I can do anything

I can do anything. I can accomplish the seemingly impossible. I can solve any problem, procure any piece of equipment, provide any solution to any possible issue, problem or challenge you might put me up against. And not because I can do everything. But because you can. I try to be among the best at what I do – but if I succeed in beeing the best, it’s only because I surround myself with the best.

We can do anything.

tHanks.

Posted in hp

the ghost in the machine

As we wander through the abyss that is history, we all leave our mark. We all leave something behind on our journey to somewhere else. Be it a thought, a story, an object or just a whisper, we all influence history in one way or the other.

Once, there was a miner working in coalmine somwhere in the world. His work was hard and his life had little joys besides his family. From 6 til 8, every day, every week, for years, he worked in the mines. Breaking coal from stone from coal. His fingers gripping tools made by man, carving lumps of black rock that would someday fuel someones adventure or dream. As drops of sweat fell to the floor, as his coughing could be heard in the neigbouring tunnels, his very soul stayd behind in the cave. He left, he quit his job and never returned, but his soul, or at least a very tiny fraction of it, was always there. Somewhere in his heart, he was always there. As he left this world all that remained of him was lost to us, his face, his name and his thoughts forever lost in the void of the universe. But the tiny fraction of his soul that stayed behind in the mine, it lingers on, a spirit left behind in the created constructions of man. A ghost in the machine.

The factory worker working on the model T-Ford in 1908, his name and face is forgotten by all but a few remaining relatives, but his spirit and soul, wether he wish it or not, is forever imprinted on the work that he did on the black automobile. If he polished the headlights or was responsible for tuning the gearbox doesn’t really matter, something of him was stored in that machine for all eternity. For as the machine dies, the impact it left on history, and thus our factory worker, lingers on.

The SkunkWorks engineer working on the SR-71 Blackbird, his pencil drawings dictating where the wings should bend, and exactly at what angle the tail rudder should be placed. He is remembered more for his work than the factory worker, but still, his most important mark on history is the spirit he left behind in the great blackbird. And as long as the machine is remembered, the ghosts of those who built it will remain in our cognitive memory and intelligence.

Computer programmers in the number of hundreds worked on the system on which this text was written. Alon the way, the implanted bits of themselves into the system, unknowing, unwilling or deliberate, some minute parts of their creative intelligence lingers on in thousands of systems around the world. Tiny strings of code, random or by purpose, they form unwanted behaviour, they create new or just sit there idle, they are perhaps machine in essence, but created by soul, they will always remain ghosts of their creators.

As we cross ways with inventions, creations and impossibilities throughout our journey, we leave behind something of ourselves at every waypoint. Every time our energy is focused to creation, every time we pour our creativity into something, we leave something else behind. Unnoticable, minute pieces of our will, tiny fractions of our soul, whispers of our ideas, they stay behind and inhabit our creations. Giving them life and sometimes soul themselves. Thus, we are all creators of ghosts. Thus, all creations are ghosts.

a gHost in the machine?

they go round and round…

Waking up. Taking a shower. Shaving. (sometimes) Turning on the radio. Getting the newspaper. Eating breakfast. Getting dressed. Kissing S goodbye. Out the door. Walking to work, picking up a coffee on the way. Turning on my computer. Checking e-mails. Reading news. Phones. Meetings. Having lunch. (and some more coffee). More phones. More meetings. (not always) Even more e-mails. Reading news. Turning off my computer. Getting a full tram home. Shopping groceries. Making and having dinner. Kissing S hello. Watching TV. Reading news. Brushing my teeth. Turning of the lights. Good night. Falling asleep.

Waking up. Taking a shower. Shaving. (sometimes) Turning on the radio. Getting the newspaper. Eating breakfast. Getting dressed. Kissing S goodbye. Out the door. Walking to work, picking up a coffee on the way. Turning on my computer. Checking e-mails. Reading news. Phones. Meetings. Having lunch. (and some more coffee). More phones. More meetings. (not always) Even more e-mails. Reading news. Drawing sketches for a client. Turning off my computer. Getting a full tram home. Shopping groceries. Making and having dinner. Kissing S hello. Watching TV. Reading news. Brushing my teeth. Turning of the lights. Good night. Falling asleep.

Waking up. Taking a shower. Shaving. (sometimes) Turning on the radio. Getting the newspaper. Eating breakfast. Getting dressed. Kissing S goodbye. Out the door. Walking to work, picking up a coffee on the way. Turning on my computer. Checking e-mails. Reading news. Phones. Meetings. Having lunch. (and some more coffee). More phones. More meetings. (not always) Even more e-mails. Reading news. Drawing sketches for a client. Making design suggestions for a job. Turning off my computer. Getting a full tram home. Shopping groceries. Making and having dinner. Kissing S hello. Watching TV. Reading news. Brushing my teeth. Turning of the lights. Good night. Falling asleep.

Waking up. Taking a shower. Shaving. (sometimes) Turning on the radio. Getting the newspaper. Eating breakfast. Getting dressed. Kissing S goodbye. Out the door. Walking to work, picking up a coffee on the way. Turning on my computer. Checking e-mails. Reading news. Phones. Meetings. Having lunch. (and some more coffee). More phones. More meetings. (not always) Even more e-mails. Reading news. Drawing sketches for a client. Making design suggestions for a job. Taking a photograph. Turning off my computer. Getting a full tram home. Shopping groceries. Making and having dinner. Kissing S hello. Watching TV. Reading news. Brushing my teeth. Turning of the lights. Good night. Falling asleep.

Waking up. Taking a shower. Shaving. (sometimes) Turning on the radio. Getting the newspaper. Eating breakfast. Getting dressed. Kissing S goodbye. Out the door. Walking to work, picking up a coffee on the way. Turning on my computer. Checking e-mails. Reading news. Phones. Meetings. Having lunch. (and some more coffee). More phones. More meetings. (not always) Even more e-mails. Reading news. Drawing sketches for a client. Making design suggestions for a job. Taking a photograph. Evoking someones emotions. Turning off my computer. Getting a full tram home. Shopping groceries. Making and having dinner. Kissing S hello. Watching TV. Reading news. Brushing my teeth. Turning of the lights. Good night. Falling asleep.

Waking up. Taking a shower. Shaving. (sometimes) Turning on the radio. Getting the newspaper. Eating breakfast. Getting dressed. Kissing S goodbye. Out the door. Walking to work, picking up a coffee on the way. Turning on my computer. Checking e-mails. Reading news. Phones. Meetings. Having lunch. (and some more coffee). More phones. More meetings. (not always) Even more e-mails. Reading news. Drawing sketches for a client. Making design suggestions for a job. Taking a photograph. Evoking someones emotions. Making art. Turning off my computer. Getting a full tram home. Shopping groceries. Making and having dinner. Kissing S hello. Watching TV. Reading news. Brushing my teeth. Turning of the lights. Good night. Falling asleep.

through and througH, a Poet

Ave.

I wish God could see the world the way I do.

I wish he could come down here, spend a day with me, walk around town and look at all the people that populate this place. How incredible wonderful this microcosmos of beeings really is. We would walk to the national theatre, stop by the swedish girls and get a coffee or a tea, then marvel and the flowers around the statue of Wenche Foss before we would spend a moment philospising about the works of Henrik Ibsen, as you are shure to do when you pass the massive statue of him and see his words inscribed in the street all the way down to the parliament. We would visit the newsstand on Karl Johan, and talk to the guy that always is there, always happy to help passers by with whatever they need or want. From there we would make our way down to the opera house, and on the way we would by a copy of =Oslo from the recovering drug addict that is selling it. God would surely tell him something profound and touch his shoulder, and then he would learn his name is Håkon, and that Håkon is a really compassionate person, who’s made a few wrong choices in this life, but is hoping to correct some of them before he caves under for good. Then a street performer, a musician, would get our attention with his beautiful rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s sound of silence. We would stand and listen to him, and his little daughter would come out of nowhere and join in on the chorus. God would ask me if I know of this man, and I would say that, yes, I do know of him. He left his wife 9 years ago to travel the world, he wanted to be free and see all the things life has to offer. He left his wife and little girl because he wanted to be free, and almost lost all that he cared about in the process. Now he lives alone in Oslo, he earns his income by singing songs on the street, and he sees his daughter a couple times a week. He says he doesn’t know when his wife will forgive him, if she ever will, but at least he gets to be there now.

We would part with a hug from the old man, and we would walk on. Nodding gracefully to vendors, young boys and their girls, elderly ladies on their weekly shopping trip and to travelling monks of other religions who have come to tiger city this day. We would get caught up in a group of german cruise tourists on a guided tour, and we would shake hands with Henke and Ariel, a finnish couple here on a weekend getaway. They are newly married and are expecting their first child in a couple of months. They are as happy as ever, high on life and love itself. Living carefree in a castle built around themselves out of young and unbreakable love. God would put his hand on Ariel’s stomach, and with a faint whisper, he would speak a blessing so profound and beautiful that it can only be heard by newborn ears.

As we reach the waters edge, and the maarble majesty of the opera house, God would remind me yet again why I do what I do, and that a building such as this, surely demonstrates the greatness of mankind in a very subtle and poetic way. As we walk along the waters edge, a fisherman that never cathces fish yells at us, a good wish for wind in our sails and fish in our nets. A young couple walks by, she, clearly intoxicated, has taken of her shoes – he, well dressed in a suite that doesn’t look right for him is holding her stady as the pass down the ways into town again. We – would carry on, sneaking into Akershus fortress the backway everyone knows about, watching the lone royal guardsman on his patrol – the most symbolic of military positions this country have, a guard that is guarding nothing but history. As he puts his rifle on his shoulder and turns around to walk, I would lead God to the top of the old wall, and as the sun sets over Oslo tonight, I would say to God; look at your creation. Take a look at it, not from above where you belong nor from below where lucifer reigns, but look at this world the way we do. From eye to eye. From head to head. From person to person. Look at us the way we look at ourselves, and see, that really, all we ever do, is try the best we can.

Come down lord, and look at us the way we look at us. Come down tonight and share the world with us.

Here i am, just a simPle human being

I refuse to be your enemy.

You did great damage to our country, you took 77 innocent lives for your so called cause. You have ruined families, lives and you took our very innocence away. You proved only that terror has no religion and no race, you tried to bring us down and make us afraid.

You failed. You made us stronger, you united us in a way no one thought possible. You made hundreds of thousands of people take to the streets. Not in anger, not in despair and not for a want of revenge. But in love, in hope and in belief. You have strengthened our democracy, our love for each other and our society and nation. We will answer terror with more openess, more democracy and more peace. You have only strengthened what you sought to destroy. The 77 people who died because of you, they did not die in vain, they died because they believed in a better world – a belief we will honor to the very last.

And you don’t get it, we refuse to be your enemy.
We will not enact vengeance, but our law will try you, find you guilty and convict you. You will serve your sentence, and we will forget you. We will never forget what you did or the day, but you, you will be forgotten, left to the darkest parts of history, the world will forget your name and your cause, and because of that, you have already lost.

Love and peace will go on. Stronger than ever. The world will go on, a better place.
We’re winning, yes, there may be riots in London, poverty and hunger in Etiopia and war in Iraq, but we will make it, we will make the world a better place.

The world will go on, a better place.

and tonigHt, triPoli falls.

Magic

All things end, and now we have reached the end of yet another story. We have followed the boy and his friends through an imagined world so fantastic and detailed that we all wished it was real. We’ve learned about magical creatures, potions, spells and strange – new places. We’ve gotten a lesson in morale and friendship, what true honour and loyalty means. And through the story within the story, it is now over. It’s been over for a while, we’ve read the book, we knew how it was gonna end – but now it’s really over, now there’s no untold tale of the boy who lived.

The real magic of this, is that it has changed us, the world. The real magic is that this is a tale that will be told for generations. This tale will surely stand the wane of time, it will continue to enthral, excite and enrich the lifes of people for many years to come. Because it is a great story. Even I will say it was a sad moment to have it end, in the theatre today, the audience applauded, some cried and some, like me, just sat there, taking in the whole experience that these books and movies have given us – it’s over. That’s actually hard to realise. But it was a great story. And I’m glad we got to hear it.

It is an ancient need to be told stories. But the story needs a great storyteller. Thank you Jo, for the story of a lifetime.

And finally, the signature I’ve been wanting to use since I started this,

Harry Potter

…and the world we see

The world we live in and the world we see, sometimes, they are not the same.

I’ve been feeling really strange for a couple of days, like I’m in between something and something else, like I’m just waiting for something to happen.. So I took my camera and went for a walk around town, to clear my mind, to see people – just to take a look at the world and how it’s doing really. What I found was a world full of ignorant, ugly and horrible people that have no taste in clothing or in cars. I kept seeing people and thinking how many idiots there must be in the world – or that they all descended on Oslo on the same day…

But this isn’t the world I live in. This isn’t the city that is home. My world, my city, is full of beauty. My world is full of interesting, intelligent, funny and passionate people. My world is full of compassion, faith and love. Everyday, I work with people who care as much as I do, I talk to brilliant engineers and artists, I see loving couples on the bus and old people holding hands in the park. I see the rich lady helping the homeless and the volunteers all trying to make the world a better place to live. I spend my days with the love of my life. My world is full of love, full of passion and of great good.

I just have to choose to see it. I have bad days and good days. I see bad people and good people. My world is full of hate and of love. My world isn’t perfect.
It just is. We just have to choose what we see some days.

tHis is my world, it’s Perfect.
this is my world, this is how I see it.