My confession.

I have a confession to make. I really didnt want to write on this BLOG. Its strange really but I have in effect been avoiding it for some time and I think I know why.

Life is boring. Kinda.

People BLOGS are usually crammed with fantastic trips, events, littered with endless photoes of the Bloggers in question having a great time. Well, either I havnt had any of that, or I generally forgot my camera. Or, after all these excuses are spent, they are all normal.

This BLOG, I started nearly a year and a half ago, to detail my adventures in actually getting into another country with nought but myself and my girl friends help. Since then, its been a case of no news is good news right? I do get surprised at how much Norwegian Ive actually learnt. Usually at the expense of someone who say, has been here longer and not learned a thing. The shit kicker is usually that said person has a job anyway because of knowledge of stuff or friends.

I have been lucky.

I have NOT earned a job the hard way. I have not applied for work and won through a interview the work. I have either had it handed to me by very good friends that I have made over here, or simply by being in the right place at the time. I know, I know, same at home anyway.
It just stings is all.

With regards to work I have been lucky in the past, but now, soon actually, I will be jobless again looking without hope but wondering all the same if I shall be lucky again.
Truth is, I have come so far from when I started. I can see this. I have actually had job interviews in Norwegian now. Not very good ones, not very succesful ones, but in Norsk all the same.
Also, my recent stretch with Penelope bokhandel has given me some fantastic experience, a really good reference and best of all, a cadre of very awesome people. I can't tell you enough about the work ethic you find in some of these places, beer tasting and sushi extravaganza's (all free) not withstanding, theyre professional and fun. A rare combination.

Its wierd how when your commuting on the bus or the train, you only ever meet the impolite ones. Namely getting on and off the train is hell during traffic because they people coming the other way barge into you. Sooner or later the English politness goes out the door and you fall back on mosh-pit/rugby/older-brother training and start crushing some folker!

So, I have lots of free time right now, though next week Im working vikar (cover work) back at Penelope the book shop. After wards I got nuthin. Right now, Im going through a rutine (trying my best, I have no dicispline so Im trying to get some) of excercise, tending to that veruca I keep getting from these laminate floors, keeping my eyes peeling for another job on Nav or Finn, painting figures for fun times later this week and most importantly, continuing my own norsk kurs. I recently got together with two friends who are on the same level as me to study through a book called Stein På Stein. Im also reading the Witches in Norwegian, with accompanying sound book. Good fun.

Kinda scary really. Part of me debated fleeing back to England but to my horror I discovered that its worse at home. At least here there is work if you crack the language barrier. Back home it sounds more and more like a third world country. Maybe I could claim asylum here? :B

I had an epipheny also. I decided that my long term goal was to go into teaching. Not entirely impossible. I have a degree in Imaginative Writing (stop laughing at the back please, give the front a turn) amid a host of A levels and GCSE's. Nothing special, but enough to maybe get one of those free/really cheap Masters and when Im ready, a Pedogoggik degree. Maybe teaching English, IT and History? I'd do that here, but not at home. Its disgusting how few rights teachers have in schools. The famous paedo scare of the 90's still haunts us, and puts teachers in a situation where for example, if a child tries to stab another, the teacher can only "get in the way."

Ridiculous.

Anyway, I digress.

Bumped into a really great guy while working the doors at Samfunnet the other day. Forget his name, but he was from CHester. Sounded like an extra from Hollyoaks, but it was good to go full swing with my accent and not be worried about being misunderstood. As it was noone there could make a word out (how do you like it eh!?), but as it is my "scouse" accent isnt actually scouse. I know, but try explaining the concept of villages to most norwegians. Steder (or places i think) are closest they have. Its cold here, huddle up now!


Feels good to finally write something down. Always feels like an Ego trip, and yes I suppose this does feed my self worth somewhat. So sue me. I have followers dammit!

Thanks for reading all. Im still alive.

Rik.