Blue Fantasy

And I thought that things couldn't get much worse ....

I was awaken this morning with the taste of salt on my lips from the tears of the night before. New tears were quick to stream down my cheeks. It was a woman calling from Útlendigastofnun (the place that has the power to throw any immigrant's ass outta here if they're not legal) to inform me that they had received a call from a nursing home that I had applied for a job at. Apparently I don't have a working permit, and she was just wondering why I was trying to apply for jobs without one. I told here that I was simply looking for a part-time/Christmas job with school (of course I didn't mention the other job I have, hhmmm wonder why). "With school?" she asked. Well, apparently I'm not even allowed to be in school here -- I don't have a school permit! I have no idea what they think I've been doing here the past seven years. However, this lady sure was pleased to inform me that I was pretty fucked and advised me to get down to her office PRONTO. To make matters worse, when I arrived at her office she wanted me to show her my residency permit. It just so happened that I hadn't picked that up after I got it renewed, but I told her that I would be happy to seeing as I was at the office were it was supposedly kept. Yeah, not so simple. Apparently my residency permit is in Húsavík and they refuse to send it south because "according to the law" I have to pick it up IN PERSON. And that workers permit would take around eight weeks to go through the damned system (I hate that word, THE SYSTEM, think of evil things just writing it).

Oh, and my story is so not over. I then receive a call from my school informing me that I have missed the second application due date to apply for the tests that I missed. They are so nice letting me know that AFTER the due date. Would it of been hard for them to of called me yesterday?

Well, all this was definitely not setting well with me and I was having major trouble controlling my tears as I walked from Skogarhlíð back downtown (I don't have any bus money). I decided to sit down in a rotting flowerbed that's between two lanes to cry a couple tears and try and piece my Walkman back together that had just fallen to the ground and shattered. I would have called someone and asked for a ride, but if you can remember correctly then yesterday my phone was closed. And so I sat there, and sat, until I didn't really know why I was sitting there any longer. Certainly didn't have any place to go. Praise the flowers (as IB-ers say) my friend pulled up beside me and offered me a ride.

Well, I'm going to continue trying not to have a nervous breakdown.

My phone has been closed. I can't take any exams because I forgot the payment deadline (not that I have money to pay). Maybe no University from January 2006 until January 2007 is alright.I applied for a second job today. Two jobs and University -- wow, talk about living according to the whole "broke student that lives on baked beans and cigarettes" cliche. Not that I have another choice. I guess that means no family this Christmas, not that I'll necessarily miss the whole America part of that. But the family part, that I'll miss. If I get the job at the old folks home (another one this time) then I can at least chill with some guys that have no family to be with either. See what this society does to you? -I was walking up Laugarvegur today and saw that they had blocked the street because they were putting up Christmas decorations. Then I started thinking and worrying about Christmas -- the consumer holiday from hell. The only day of the year, beside MAYBE Easter and a handful of confirmations and baptisms, that Icelanders attend each year. I've been conditioned to automatically think about family (air-lines and gas companies sure make a shitload of money from traveling around the holidays), gifts (there goes even a heftier shitload of $) and good food (yep, more $). So there you go, I shall hold my head high and be proud to not be taking part in this CONSUMER holiday.
At least in public.

Reading:
The Optimists by Andrew Miller
Life Studies by Susan Vreeland

When the kid practically begged me to take him to the library and then I had to drag him out of there after a three hour reading marathon, I knew my love for him was undeniable. He even listens to Sigur Rós. Atli Freyr is by far one of the coolest of the cool.

My goal: to make him into the perfect companion in time for next years literature festival. Better get him started on some Atwood...

Aspartame, a low-calorie sweetener composed of two amino acids, aspartic acid and phenylalanine. I love the idea of an artificial sweetener that is 200 times sweeter than sucrose and has none of the negative side effects of sugar. In fact I have absolutely worshiped aspartame products for as long as I can remember. I was never an addict of Coca-cola or any other sugar packed soft-drink, but put a Pepsi-Max or a diet iced tea in my hand and I'll down it in a flash. Want to know where to buy sugar-free candy and cookies? Ask me, I indulge in the stuff. Want some sugar free gum with a taste that lasts for hours? I am the queen of it, my addiction to gum is about equal to my addiction to nicotine.

Just think, with a little bit of this artificial sweetener you can drink as many diet sodas as you want, eat as many sugar free sweets as you want, and chew as much gum as you want without having to worry about gaining weight or ruining your teeth. In fact, I heard that sugar-free gum actually helps safe-guard your teeth and is not only helpful to individuals with diabetes but can even prevent diabetes ...

Sure, sure, I've heard people say that sugar-free products are more unhealthy than the ones with sugar, but come on! The only people that tell you that are the ones that are slaves to sugar; Coca-cola addicts and chocolate worshipers, do they actually have any substantial evidence to the contrary? After all, Aspartame has been determined safe by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and other scientific and regulatory authorities worldwide and is one of the most thoroughly studied food ingredients, with more than 200 scientific studies confirming its safety -- at least that's what they say on http://www.aspartame.org/, a web-site associated with helping people control their weight by consuming sugar-free products and can be directly linked to the producers of NutraSweet.

It just happened to be my own theory as well, up until about a week-and-a-half ago when I viewed a documentary about aspartame and the serious effects that it has on your health. Aspartame poisoning is actually widely admitted by health professionals worldwide, and there are as many as 92 different side effects associated with aspartame consumption, side effects that I can even relate to personally if I backtrack and which I have listed at the end of this blog.

Following the viewing of the documentary, I decided to investigate a bit myself, so as not to fall pray to any paranoid government and corporation conspiracy theories. The first thing I did was, of course, was google "Aspartame." The information was absolutely overwhelming; the first sites that came up had to do with the toxicity of aspartame and a total of 113,000 sites alone came up when I googled "aspartame toxicity."

You may be asking your self why you haven't heard of the danger of this artificial food additive. The answer is simple; Corporations. The diet industry is worth billions, if not trillions, of American dollars to corporations, and they thus want to protect their profits by concealing the truth with rhetorical bullshit. Obesity is a growing problem throughout the world, and sugar-free substitutes is the perfect invention for a society that is constantly looking for new alternatives to old bad-habits. Think of it this way; corporations are merely introducing a new addiction while making you think that you have conquered an old one. Think nicotine- gum and patches as a solution to a cigarette addiction -- one is merely moving from one corporation to another, or even within the same corporation such as switching from Coca-cola to Diet-Coke.

NutraSweet was introduced to the food-industry in 1981 as a great alternative to sugar, and was marketed to change the modern lifestyle of American consumers, steering us into a era of health awareness. But as time has passed, the serious side affects of these products has surfaced, the same exact story as with cigarettes. And while this substance is very unlikely to ever be taken off the market because of the extreme corporate power that surrounds the product (yet again, compare with cigarettes) the public needs to become aware of the serious health problem, and toxicity that aspartame can cause.

You have maybe heard or learned in school that cancer cannot live without phenylalanine. Well, Aspartame is 50% phenylalanine. While many different food products contain phenylalanine, if you are consuming an aspartame product than you are consuming phenylalanine in an almost isolated form. Read any biology or chemistry book or dictionary and you will know that Phenylalanine is a neurotoxin that can excite the neurons in the brain to the point of cellular death. Of course if you consume phenylalanine in reasonable amounts, damage is not as likely. However the amounts that the average individual is consuming artificial products is enormous and reaching a dangerous point. We need to become more aware of what we are consuming. Aspartame is an extremely toxic form that is causing irreversible damage to our generation and this needs to be public knowledge. We should not be letting corporations take such advantage of us, materialism is one thing, but toxicity is another. When we are unknowingly consuming toxic products, there is a problem. Children and sucking on sugar-free and aspartame packed lolly-pops, blowing bubbles with aspartame gum and drinking diet sodas and all the time being psychologically conditioned to think they are making a healthy choice. Please think twice and take five minutes to research products that you aren't sure about -- you have got nothing to loose.

The following is a list of known side-effects of aspartame products that I have accumulated from reliable sources, such as http://www.sweetpoison.com/ and http://www.aspartame.com/ (where, if you have become interested in knowing more about the forces behind aspartame, you can read about Donald Rumsfeld's direct involvement in legalizing and getting the FDA to approve NutraSweet while he was Chief Executive Officer of G. D. Searle & Co., a worldwide pharmaceutical company, from 1977-1985):

Eyes:
decreased vision and/or other eye problems
blurring
bright flashes
squiggly lines
tunnel vision
decreased night vision
pain in one or both eyes
decreased tears
trouble with contact lenses
bulging eyes

Ear:
tinnitus - ringing or buzzing soundmarked hearing impairment

Neurological:
epileptic seizures
headaches, migraines and some severe dizziness
unsteadiness
both confusion and memory loss
both severe drowsiness and sleepiness
paresthesia or numbness of the limbs
severe slurring of speech

Psychological/Psychiatric:
severe depression
aggression
anxiety
personality changes
insomnia
phobias

Chest:
palpitations
shortness of breath
recent high blood pressure

Gastrointestinal:
nausea
diarrhea, sometimes with blood in stools
abdominal pain
pain when swallowing

Skin and Allergies:
itching without a rash
lip and mouth reactions
hives
aggravated respiratory allergies such as asthma

Endocrine and Metabolic:
loss of control of diabetes
menstrual changes
marked thinning or loss of hair
marked weight loss
gradual weight gain
aggravated low blood sugar (hypoglycemia)
severe PMS

Other:
frequency of voiding and burning during urination
excessive thirst
fluid retention
leg swelling
bloating
increased susceptibility to infection

Additional Symptoms of Aspartame Toxicity include the most critical symptoms of all:
death
irreversible brain damage
birth defects, including mental retardation
peptic ulcers
aspartame addiction
increased craving for sweets
hyperactivity in children
severe depression
aggressive behaviorsuicidal tendencies

Aspartame may trigger, mimic, or cause the following illnesses:
Chronic Fatigue Syndrome
Epstein-BarrPost-Polio Syndrome
Lyme Disease
Grave’s Disease
Meniere’s Disease
Alzheimer’s Disease
ALS
Epilepsy
Multiple Sclerosis (MS)
EMS
Hypothyroidism
Mercury sensitivity from Amalgam fillings
Fibromyalgia
Lupusnon-Hodgkins
Lymphoma
Attention Deficit Disorder (ADD)

You may find this unbelievable and over-whelming, but I yet again encourage you to read more about it, as these are just some of the problems that individuals are known to have faced following severe or prolonged usage of products that include aspartame. Please also note that side-effects vary depending on individuals and their genetic predispositions and set-ups.

I would like to quote from an e-mail that I received from Elías Daviðsson regarding the re-opening of the 9-11 investigation. I realize that not everyone is interested in reading long quotes on blogs, and I prefer to hold myself away from the copy/paste culture that seems to sometimes engulf personal web-sites, but I feel that an exception may be made in this case. Hence, the following is a quote from a speech that a man by the name of Dr. Griffin (a Professor at Claremont College in California) gave at the University of Wisconsin earlier this year and is entitled "9/11 and the American Empire."

"The evidence for this conclusion (that 9/11 was an inside job) hasthus far been largely ignored by the mainstream press, perhaps underthe guise of obeying President Bush's advice not to tolerate'outrageous conspiracy theories.' We have seen, however, that it is theBush administration’s conspiracy theory that is the outrageous one,because it is violently contradicted by numerous facts, including somebasic laws of physics.

"There is, of course, another reason why the mainstream press has notpointed out these contradictions. As a recent letter to the Los AngelesTimes said:

"'The number of contradictions in the official version of . . . 9/11 isso overwhelming that . . . it simply cannot be believed. Yet . . . theofficial version cannot be abandoned because the implication ofrejecting it is far too disturbing: that we are subject to a governmentconspiracy of 'X-Files' proportions and insidiousness.'

"The implications are indeed disturbing. Many people who know or atleast suspect the truth about 9/11 probably believe that revealing itwould be so disturbing to the American psyche, the American form ofgovernment, and global stability that it is better to pretend tobelieve the official version. I would suggest, however, that any meritthis argument may have had earlier has been overcome by more recentevents and realizations. Far more devastating to the American psyche,the American form of government, and the world as a whole will be thecontinued rule of those who brought us 9/11, because the valuesreflected in that horrendous event have been reflected in the Bushadministration’s lies to justify the attack on Iraq, its disregard forenvironmental science and the Bill of Rights, its criminal negligenceboth before and after Katrina, and now its apparent plan not only toweaponize space but also to authorize the use of nuclear weapons in apreemptive strike.

"In light of this situation and the facts discussed in thislecture---as well as dozens of more problems in the official account of9/11 discussed elsewhere---I call on the New York Times to take thelead in finally exposing to the American people and the world the truthabout 9/11. Taking the lead on such a story will, of course, involveenormous risks. But if there is any news organization with the power,the prestige, and the credibility to break this story, it is the Times.It performed yeoman service in getting the 9/11 oral historiesreleased. But now the welfare of our republic and perhaps even thesurvival of our civilization depend on getting the truth about 9/11exposed. I am calling on the Times to rise to the occasion."

Amen.

This year I have not only witnessed but also some how managed to become entangled in an alarming number of violent events that are directly related to drinking. Just this summer I can count five incidents where my friends and/or I have been victims (trust me, I use this word with caution) of violence because of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. If you smile at someone, if you frown at someone, if you knock up against someone in what they consider the wrong way, you are liable to get pushed around, slapped around, flooded with swear words and threats and maybe even punched regardless of your sex or that of the disgustingly drunk individual that you managed to upset. They don't care if you're a girl, they don't care if you don't want to fight and they definitely don't care to take part in a conversation that can be remotely considered civil in order to find a solution to the problem that does not involve direct physical contact. There seems to be no limits to what profanities will be thrown at you next when you decide to go down-town and have some fun on a weekend.

Hence, it came as no real surprise to me when, last Friday night, what started out with a girl innocently asking my friend for a cigarette, ended in accusations on behalf of her friends that we had been asking if we could score drugs from them. How they managed to interpret that is beyond reason and also irrelevant (especially considering that we had no interest in purchasing drugs, and if we did want to, you can book it that we wouldn't walk up to random individuals and ask around for them), the fact remains that yet again some guys felt the need to pick a fight that involved violence with two individuals who had absolutely no interests in anything except finding a place to sit down and have a couple drinks. This particular incident didn't cause police involvement nor surgery because of mutilated body parts as other such incidents have already managed to result in during my short life-time. However, it most certainly did leave me with an immense feeling of sorrow and confusion, which led to more pain than that that the young girl with blond hair and crazed blue eyes had inflicted while hopping around, pinching me and asking in a high-pitched sarcastic tone "you said I was being violent, I'm just proving what a violent person I am."
I seriously have no solutions as to how to prevent such situations seeing as more often then not they occur regardless of ones actions -- drunkenness seems not only to be an excuse for unruly behaviour but also dements peoples' perceptions to state of no return. But then again we all know that. I at least feel no longing to go to clubs for quite a while, at least not until I go to Holland where I somehow have the feeling that such spurts of unpredictable violence occur a bit less.

On a lighter note (?), I watched an extremely interesting documentary entitled Life and Debt about the real situation in Jamaica. Much to my embarrassment, yet again I became aware that I have been living it up a bit too much over here in the Westernized world and failed to realize the true situation in Jamaica, which is that of any other third-world country. Because of limited time, I am not able to write more about this movie except to say that it is a must see and for those of you who get a bit bored by documentaries, this one is packed with great reggae music.

Reading:
The Art of Fiction by David Lodge -- I may not be able to attend any creative writing courses, but that certainly does not stop me in my constant quest to master the art of fiction (following the seriousness of the afore blog, I felt the need to end this one on a fairly tacky note).

The other night my friends and I were hungry and decided that the best solution, since we just happened to be down-town, would be to go and order a sub. We thought about our options considering where we were located; there was Subway ( huge American corporation, think not), that over rated Nonni-sub place (my friend wasn't working which meant no discount) or Hlöllabátt. We decided to check out the last place since some of us had never eaten there. While my friend and I were looking at the menu in English, we started debating rather or not "Chili" meant that the sub included chili pepper or the other form of Chili, AKA meat. When I pointed out that the menu in Icelandic said "kjöt", hence meaning that the sub contained "chili" as in the meat kind. Which then meant that we both didn't want one seeing as we prefer to stick to a vegetarian diet.
Our little debate had not meant friendly ears, however, and after a couple ugly looks exchanged between the two young men that worked there, one of them turned to us and said "I think you guys should go some place else," and the other one laughed and agreed with a "yeah," while a couple customers chuckled in agreement as well.
I looked at my friend, she looked at me, I looked at them and said, "excuse me, did you just tell us to go somewhere else?"
"Yeah," said he and they both persued to turn around and find something that needed to be done in the kitchen leaving us standing there in utter disbelief that we had just be told to go elsewhere because we didn't want to eat a sub with a dead animal in it. Needless to say, I don't think that I'm ever going back there and believe that a juicy letter of complaint is going to be sent out to that good-for-nothing company very soon.
It's very simple; if you don't want vegetarians eating at your restaurant (which is a form a discrimination in my opinion, especially if it's expressed in the afore fashion) then don't offer any vegetarian meals on your menu (also like the afore restaurant).

The world economy is out of fettle, America's current account deficit is above 6% GDP; American consumers are spending way more than their income allows, John Roberts's confirmation to the Supreme Court, the U.S. is yet again messing with Venezuela, saying that its leftist government had failed to fight drugs (sure sounds like you guys are still bitter over that failed American backed coup some years back, eh?), Iraq and chaos go hand in hand (do I even need to get started on the mess over there?), Israeli army continues to upgrade its technology to prevent anyone getting through the fence and is building a second line of defence around it, approaching their goal of having no Palestinian workers on Israeli soil by the start of 2008 (hey, maybe we can just throw them all in sweat shops, or make a freak show out of 'em, try and squeeze some profit out of those 1.4 million Gazans before they're killed?), and I haven't even gotten started on North Korea, Africa, Iran, et cetera.

And people that have a chose continue to populate this earth, it really does surprise me. Don't get me wrong, I'm pretty jolly, can even be known by some to be an optimist, but when I can't open a magazine or newspaper without smelling both death and greed united into one overwhelming stench, then I really do have problem with it. Maybe it's a waste of time to be in political science and economics, I already know that half of my school books are overly biased. Do I even want to work as part of a government or corporation (aren't they the same thing lately?) one day, would I be able to conform? Could I actually ever change anything, and if not would I be able to close my eyes and walk around as if in a dream? Why not just go into aesthetics; literature, arts and the likes. Try and find what little beauty there is left. That knowledge would definitely do more for me personally (minus the financial benefits that would accompany the degrees in political science and economics).

The question is; should I dare try and climb the top only to realize that I'll never reach it seeing as those elites that decide everything are hidden in the heavens, but still be financially secure and hopefully have the wits enough to quit and write my epic novel. Or should I write my epic novel, try and influence people through it and other writings, teach dip-shits for minimum wage and possibly turn into a paranoid, bitter, failed novelist/journalist that doesn't even have a retirement fund?

This is a hard one.

The word has been spread. Confronting the Evidence has made its way into the unsuspecting hands of students at Menntaskólinn á Akureyri and found a secure place in the office of the school news paper as well as the film society. Promises were made of shows and articles. New followers assisted in the hanging of 9/11 was an inside job stickers throughout all of Akureyri, with only one small setback by a know-it-all in a uniform with blue. Café Karolina houses has welcomed a stream of young thinkers throughout the day with discussions of everything from Looptroop, Ann Coulter, the downfall of the Akureyri School of Music, Bill Hicks to chemistry, acid experiments and putting cannabis to the test in nursing homes (could save money AND cure pain more than many prescription drugs, and it´s not like many of those people have much to loose interms of braincells...). Those who constantly talk badly of this place are both naive and know not the group I do -- I can't have half as intelligent a conversation with many of the people I know in Reykjavík.

So to answer the question: yes, I dare say Akureyri just might be ready for an information and realization revolution. They just need a leader, hmmm, wonder who that could be.

Apparently Hildur, Rakel and Stebba are going to hold a mind blowing party tonight. Interesting -- may the preaching continue.

Can one morn the death of someone that you only met once? -- is it a connection I feel towards him because I know that I am of blood relation or is it merely something that I have heard that I should feel and hence do? I found one of the only gifts that I ever received from him today; a plastic brow comb made by some famous designer that was sent via snail-mail along with a box of chocolates for my mother and I as a Christmas gift when I was eight (why would an eight-year-old want a plastic brown comb?). Tears ran down my cheeks. Maybe I morned him. Maybe I morned the fact that I never knew him. Maybe I morned how much my mother resembles the man she despises. Maybe I just needed a reason to cry.

Listening to:
Maria Callas

Reading:
Open Secrets by Alice Munro (no it is not yet another conspiracy ridden book, but merely a work of beautiful fiction that soothes the troubled mind).

I'm afraid that I've made a right turn that ended wrong. I just cannot bring myself to conform to certain things and one of them is a biased education. While I realize that one must eat a considerable amount of shit and do a considerable amount of shitty things to be able to get to the level I wish and am going to get to, there are still limits. I would be more willing to offer sexual favours than to write a report based on lies, rather they be white lies or greater. I refuse to have people tell me what is appropriate and what not because they are an Officer and feel that they have the right to make judgements on behalf of us all. I got yelled at (via the net) and have decided to surrender. I have given up. Limped into the corner with internal wounds that are manifesting into a physical sickness of the heart. I don't know what more to say on the matter except that I never plan to attend an American University ever again. I refuse to conform to their high (but yet so very morally low) standards. A letter of complaint, that is sure to meet unfriendly hands that don't care about anything except the fact that at least I've already paid the tuition, has been sent.

Instead of trying to find new illegal ways of entering Iceland Airwaves, I decided to buy tickets this year. Interesting. And it appears that I have a secret admirer. They seem to be pretty popular these days, I've heard of and known quite a few just this summer. The old fashioned is in apparently, as is sending people things with no return address and no note through the postal service -- cute. All cynicism aside, whoever you are I thank you for the CD.

This weekend involved living in the world of the rich and powerful and I sure got a kick out of it. Watching a house with all of the newest gadgets; a surround sound system, four ipods, remote controlled blinds, closets with lights, stainless steel everything, a bed made for royals and so much more. You've got to see it to understand its pointless significance. The only downside was that I couldn't leave the house since part of the deal was that two kids would be included, but Guðjón, Dabi, Nína and Anna managed to keep me entertained, as did the wide selection of beverages.


Somehow I realized just yesterday that summer really is over, gone off to foreign places, as have most of my friends. And as a final tribute to the summer that was, here is a picture of me, Korka and Anna taken a while ago in Porec. Next time is just around the corner, I'm sure.

Watched:
Control Room -- Control Room -- A documentary concerning the perception of the U.S. war with Iraq, emphasising the television station Al Jazeera's (the Arab world's most popular news station) coverage of it. Al Jazeera has been publicly criticized by many in the U.S., including the Bush administration, for having a " pro-Iraqi bias," as well as airing explicit coverage of the destruction that American POWs have caused and continue to. The Bush administration has even gone so far as to accuse them of forging coverage of civilians harmed and dead following U.S. invasions -- however Al Jazeera continues to bring coverage to the world of things that are never told to the American public and things that no human with a sense of compassion would support, vote for, nor pay taxes for. If there is a hell, may those responsible for these horrid things rote in it. Not only to I never want to be in an American school system ever again, but I can (and haven't for quite a while) ever imagine living there or being there for an extended period of time ever again.

Listening to:
Neil Young (thank you)

Reading:
A new stack of old New Yorkers

The literature festival has come again and managed to save me from one more week lost to nothingness. I am finally living by my own preaching and have found yet another reason, besides that precious first cup of coffee, to get up at a reasonable time in the morning. My reality seems to lack challenge and hence I have begun to create my own -- motivation has never really been one of my problems but everyone's common sense and/or psychology 101 class must tell them that incentive is often times a necessity. And so I went to hear, among others, Margaret Atwood, Javier Cercas and Karin Wahlberg read their writings at Iðnó last night. It was a wonderful experience to be able to see and hear Atwood, one of my favorite writers, and an extremely influential figure to me personally. I have not only read and re-read Margaret Atwood's literature, but her works (Alias Grace in this particular situation) have also been the bridge that connected me to one of my most beloved acquittances.
I still remember the first week that I moved to northern Iceland to be with my new foster family and I sat in my room as dusk approached propped up by my window that over looked the old, and by then abandoned, barn and sketched with charcoal sequences from Alias Grace and the Handmaid's Tale, her two books that my father had sent me not long before his death and that I had then just finished reading.
Authors such as Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt, Annie Proulx, Nick Hornby, Andrej Kurkov, Roy Jacobsen, James Meek, Paul Auster, Sjón, Lars Saaby Christenson and DBC Pierre are to hold readings and lectures this week and excitement is running through my vanes.

Otherwise I am continuing my on-going search for The Truth, as many choose to word it -- not that I expect to ever really find the whole of it (nor am I sure that I would ever want to), but I'm sure drops of it are bound to plunge onto and into my head at unexpected intervals -- as I am sure that I will continue to make it my mission to inform those who both wish to and find themselves ready. It might sound like I have yet again plunged in to one of my many "extreme" (this is a word I prefer to avoid, although most of my friends tend to over use it when describing me) political movements, but rest assured, I have always been part of the "extremists," the only difference now is that I have found a group of individuals who have not yet given up on the cause as many others that started the search for The Truth with me back in the days in that dorm in Akureyri, but became lost and/or side tracked on the way. I look at it as a certain path of awareness that I have chosen to walk through life on -- and although it makes many days darker than necessary I am satisfied that all of them will not be lost to self-induced naivety as with so many.

I have added a couple new links, one of them to an interesting site by the name of juscogens.org, if you wish to go directly to the section entitled The Crime of 9-11 then click here. Guðjón Heiðar has also earned a link seeing as he is doing many good things right now to shake sense into civilians, including an appearance today on stöð 2 with Bragi Páll, where they discussed the re-opening of the investigation concerning 9-11, as well as the film Confronting the Evidence (which I am happy to send a copy of to all you Americans that I know are reading my blog right now ... just ask).

Reading:
The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

I've been floating in a constant state of disgust following many things -- especially the current state in my home country. Regarding New Orleans my uncle said in a recent e-mail:

"...the neo-conservative talking head, policy-enabler Grover Nordquist stated that he wanted to shrink government to a size where he could "drown it in a bathtub." Well, we can now see that he and the Bush administration have shrunk the federal government's capabilities to the point where they can drown it in the streets of New Orleans..."

Þarf ég að segja meira um það mál nema "námkvæm-fokkin-lega"...?

Reading:
Selected Stories by Alice Munro

My story was published today and now all I have to do is wait for the magazine to reach my beautiful hands to see just how great it is. The thought of other people's eyes reading over my thoughts gives me the shivers however. Ask anyone I know and they can tell you how private I am about my writings. I've never been one of those theatrical ones who runs up on stage and screams out all their deepest thoughts to anyone who cares to listen (not that there's anything wrong with that). So this is a big step for me and I'm now just sitting back, swallowing the nausea and waiting for the criticisms to hit.

Reading:
Old New Yorkers and World Politics by Charles W. Kegley Jr. and Eugene R. Wittkopf

School has begun -- herehere and a hey.
Did you know that James Dickey did advertising slogans for Lay's Potato Chips? I sure as hell didn't.

I had a discussion on Friday night concerning the movie Confronting The Evidence which I now have in front of me waiting to be watched. I had read quite a lot about the movie, so it was not that discussion concerning the movie that caused me a state of distress, but the direction that the conversation took into the dark realms of HAARP.

HAARP (High Frequency Active Aural Research Project) has been a research project for quite some time between the US military, the University of Alaska and other corporations. This research project concerns radar applications that can act as an earth tomography instrument, and can even be linked to the mysterious and of course denied chemtrails.

After reading up on the HAARP mater I became even more distressed at the thought of the long period of time that this has been going on and the fact that I've never heard of it. According to government documents the main purpose of HAARP is to "exploit the ionosphere for Department of Defense purposes" (refer to the University of Alaska web-site for more information concerning their view on HAARP). Personally, that doesn't sound all that appealing to me to begin with (guess we know why the US has been chilling of producing more nuclear weapons) however the other activities that HAARP can bee linked to are even worse. Such activities include the mental-disruption possibilities that HAARP is capable of through pulsed radio-frequency radiation over large geographical areas, and the use of the power-beaming transmitters for geophysical and environmental warfare (for more detail refer to the writings of Zbigniew Brzezinski, the former National Security Advisory to U.S. President Carter, accessible via the net).

The mysterious chemtrails can be linked to HAARP because of the possibility that a particular grid must be created in order to allow for the operation of an "over-the-horizon" radar system. Even magazines such as Newsweek (refer to Carol Sterritt's article in Coastal Post entitled HAARP, Chemtrails, and New War Technologies) have discussed the invention of an existing vending machine that can send out a "subliminal audio signal" to Innocent civilians like you and me that suggest that they are thirsty and should maybe have something to drink.

However crazy you all many find the afore discussion, there is just too much information and too many facts that can be found and supported by many reliable sources such as professors, scientists and intellectuals alike for one not to at least stop for one moment and wonder to what extent we are being zapped daily by beaming microwave energy purposely implemented by some "elite" group of individuals with reason not made assessable to the general public. If you like, read this, smirk and say "conspiracy theories, even if they were true there is nothing we can do about it." That maybe true, but I at least want and believe that we should all be aware of such activities and the iffy results that they are causing.

Just google HAARP and chemtrails, and see for your selves the outrageous implications that these experiments can have.


Picture of supposed chemtrails being let out of a commercial jet. Don't you just love how corporations and Governments seem to get along so well?

Reading:
Swann's Way by Marcel Proust

Nuna er yfirbordid farinn ad eydast upp og eg held ad thad se godur timi til ad drifa mer i burtu adur en of seint verdur. Thad er farinn ad sjast i ljota hlidarnir tannig a medan tau halda afram til Paris verd eg her eftir tar til brotfer a ser stad, an teirra penning hef eg nefnilega ekki mikid -- en sem betur fer er eg kominn med nyjustu thydingin af Proust, thannig eg fer hedan glod og anaegd.
Eg elska lyktina af kommandi haust.

Va, va, va. Var i matarbod med madurinn sem var innanhus arkatekt fyrir Chris Martin of Gweyth Patrol. Va, va, va. Hann fekk 5 mill. dollara fyrir tann verkefni. Hann er med ekki adeins gaur sem er i starf til tess einungis ad svara uti hurdina fyrir sig, heldur lika med kona til ad elda, annad kona til ad trifa og annad kona til ad passa 2 bornin hans. Og tad fyndasta var tegar hann tok Hjalma diskina sem eg hafdi keyft fyrir litla fraendi minn sem er major reggae fan, seti tad i 2 mill. dollara taekid sitt, sagdi "get a load of this shit, it might just be better than Baaaggoreg (AKA Bjork) -- can you send me a couple of 'em?" og haekadi i botn. Svo baud hann mer husnadi okeypis og studning i gegnum haskolan EF eg kemmst i Masters program i UCL... Not that I believe it, en tad er samt svoldid gaman ad heyra.. Og er eg buin ad nefna 1983 blablabla vinid sem eg fekk fullt af og viski medan eg sat i "bokasafnid"? Djofull er fjoldskyldan min kul og yfirbordskend folk og tau tekkja greinilega ennta yktar kul og yfirbordskend folk. Eg dirki tetta -- gott ad vera aftur i samband vid ta.

Ennnnn eg aetla ad fara ad halla mer i king-sized gesta rumid, lesa og vakna hress i fyrirmali fyrir sma sight-seeing i kringum London, og svo ut ad borda a fimm stjarna veitingahus, og svo erum vid vist ad fara ad kikja i leiksyning ... ufff, nog ad gera. And did I mention, eg tarf ekki ad borga kronu?

P.s., eg tarf ad chilla adeins a tvi ad skrifa a ensku, enda eru ovelkomnir ensku maelandi gestir bunar ad fata veffangid mitt. Damn them all!

Frida Kahlo at the Tate Modern, pizza for breakfast and gin and tonic for lunch. I love London. Tomorrow I'm off to Oxford -- keeping my fingers crossed. One Interview down two to go...

I'm wondering about E. M. Cioran's statement that it is impossible for one person to be truly interested in another person for more than a quarter of an hour. Truly interested -- hmm.

I'm finally in HÍ, they really did want me so they found a way to bend and stretch the rules around my needs. I knew they would and I'm glad that I didn't give up.

While they came crawling back somebody else still hasn't and so I sit her with the old women and sing along to the music I brought.

He shot me down ... bang, bang ... I hit the ground ... bang, bang ... that awful sound ... bang, bang ... until this day I still cry, he didn't even say goodbye...

She knows the lyrics to the song by now -- the one with the red lipstick on her teeth, the one who is always on her way to the ballroom, the one that no one visits, and so she joins me with her husky, broken voice, pausing to take puffs of her filter-less Camel.

I'm leaving again on Saturday. Bang, bang.

Of Course I'm Reading:
A Short History of Decay by E. M. Cioran

That's it. Game over. I'm detoxing -- maybe I can even go so far as to get that suction cup therapy done like all the Big Stars.

HÍ continues to pull me in only to shove me away -- they want me, they don't, they want me, they admit their mistakes, wait policy 6578 says they can't have me even though the really REALLY (serious kind-of-really) want me, but maybe they can make one itsy-bitsy exception, oh wait SHIT! they lost my application and my 3000kr. documents from Hagfræðistofan, but OK the exception will be made, oh actually no, it just isn't working out, they're so, SO, sorry.

The hours I have spent fighting with those guys, I'm surprised I'm not more intoxicated. Quite frankly my relationship with HÍ reminds me of my relationship (?) with another individual.

And so I'm rolling up my sleeves, drinking only vegetable juice, replenishing brain cells and my liver, and getting down and dirty on my research paper concerning the effects that China's rising economy can have on the rest of Europe. The whole thing is hypothetical bull shit and I'm raiding back issues of The Economist, Foreign Affairs and other business related magazine for material. The whole topic is a pretty bad one, but since my questionably qualified teacher almost jumped for joy over the topic (something I really need after almost violating the patriotic act), I'm going to stick to it.

Soon my government and Asian relations courses will start; who says you need backstabbing HÍ and guys mixed with distorted reality and a mellow mood to make you happy when you've got foreign policy courses waiting to be tackled?

Reading:
The Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem

The Reader by Bernhard Schlink

I'm rolling around on the ground, hugging my mental cramps away and trying to drag myself to safety before all is lost. Nothing seems to be able to numb all the pain away -- but I continue looking for the perfect blend all the same. Even publishing my first short story hasn't given a boost -- though I at least reached a stable mellow condition for a couple of days over finally receiving an ounce of recognition. Then it wore off, so I'm going to continue dragging my self out of the intersection.

I woke up next to a dead person on Saturday morning by the name of Dýrunn Jónsdóttir -- I liked the name, that was the original reason that I had decided to lie down next to her, or on top of her, or however she was situated in the ice cold ground. I had been swaying next to Korka, who coincidentally also bears the last name Jónsdóttir, for an hour too many and my shoes had begun to eat my feet alive before I'd managed the last haul homeward. There's still dry blood on my feet and my hot water does not work so I guess I'll go swimming today.
I have never felt the way I do now and it's wired experiencing a new feeling -- something that takes time to get used to I suppose -- although I honestly pray this New Feeling will soon decided to apply for a transfer into my long-term memory and never return. Until then this New Feeling and I are getting to know each other, It seems to have a very eccentric taste in literature to say the least -- and I am hence exploring the Darker Depths -- at least until my beautiful new book entitled World Politics arrives and my Macroeconomic book is done having it's two week summer vacation and is ready to be tackled anew.
I dream of velvet sofas and music of long prose -- such a short time away?

I knew I was looking hot as I walked out the door this morning: I had on my '50's style raincoat to match my '50's style hair that had some how managed to curl perfectly, underneath my coat I had on a slimming white and gold dress, black heels and to top it off the perfect black faux leather hand purse -- damn was I fine. I went to the little café on the corner and treated myself to a strong cup of coffee and toast with cucumber and read the newest Economist that I had also bought for myself as an extra special treat to make up for The Horrible Betrayal.
Suddenly He came in and my cup of coffee turned cold and unbearably bitter, my stomach was suddenly full and the Economist was giving me a headache. I stood up, my hands shaking and put on my coat, all the time pretending not to see Him even though I could feel His eyes on me. I walk out the door and as I walked past the window where he sat, I slip on a juice box that some littering asshole had left in middle of the sidewalk and fell. I cleared my throat, ignoring the questioning by passers, and was about to walk away, trying in vain to keep my dignity, when I somehow managed to miss my purse and hence all that was inside of it, in front of the same window. By that point there was really no turning back and I could only just imagine the evil laughter that was taking place inside what I used to consider My Territory when my little portable radio slipped out of my pocket and shattered to the ground. That was the end, I had officially thrown what little was left of my dignity into the garbage disposal and pressed ON -- I picked up the remaining items from my purse and walked away without my battered radio to die in humiliation alone on some bench in the back streets of 101. It just resembled a bad episode of Mr. Bean crossed with Sex and the City.
Interesting fact: you can put people on a BANNED list at cafés and clubs ... I just so happen to know quite a few people that work at that particular café -- I might just have to look into my options...
Otherwise I'm going out tonight to listen to live music: Andreas Öberg and Ólafur Haukur (as well as others) are playing at Café Rosenberg -- the only official Jazz café in Reykjavík, although I do chose to question their credentials concerning the Jazz scene...

Reading:
Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed -- by Jared Diamond

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Listening to:
Sufjan Stevens -- Michigan

Laying there with the wood paneled walls surrounding me, I closed my eyes and remembered the hill with the yellow buggy at the top, the windows rolled down and the sound of laughter in the background as the little girl lay in the back seat imagining row after row of other girls lined up with their eyes closed, waiting for the prince to come and chose who he was to wed by the kiss of a cheek.
I hopped to my feet and fled to the room with the tiles, allowing the hot water to pierce my skin and thoughts. Yet another of my theories had been proven, much to my regret, and so I sang a song that I had once heard another man sing and waited until I heard the closing of the front door that marked so much more.
In the kitchen I sat and listened to the Vietnamese music that was left in the record player and burrowed my head into the cat´s soft fur, and knowing that no one else would, I left food in his bowl before taking my things and leaving. The urge to overturn every object in that apartment was swallowed along with the memory of every event that had there taken place since Sunday.
The thought of my newly purchased plane ticket out of this place is sure to get me through.

Listening to:
Castanets -- Cathedral

Finally my summer vacation has come! I do not have to study for the next two weeks, and following my midterm in economics I can't even imagine looking at my favorite magazine The Economist for the next two weeks either. Not only do I not have to study but I also have my first weekend off since I started working in May during August 5-7th -- I just don't know what to do with myself.
Tonight however, is going to be some crazy fun at the music festival Innipúkinn where bands such as Blonde Redhead, Raveonettes and Hjálmar will be playing and people of the highest class, such as Hildur, Addi and Jón, will be accompanying me. Even the grim prospect of awakening at 7 a.m. to go to work tomorrow morning will not cause an early end to the night.

Reading:
The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi

The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-first Century by Thomas L. Friedman

Listening to:
Nina Simone [ORIGINAL RECORDING REMASTERED] -- I've been wanting this edition for a while, it includes such as My Baby Just Cares for Me , Trouble in Mind and Mississippi Goddamn, songs which for some reason or another have been hard to come by in other anthologies.

The newest in Hip and Cool things to do:
The Bill Hicks fan club, the first ever here in Iceland -- and it already has two members: moi et Nína, oui oui! (damn, check out my complete knowledge of the French language brought to you by the supurb teaching methods of the IB -- I'm sure good'ol Bill'd have something interesting to say about it anyways).

I love it when the lights go out and the view is bright over all of the city, the sky so clear that even the sea in the far distance can be seen. I love it when Nina Simone's voice is all you can hear, words are not necessary, and the air blows in through the balcony doors as you sit in the sofa and think of nothing but the now. I love it when when you just wake up, the morning still young and you drink strong coffee curled up in your favorite chair with the world news in the background -- the whole day awaiting you outside. I love it when uninvited guests show up in the wee hours of the morning and your annoyance slowly turns into amusement as they stagger and dance to unheard tunes. I love it when you sit and talk about a past so distant that world had not yet invited you to come and take part. Oh yeah, and I've got to say that I love it when you both say in unison "turn it off" to the music of The Smiths.

I have that groggy feeling like the one that you get when you've been traveling in a car too long -- Only this time I think it might be because I've been cruising on ginseng pills and Magic since Friday night. Studied my ass of for that test, was starting to fall asleep by repeating formulas for interest rates, unemployment, CPI and GDP and then I show up and the test is such a piece of cake that I'm in and out after 15 minuets. Wondered if I studied too much or had too high expectations for this University. I'm checking out transfer possibilities.
After my test I was yelled at by an army official for smoking behind the University building, then I was yelled at for smoking inside a restaurant, and then I was stopped when trying to buy a carton of cigarettes because I didn't have a military pass. Deciding against taking my chances of buying a gin and tonic at the "local bar" to take the "edge off it all," I crawled up in the back seat of my mother's car and fell asleep until some guy in an army outfit came and knocked on the window and asked me if I was alright. They just can't let you be, can they? I'm hanging out at the computer lab now drinking a diet Pepsi with American water trying to kill five hours while my mother finishes teaching but those dumb wits have so many questions I'm not sure she'll be done anytime soon -- I'm making a big scene of reading leftist internet material and doing things that my mother would call "racy." Just can't help myself, these army suits are getting on my nerves. Can't wait until those officials come here and discuss the"future of the NATO base in Iceland," which will hopefully be zero. And if the UMUC gets closed down my mother might be moving to Afghanistan, making a shit load of money to put her life on the line. Never know, maybe she'll then be able to contribute to my existence.

Yesterday evening a massacre took place in my basement headquarters of over five spiders and seven other unidentified critters by means of pouring over them toxic cleaning liquid and when that was finished, boiling hot water. A couple of them I decided to kill like a man, with my own bare hands (that were of course covered in yellow rubber gloves) while singing at the top of my lungs "this is not my life!" *smack* "it's just a fond farewell to a friend!" *crack* and then a juicy *plop* as the suckers hit the floor and I did a joy dance around their disgusting corps and an evil múhahaha laughter escaped my lips that were already beginning to foam with the thirst of finding another unsuspecting victim to kill. Fuck Buddhism, there will be no intruders on my property, especially not the kind that are known to crawl out of old rotting pipes and toilets and apparently feast on dead skin tissues, further explaining their fondness of sneaking into bed with me at odd hours of the night.

I woke up this morning feeling a bit less than refreshed and scraped up the remains of the bug shells that littered the floor before making myself coffee and sitting down to contemplate the nauseating amount of chapters I had yet to tackle. And somewhere between that first of many cups of coffee, the second helping of cappuccino skyr and realizing that I had to be at work in an hour I felt the need to dress up like red-neck and sneer at my reflection in the mirror, answering all those stupid comments that trash the UMUC chat room that under normal circumstance I dare not answer, knowing I won't be able to control my remarks.
Next thing I know I find my self in a silk dress with my hair in a barrette, my legs crossed, puffing a cigarette and singing, in what I chose to define as a deep and sultry voice, "My baby don't care for ... he don't care for ... high toned places ... my baby just cares for MEEEEEE".

So now after spending the morning allowing my mixed personalities to shine I have a half and hour left to complete this weeks homework and post some stupid comments in the damn chat room agreeing with those imbeciles' ignorant ideas regarding the good ol' US of A's political situation. And look at me! I'm hangin' on the net -- call me a procrastinator, but everyone knows that those of great genius like me work best under pressure.



Me as the famous socialite, Madame Antoinette, on her way to an extraordinary masked ball in the castle of Rouge -- wasn't necessarily looking forward to the event, but seeing as I had nothing of great importance to do that evening and all those of high society, including my lover Prince Calamites from the faraway Isles of Klaskitamit, would be present I decide an appearance was the least I could manage. Oh yes, and my chamber maid Nína shot this picture much to my disgrace. It was a mere coincidence that it turned out well, for we all know that such creatures of low ranking like herself do not have much talent when it comes to the arts. Fear not -- she has been severely punished for such unruly behavior.

It's the first weekend since May that I could have been a guilt-free party animal (because of my newly adjusted work schedule), instead I woke up at 7 a.m. and hit the books over coffee and hrökkbrauð with BBQ sauce -- yes, yet again I forgot to go to the store and stock up on food.
It's 9 p.m. and I still have 4 chapters and 130 pages left of studying to do. At least I was able to smuggle my clothes into the washing machine at work without anyone noticing...almost anyone -- making it the first load of laundry that I have done since the beginning of June. Nasty, I know. However, as I was on my way to make a mad dash for the balcony at work where the evening sun was burning bright and promised a quick dry for my clean, but wet clothes, I apparently blew my cover by dropping something. When I returned inside, flushed and a bit guilty, an old woman was holding up a thong and examining it closely with a perplexed look on her face she turned to me and remarked; "Is this some form of a bandana -- I didn't know they made them out of lace now-a-days..."

Good times, good times.

"Yo, yo, yo, ég vill fá vínabrauð, yo -- biddu er það ekki það sem ég á að segja, þegar það er vínabrauð í boði Zoe?"
Já, svona eru menn að kenna gömlu konurnar hvernig á að tjá sig í nútíma samfélagið. Klæddi hanna líka í jogging-gala og setti á hanna gull keðja - svei mér ef hún leit ekki alveg út eins og Jennifer Lopez nema með hvít hár..

Every time something draws me just a bit closer to them a force as unpredictable as the icelandic weather comes and blows them away. The fishes and the crabs continue to swim in the same water, as they have in the past and are sure to do in the future -- and while they continue to underestimate you, one day they are sure to realize their fault -- and I say they because there are many of them looking the wrong way. I'm going to continue turning the days like the pages in those books of mine -- and as with my books, some of them are for mere entertainment, while others meant for long term investment.

I´ve got some good ideas about next year -- new opportunities have suddenly arisen -- opportunities that will enable not only my adventurous side to shine, but also the side that yearns to be expressed through written words.

I heard the alarm ring -- somehow I could not manage to raise my head which seemed heavier than the burden of life. My limbs were stiff and my body cold. Suddenly I viewed the pathetic site of my self from above -- still fully clothed from the night before, laying horizontally on top of the covers and pillows, my book laid open beside me, Caramel still on repeat and the unfinished mango and crystal concoction dangerously close to spilling over. Before long a deep darkness drowned me and brought upon an immediate and total peace... until the phone rang. It was my boss. Apparently it wasn't death that had taken me, but simply a lack of rest. Great.
It'll be great to see Hildur again tonight -- without great friendships I would have nothing. I'm twirling the silver chain and pendant in my hand and waiting for time to pass.

Agenda:
Work
Read
Study
Party
Sleep
Work
Etcetera

I almost made it to Anthony and the Johnsons - I was so close - but somehow the rain, work and finding a pass seemed to weigh me down. So instead I'm listening to I am a Bird Now and washing down the haunting and somber tunes with grapefruit juice, a nice reflection of the bitter irony of it all. Receiving a self-absorbed e-mail with a, "oh yeah and your grandfather died but I'll tell you about that another day," is just one of the final drops that has filled my bucket to the brim and caused it to slowly overflow. I'm going to Europe to meet up with my father's brother that I haven't seen in 3 years, should be interesting. Until then I'll continue my sullen tango along side my forever companion; Existence.

Two friends, a camera, a room full of vintage clothing and tequila just can´t go wrong.


Reading:
Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
Watching:
In The Mood For Love -- a film by Wong Kar-Wai (2046 is the sequel)
The Minus Man -- no comment.
Listening to:
Kata og Orgill

HÍ can kiss my golden ass goodbye -- HR wants me, and wants me bad. Things are turning a brighter shade of gray today.