I wish the sun would come out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;UPDATE: I now I have a blister on my index finger from the cello playing. I don't remember ever getting a blister from that! You know what that tells me? Tells me it's time to stop complaining about my crappy cello and just practice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4109707528507837497?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4109707528507837497/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4109707528507837497&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4109707528507837497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4109707528507837497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/06/i-get-news-i-need-on-weather-report.html' title='I Get the News I Need on the Weather Report'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5732485347831336989</id><published>2009-06-08T16:59:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-06-08T17:07:18.595+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeg har for mye tid. Det er digg.</title><content type='html'>Jeg tok akkurat en quiz som het, "What sort of drunk are you?". Jeg ble: the emotional drunk. Jada, ikke noe overraskelse det. Men! Jeg må bare nevne at bildet de hadde for forklaringen på en emotional drunk var Amy Winehouse! Og da måtte jeg le, for det er ikke sjelden jeg våkner og føler meg akkurat som Amy Winehouse. Jeg har til og med &lt;a href="http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/jeg-gir-meg-selv-en-klapp-pa-skulderen_3412.html"&gt;blogget om det før&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5732485347831336989?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5732485347831336989/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5732485347831336989&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5732485347831336989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5732485347831336989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/06/jeg-har-for-mye-tid-det-er-digg.html' title='Jeg har for mye tid. Det er digg.'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5047772581633780566</id><published>2009-06-02T23:37:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2009-06-05T23:50:37.687+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Viktig, unødvendig pjatt</title><content type='html'>Litt kjedelig å bare blogge unødvendig pjatt fra mitt eget liv, men jeg bryr meg ikke nok om det til å unngå denne kommentaren. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vinteren 2009 var dritt. Sommeren 2009 er chill og digg og bra. Hurra! For det meste i alle fall. Jeg satser egentlig bare på at den kommer til å bli bedre og bedre. Alt tyder på at det vil bli slik. Jeg innser at det bare har vært sommer i 2 dager. Det føles som lenger, fordi jeg regner med deler av mai-måned også, grunnet varmen og antall soldager som den måneden velsignet oss med. Selv når ting er vanskelig er det noe grunnleggende som er bra. Jeg merker det på musikken jeg hører på. Hurra igjen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5047772581633780566?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5047772581633780566/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5047772581633780566&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5047772581633780566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5047772581633780566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/06/viktig-undvendig-pjatt.html' title='Viktig, unødvendig pjatt'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2301230238289279832</id><published>2009-05-31T02:40:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-31T02:41:43.983+02:00</updated><title type='text'>My Own Thousand Words</title><content type='html'>The eskimos have like a thousand words for snow. I guess it's because it's such a huge part of their lives, and really important. What will I have a thousand words for?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2301230238289279832?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2301230238289279832/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2301230238289279832&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2301230238289279832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2301230238289279832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-own-thousand-words.html' title='My Own Thousand Words'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4231062282469666367</id><published>2009-05-21T17:52:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-21T17:53:51.310+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Italia</title><content type='html'>Jeg er i Italia. Paa spontantur. Det er great. Jeg skal skrive noe om det when I'm good and ready. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vel, rodvinsflasken til 2 euro kaller! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fred og kjaerleik fra Bolgona til alle og en hver.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4231062282469666367?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4231062282469666367/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4231062282469666367&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4231062282469666367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4231062282469666367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/italia.html' title='Italia'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1252139955292512531</id><published>2009-05-14T18:39:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-14T18:39:10.572+02:00</updated><title type='text'>DUDE</title><content type='html'>Dude.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1252139955292512531?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1252139955292512531/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1252139955292512531&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1252139955292512531'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1252139955292512531'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/dude.html' title='DUDE'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-920476929371101208</id><published>2009-05-11T01:48:00.010+02:00</published><updated>2009-08-21T00:41:07.394+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Worth a Thousand Words</title><content type='html'>I don't know what this is about really. I put some pictures from the weekend out on facebook yesterday. It's not something I do very often, and I'm almost opposed to this idea of constantly sharing one's every experience with friends and accquaintances. Somehow things like that seem more special when they are not flaunted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite these feelings, there's something about showing yourself off like that which everyone seems to like, myself included. A picture is worth a thousand words, but you can choose which, and they don't have to be true. These pictures are obviously glimpses of moments that have happened, but they are but moments of an instant – a second – a flash, and they only show you that which is visible through the lens of a camera. What is visible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In pictures, we can choose which side we want to show of ourselves and many sides are usually left out: the ugly, the sad, the illogical, the frustrated, the lonely, the uncool, the desperate and the pensive. We don't wish to show those sides, and we're not interested in seeing them in others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where does the meaningful and the real go? Why is that not interesting in our everyday lives? Or perhaps I am completely mistaken. Who's to say we cannot choose what is real anyway? Too much realness can be overwhelming and sometimes we all feel better after a little dose of superficiality. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photographer Arnold Newman says this, “Photography, as we all know, is not real at all. It is an illusion of reality.” That flash, that instant which is captured is real, but the thousand words it provides us with might be the illusion. Still, it might be just as important. Maybe that's exactly the way we want it to be. The way we need it to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-920476929371101208?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/920476929371101208/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=920476929371101208&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/920476929371101208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/920476929371101208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/worth-thousand-words.html' title='Worth a Thousand Words'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2878523473187858361</id><published>2009-05-10T14:53:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-10T16:32:17.545+02:00</updated><title type='text'>The Outtakes</title><content type='html'>These didn't make it for round one - the facebook round. &lt;br /&gt;So here's round two: The outtakes from Friday night&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-&lt;br /&gt;ffW00/SgbPr2j6g9I/AAAAAAAAAhU/vjeRsGVbE1M/s1600-h/DSC04888.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPr2j6g9I/AAAAAAAAAhU/vjeRsGVbE1M/s320/DSC04888.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334179160954405842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgblAFH_JZI/AAAAAAAAAhc/q3FTlvIL2OU/s1600-h/DSC04936.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgblAFH_JZI/AAAAAAAAAhc/q3FTlvIL2OU/s320/DSC04936.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334202598205367698" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrgIsNoI/AAAAAAAAAhM/2NOjUowobhI/s1600-h/DSC04894.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrgIsNoI/AAAAAAAAAhM/2NOjUowobhI/s320/DSC04894.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334179154934642306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrWQHvzI/AAAAAAAAAhE/g0CgIjm1Q40/s1600-h/DSC04897.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrWQHvzI/AAAAAAAAAhE/g0CgIjm1Q40/s320/DSC04897.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334179152281452338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrTakyTI/AAAAAAAAAg8/bzwOPJHIrbs/s1600-h/DSC04898.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrTakyTI/AAAAAAAAAg8/bzwOPJHIrbs/s320/DSC04898.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334179151519992114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrKo1Q7I/AAAAAAAAAg0/WKtWUEsJNfQ/s1600-h/DSC04900.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPrKo1Q7I/AAAAAAAAAg0/WKtWUEsJNfQ/s320/DSC04900.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334179149163873202" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO4OItOYI/AAAAAAAAAgs/43E58DmxuYE/s1600-h/DSC04904.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO4OItOYI/AAAAAAAAAgs/43E58DmxuYE/s320/DSC04904.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334178273929542018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO3r4Fo0I/AAAAAAAAAgk/f9I6aOn3gVI/s1600-h/DSC04911.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO3r4Fo0I/AAAAAAAAAgk/f9I6aOn3gVI/s320/DSC04911.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334178264733033282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO3YD5Z5I/AAAAAAAAAgc/3TR_oB1SMPY/s1600-h/DSC04928.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO3YD5Z5I/AAAAAAAAAgc/3TR_oB1SMPY/s320/DSC04928.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334178259413854098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgblAPiR--I/AAAAAAAAAhk/qvXPHEso-vw/s1600-h/DSC04957.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgblAPiR--I/AAAAAAAAAhk/qvXPHEso-vw/s320/DSC04957.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334202601000008674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO3AdKKlI/AAAAAAAAAgU/8EzChDy8IoE/s1600-h/DSC04942.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO3AdKKlI/AAAAAAAAAgU/8EzChDy8IoE/s320/DSC04942.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334178253077359186" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO267EgDI/AAAAAAAAAgM/O34noEEL0Qw/s1600-h/DSC04951.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbO267EgDI/AAAAAAAAAgM/O34noEEL0Qw/s320/DSC04951.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334178251592204338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2878523473187858361?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2878523473187858361/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2878523473187858361&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2878523473187858361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2878523473187858361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/outtakes.html' title='The Outtakes'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgbPr2j6g9I/AAAAAAAAAhU/vjeRsGVbE1M/s72-c/DSC04888.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2448658468484338903</id><published>2009-05-07T13:45:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-07T14:09:58.061+02:00</updated><title type='text'>A Walk in the Woods</title><content type='html'>Today is a rainy day. Yesterday on the other hand, was sunny and beautiful, and it was in this lovely weather that I decided to take a little walk in the woods along a familiar path and a familiar river. Though I have walked, and gone swimming, and gone running there a thousand times, I had never yet fotographed it, until yesterday. Here 'tis :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKxltGmnI/AAAAAAAAAec/pHgqZrGqt9c/s1600-h/DSCN0262.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKxltGmnI/AAAAAAAAAec/pHgqZrGqt9c/s400/DSCN0262.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333047862043777650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKx3YstAI/AAAAAAAAAek/eho_xhDb2lA/s1600-h/DSCN0263.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKx3YstAI/AAAAAAAAAek/eho_xhDb2lA/s400/DSCN0263.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333047866790032386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKyMTGoPI/AAAAAAAAAes/yHe8UQ33kKU/s1600-h/DSCN0266.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKyMTGoPI/AAAAAAAAAes/yHe8UQ33kKU/s400/DSCN0266.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333047872403710194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKyXAc1MI/AAAAAAAAAe0/O4_n7m3iSo4/s1600-h/DSCN0288.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKyXAc1MI/AAAAAAAAAe0/O4_n7m3iSo4/s400/DSCN0288.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333047875278263490" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKynB5ZqI/AAAAAAAAAe8/ZjEAAiODYlM/s1600-h/DSCN0290.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKynB5ZqI/AAAAAAAAAe8/ZjEAAiODYlM/s400/DSCN0290.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333047879579297442" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMA_nd2II/AAAAAAAAAfE/N8J_WzM66vk/s1600-h/DSCN0297.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMA_nd2II/AAAAAAAAAfE/N8J_WzM66vk/s400/DSCN0297.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333049226209122434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMBaEKTmI/AAAAAAAAAfM/dBu8OXzRLMg/s1600-h/DSCN0302.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMBaEKTmI/AAAAAAAAAfM/dBu8OXzRLMg/s400/DSCN0302.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333049233308798562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMBsIWq5I/AAAAAAAAAfU/BL9IP4CMpVE/s1600-h/DSCN0330.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMBsIWq5I/AAAAAAAAAfU/BL9IP4CMpVE/s400/DSCN0330.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333049238158224274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMBwnzGEI/AAAAAAAAAfc/UfAL874y7iM/s1600-h/DSCN0339.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMBwnzGEI/AAAAAAAAAfc/UfAL874y7iM/s400/DSCN0339.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333049239363852354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMCFGOd5I/AAAAAAAAAfk/KlItqMyo1bM/s1600-h/DSCN0345.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLMCFGOd5I/AAAAAAAAAfk/KlItqMyo1bM/s400/DSCN0345.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333049244860184466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNaeL17qI/AAAAAAAAAfs/sGV21UJVdvo/s1600-h/DSCN0348.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNaeL17qI/AAAAAAAAAfs/sGV21UJVdvo/s400/DSCN0348.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333050763423116962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNa1_lNoI/AAAAAAAAAf0/ZiMakmytuwk/s1600-h/DSCN0352.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNa1_lNoI/AAAAAAAAAf0/ZiMakmytuwk/s400/DSCN0352.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333050769814140546" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNbcK7W2I/AAAAAAAAAf8/pgBGvuohtQw/s1600-h/DSCN0353.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 354px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNbcK7W2I/AAAAAAAAAf8/pgBGvuohtQw/s400/DSCN0353.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333050780062276450" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNb4tsfTI/AAAAAAAAAgE/_qDVoT0dfvk/s1600-h/DSCN0356.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLNb4tsfTI/AAAAAAAAAgE/_qDVoT0dfvk/s400/DSCN0356.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333050787724295474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2448658468484338903?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2448658468484338903/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2448658468484338903&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2448658468484338903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2448658468484338903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/walk-in-woods.html' title='A Walk in the Woods'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SgLKxltGmnI/AAAAAAAAAec/pHgqZrGqt9c/s72-c/DSCN0262.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4489167834586412692</id><published>2009-05-01T21:27:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T21:35:25.707+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>When nothing else makes sense, music always makes sense. And when nothing else is right, music is always right. I love that. And I love music. Its power ant its mystery is impossible to try and comprehend and I'm not trying too hard. I'm going to let its incomprehensibility wash over me and make me whole.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4489167834586412692?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4489167834586412692/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4489167834586412692&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4489167834586412692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4489167834586412692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/when-nothinge-else-makes-sense-music.html' title=''/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7796678784906756741</id><published>2009-05-01T12:50:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-05-01T12:53:11.310+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Sommerdikt</title><content type='html'>Et sommerdikt av Catharina fra den tiden da birkelunden i mai var vårt andre hjem, mens vi skulket våre fransktimer og droppet alle satslæreinnleveringene. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det er en ting jeg gleder meg til nå.&lt;br /&gt;Det er dette som får meg til å tenke på&lt;br /&gt;hvor kjedelig det er.&lt;br /&gt;Med votter, skjerf og masse klær.&lt;br /&gt;Nei, takke meg til bare tær.&lt;br /&gt;For snart er sommern her igjen.&lt;br /&gt;Da er det slutt på alt som heter skirenn.&lt;br /&gt;Gutta tar av seg til bar overkropp,&lt;br /&gt;og da blir humøret mitt på topp.&lt;br /&gt;Da skal vi pilse i solnedgangen,&lt;br /&gt;mens vi danser til seg fine sangen.&lt;br /&gt;Når solen så går sakte ned,&lt;br /&gt;finner vi oss et sted i fred.&lt;br /&gt;Der skal vi prate til langt på natt,&lt;br /&gt;til himmelen er mørk som den svarteste katt.&lt;br /&gt;Da kryper vi inn,&lt;br /&gt;med glade sinn,&lt;br /&gt;og venter på at solen igjen titter inin.&lt;br /&gt;En ny sommerdag,&lt;br /&gt;uten slitsomme fag.&lt;br /&gt;Men bading, kyss og mye bøll,&lt;br /&gt;mens vi nipper til en sommerøl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Catharina Sletner anno 2005?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7796678784906756741?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7796678784906756741/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7796678784906756741&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7796678784906756741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7796678784906756741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/05/sommerdikt.html' title='Sommerdikt'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2064702337776742273</id><published>2009-04-30T14:13:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-30T14:14:02.694+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Kategorisert under sommer og lesing</title><content type='html'>I fjor sommer leste jeg alle Jane Austen sine bøker. Det er seks av dem. Noen ganger lurer jeg på hvordan det var å være kvinne på Jane Austen sin tid (slutten av 1700-tallet for de som ikke er så litterært opplyste som meg...eh..). På mange måter gir hennes bøker et veldig godt innblikk i det hele, men likevel ikke. Fordi når alt kommer til alt, så er det bare bøker, og hennes karakterer er ikke ekte. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hva ville Elizabeth Bennett synes om Norge i dag? Hvordan ville hun takle den kritikken vi ville gitt henne, når hun forteller oss at det var ikke før hun så Mr. Darcys slott av et hus at hun innså at dette var mannen hun elsket? Hva med Emma? Gud, jeg kunne aldri vært venn med Emma. Jeg vet ikke om hun hadde hatt det så kult hvis hun levde nå, fordi den eneste grunnen til at noen vil være venn med Emma er fordi hun er rik og tilsynelatende sofistikert. Vi hadde nok gjennomskuet henne på et sekund. Oh yes. Kvinnen jeg har mest sans for er nok Anne fra Persuasion. Henne kan jeg relatere til, utenom at det irriterer meg at hun er så opptatt av penger (de er jo alle det. Er vi også det, bare at vi ikke sier det høyt, og later som om det ikke spiller noen rolle?) og det at Captain Wentworth til slutt er den som tar all iniativ. Hun elsker ham jo, og tenker på ham hele tiden, lenge før han er klar over at han aldri sluttet å elske henne. Assert yourself women! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg lurer på hva jeg skal lese denne sommeren. Uansett hva jeg skal, vil jeg lese. I bokhylla venter bind to av Walden Pond, forbrytelse og straff, og the Golden Book av Doris Lessing. Men kanskje ingen av disse blir lest. We shall see. Jeg setter ingen bestemte krav. Hvis det er noe som er sikkert i hvertfall så er det at jeg er mektig lei av å lese om Le Corbusier, Frank Lloyd Wright og Ebenezer Howard. It's all about fiction etter 11. mai. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Når det gjelder Jane Austen og hennes kvinner, vil jeg si at på tross av de sidene ved dem som irriterer meg, så er jeg veldig glad i dem. Kanskje må jeg svelge mine egne ord og si at selvom de er fiktive, så er det ekte likevel. Joda. Akkurat som deg og meg.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2064702337776742273?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2064702337776742273/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2064702337776742273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2064702337776742273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2064702337776742273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/kategorisert-under-sommer-og-lesing.html' title='Kategorisert under sommer og lesing'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2232320611129730106</id><published>2009-04-29T19:17:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-29T19:25:06.566+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Vaner</title><content type='html'>Jeg har sett veldig lite på tv i mitt nye hjem. Jeg vet ikke hvorfor jeg omtaler det som mitt nye hjem, for det er ikke nytt lenger. Jeg har bodd her i 3 1/2 måned. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hvertfall, jeg er har lite plass til tv og lite, dog noe mer enn til tv-programmer, plass til film. Jeg skjønner liksom ikke helt hvorfor heller. Jeg har for eksempel aldri sett et eneste sekund av Paradise Hotel (og det er virkelig ikke av prinsipp), og jeg har ikke fått med meg Seinfeld på viast4 kl. 20 på et par måneder (alltid en slager). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men! På mandag kveld så jeg en film som heter Rachel Getting Married. Helt utrolig sterk, og det første min filmpartner sa da den var slutt var, "Wow, I've never seen anything like it". Se den!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2232320611129730106?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2232320611129730106/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2232320611129730106&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2232320611129730106'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2232320611129730106'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/vaner.html' title='Vaner'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3266672406996471119</id><published>2009-04-26T23:53:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T23:53:48.115+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Khalil Gibran on Love</title><content type='html'>When love beckons to you, follow him,&lt;br /&gt;Though his ways are hard and steep.&lt;br /&gt;And when his wings enfold you yield to him,&lt;br /&gt;Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.&lt;br /&gt;And when he speaks to you believe in him,&lt;br /&gt;Though his voice may shatter your dreams&lt;br /&gt;as the north wind lays waste the garden. &lt;br /&gt;For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.&lt;br /&gt;Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,&lt;br /&gt;So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. &lt;br /&gt;Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.&lt;br /&gt;He threshes you to make you naked.&lt;br /&gt;He sifts you to free you from your husks.&lt;br /&gt;He grinds you to whiteness.&lt;br /&gt;He kneads you until you are pliant;&lt;br /&gt;And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast. &lt;br /&gt;All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart. &lt;br /&gt;But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,&lt;br /&gt;Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor,&lt;br /&gt;Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.&lt;br /&gt;Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.&lt;br /&gt;Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;&lt;br /&gt;For love is sufficient unto love. &lt;br /&gt;When you love you should not say, "God is in my heart," but rather, "I am in the heart of God."&lt;br /&gt;And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. &lt;br /&gt;Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.&lt;br /&gt;But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:&lt;br /&gt;To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.&lt;br /&gt;To know the pain of too much tenderness.&lt;br /&gt;To be wounded by your own understanding of love;&lt;br /&gt;And to bleed willingly and joyfully.&lt;br /&gt;To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;&lt;br /&gt;To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;&lt;br /&gt;To return home at eventide with gratitude;&lt;br /&gt;And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3266672406996471119?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3266672406996471119/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3266672406996471119&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3266672406996471119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3266672406996471119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/khalil-gibran-on-love.html' title='Khalil Gibran on Love'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-8246836562792941001</id><published>2009-04-25T14:35:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-25T16:12:42.944+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Kahlil Gibran on Friendship</title><content type='html'>Your friend is your needs answered.&lt;br /&gt;He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.&lt;br /&gt;And he is your board and your fireside.&lt;br /&gt;For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.&lt;br /&gt;When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the "nay" in your own mind, nor do you withhold the "ay."&lt;br /&gt;And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;&lt;br /&gt;For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.&lt;br /&gt;When you part from your friend, you grieve not;&lt;br /&gt;For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.&lt;br /&gt;And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.&lt;br /&gt;For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.&lt;br /&gt;And let your best be for your friend.&lt;br /&gt;If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.&lt;br /&gt;For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?&lt;br /&gt;Seek him always with hours to live.&lt;br /&gt;For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.&lt;br /&gt;And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.&lt;br /&gt;For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-8246836562792941001?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/8246836562792941001/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=8246836562792941001&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8246836562792941001'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8246836562792941001'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/kahlil-gibran-on-friendship.html' title='Kahlil Gibran on Friendship'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3304987394850491834</id><published>2009-04-23T13:45:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-23T17:26:07.163+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Childhood</title><content type='html'>This is about those stolen moments of childhood that you'll never get back, that you perhaps don't want back, but that will always have a very special place in your heart. The people and the places might not be familiar to you, but I hope the picture comes across anyway. I wrote this about 4 years ago now, and I was 17. I think 17 is where you finally let go of being a kid. This was perhaps my way of saying, "Thank you, and goodbye". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SUMMER NIGHTS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a tendency to change my sleeping rhythm every weekend. I mean, who wants to get up at 6:30 am on a Sunday as if it were any other weekday? Not me! Therefore, I always end up lying in bed for several hours on a Sunday night trying to fall asleep usually thinking, "Shit, I'm actually going to have to get up in 5 hours!!" This usually results in me being half a sleep all through Monday. But...enough chit chat about my sleeping patterns. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trying to fall sleep one Sunday evening I started to think about something soothing, peaceful and nice in order to get into a sleepy mode. I ended up at my grandparents' house on a warm summer's night, and this is kind of how it went. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SfBXzn8tIlI/AAAAAAAAAeU/bKZW67s-afc/s1600-h/recguitar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 110px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SfBXzn8tIlI/AAAAAAAAAeU/bKZW67s-afc/s200/recguitar.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327854903587840594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The day's been humid. Super humid! The tempeture has been in the 90s all day, but fortunately it's slowly coming down. The kitchen smells like chocolate sauce that Grandma Em has made to put on our ice cream after dinner. Grandpa's making popcorn and Nora's playing ping pong with Dad and Jaeck  in the basement. Most likely, Douglas and/or Bob (friends of my father's) are over too. I'm sitting at the counter filling up on too many cans of Coke and someone's watching the Cubs game in the morning room (note, probably also on in the kitchen).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the ping pong game is over in the basement, Dad comes up and gets out the guitar. Grandpa will get out one too, and they might start with "Come and sit by my side if you love me." I'm pretending to know all the words becasue everyone thinks I know all the words to all the songs and therefore I pretend to live up to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By 9: 00 pm dinner's on although I, at least, am already really full on popcorn and coke. Nevertheless, I think everyone stuffs themselves to the maximum with Grandma Em's delicious food. Mom asks if she can please have a baby sizeportion of dessert while the rest of us say the hell with it, we might as well overeat when we're on vacation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SfBXlZ6L8WI/AAAAAAAAAeM/1qsvf7YKbZQ/s1600-h/dougscott.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 146px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SfBXlZ6L8WI/AAAAAAAAAeM/1qsvf7YKbZQ/s320/dougscott.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327854659301011810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The screen doors out to the side porch are still open, as are all the other windows and doors in the rest of the house. It's now completely pitch black outside and as we move out to the side porch I spot fireflies. I think about how I wish we had them at home, but then I think that it wouldn't be that cool because it never gets dark like this in summer in Norway—we wouldn't see fireflies anyway. The guitars are again among us and, if Doulgas is there, Grandpa might hand the playing duties over to him. Grandpa will settle down in the chair with the rest of his martini instead. After a couple of "Follow the drinkin' gourds" and Goodnight Irenes" someone tells me it's time for bed. No one will tell my sister it's time for bed because she's now old enough to decide herself when she is ready for sleep. I leave the side porch with Douglas doing a guitar solo in the background. I hop up the backstairs and as I open the door to the third floor the heat at 11:00 pm is still sweltering. I lay down on the bed, someone comes up and puts the fans the right way so the cool air blows in. On the sheets with nothing on me, I lie sweating, and after a couple of hours finally retire to the air conditioned Victorian room. There I fall asleep on the carpet, which, for a nine year old, is the perfect mattress. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;June 20, 2005&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Photos 1: My grandpa playing the guitar. Photo 2: My dad's best friend Douglas, and my father.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3304987394850491834?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3304987394850491834/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3304987394850491834&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3304987394850491834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3304987394850491834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/childhood.html' title='Childhood'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SfBXzn8tIlI/AAAAAAAAAeU/bKZW67s-afc/s72-c/recguitar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3582934643701668779</id><published>2009-04-22T17:08:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T17:09:12.672+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Denne har jeg fått fra Anna. En Bob Andy låt.</title><content type='html'>Forget about stupidity&lt;br /&gt;Discover your ability&lt;br /&gt;Develop your creativity&lt;br /&gt;Cultivate humility&lt;br /&gt;To brave the stormy weather&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see the more you give to life&lt;br /&gt;Is the more you're gonna get from life&lt;br /&gt;So go on and give&lt;br /&gt;Don't count the cost&lt;br /&gt;And the less you give to life&lt;br /&gt;Is the less you're gonna get from life&lt;br /&gt;So save your dough&lt;br /&gt;And your soul might be lost&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If every man should be the boss&lt;br /&gt;There'd be no one to groom the horse&lt;br /&gt;Mechanics none to fix the car&lt;br /&gt;No humble man to spread the tar&lt;br /&gt;If every man should be on top&lt;br /&gt;Now tell me what the hell could stop&lt;br /&gt;Top heavy from a fatal drop&lt;br /&gt;Extinct would be the mortal crop&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's time we learned to be satisfied&lt;br /&gt;Curtail resources running wild&lt;br /&gt;Too much have you, get rid of some&lt;br /&gt;There are too many who have none&lt;br /&gt;Oh my brother, help them to face the stormy weather&lt;br /&gt;And heed these foolish words I tell you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You got to give if you got&lt;br /&gt;To those who have not&lt;br /&gt;You got to give if you got&lt;br /&gt;To those who have not&lt;br /&gt;Not asking you to swap&lt;br /&gt;You gotta give to get&lt;br /&gt;You gotta give if you got&lt;br /&gt;Oh you gotta give if you got&lt;br /&gt;To those who have not&lt;br /&gt;You got to give to get&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3582934643701668779?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3582934643701668779/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3582934643701668779&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3582934643701668779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3582934643701668779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/denne-har-jeg-fatt-fra-anna-en-bob-andy.html' title='Denne har jeg fått fra Anna. En Bob Andy låt.'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5619530916823411512</id><published>2009-04-22T12:57:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T12:58:51.780+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Springtime</title><content type='html'>Something has changed with spring. The light and the flowers have given me hope, as&lt;br /&gt;I think I knew they would. Not like just having more light in the day&lt;br /&gt;can change all the things in your life, but it can be a guiding light&lt;br /&gt;that can help you get on the path to where you want to go. I like that&lt;br /&gt;some things are just certain, like the changing of the seasons.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5619530916823411512?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5619530916823411512/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5619530916823411512&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5619530916823411512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5619530916823411512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/springtime.html' title='Springtime'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3046989719450346726</id><published>2009-04-18T20:39:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-22T13:11:23.219+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Himmelen er lilla</title><content type='html'>Nå er himmelen lilla og det er så bra å vite at klokken straks er kvart på ni! Tenk på det dere! Dette har vært en laaaang vinter -altfor lang. Nå er det vår, om den så er litt tregere enn vi skulle ønske. Jeg prøvde å ta et bilde av himmelen, men på kameraet ble den hverken lilla eller så fin som den egentlig er. Pluss at utsikten ikke er great fra soverommet. Jeg kan i stedet legge til et bilde av hvordan det IKKE ser ut utenfor nå, også kan det gjør oss glade. Hurra!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SeogWS2UI-I/AAAAAAAAAd8/YZNin2JUWhk/s1600-h/DSC04767.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SeogWS2UI-I/AAAAAAAAAd8/YZNin2JUWhk/s400/DSC04767.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326105076707894242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3046989719450346726?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3046989719450346726/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3046989719450346726&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3046989719450346726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3046989719450346726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/himmelen-er-lilla.html' title='Himmelen er lilla'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SeogWS2UI-I/AAAAAAAAAd8/YZNin2JUWhk/s72-c/DSC04767.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5799678244393621858</id><published>2009-04-18T03:28:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-18T03:30:36.315+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Å gjøre ting uten å tenke</title><content type='html'>Dette er noe jeg gjør ofte. Veldig ofte. Noe annet jeg også gjør veldig ofte er å tenke altfor mye før jeg gjør noe. I morgen har jeg for eksempel tenkt til å farge håret blondt, men innser at jeg kanskje burde tenke litt mer over det. Men jeg vil jo ikke det heller. Hjelp, alt er usammenhengende og rart.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5799678244393621858?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5799678244393621858/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5799678244393621858&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5799678244393621858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5799678244393621858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/gjre-ting-uten-tenke.html' title='Å gjøre ting uten å tenke'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-9015217020594218365</id><published>2009-04-14T19:30:00.008+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-14T20:26:22.089+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Some Poems Don't Rhyme</title><content type='html'>Today, while trying to get started on my term paper, I found myself easily distracted by a discussion I was having in my head on the excent of control the heart has over the head. That lead me to think of a song from Grease. Sandy, all confused and sad about what to do about her whole sit with Danny is all like, "My head is saying fool forget him. My heart is saying, don't let go. Hold on to your head, that's what I intend to do. I'm hopelessely devoted to you.” Now, if we take this lyric into account, and then look at the outcome of the movie, we see that Sandy wasn't able to let it go, and she ended up with the guy after they had both been through some inner and outer changes. I wish my life was a movie. Then I would know exactly how things were going turn out. That's the thing about life though. Like some poems don't rhyme, most things in life don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. The dramatic build up rarely comes at the right time, and often people end up really confused, instead of living happily ever after. I mean in Grease, what happens after graduation? Nobody ever talks about after graduation. You know why? Because that's when stories stop having that clear beginning, middle and end. And that's just the way of things.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-9015217020594218365?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/9015217020594218365/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=9015217020594218365&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/9015217020594218365'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/9015217020594218365'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/some-poems-dont-rhyme.html' title='Some Poems Don&apos;t Rhyme'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-9065927278217478851</id><published>2009-04-13T23:06:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-13T23:09:20.464+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Snapshot fra påsken</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SeOppTIL97I/AAAAAAAAAd0/Wi2kkcLu_34/s1600-h/DSC04790.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SeOppTIL97I/AAAAAAAAAd0/Wi2kkcLu_34/s400/DSC04790.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324285711456401330" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fra påskelunsj hos Ida Marie på fredag. Inga, Christian og Ida Marie blir tatt bilde av mens vi venter på at resten av gjestene skal komme. Det var en veldig fin dag!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-9065927278217478851?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/9065927278217478851/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=9065927278217478851&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/9065927278217478851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/9065927278217478851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/snapshot-fra-pasken.html' title='Snapshot fra påsken'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SeOppTIL97I/AAAAAAAAAd0/Wi2kkcLu_34/s72-c/DSC04790.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5577888804052091467</id><published>2009-04-09T15:25:00.017+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-12T17:47:53.394+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Min asfaltpåske, akkompagnert av Miles Davis</title><content type='html'>Det er et pistrende regn som treffer kinnet mitt i dét jeg går ut døra. Jeg går et stykke, og kommer til en øde bussholdeplass. Det er ingen andre som venter på bussen denne onsdagskvelden, det er ingen som går tur med hunden og ytterst få som er ute på veien. Jeg er 10 minutter for tidlig til bussen og setter meg ned på benken som av en eller annen merkelig grunn er plassert ved siden av taket på holdeplassen, ikke under. Det regnet da jeg sto opp, men utpå dagen sluttet det. Nå er det tilbake, og denne gangen med mye mer kraft, akkurat som tankene jeg hadde da jeg våknet nå surrer rundt i hodet mitt igjen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Den stille uke" virker ekstra stille her på denne bussholdeplassen tenker jeg, og drar frem ipoden og setter den på "shuffle songs", noe jeg aldri gjør. Jeg sitter sjelden helt alene på øde bussholdeplasser i Bærum rundt midnatt heller, og føler det rettferdigjør musikkvalget, eller mangelen på ett. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23-bussen er to minutter for tidlig. Busssjåføren ser overraskende blid ut tatt i betraktning situasjonen han befinner seg i, og det smitter litt over på meg. Det er én annen person på bussen. Han sitter helt bakerst. Jeg setter meg helt foran og blir straks opphengt i rytmen til vindusviskerne. I mellomtiden har ipoden begynt å spille Blue in Green, og jeg begynner å fundere på om Apple har lagt inn en  hemmelig humørsensor i ipodene sine. Dette er ikke en veldig rar tanke, når man tenker at jeg like godt kunne fått servert MGMT eller Bach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alt virker plutselig iscenesatt, men mulig det virker slik fordi det er sånn jeg velger å se det? Mens bussen kjører langs Ullernchausséen uten å stoppe på en eneste holdeplass, tar jeg inn utsikten. Den er ikke mye å skryte av, grå og uspektakulær som den er, og hvertfall ikke verdt et fotografi. Likevel, det er slik min påske ser ut i år. Min asfaltpåske, akkompagnert av Miles Davis. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I det vi kjører forbi Smestad begynner det nesten å hølje, men det avtar raskt. Ved Ullevål titter jeg bort på Blindern, der HF, SV og Mat-Nat bygningene strekker seg mot den regntunge himmelen. Deres grelle sosialdemokratiske arkitektur er som skapt for å observeres i vær som dette. Hvis disse bygningene ikke virket uinspirerende fra før, er det bare å se på dem på kvelder som denne. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg går av på Storo. Trikken kommer om 10 minutter, og jeg setter meg ned på benken, i ly for regnet som nesten har sluttet.&lt;br /&gt;Ganske mange biler og ganske mye lys. Ingen som går tur med hunden. Rundt meg står det to småbrisne fjortisser og et par i 30-årene som råkliner. Ipoden har nå svitsjet over til noe lystig av Sam Cooke, og jeg føler meg plutselig litt kald og utålmodig og alene. Jeg begynner å tvile på humørsensorens eksistens, og velger å se alt som irriterende i steden for fint, planlagt og iscenesatt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Når jeg omsider er ved mitt trikkestopp synger Billie Holiday, "I'll be seeing you". Det er en av mine favoritter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5577888804052091467?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=48891e504d69f7a1&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5577888804052091467/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5577888804052091467&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5577888804052091467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5577888804052091467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/min-asfaltpaske-akkompagnert-av-miles.html' title='Min asfaltpåske, akkompagnert av Miles Davis'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1491487353847241098</id><published>2009-04-07T20:56:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-07T21:03:19.585+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Den hittil største soppen jeg har brukt i matlaging, kanskje noen gang sett.</title><content type='html'>Nok et kort bloggnotat, i dag om sopp. Jeg lagde suppe i stad med de største soppene EVAH! Den største var ca. like stor som hånden min. Mitt spørsmål er: når ble soppen så stor? Eller, når begynte de å selge den slik i Norge? Har det alltid vært slik, og jeg bare ikke har kjøpt en før nå? Jeg har ikke noen fotografiske innslag å by på for øyeblikket, men jeg har noen sopper igjen som jeg ikke brukte, og skal se om jeg får smettet inn et lite bilde senere. Fordi sopp er så utrolig spennende! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nå er det straks del 2 av en psykolgisk thriller nrk, som jeg tenker å se. De kaller det krim, men det er mest thriller. Atte skummelt!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1491487353847241098?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1491487353847241098/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1491487353847241098&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1491487353847241098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1491487353847241098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/den-hittil-strste-soppen-jeg-har-brukt.html' title='Den hittil største soppen jeg har brukt i matlaging, kanskje noen gang sett.'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7369677883415154728</id><published>2009-04-03T23:09:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T23:12:51.792+02:00</updated><title type='text'>På den andre siden</title><content type='html'>Ny dag og nye holdninger. Alkohol kan også være veldig gunstig. Som i kveld, hvor jeg og en venninnne har slått i hjel et par flasker rødvin til stor suksess! Så der kan du se...En ting kan være 100% det ene og 100% det andre på samme tid. Dette fenomenet forfølger meg overalt!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7369677883415154728?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7369677883415154728/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7369677883415154728&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7369677883415154728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7369677883415154728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/pa-den-andre-siden.html' title='På den andre siden'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2066038781746090146</id><published>2009-04-03T02:08:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-03T02:09:06.070+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Om tingenes tilstand</title><content type='html'>Alkohol er sånn passe kjedelig. Det kunne vært mye mer gøy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2066038781746090146?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2066038781746090146/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2066038781746090146&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2066038781746090146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2066038781746090146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/om-tingenes-tilstand.html' title='Om tingenes tilstand'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7701948641458657151</id><published>2009-04-02T12:25:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-02T12:39:39.716+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeg leser en bok</title><content type='html'>Jeg leser en bok av Henry David Thoreau nå som heter Walden Pond (1854). Kort fortalt er det en beskrivelse av livet i naturen, i de enkleste og mest spektakulære omgivelser. Les den og bli opplyst!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dagens fra Walden Pond&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Nations are possessed with an insane ambition to perpetuate the memory of themselves by the amount of hammered stone they leave. What if equal pains were taken to smooth and polish their manners? One piece of good sense would be more memorable than a monument as high as the moon. I love better to see stones in place."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We should be blessed if we lived in the present always, and took advantage of every accident that befell us, like the grass which confesses the influence of the slightest dew that falls on it; and did not spend our time in atoning for the neglect of past opportunities...We loiter in winter when it is already spring."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SdSV3F_S0fI/AAAAAAAAAc8/E682D9XffL8/s1600-h/walden-pond.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SdSV3F_S0fI/AAAAAAAAAc8/E682D9XffL8/s200/walden-pond.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320041833564393970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Et bilde fra Walden Pond, New Hampshire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7701948641458657151?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7701948641458657151/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7701948641458657151&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7701948641458657151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7701948641458657151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/jeg-leser-en-bok.html' title='Jeg leser en bok'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SdSV3F_S0fI/AAAAAAAAAc8/E682D9XffL8/s72-c/walden-pond.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3567296144273440124</id><published>2009-04-01T14:11:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T17:07:12.204+02:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Det var bare et  spørsmål om tid før jeg måtte ta opp noe som relaterer til musikalen jungelboken. Jungelboken ble satt opp på Oslo Nye en gang på begynnelsen av 90-tallet. Et veldig stort antall av mine bekjente fra Oslo var og så dette teateret som barn, og noen av oss, ja, kan fortsatt ordene til alle sangene. Jeg har det til og med på cd. Jeg synes det er ganske fint, og litt komisk. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tidligere i dag satt jeg og grublet litt på det ene og det andre, og grublingen førte bare til mer grubling, som etter hvert førte til en kjip følelse. Jeg grublet litt på fortiden, en del på nåtiden, og ganske mye på fremtiden. Jo mer jeg grublet, jo verre ble alt sammen, men jeg greide ikke å slutte. Da kom jeg på denne sangen fra jungelboken, hvis tekst jeg skal minne meg selv på /synge oftere. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ikke tenk på morgendagen&lt;br /&gt;fra musikalen jungelboken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det første du må lære, er å være der du er. &lt;br /&gt;Og ikke være der hvor du i grunnen ikke er. &lt;br /&gt;Ingen blir no' særlig klok av å gruble hele tiden. &lt;br /&gt;Det som hender hender nå, andre ting vil hende siden. &lt;br /&gt;Man må ta det som det kommer og bestemme hver i sær, hvis vi ikke har no' lyst &lt;br /&gt;så lar vi vær'. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Skogen byr på en masse,masse mat, masse deilig mat. &lt;br /&gt;Nøtter og tomat, røtter og salat på deilig bord. &lt;br /&gt;Strekk ut armen, nøtter og tomat, nøtter og tomat! &lt;br /&gt;Ikke tenk på morgendagen, ro deg nå og fyll opp magen. &lt;br /&gt;Stapp i deg til du er mett og sover glad og trett. &lt;br /&gt;Og sover glad og trett. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det første du må lære, er å være der du er.&lt;br /&gt;Og ikke være der hvor du i grunnen ikke er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;De første og de siste linjene er kanskje de beste. Det er jo totalt poengløst å være der man i grunnen ikke er.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3567296144273440124?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3567296144273440124/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3567296144273440124&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3567296144273440124'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3567296144273440124'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/det-var-bare-et-sprsmal-om-tid-fr-jeg.html' title=''/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3163676316808695692</id><published>2009-04-01T00:38:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-04-01T00:54:13.232+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Siste dagen i mars</title><content type='html'>I kveld har jeg vært på konsert på sound of mu, spist walters mandler, og lekt litt med garageband. I morgen har jeg ingen forpliktelser egentlig og vet ikke helt hva det vil bringe meg seg. Mulig det ikke vil bringe noe som helst. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, når folk sier at det meste som skrives på blogger er meningsløst, sikter de nok til innlegg som dette. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg gleder meg litt til påske, selvom jeg ikke skal til Buenos Aires, Roma eller NYC eller sørlandet, slik som andre jeg kjenner. Dere vet ikke hva dere kommer til å gå glipp av her i Oslo....ehhh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3163676316808695692?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3163676316808695692/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3163676316808695692&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3163676316808695692'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3163676316808695692'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/04/siste-dagen-i-mars.html' title='Siste dagen i mars'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5013187614915561297</id><published>2009-03-30T00:12:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T11:50:05.892+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Og forresten</title><content type='html'>Jeg holdt på å bli påkjørt i dag. Jeg tråkket over midt i trikkeskinnene og mistet balansen mens jeg hadde hendene fulle, og det var rød mann. Hadde ingenting å ta meg for med, så tryna ganske stygt og taxisjåføren kom ut og skrek litt til meg på en slags norsk-russisk hybrid.  Han måtte bråbremse skikkelig, og jeg ble liggende i veien i en 10 sekunder før jeg greide å reise meg, men han trengte ikke oppføre seg som en dust. Fikk stygge skrubbsår og masse blod på knærne og ellers ganske vondt, særlig i ankelen og på/i knærne.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det går bra nå, men det var litt for mye actionpå en morgen. Hva har jeg så lært av dette? Gå saktere, og mer kontrollert over veien hvis du skal gå på rød mann. Da er sjansen for å tryne mindre, og da blir sjansen for å bli påkjørt også mindre. Lykke til!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Natta!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5013187614915561297?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5013187614915561297/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5013187614915561297&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5013187614915561297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5013187614915561297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/og-forresten.html' title='Og forresten'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5447506507366677218</id><published>2009-03-30T00:01:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2009-03-30T00:11:42.077+02:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeg er så sykt klar for mandag. Jeg har aldri vært mer klar. Jeg er skikkelig stoka for mandag.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sc_xHlh7grI/AAAAAAAAAc0/tf3uklBfkqs/s1600-h/mondays-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 174px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sc_xHlh7grI/AAAAAAAAAc0/tf3uklBfkqs/s200/mondays-1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318734797583647410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anywaaaay, alle som gleder seg til tirsdag, say I! I.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5447506507366677218?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5447506507366677218/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5447506507366677218&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5447506507366677218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5447506507366677218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/jeg-er-sa-sykt-klar-for-mandag-jeg-har.html' title='Jeg er så sykt klar for mandag. Jeg har aldri vært mer klar. Jeg er skikkelig stoka for mandag.'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sc_xHlh7grI/AAAAAAAAAc0/tf3uklBfkqs/s72-c/mondays-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4425860520533883664</id><published>2009-03-25T23:31:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T00:31:34.393+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Min nye hit - Hitten</title><content type='html'>En ny låt skal få en plass på bloggen. Dette er fra et svensk jenteband som heter Those Dancing Days. Typisk svensk på mange måter, men jeg liker det. Jentene er yngre er meg, og altfor søte og pene, men det går bra så lenge de kommer og spiller konsert i Oslo om ikke så lenge. Det er bare pop, og det er ganske enkle saker, men det trenger ikke å si noe på mengde godfølelse. Vidoen er veldig sånn, "hei vi er hippe, pene, kule og avlsappede i alle situasjoner", men whatever. Jeg får lyst til å danse og se lyst på livet. Hvis en låt kan gjøre dette med meg, håper jeg den kan gjøre det for deg også. Men, hvis du ikke liker dette i det hele tatt er det også greit. Her har dere'n. Sharing is caring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hitten" (pretensiøs tittel? diskuster gjerne dette) med Those Dancing Days&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" &lt;br /&gt;value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ILuNZYmAs5o&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ILuNZYmAs5o&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;En annen diggbar låt fra dette bandet er Home Sweet Home. Jeg anbefaler å sjekke den ut på myspace sida deres, eller på youtube.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4425860520533883664?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4425860520533883664/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4425860520533883664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4425860520533883664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4425860520533883664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/min-nye-hit-hitten.html' title='Min nye hit - Hitten'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5767214444640607469</id><published>2009-03-25T19:37:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-25T23:00:34.773+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sproveiene til besvær</title><content type='html'>Ærlig talt, går noen gang ting i det hele tatt på skinner for Oslo Sporveier (pun intended!)??  Dagen i dag var en klassisk kjip dag i møte mellom Ida og Oslo Sporveier. Først kjører 12-trikken rett fra meg der jeg står på trikkeholdeplassen. Jeg har allerede stått der et par minutter, billett i hånd (sånn mer eller mindre), i rute og klar for avgang (i motsetning til 12-trikken som var greie 5 minutter forsinket) når den unnlater å stoppe og forsetter rett oppover Toftes gate!? WTF? Det hele var ubegripelig og var det ikke for at trikkenee til Storo stort sett kommer fortløpende, og at ingen jeg kjente lå for døden akkurat da, hadde nok reaksjonen min vært sterkere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;På veien hjem greide trikken å kjøre feil i hausmannsgate, og endte opp med å måtte kjøre oppover Trondheimsveien, i steden for Thorvald Meyers. Jeg tenkte jeg kunne overleve å gå fra Sofienberg og hjem, men tror du ikke trikken sporet av ved Lakkegata skole? Joda, den gjorde nok det. Da jeg kom hjem følte jeg at jeg jeg kunne vært med i filmen "Den lange reisen", bare med alternativ storyline.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mæn, jeg har ikke tid til å lese i gjennom det jeg har skrevet nå. Jeg skal nemlig rekke trikken, og deretter bussen, for å komme meg på trening. Hvis dagens tidligere eskapader har lært meg noe som helst, så er det at jeg ikke burde forvente å komme frem tidsnok, eller i god mentalt behold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later gators...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5767214444640607469?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5767214444640607469/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5767214444640607469&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5767214444640607469'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5767214444640607469'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/sproveiene-til-besvr.html' title='Sproveiene til besvær'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7033938125484826960</id><published>2009-03-24T23:39:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T23:40:07.255+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Også har jeg</title><content type='html'>gitt opp å kategorisere innleggene mine. Who the hell cares.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7033938125484826960?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7033938125484826960/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7033938125484826960&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7033938125484826960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7033938125484826960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/ogsahar-jeg.html' title='Også har jeg'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3592611604076957843</id><published>2009-03-24T00:04:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T00:21:08.744+01:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I kveld var jeg og så The Reader på Gimle. Alene. Dette er tredje gangen jeg går på kino alene, og jeg vil herved anbefale alle å prøve det, om de ikke har det allerede. Særlig hvis du skal se en film som The Reader, eller Vals med Bashir. I sommer var jeg og så The Dark Knight med rundt 10 mennesker. Det er en film man helst ikke går og ser alene. Halve opplevelsen er jo å kunne snu seg til sidemannen og utveksle blikk som sier "Fy faen så fett!", "Shit, sykt!", eller "Mæn, det ser jo ikke ut som Heath Ledger i det hele tatt.". &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kveldens film, The Reader, er å anbefale. Gå og se den, og da helst alene. Jeg tror du vil like det. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/8tCqSm4Phug&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/8tCqSm4Phug&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3592611604076957843?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3592611604076957843/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3592611604076957843&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3592611604076957843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3592611604076957843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-kveld-var-jeg-og-sa-reader-pa-gimle.html' title=''/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5594883692941897833</id><published>2009-03-23T01:00:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T01:08:29.872+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I Feel Like Alice</title><content type='html'>One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.rondelacruz.org/images/95.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 340px; height: 255px;" src="http://www.rondelacruz.org/images/95.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Which road do I take?” she asked.&lt;br /&gt;“Where do you want to go?” was his response.&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know,” Alice answered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her er det kanskje interessant å nevne at mine foreldre vurderte å gi meg Alyce som mellomnavn, etter min oldemor, i steden for Blakely. Men så det ble det Blakely, som da var pikenavnet hennes. Jeg liker Blakely kanskje best av navnene mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5594883692941897833?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5594883692941897833/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5594883692941897833&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5594883692941897833'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5594883692941897833'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-feel-like-alice.html' title='I Feel Like Alice'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-9030395262509193147</id><published>2009-03-22T18:20:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T18:24:22.370+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Søndagstur hjem</title><content type='html'>Å sitte på mitt gamle rom, i sengen ved vinduet, ha det på vidt gap, og høre på alle lydene fra skogen og elven nedenfor. Jeg liker all den gode maten og drikken som finnes her. Jeg liker luften, fordi den er renere enn på grünerløkka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mitt barndomsrom er veldig lite. Mye mindre enn det jeg har nå. Det er et typisk barnerom fra 50-tallet; altså, det oppfyller kanskje minstekravet av det man trenger av plass. Men det har veldig fine gulv, og et gammelt dobbelvindu som gir meg en veldig fin utsikt over hagen, skogen og Bærum, som ligger rett over elven.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Høsten etter jeg sluttet på videregående malte jeg hele rommet mitt, til stor suksess, følte jeg selv. I samme slengen tok jeg ned de fillete gardinene som hadde hengt der siden vi flyttet inn, og fikk mamma og pappa til å investere i trepersienner i bjørk fra Ikea. Synd at jeg ikke fikk bo i det oppussede rommet så lenge. På den andre siden, ikke så synd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nå fortiden har jeg det best i mitt barndomshjem når jeg kan nyte det alene. Hele familien skal være i det store utland over påske, utenom meg. Da tror jeg jeg skal komme hjem hit og lage en lammestek til meg selv. Det er greit å være alene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Utenfor vinduet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/ScZxhRB0o1I/AAAAAAAAAck/036uo9skA_g/s1600-h/DSCN0227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/ScZxhRB0o1I/AAAAAAAAAck/036uo9skA_g/s320/DSCN0227.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316061226478117714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/ScZxh_Z8zzI/AAAAAAAAAcs/MZG5eQ_NAcc/s1600-h/DSCN0221.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/ScZxh_Z8zzI/AAAAAAAAAcs/MZG5eQ_NAcc/s320/DSCN0221.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316061238927347506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-9030395262509193147?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/9030395262509193147/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=9030395262509193147&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/9030395262509193147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/9030395262509193147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/sndagstur-hjem_3765.html' title='Søndagstur hjem'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/ScZxhRB0o1I/AAAAAAAAAck/036uo9skA_g/s72-c/DSCN0227.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7807604784763787906</id><published>2009-03-22T18:20:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-22T18:20:34.625+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Jeg gir meg selv en klapp på skulderen</title><content type='html'>I dag tidlig var det en Amy Winehouse søndag. Samtidig var jeg invitert på brunsj-kalas hjemme hos rentsa klokken elleve. Jeg var så nær, så nær ved å drite i det hele, men tanken på rehabiliterende mat og drikke vant meg over. Likevel, det var ganske slitsomt. Og for det synes jeg jeg fortjener en klapp på skulderen. Det er faktisk langt til Ullern.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7807604784763787906?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7807604784763787906/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7807604784763787906&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7807604784763787906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7807604784763787906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/jeg-gir-meg-selv-en-klapp-pa-skulderen_3412.html' title='Jeg gir meg selv en klapp på skulderen'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5050408897289689447</id><published>2009-03-20T01:03:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T01:04:01.675+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Det er vel fagre stunder når våren kjem her nord</title><content type='html'>Tror aldri jeg har blogget en salme før. No time like the present. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No livnar det i lundar&lt;br /&gt;Elias Blix&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No livnar det i lundar no lauast det i li, &lt;br /&gt;den heile skapning stundar no fram til sumars tid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det er vel fagre stunder når våren kjem her nord, &lt;br /&gt;og atter som eit under nytt liv av daude gror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Du vår med ljose dagar, med lengting, liv og song. &lt;br /&gt;Du spår at Gud oss lagar ein bettre vår eingong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Då meg med vigsla tunge, med kjærleik heil og klår, &lt;br /&gt;alt utan brest og sprunga skal lova Herren vår.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5050408897289689447?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5050408897289689447/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5050408897289689447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5050408897289689447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5050408897289689447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/det-er-vel-fagre-stunder-nar-varen-kjem.html' title='Det er vel fagre stunder når våren kjem her nord'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-8092285606854470741</id><published>2009-03-19T16:04:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T16:07:22.355+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Pas de samfunnsengasjement</title><content type='html'>Vekkerklokken ringer&lt;br /&gt;hun ser på klokken&lt;br /&gt;hun ser seg i speilet&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;En vrakliknende eksistens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;og hun sover videre&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-8092285606854470741?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/8092285606854470741/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=8092285606854470741&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8092285606854470741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/8092285606854470741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/pas-de-samfunnsengasjement.html' title='Pas de samfunnsengasjement'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4173570842293190643</id><published>2009-03-19T00:48:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T01:05:55.854+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Fire rugsprø og to glass melk</title><content type='html'>På søndag trente jeg hardt for første gang på dødslenge. Det er utrolig hvor sliten man kan bli av 1 1/2 times spurting. Eller kanskje det ikke er så utrolig?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dag er det onsdag. Andre trening. Definivt tyngre. Jeg presset meg selv veldig, og det gir alltid en god følelse etterpå. Likevel i denne stund, føler jeg meg som et vrak,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nå er klokken straks ett, og jeg har akkurat spist fire rugsprø med makrell i tomat og drukket to glass med melk. Da jeg kom hjem spiste jeg litt frukt og drakk masse vann. Det var sent, og jeg var ikke keen på et stort måltid. Jeg hadde lagt meg og hadde ligget i sengen i over en time, da jeg begynte å føle meg skikkelig crap og fant ut at det måtte være mangel på næring. Det var her de fire rugsprøene kom inn, og det var en sabla god løsning på følelsen av crapphet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nå føler jeg meg mye bedre, på tross av at det vanligvis er litt drawback å spise etter midnatt, særlig i mørket, på kjøkkenet og iført pysj. Hva kan man si, hver dag byr på nye utfordringer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Akkurat nå, her jeg sitter i mørket i sengen min, med dataen på fanget, er det nesten litt morsomt at jeg skal stå opp halv syv. Det er sikkert ikke morsomt i morgen tidlig. Det er frokost med bernt med Jonas Gahr Støre, og jeg akter å ikke gå glipp av det. Hvilket samfunnsengasjement!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4173570842293190643?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4173570842293190643/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4173570842293190643&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4173570842293190643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4173570842293190643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/fire-rugspr-og-to-glass-melk.html' title='Fire rugsprø og to glass melk'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5753884456649119370</id><published>2009-03-17T23:43:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-17T23:43:56.833+01:00</updated><title type='text'>For intet</title><content type='html'>Det er stille på bloggen nå. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det betyr ikke så mye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg er kanskje litt utilgjengelig. Og smal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5753884456649119370?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5753884456649119370/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5753884456649119370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5753884456649119370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5753884456649119370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/for-intet.html' title='For intet'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1912772207553986519</id><published>2009-03-01T03:15:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-03-01T03:40:29.741+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Saturday Night</title><content type='html'>Jeg frykter for at jeg skal våkne opp og se Amy Winehouse i speilet i morgen. Det har vært en sånn lørdagskveld. Utenom at jeg ikke kommer til å se ut som jeg veier 40 kilo, og det er da enda godt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg sitter her og legger meg ikke, for hvis jeg legger meg, må jeg våkne opp i morgen, og det vet jeg kommer til å bli jævlig. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kvelder som denne, på tross av hyggen som ofte forekommer, er litt lite givende, sånn i det store og det hele. Jeg skal begynne å fokusere mer på det store og det hele, og ikke så mye på det lille og halve. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha en fabelaktig natt&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1912772207553986519?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1912772207553986519/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1912772207553986519&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1912772207553986519'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1912772207553986519'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/03/another-saturday-night.html' title='Another Saturday Night'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5017470826325961890</id><published>2009-02-27T20:32:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-27T20:34:12.640+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Meg om byen min</title><content type='html'>Jeg ser på Oslo som et slags familiemedlem. Noen ganger elsker vi hverandre, noen ganger hater vi hverandre, noen ganger ser vi ikke hverandre på lenge lenge, andre ganger blir vi tvunget til å se hverandre og noen ganger er vi sammen ganske mye og har det helt ålreit. Uansett hva som skjer, så må vi forholde oss til hverandre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Og det vi begge vet, er at innerst inne, no matter what, så elsker vi hverandre.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5017470826325961890?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5017470826325961890/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5017470826325961890&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5017470826325961890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5017470826325961890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/meg-om-byen-min.html' title='Meg om byen min'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-7648122916567783592</id><published>2009-02-26T13:38:00.006+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T23:56:00.283+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Beautisadness</title><content type='html'>I watched Fried Green Tomatoes the other day. I bought the dvd without really being able to afford it. I knew I was going to watch it the day I bought it, and I knew it was going to put me in a certain mood. What mood exactly? I guess a little sad, but sad in the good way - closer to the fragile and often hidden parts of life. There are so many things that cannot be seen. They are thought, felt, maybe spoken, and heard, but because we don't "see" them, they sometimes seem less real, when in fact, they are at the core of everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cried and cried during, and at the end of this movie. It is so beautiful. Beauty and sadness so often accompany each other. That's why I tend to cry at things that are beautiful. There should be a word that combines those two. Beautisad? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am I the sentimentalist or what?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-7648122916567783592?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/7648122916567783592/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=7648122916567783592&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7648122916567783592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/7648122916567783592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/beautisadness.html' title='Beautisadness'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-6066144711959271524</id><published>2009-02-23T21:51:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-23T21:53:52.563+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dagens</title><content type='html'>“Sometimes we need to stop analyzing the past, stop planning the future, stop figuring out precisely how we feel, stop deciding exactly what we want, and just see what happens.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carrie Bradshaw&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-6066144711959271524?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/6066144711959271524/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=6066144711959271524&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6066144711959271524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6066144711959271524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/dagens.html' title='Dagens'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1899260061812014832</id><published>2009-02-22T11:33:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T22:27:32.388+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday in the City</title><content type='html'>It's Sunday in the city, but one look at the drooping trees in the park below, and you'd think you were spending Sunday in the country. It's just so....WHITE. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After a slightly, (only slightly), disappointing Friday evening, I was ready for a nite out yesterday. But then something weird happened. Around 11 pm I just felt like going home. I wasn't feeling out of it, down, or out of sorts in any other way, I was just like, "Oh well, I think I'll call it a nite". Probably a combination of not wanting to traipse around the streets of Oslo in the sleet and snow out into the wee hours, and the thought of being able to get out of bed before noon today, and have a Sunday without a headache. So yeah, came home, ate some leftover dinner, listened to music, and it was nice. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is also nice, ignoring the lost blog story (see post further down). I'm making fastelavensboller and a quiche for dinner tonite. &lt;br /&gt;yum&lt;br /&gt;yum&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow, back in the saddle. After a week of completely ignoring the fact that I'm a student with tons of reading to do, I'm going to get on it tomorrow. I have dropped many courses, more than I wished to in a way, but I think it will allow for more focus in my other subjects. Blah blah. I love learning, and hate schooling, especially talking about it. The schooling that is, not the learning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sunday in the city. Weighing the good and the bad, I think it's going to shape up to be a good day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1899260061812014832?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1899260061812014832/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1899260061812014832&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1899260061812014832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1899260061812014832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/sunday-in-city.html' title='Sunday in the City'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3607480801749385265</id><published>2009-02-22T11:21:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-22T11:32:26.514+01:00</updated><title type='text'>En strek i regningen</title><content type='html'>Jeg skrev blogg fra April 2006 til September 2008. Noen ganger skrev jeg veldig ofte, andre ganger mer sjeldent. Jeg fylte bloggen med tanker, idéer, bilder, føleleser og opplevelser. Da jeg sluttet å blogge lagret jeg alle tekstene mine på dataen, for jeg tenkte at dette var noe som definitvt var verdt å spare på. Å lese mine gamle blogger, fikk meg til å begynne å blogge igjen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nå er alt borte. Ved et feiltak har dokumentet blitt puttet i TRASH, og jeg kan ikke få det tilbake. Søplekassa er tom, og jeg er ganske tom. Kanskje det er vanskelig å forstå, men jeg ble bare utrolig lei meg akkurat nå. Føler jeg har mistet noe utrolig nært og personlig. Det eneste jeg kan trøste meg selv med, er at jeg vet hva de tekstene inneholdt, og de tankene, idéene, bildene jeg har villet dele, følelsene og opplevelsene vil aldri bli hvisket bort fra minnene mine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men akkurat nå ble jeg bare trist, og sur på min egen dumhet og uforsiktighet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3607480801749385265?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3607480801749385265/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3607480801749385265&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3607480801749385265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3607480801749385265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/en-strek-i-regningen.html' title='En strek i regningen'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1032208474894512612</id><published>2009-02-20T18:04:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T18:09:52.914+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Øyeblikket</title><content type='html'>Jeg er litt oppehengt i sangtekster nå. Kanskje jeg alltid har vært det. Fortiden er jeg kanskje det ekstra mye. Jeg søker noe som har satt ord på det jeg selv tenker og føler, og å få det gjennom musikk, er nok det fineste. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ØYEBLIKKET&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tekst av Kari Bremnes&lt;br /&gt;musikk av Lars Bremnes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Øyeblikket e av glass&lt;br /&gt;ingen av dem tør å røre ved det&lt;br /&gt;klare tanka melde pass&lt;br /&gt;begge veit den andre godt kan se det&lt;br /&gt;Spør dem ikkje nu om kor de går&lt;br /&gt;begge to er barbeint&lt;br /&gt;og har angst for glass med skår&lt;br /&gt;Tia er en jordbæris som smelte&lt;br /&gt;øyeblikket er et glass&lt;br /&gt;og glass kan velte&lt;br /&gt;Håpet står med åpen dør&lt;br /&gt;kanskje lukkes den i dette rommet&lt;br /&gt;begge to har vært her før&lt;br /&gt;begge veit når øyeblikk er omme&lt;br /&gt;Glasset er et gjennomsiktig speil&lt;br /&gt;begge ser et ukjent landskap&lt;br /&gt;og kan lett gå feil&lt;br /&gt;Tia er en jordbæris som smelte&lt;br /&gt;øyeblikket er et glass&lt;br /&gt;og glass kan velte&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1032208474894512612?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1032208474894512612/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1032208474894512612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1032208474894512612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1032208474894512612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/yeblikket.html' title='Øyeblikket'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3530798695456126299</id><published>2009-02-20T12:50:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-20T12:52:07.663+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Apropos min siste post</title><content type='html'>Jeg har så lyst til å dra på hyttetur! I fjellet med mine fjorten lag med ull. Jeg skulle gjerne invitert på hyttetur hvis jeg bare hadde en passende hytte, eller bare en hytte i det hele tatt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sukk, denne snøen driver meg til vanvidd. Sånn litt, noen ganger hvertfall.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3530798695456126299?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3530798695456126299/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3530798695456126299&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3530798695456126299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3530798695456126299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/apropos-min-siste-post.html' title='Apropos min siste post'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-5920878080116062927</id><published>2009-02-19T15:46:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T15:50:12.364+01:00</updated><title type='text'>The question of the hour is...</title><content type='html'>Will it EVER stop snowing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe if I was in the mountains, in an old log cabin sitting by the fire and wearing fourteen layers of wool, I could enjoy it. But Jesus H. Christ, the only place the snow looks good in this city landscape is on the trees and nobody's in them, and able to enjoy it. Maybe that's exactly the reason why it looks good on the trees. Human interfernece! It like, messes up everything! Now there's food for thought.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-5920878080116062927?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/5920878080116062927/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=5920878080116062927&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5920878080116062927'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/5920878080116062927'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/question-of-hour-is.html' title='The question of the hour is...'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2834282216130895515</id><published>2009-02-17T15:39:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T15:50:16.037+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I dag har jeg</title><content type='html'>hørt på to sanger av Jason Mraz mange ganger. Den ene heter I'm Yours og den andre You Make Me High. Du har nok hørt den første.....altfor mange ganger. Den var overalt på radioen i sommer. Dette vet jeg godt, etter utallige timer med gressklipperen og radiohørselsvern (i ett ja, kult) på Grefesen gravlund i sommer. Hvertfall, ikke sånn veldig typisk musikk for meg å høre på, men i dag har jeg bare likt disse to sangene skikkelig godt. Det er litt rart med sånne ting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DVNB7e_Wxgc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DVNB7e_Wxgc&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2834282216130895515?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2834282216130895515/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2834282216130895515&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2834282216130895515'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2834282216130895515'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-dag-har-jeg.html' title='I dag har jeg'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1649824493440191256</id><published>2009-02-17T15:02:00.007+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-17T15:35:06.159+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I Know Where I'm Going</title><content type='html'>I know where I'm going&lt;br /&gt;I know who's going with me&lt;br /&gt;I know who I love&lt;br /&gt;And my dear knows who I'll marry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have stockings of silk&lt;br /&gt;And shoes of bright green leather&lt;br /&gt;Combs to buckle my hair&lt;br /&gt;And a ring for every finger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feather beds are soft&lt;br /&gt;And painted rooms are bonnie&lt;br /&gt;But I would give them all&lt;br /&gt;For my handsome winsome Johnny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some say he is poor&lt;br /&gt;But I say he's bonnie&lt;br /&gt;Fairest of them all&lt;br /&gt;Is my handsome winsome Johnny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know where I'm going&lt;br /&gt;I know who's going with me&lt;br /&gt;I know who I love&lt;br /&gt;And my dear knows who I'll marry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Traditional Irish-American folk song&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Denne sangen har en nydelig melodi. Jeg husker ikke når jeg lærte den, men jeg kan ikke huske en tid da jeg ikke kunne den. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Jeg vet ikke helt Where I'm Going, men jeg tenker at når jeg finner det ut, så skal det føles akkurat som i denne sangen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1649824493440191256?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1649824493440191256/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1649824493440191256&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1649824493440191256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1649824493440191256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-know-where-im-going.html' title='I Know Where I&apos;m Going'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1653582166766019299</id><published>2009-02-10T22:06:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-10T22:14:25.702+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Goulasj</title><content type='html'>Jeg forteller Magnus at jeg har spist goulasj til middag. &lt;br /&gt;Magnus svarer,&lt;br /&gt;- Alle spiser så mye goulasj for tiden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg synes dette er verdt en liten undersøkelse blant de fåtall som er inne her på bloggen. Hvor mange spiser mye goulasj for tiden?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1653582166766019299?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1653582166766019299/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1653582166766019299&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1653582166766019299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1653582166766019299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/goulasj.html' title='Goulasj'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3501211308530105464</id><published>2009-02-06T23:57:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T00:07:23.987+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Make Believe Reality</title><content type='html'>Jeg prøvde å finne et bilde på internettet fra h&amp;m sin siste reklamekampanje, men skjønte ikke helt hvordan jeg skulle finne det. Jeg får heller forklare saken med ord. Modellene på disse bildene har nemlig flettet hår, i en stor flette som kommer ned på siden. Det jeg har lagt merke til, er at fletta faktisk er tykkere enn armene deres! Selvfølgelig skjønner jeg at de har brukt løshår, men likevel! Jeg måtte le/rynke på nesen/tenke at så tjukk flette skulle jeg gjerne hatt. Den dagen jeg får tjukkere flette enn jeg har armer, er jeg sikkert død allerede, grunnet sult, psykisk lidelse eller usunn slanking. Usunn maybe doesn't cover it, og usunn slanking kan jo både ses på som sult og/eller en psykisk lidelse. Nå surrer jeg meg bort. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Neste gang du går forbi h&amp;m i karl johan, se om du skjønner hva jeg mener.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3501211308530105464?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3501211308530105464/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3501211308530105464&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3501211308530105464'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3501211308530105464'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/make-believe-reality.html' title='Make Believe Reality'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2823881651899550572</id><published>2009-02-04T13:51:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-04T16:14:35.653+01:00</updated><title type='text'>No Title</title><content type='html'>Jeg har akkurat satt meg ned på kaffebrenneriet på torshov. Jeg vet ikke om det er min nærmeste kaffebar nå, men stedet har en god atmosfære og god kaffe, og det er nok til at jeg kommer hit. Men! I det jeg skriver disse ord oppdager jeg at de ikke har trådløst nett her! Stor minus i boka til kaffebrenneriet – torshov. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg har ikke nett hjemme nå. Jeg har ikke helt tatt stilling til hvor mye det irriterer meg ennå, men før eller siden kommer jeg til å måtte gjøre noe med det. Nå har jeg ikke vært på internett siden i går morgen kl. 10! Shit mæn liksom. Det er virkelig forbløffende hvor stor del av hverdagen vår facebook, e-post, youtube, wikipedia og google har blitt. Alle liker å påpeke dette faktumet, meg selv inkludert. Som med alle ting her i livet så registrer man ikke en tings betydning før man ikke har tingen lenger. Og selv jeg, som har hatt tilgang til internett de fleste dager siden jeg flyttet, føler meg på et vis,  avkuttet fra verdensvevets verden! Her kan jeg nevne at dette, føler jeg, har både positive og negative konsekvenser. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det er mange spørsmålstegn langs min vei fortiden. Jeg vet ikke om jeg har tatt  riktige valg for meg selv i forhold til studiene, både fagmessig og når det gjelder mengden akkurat dette semesteret. Jeg har allerede droppet exfac. Ikke fordi jeg ikke vil ta exfac dette semesteret, for jeg ville egentlig ikke utsette det til høsten heller, men det var det faget det føltes mest naturlig å droppe. Jeg innså fort at jeg ikke kom til å orke to forelesninger/seminargrupper mandag-fredag helt fram til mai. De andre spørsmålstegnene er mer uklare, og jeg vet ikke om jeg greier å formulere dem til forståelige setninger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg er helt ufattelig lei av problemene jeg har med stemmen. Ofte bruker jeg ordet ufattelig, når saken egentlig ikke er ufattelig, men her mener jeg det virkelig. Jeg har slitt med dette siden juli 2006, og det daglige stresset det medfører blir snart for mye for meg. Altså, det har vært for mye for meg siden dag 1, men nå føles det annerledes. Jeg har prøvd å leve "normalt" og likevel bli bedre. Jeg har blitt bedre, og så har jeg blitt verre, og bedre, og verre, og verre, verrre, verre, og mye bedre igjen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Siden jul har stemmen, i tråd med resten av livet mitt, blitt mer slitsomt, vanskeligere, og mer stressende – jeg vet ikke hvilket ord som beskriver tingenes tilstand best, men her har vi vel essensen. Det ene er uløselig knyttet til den andre, og jeg greier ikke alltid å forstå hva som kommer først – høna eller egget. Det viktige er vel å skjønne at de henger sammen på et helt grunnleggende plan. Lenge skjønte jeg ikke hva som var galt med meg, med stemmen. Det var ikke noe fysisk galt fikk jeg høre på første legebesøk, men likevel var det å snakke så ubehagelig, og halsen ble så tørr, og musklene så slitne. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg har flere ganger lurt på hvorfor dette skjedde. Hvis det ikke var noe fysisk feil fra dag 1, må det ha vært noe annet på fære hele veien. Det jeg vet var at de tre årene på Foss var jeg på en berg og dalbane som aldri tok seg tid til å stoppe for å lade opp batteriene. Opp og ned ja, men likevel alltid fremover. Så hadde vi russetiden, der jeg mistet stemmen flere ganger, grunnet absurde arrangementer som Tryvann, og endeløs "rulling" med bussen inn i de små timer. Dette viser jo at stemmen/stemmebåndene var en ting som gang på gang fikk påkjenninger både før og etter russetiden, og som sikkert ble en veldig utsatt og sårbar del av meg. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deretter var det eksamen, hvor målet var å bare få 5'ere og 6'ere – som vanlig. Det var ved muntlig eksamen, i midten av juni tror jeg, at jeg for første gang husker å ha blitt sliten i stemmen, pa den måten det føles for meg å bli sliten i stemmen nå. Når jeg ser tilbake på det, tenker jeg på en måte at kroppen og hodet mitt hadde gått og ventet og ventet til jeg endelig skulle være fri, slappe av, roe ned ting, starte noe nytt, finne en ny vei etter tre år med altfor mye som skulle gjøres, tenkes, læres og utforskes. Men hva valgte jeg å gjøre i steden? Jo, jeg dro rett på en 5-ukers ferie med hele familien til USA rett etter skoleavslutningen, med en endeløs rekke av familie og vennebesøk, reising, spising, spilling og null alenetid. Og stemmen hadde allerede begynt å bli et problem allerede da, uten at jeg var klar over det. Jeg husker det nå, jeg satt på verandanen til Grandma Em og Grandpa og kjente at det var så slitsomt å synge. Hva gjorde jeg? Jeg drakk mye vann, og fortsatte å synge. Dette er ikke et prima eksempel, men sånn tror jeg jeg var før, og jeg sliter fortsatt med å ikke være sånn: Har jeg begresninger? Nei, jeg bare forteller meg selv hva jeg kan få til uavhengig av hvordan det kjennes, eller om det har uheldige konsekvenser. Hvis jeg vil det, hvis jeg liker å gjøre det, så kan jeg få det til – uansett. Guess what, Ida? Du legger opp til å gå på en smell hvis du lever livet ditt sånn. Hvis jeg bare hadde hatt 21-år gamle Ida til å fortelle 18-år gamle Ida dette! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tilbake til nåtiden. Det er altfor kaldt her ved vinduet på kaffebrenneriet, og jeg vurderer å pakke sammen tingene mine, finne en varmere kafé og få meg litt internett. Jeg aner ikke når, og ikke helt hvordan dette stemmeproblemet skal gå inn i historien, og bli en del av fortiden. Akkurat nå tror jeg jeg befinner meg en liten stund fra den dagen. Samtidig har jeg opplevd enorme svingninger med stemmen, nettopp fordi den ikke er som et bein som skal gro. Det er heller et eller annet annet oppe i hodet mitt som må forandres. Uff, det høres litt "hello, I'm a crazy person"–ut, men alle har vel noe i hodet som ikke fungerer helt som det skal. Eller hur?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I utgangspunktet begynte jeg å skrive her på kaffebrenneriet  for å publisere noe på bloggen. Da jeg uplanlagt begynte å skrive om stemmeproblemene mine lurte jeg på om kanskje jeg bare ville ha disse ordene for meg selv. Det er en veldig personlig ting. Noe av det jeg liker med å skrive, er når man plutselig begynner å skrive om noe helt instinktivt og uhemmet. Det er ofte da sannheten kommer frem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's to flere sannheter, og mindre stemmeproblemer. Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2823881651899550572?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2823881651899550572/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2823881651899550572&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2823881651899550572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2823881651899550572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/no-title.html' title='No Title'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-3662566884906333187</id><published>2009-02-01T00:29:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-01T00:31:18.276+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Det som oppfattes som dramatisk er ofte kjernen av en følelsesmessig sannhet</title><content type='html'>I'd like to run away &lt;br /&gt;From you, &lt;br /&gt;But if you didn't come &lt;br /&gt;And find me ... &lt;br /&gt;I would die. &lt;br /&gt;~ by Shirley Bassey ~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-3662566884906333187?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/3662566884906333187/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=3662566884906333187&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3662566884906333187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/3662566884906333187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/02/det-som-oppfattes-som-dramatisk-er-ofte.html' title='Det som oppfattes som dramatisk er ofte kjernen av en følelsesmessig sannhet'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-6895078410328828173</id><published>2009-01-30T10:09:00.005+01:00</published><updated>2009-02-09T13:49:09.822+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Quiet, rocky nights</title><content type='html'>One evening right in the middle of December, I felt compelled to write myself a few lines. And now I felt like sharing them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Supposedly, we are the most blessed creatures on earth up here in our little northern country. Why does doesn't it feel like it? We are disgustingly rich, we have so many comforts, no wars, education, little crime etc etc etc. Are we simply not counting our blessings? Because it seems too many of us are unhappy and/or feel like we lead unfulfilled lives. It's almost embarrassing to think about. How can we, complain about anything? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are too many things in my life. Too many relationships, too much money, not enough money, too much school, not enough learning, too much food, not enough exercise, too many noises, not enough nature and too many bills to pay, to think about. There are too many dimensions to explain, to live, to do and to feel. Is modern life all it's cracked up to be? What am I supposed to do, move into the woods, build myself a log cabin and grow my own vegetables? No, I have to live in the world I belong to. Yet I can't get away from the idea that everything around me is just too complicated, for my friends and for everyone in my world. It's just too much for us all. There's too much invisible bureaucracy going on in our heads, in our conversations and in our choices for life. Succeed, Produce, Succeed, Produce, Creativity, Money, Efficiency, Succeed, Produce! These words seems to be the building blocks of our society. How they echo around me constantly, even when I sit quietly by myself. It sounds insane! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At times I have absolutely no idea what is going on with the world. What is real? People get blown up every day, some people starve to death, someone dies of obesity, someone looses their wallet on the subway, somebody falls in love, someone gets their heart broken and all the while thousands of undocumented, unnoticed, insignificant things are happening next to all of this. What is significant?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I have so many thoughts and often no one in particular to direct them to. This is a kind of lonely thought. Right now I am directing them to myself. I am someone. In that respect these words aren't for no one. They are for me. I need them. As was written in an article I read earlier this fall, "Den største delen av hvert menneske er det vi ikke ser". And so there is this huge part of me that most people will never see. My whole life, which is to me all that everything is based on, is invisible to most. That is such a weird thought, and it can, I believe, feel like a very lonely thought. It goes back to the Ord over grind business. I don't care if I bring up that poem all the time nor that it can be linked to everything. Firstly, I should point out that it can't be linked to everything. Secondly, and more importantly, it is beautiful and it is able to speak to, what I perceive to be one of life's basic truths. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are all alone, except for when we aren't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is so many hours passed my bed time. Sometimes I just want to live for quiet nights and forget about everything else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SYLEq3lKJ_I/AAAAAAAAAcI/Qgbzd-31GIg/s1600-h/Photo0158.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SYLEq3lKJ_I/AAAAAAAAAcI/Qgbzd-31GIg/s400/Photo0158.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5297012352494479346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, we've had the winter solstice, but the sun still sets pretty early. This was taken around 3:30 in the afternoon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-6895078410328828173?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/6895078410328828173/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=6895078410328828173&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6895078410328828173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6895078410328828173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/01/quiet-rocky-nights.html' title='Quiet, rocky nights'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SYLEq3lKJ_I/AAAAAAAAAcI/Qgbzd-31GIg/s72-c/Photo0158.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-6408562032274329693</id><published>2009-01-19T10:50:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-19T11:00:37.805+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Dagen i dag til nå</title><content type='html'>Mye snø&lt;br /&gt;Tungt å gå&lt;br /&gt;Trøtt&lt;br /&gt;Blindern&lt;br /&gt;Sur kaffe fra trygve – skuffende&lt;br /&gt;Gråhvit himmel&lt;br /&gt;Lenge til helg&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SXRPMxhB0pI/AAAAAAAAAcA/7qIzxMi6Yjg/s1600-h/Photo0143.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SXRPMxhB0pI/AAAAAAAAAcA/7qIzxMi6Yjg/s400/Photo0143.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292942542936068754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-6408562032274329693?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/6408562032274329693/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=6408562032274329693&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6408562032274329693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/6408562032274329693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/01/dagen-i-dag-til-n.html' title='Dagen i dag til nå'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SXRPMxhB0pI/AAAAAAAAAcA/7qIzxMi6Yjg/s72-c/Photo0143.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-1797751207094576444</id><published>2009-01-15T14:13:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T14:17:31.576+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Reddet fra meg selv</title><content type='html'>Noen ganger&lt;br /&gt;trenger jeg å reddes fra meg selv&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;tanker&lt;br /&gt;handlinger&lt;br /&gt;desperasjon&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;redd for at svaret &lt;br /&gt;ligger i noen andres hender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Så liten&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-1797751207094576444?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/1797751207094576444/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=1797751207094576444&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1797751207094576444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/1797751207094576444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/01/reddet-fra-meg-selv.html' title='Reddet fra meg selv'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-497202137885046269</id><published>2009-01-14T23:22:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T01:48:04.378+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Good times'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ida-o Volume II'/><title type='text'>Norway ain't for Chickens</title><content type='html'>Dagen i dag startet sent, men begynte bra. Det var rett og slett den blendende sola som satte meg i et slikt positivt humør. Jeg rakk verken siste buss eller trikk hjem fra mamma og pappa i går, så endte opp med å sove der. Hjemturen begynte bra allerede på vei til bussholdeplassen da jeg satte på Beatles sitt første album og begynte å danse oppover mot holdeplassen Not kidding. Jeg greide knapt å sitte rolig på bussen heller, jeg hadde plutselig så mye energi. Da jeg kom til national theateret bestemte jeg meg for å gå ned til aker brygge, kjøpe en kaffe og ta inn solstrålene som danset på fjorden. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det er sjelden man går ned til aker brygge uten mål og mening. Eller, jeg vet ikke hva MAN gjør, men jeg er ikke så utrolig fan av aker brygge. Jeg følte meg halvveis som en turist liksom. Anywho, humøret var fortsatt på topp, da en japansk turist kom bort til meg på brygga og spurte om jeg kunne ta et bilde av dem. No problem, svarte jeg, og tenkte at dette var jo supert – en mini god gjerning. Jeg følte bildet ble ganske bra óg...oh yeah&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Da de japanske turistene hadde takket for bildet og skulle til å turistifisere videre fikk jeg lyst til å rope ut: Skjønner dere ikke hvorfor jeg er i så godt humør?? Det er fordi dette landet er mørkt og kaldt og vått og jævlig nesten hele tiden. De fleste dager går vi rundt med hodet ned og forbanner kulda mens vi sakte dør av trausheten rundt oss. Men så finnes det dager som i dag. Dager hvor det nr.1: er strålende vær, nr. 2: jeg kommer meg ut av huset før det blir mørkt/ikke sitter inne på mørkt auditorium på blindern, og nr.3: jeg er på rett sted til rett tid. Det er altfor sjelden disse tre tingene er mulige, og jeg merker det godt på kroppen. Aldri kan jeg huske hvor mye de lange mørke dagene har innvirket så mye på sinnstemningen som denne høsten/vinteren. Jeg sto flere minutter alene nede på kaia og bare lot solstrålene treffe meg. Det føltes som en rehabiliteringsprosess. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nå er klokken snart tolv og jeg må innrømme at  den ekstreme godfølelsen har avtatt ganske mye. Den forsvant vel i skumringen. Men den var der i dag rundt klokken to, og det var digg! Jeg følte jeg måtte dokumentere øyeblikket, og tok fram det eneste fotograferingsredskapet tilgjengelig – mobilen. Nedenfor er resultatet. Dagen i dag er et bevis på at selv når livet ikke går helt som man vil, så kan øyeblikk av lykke streife en, helt uten advarsel. Og da må man være der for å gripe dem. Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SW5thfQLp4I/AAAAAAAAAbw/vNu6l-TaT_k/s1600-h/Photo0134.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SW5thfQLp4I/AAAAAAAAAbw/vNu6l-TaT_k/s320/Photo0134.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291287034299393922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SW5thJFyDWI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yrdMQpjbVvU/s1600-h/Photo0138.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SW5thJFyDWI/AAAAAAAAAbo/yrdMQpjbVvU/s320/Photo0138.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291287028350192994" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SW5tg-Ug2lI/AAAAAAAAAbg/bIk-S8UMop8/s1600-h/Photo0140.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SW5tg-Ug2lI/AAAAAAAAAbg/bIk-S8UMop8/s320/Photo0140.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5291287025459190354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-497202137885046269?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/497202137885046269/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=497202137885046269&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/497202137885046269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/497202137885046269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/01/norway-aint-for-chickens.html' title='Norway ain&apos;t for Chickens'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/SW5thfQLp4I/AAAAAAAAAbw/vNu6l-TaT_k/s72-c/Photo0134.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-2742482175448725725</id><published>2009-01-13T20:39:00.012+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-15T13:44:57.371+01:00</updated><title type='text'>Hitting the Ground Running</title><content type='html'>Denne bloggen kommer, akkurat som ida-o volume I, ikke til å ha et tema. Mest fordi det overhodet ikke faller naturlig for meg å skrive eller publisere ting kun innenfor en viss ramme. Jeg kommer heller ikke til å styre unna det personlige, mest fordi jeg ikke ser noen grunn til det så lenge det ikke fører til noe destruktivt. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg blir minnet på titt og stadig om at 2009 akkurat har begynt. Jeg blir nesten litt stressa av det, fordi plutselig forventes det forbedringer på så mange områder, jeg oppfordres til å se fremover, gjøre nye ting etc etc. Selv prakker jeg denne setningen på meg selv hele tiden: 2009 MÅ hvertfall bli bedre enn 2008. Men hva om 2009 ikke blir bedre enn 2008! Hva da? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I det hele tatt synes jeg det kunne vært interessant å slutte å telle år, telle timer,  og kanskje også solens opp og nedtider – prøve å styre livet etter noe annet. Tenk dere en dag uten å vite hva klokken er, eller 3 uker uten å vite datoen eller et år uten  å ane når solen snur. Kanskje jeg burde ha et prøveproskjekt på dette og dokumentere det på bloggen. Jeg ville nok i første omgang prøve å leve uten å se på en klokke, eller bli informert om klokkeslett. Om jeg skulle finne på å gjøre dette, skal jeg si i fra i god tid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ellers så har jeg blitt hektet på en ny sang. Den har blitt en slager av typen, jeg sitter på rommet mitt uten tanke på å legge meg, klokken er sikkert passert to, setter på sangen og kjører repeat repeat repeat. Man skulle tro jeg ville blitt lei av den, men denne sangen har overbevist med en overraskende holdbarhet, hvis jeg kan kalle det det. RE:Stacks heter sangen og artisten, Bon Iver. Mannen bak Bon Iver heter Justin Vernon og er faktisk fra Wisconsin! Liker det, pluss at han er en god venn av en av Annas (USA-venninne nr.1 btw) venner. Small world? Yes, I think so. Forøvrig vil jeg også bare si at det var kjeksarinas siste blogg som fikk meg til å sjekke ut sangen. &lt;a href="http://kjeksogsmule.blogspot.com"&gt;Les den her!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ePatJIwB-sI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ePatJIwB-sI&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Første forelesning er på torsdag, og jeg er klar for et nytt semester, om ikke like gira for alle fagene mine. Hvem kan forklare hva kvantitativ metode er? Forhåpentligvis kan jeg det om kort tid, da dette vil være det gjennomgående begrepet i det minst inspirerende faget jeg skal ha, metode. Men la meg ikke la den negative holdningen ta helt overhånd. Jeg skal stille med et delvis åpnet sinn og rapportere tilbake om utviklingen. Hva skal dere andre ta i år?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Glemte en ny stor nyhet. Jeg skal flytte! Bye bye shabby hybelkollektiv, hello 2-roms leilighet med Magdalena! Det blir ikke lange flytteturen, bare litt bort og opp til øvre grünerløkka nærmere bestemt rett ved Biermannsgate trikkeholdeplass. Det ble ikke bestemt før i dag så nyheten er så fersk som en fersk nyhet kan være...em..ja, noe sånt. Vi flytter inn 1. feb, og kommer sikkert til å trenge hjelp med å bære hvitvarer og annet dritt oppe tre etasjer. Jeg utpeker dere alle til å melde dere frivillig til å hjelpe til med det (pluss å hente kritt på kontoret, obviously). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Med den gledelige nyheten vil jeg avslutte. Så forresten akkurat Seinfeld episoden om the summer of George. Jeg skal ikke proklamere dette the winter of Ida, men jeg holder en finger på sommeren. Fy fader som jeg gleder meg til blomster, blader, sol, LYS, park, saltvann, solbriller, sommerkjoler, grønt gress og lukten av grill (ikke engangsgrill). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Det er bra å ha noe å glede seg til.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-2742482175448725725?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/2742482175448725725/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=2742482175448725725&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2742482175448725725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/2742482175448725725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/01/hitting-round-running.html' title='Hitting the Ground Running'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7177757430025845041.post-4404300763038480599</id><published>2009-01-13T01:08:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2009-01-13T19:21:09.880+01:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ida-o Volume II'/><title type='text'>Return of the Blog</title><content type='html'>Jeg har bestemt meg for å ikke la bloggen dø likevel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Alle de gamle innleggene og bildene fra April 2006 fram til jeg sluttet bloggereringen i høst ligger fortsatt på mac'en. Jeg leste gjennom ganske mye av det i går, og fikk en god følelse. Dette er ikke noe jeg vil slutte med. Det er altfor mange ting som tenkes og som undres på som ikke blir sagt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeg tror det skal bli en del blogging fremover.&lt;br /&gt;Stålsett dere for IDA-O, Volume II&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7177757430025845041-4404300763038480599?l=ida-o.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/feeds/4404300763038480599/comments/default' title='Legg inn kommentarer'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7177757430025845041&amp;postID=4404300763038480599&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Kommentarer'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4404300763038480599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7177757430025845041/posts/default/4404300763038480599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ida-o.blogspot.com/2009/01/return-of-blog.html' title='Return of the Blog'/><author><name>ida-o</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11829647146669658734</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_bWL_X-ffW00/Sd4NKmHXVmI/AAAAAAAAAdU/U83r9YWkibc/S220/MyPicture.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
