find the violence - squash the violence

In our lecture on human security and peace movements this morning, our very engaging Canadian professor - who actually does say "eh" - brought up the "squash it" theory of violence reduction. For real. She said that in traditional security studies and international relations the tendency is towards peace by violent means. And then she said, word for word: "You find the violence and squash the violence." Beverly Hills 90210 is like so political.

Now I'm off to turn in my paper.

fondue-by dooby do

It was Tove's birthday yesterday, so after the Tromso Storm took the Kongsberg Penguins to the cleaners, I got to eat fondue at Lanesveien 19. Mmmmmm. Nothin' better than lots of little things you can dip into fancy sauces. I presented Tove with my own personal depiction of the crazy reindeer races we watched a few weeks ago...a drawing on paper, I mean. This wasn't performance art, although that gives me a hilarious idea for a party trick.

Other than that, I am nearly finished with my paper. I just need to add the conclusion, which will most certainly start with the words "In conclusion..."

In conclusion,
goodbye.

yeah, that's what I meant

And when I say "worksjop" I mean "worksjop." It's Dutch.

squash it

I had to take a break from writing my anthropology of violence paper yesterday, and the logical hour-long time slot is from 16.00 to 17.00 when Beverly Hills 90210 is on TV3. Little did I know that I was not actually escaping the theme of violence, but getting an additional lesson on how to handle it. You see, David Silver had befriended a young black boy who happened to be an "awesome" dj. David Silver asked this boy to play in a hip-hop show with him at the Peach Pit After Dark, and even though Steve didn't think it was such a hot idea - the boy was a trouble-maker - they decided to go ahead with the show anyway. (I know some of you remember this episode. Don't deny it.) So the show is going really well - Juwan was dj-ing hard core, David Silver was rapping, and the crowd at the Pit was loving it! And then the Australian band who wanted to play that night but who had been turned down - the Bloody Roos - stormed the stage, threw some stuff around, knocked down some people, and readied themselves for a fight with David Silver, Juwan, and some of their hip-hopper friends. It looked as if all hell was about to break loose...guns were drawn, fists were up, the Bloody Roos were shouting nasty stuff in Australian, and then a MIRACLE happened. Juwan suddenly remembered something from his non-violent worksjop with his parole officer. "Squash it," he said to those nasty Roos. (When you say "squash it" you also have to put your hands out in front of you in a very confident manner and basically do the "paper covers rock" move from rock, paper, scissors. This hand action is a must in the "squash it" theory of violence reduction.) So Juwan decided he wasn't gonna fight these punks and "squashed" the violence in a most extreme way. He totally walked away from the fight. And then his Unlce loved him again.
So if you ever find yourself really tempted to punch, or trip, or bite someone, just "squash it." Seriously. You'll feel WAY better.

lasse update number one

1. His name is not Lasse, but reality is not nearly as sexy as imagination.
2. He has a Nokia.
3. He has a tattoo on his right arm.
4. He did not ask me if I wanted the receipt, but I winked at him anyway.
5. I think I love him.

Ha ha!

"the tnt you sent me for my birthday has still not arrived"

Are my onjos being scanned by the CIA? Or my emails...what about them? We had pizza with a visiting peace ed. professor last night at Driv and this topic, among numerous others, came up. I think I'll stop here for fear that they might "disappear" me, or trace my phone calls, or follow me to choir tonight.

In other news:
*Have started working on "anthropology of violence" exam.
*Cannot figure out how to install new-used washing machine.
*Enormous pile of dirty clothes on floor in bedroom is causing ulcers and sleep-loss.

diaper-vests

I spent three hours on a century-old fishing boat in the middle of the Arctic Ocean wearing a shocking orange diaper-vest on Saturday. (Silje's dad took a few of us out for a fishing adventure on the good, ol' "Signe 1.") We weren't required to wear the vests, but I simply could not pass up that opportunity. It was so cold that my camera batteries froze, so if you want to see pictures, go to Scott's or Marjaana's onjo (link on bottom right) and check us out.

By the way, Tromso Storm won last night! They beat the K-sand Pirates by over ten points. Curt won the frisbee toss, the girl sitting behind me won a cell phone, and Espen gave me a rad Trosmo Storm wrist band. It was like Christmas and Birthday all rolled into one!

nacho lover

I'd just like to let everyone know that my friend Scott has selected a cell phone background called "Nacho Lover," which is a really bad computer graphic of a bowl of red stuff and some small yellow triangles. If you have a SonyEriccson, maybe you, too, can have this amazing background.

deep breath / oh lasse

After receiving wise advice from wise sources, I am over it. I just have to trust that there are more good seeds out there than bad ones. End of story.

On a lighter note: I went to ICA (grocery store) last evening and bought some peanut butter. It is delicious....and especially good on Wasa knekkebrød.
And even better than the peanut butter was the fact that my favorite cashier was working. OK, OUR favorite cashier was working. (Hanne has similar feelings.) Let's call him Lasse, because I like that name and we have no clue what his real name is. Lasse is the cutest grocery store employee - dare I say it - in the whole world, AND he can apparently install cd players and subwoofers in cars. That's it. We don't know anything more about him. BUT, Hanne and I will be keeping our "Lasse file" updated - so whenever we find out something new, we'll be sure to "onjo" about it. My next plan is to walk by the store once to make sure he's working, load up on hummus and celery and skim milk and 90 grain bread, impress him with my incredibly healthy eating habits, and then when he asks if I want the reciept, I'm gonna say: "That's OK, hon, you keep it," and give him a wink. It's gonna be great!

i think i'm gonna puke....or cry

I just had a HORRIBLE experience overhearing the conversation between two American guys and about six Norwegians (all mildly inebriated) sitting at the table next to me at this bar/cafe. These dip-shits epitomize everything I hate about America. They are bigoted, hateful, ignorant, losers who talk and talk and don't ever shut their mouths and are constantly offending people and blabbing on and on about how cool they are and how "awesome" it is to live in America and how their dog smokes weed and how they put their "bitches" in their place and how they hate gangsta-ass n*****s, and "hell yeah, I live like 20 minutes from New York city".....I refuse to write half of it here.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
How can people be so awful?
Sometimes it is really hard for me to find anything redeeming about my own country...and I try and I try, and I think about things that make me proud, and then I run into people like this and I pretend I am Canadian, and then I think about all the wonderful and fantastic Americans I do know and that makes me think that maybe America isn't so bad afterall....I mean every country has self-centered morons, but maybe the worst part about this experience was that the Norwegians were LOVING it...saying every hateful and offensive word they knew in the English language, demeaning the women sitting next to them, laughing their brainless heads off, and - I hope - not fully understanding what they were saying, or at least not realizing why people should NEVER say things like that. It is not just a word. It is not a joke. It is not funny, or cool, or hot to be a bigot...it has contemporary implications, it is based on past and present hatreds that killed innocent people....that devoured, chewed up, and spit freedoms out on the floor.... that labeled, stereotyped, oppressed, segregated, beat, and killed because of ignorance....and if these two "American" guys represent the impression Norwegians and other non-Americans have of America and Americans, so help me God.

Good night.

happy valentine's day - pass the cheez doodles, you jerk

We learned in lecture yesterday that the physical/mental reaction one has when in love is the same exact reaction one has when hungry or angry. So, we have decided to forgo the whole "love" concept today and rather celebrate a day where we eat a lot and are mean to each other. (I've been waiting weeks to tell Mj she smells like fish and to break Stian's arm.)

In all seriousness, I do wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day.
My favorite Valentine's memory is when my parents bought me The Beatles (White Album) when I was in eighth grade. Poor Rocky Racoon's demise will forever be associated with feelings of love.

Love.

bus 40 and business troll

Upon entering bus 20 to school this morning, I knew I needed to take a copy of the route schedule for bus 40. This was a very conscious action. I really needed it. So I held up the line of tired and crabby Monday morning bus-riders behind me while looking for the bus 40 schedule. When I got to my seat, happy to have my own personal copy of the bus 40 schedule in hand, I could not, for the life of me, figure out why I took it. I never take bus 40. I don't even know where it goes. Well, now I do, since I have a copy of the schedule. For example, it goes to a place called RV 863, which I find very exciting. Maybe there is some reason I took the bus 40 schedule this morning. Maybe I am supposed to get on that bus and something great will happen. Maybe RV 863 is the most fantastic bus-stop ever. EVER.

I couldn't stop thinking about "business troll" yesterday. This is a hilarious concept from Skogfjorden that involves putting on a business suit, some burlap, a gigantic brown wig, a pair of over-sized eyeglasses, and then smearing some brown and black face-paint on your cheeks and forehead. And "business toll" must carry a briefcase.

vi er på gliiiiiiiii

After accidently taking bus 20 all the way out to Kroken and back, Tsvetan and his girlfriend (whose name I can't spell), Kjersti, Line, and I finally made it to the ice skating rink. Having spent half of my childhood at the Congdon Park ice rink impressing the hockey boys with my speed and mad skills, it didn't take long before I straightened my ankles and got in the groove. It was very relaxing out there on the ice - relaxing and comforting.
I take this skating thing very seriously.

by:larm

I went to a bunch of concerts last night at By:Larm festival. This particular festival is for up-and-coming bands from Norway, and lucky for us it was being held in Tromso this year. Line, Kjersti, and I forked over the dough and bought tickets for the Kulturhuset venue, which meant that we got to wander back and forth between three different stages. The highlight of the night was Ralph Myerz and the Jack Herren Band, followed by a Swedish duo called Johnossi (not all bands are Norwegian), the Blind Archery Club (pretty good, but not fantastic), and norsk hip-hop/r&b "it"-girl Mira Craig. She's pretty much a cave woman. (Hirin' and firin'.)

We had fun. It's a great place to people watch and hear some new music.

rodolfo crocker is trying to sell me world class replicas

Oh Rodolfo, how many times do I have to delete you from my bulk mail inbox before you get the hint. I'm sure you're a nice guy and all, but I'm just not interested in your replicas...or anyone else's, for that matter.

little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Oi!
Så nydelig!

tough loss

Thanks to our friend Mihajlo (left), a bunch of us got free tickets to the Tromso Storm versus Asker Aliens b-ball game last night. The Storm nearly sent the Aliens back to their home planet crying like babies, but with an Alien rally in the fourth quarter, the Storm faded into more of a light sprinkle.

It was a great game, though.

giddy with excitement

By reading the title of this post, you may assume I have made progress on my thesis or finished all the required reading for my classes, but in actuality, I am addressing the most hilarious experience I have had in months, if not years. Today is the Sami national day and over the weekend there was a lot of Sami activity here in Tromso. The following is an equation listing all of the elements of the event that transpired on Storgate (read: Big Street) yesterday afternoon.

The entire population of Tromso + protective fences + out-of-control, crazy reindeer + people in tight ski suits = TOTAL HILARITY.

Allow me to illustrate.
I really don't know what else to say. It was so amazing I lost all ability to speak.

mr. ambassador

After standing in the reception line for a few minutes, Scott and I got our chance to hobknob with the ambassador. He's a nice guy. We told him where we were from (he's also from MN), what we were doing in Tromso, what we wanted to do when we were done with our program, etc. He also said that he'd love to come back up north and speak to our MPCT class. We'll try to squeeze him in, but I don't know, our student schedules are pretty packed.

We also got to schmooze with the ambassador's right hand man - a foreign service dude. This was especially swell for Scotty because he may want to get his foot in that foreign service door in the future. You know, go in there and tear it up international-style. Heck yeah!

But the best part of the evening was the secret service guys. There were two of 'em. They had those earphone-things and stood with their hands behind their backs, making sure we all stayed in line - the proverbial sheep dogs of fancy schmancy political receptions.
"Hey you! Back away from the salmon crackers."
And why are they called "secret" service, anyway? Considering that they are the only people who don't mingle, they could more aptly be called the "obvious service" or the "socially awkward service."

(I've been waiting for months to use "hobknob," "schmooze," and "mingle" all in the same onjo entry.)

evil before bed

Reading From Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil right before going to bed last night wasn't a great idea. I think reading about the horrors of evil would be less haunting than reading about its banality. I was trying to fall asleep, and the only thing I could think about was how evil and violence is so "normal" that it's hard to even give a shit about it.
But I'm supposed to. And so are you.

On a lighter note - quite literally - the sun now rises between 9 and 10 am and stays up for a good five to six hours. Don't let me fool you...the sun has done everything but show its face in Tromso since August 15th, but you get my point. It's lighter, at least.

We have a good six hours of lecture today before Scott and I head off to meet the American ambassador to Norway at a reception in his honor at the fancy Rica Ishavshotel. He's a Republican, but we'll give him a chance. Especially if we get free dinner.