The Yellow Book

So I've started work. I kinda like my job, actually. Fairly simple - doesn't require much thinking, giving my brain a break while still giving me something to do and distract me from whatever my mind would slip towards if I were bored and... on holiday.

I have to take two buses to work. Crap. I'm getting used to it now, but it is annoying that if my first bus is even 5 minutes late, I will have missed all the possible second ones, in which case I'd have to wait 30 minutes for the next one. Well, 27 at least. Crappy bus system. I might feel better about that once it's free for students to take the bus - it's bloody murder, the current fare.

Last week I was walking to work in the morning, and had to walk through a parking lot behind the building where the shop that I work at is. It was really quiet. All of a sudden I hear this really loud music - Lady Marmalade, the Moulin Rouge! version. I look aound, and locate the source of the music. It's coming from an SUV, in which there is one man, mid-thirties, sitting in the passenger seat. He doesn't move or react to the music in any way. No sign of liking nor disliking it. I mean - if he didn't like it, he could have turned it off. Or down. It just made me laugh. It was kinda hilarious, actually.

The weather is getting worse. This makes it hard not to be annoyed at little things, like finding out a shop is closed earlier than advertised on its website, when you left work early in order to make it there in time. That annoyance is heightened when the battery on your iPod empties when you've still got 20 minutes to walk home - you had just found some music that would possibly have cheered you up. Some sweets will barely make up for that.

It is also annoying when you're walking home after work, having stopped by at a supermarket to get a 1 litre bottle of Pepsi Max to, well, make yourself feel better, and the plastic bag containing said Pepsi Max bottle tears from the weight, causing the bottle to crash onto the pavement, lid-first, and explode. And you hadn't even opened the effing bottle for a taste - you were going to save it for when you got home. The sole comfort is that you bought it at a cheap supermarket (relatively) and it "only" cost 88 isk (approx. 70 p). You are, however, too stingy to get another bottle at the next shop you pass - it is bound to be more expensive, and it would be more prudent to at least buy it after you've moved house... which is happening the next day.

QotD: Tom Hanks: "I'm Tom Hanks. Should you see me in person, then please, leave me be." - The Simpsons Movie

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 17:08:-

Sunday, July 29, 2007

An African wisdom

"No one, whatever their social status, ever sees the top of his or her own skull. There always comes a time when you need someone else in order to see clearly."

-Peul oral tradition

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 22:03:-

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Nowhere but Iceland

I came back to Reykjavík last night. The weather has been exceptional, and since the sky was so clear and the view so good, the pilot decided to take a detour and fly over Hornstrandir. It is a beautiful place, and the view from above is incredible. At first I was a bit worried about how long this would take, because Sandra Rún was going to pick me up at the airport at 7 pm, when the plane was supposed to land, but my worries were soon overshadowed by awe. Looking out the window at the clear blue sky, the deep blue ocean, and the mountains (they vary in colour, from brown to green to grey to brown) finally made me appreciate being back in Iceland. And that made me smile. Because no matter how great and beautiful and almost perfect Scotland and Edinburgh are, there is nothing that compares to Icelandic nature. And where else would a pilot in a domestic flight decide randomly to fly a plane with around 10-15 passengers for 30 extra minutes because the weather was good enough to enjoy the fantastic view from above of gorgeous landscape? And actually narrate about what they were seeing, as well? Nowhere but Iceland, I daresay.

QotD: Mrs. Lintott: "And you, Rudge? How do you define history?"

Rudge: "Can I speak freely without being hit?"

Mrs. Lintott: "You have my protection."

Rudge: "How do I define history? Well it's just one fucking thing after another, isn't it?" - The History Boys

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 16:37:-

Sunday, July 08, 2007

I've been watching Live Earth tonight. For a bit with my dad, stepmum, my aunt's husband and then later my uncle as well, but after a while my tolerance for my aunt's husband's comments on whatever was going on onscreen ran out and I fled to my room to watch it on MSN instead. (Well, actually it's my brother's room (Danni, 15 years old), but I'm staying here for a few days while I'm in Ísafjörður.) He can get a bit annoying to say the least.

A couple of hours ago the Beastie Boys were playing in New York, and as they were doing their famous Intergalactic, the men complained that they couldn't understand a word they were saying (HAH! Even if it hadn't been for the noise of thousands of people in the audience, and their own speaking, I'm not sure they'd have understood it anyway) and dad said he didn't understand people who would listen to that kind of music.

This made me feel a bit annoyed. I happen to like some of what I've heard by the Beastie Boys - yeah, you wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I'd very much like to shake my booty to their music! Right now, actually - in the way that I'd not change the channel if I'd hear them on the radio.

So in rebellion I went and downloaded three Beastie Boys songs - Intergalactic, Fight for Your Right, and Ch-Check It Out. Yes, I do like them! They're cool!

Well that's all I wanted to say. I'm gonna go pay my full attention to Paolo Nutini (YUMMY) who's about to come on in London.

QotD: Mrs. Lintott: "Durham was very good for history. It's where I had my first pizza. Other things too, of course, but it's the pizza that stands out." - The History Boys

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 00:28:-

Monday, July 02, 2007

Goodbye

Tomorrow I am leaving Scotland. Moving. Back home, is the natural way to put it, but I prefer: away from home. Having lived here for the last 23 months, Edinburgh feels more a home to me than Reykjavík. (Sorry, but it's true!)

Somehow it didn't really quite hit home that I won't be coming back - it wasn't until I was saying goodbye to Alina at the airport (she left today and I went with her to the airport) that it started to sink in that this is, to refer to an annoying yet true cliché, the end of an era for me. On the bus back into the city I was looking out the window and thinking that this is the last time (well, until tomorrow morning, but that doesn't really count) I see this city while still actually being able to say it's my home. OK, another cliché: Home Is Where the Heart Is - but is it possible to have your heart in several places? (Heh, that came out strangely, but you know what I mean!) It must be, because I'll be leaving my heart here, though it will also always be in Iceland. Bahh. It's so much easier when you can just STAY in one place.

Well, it was a bit emotional for me. I won't lie: tears were shed. It is not impossible that more tears will be shed tomorrow... :(

This may sound like I'm completely dreading the thought of returning to Iceland... well, I'm not (not completely at least!). I am actually looking forward to it. It's the fact that I'm leaving Scotland that makes me sad.

But it's not like I'm NEVER coming back; I am determined to visit many times. I've already started planning to come here on Hogmanay this year - and Alina will be coming as well! Yay! Counting the days...

QotD: Willow: "Happy hunting."

Buffy: "Wish me monsters." - Buffy the Vampire Slayer

-: Trina illustrated her blog at 19:41:-

Annoyance

An African wisdom

Nowhere but Iceland

Goodbye