self-reflection

As I sit here on this cold, dreary Norwegian morning, the train humming beneath me, I find myself sinking into thoughts of growing up. The temperature outside is a chilling 13 degrees. Sure, it's not freezing, but its bite has a way of permeating through you, seeping into the marrow of your bones, an echo of winter's bite. From my small, foggy window, the world goes by in greyscale - ribbons of iron and stone cutting through the raw, open landscape.

Growing up, in essence, is an ambition aspirated by every young soul before it even understands its full implications. We hastily strive to reach a point of self-governing independence, of wisdom, of understanding. We yearn to leave behind the naïve simplicity of youth and grasp the complexities of maturity. Almost as though in a trade-off, we relinquish the soft pillow of innocence for the sturdier mattress of awareness.

Take, for instance, the swivel of affairs in far-off Dagestan. After reading a somber news article on NRK during my early morning browsing, I was served a daunting reality check. It spoke of vile attacks on innocent lives, a stark portrayal of the world beyond my tiny, meticulously curated existence. As a journalism student, it's disturbing and emotional to read such articles. Lives lost...lives changed forever. It is a moment of profound sorrow, yet it serves as a powerful reminder of the breadth of human struggle.

The infractions of such acts stir whirlwind emotions, yet their existence is integral to our understanding and evolution into resilient beings. This part of growing up, the acceptance of harsh reality, is unpleasant, yet it lends the greatest life lessons. The essence of our bloom from children into adults is not only marked by physical growth but also by the deepening creases of understanding, imprinted by the pressing iron of reality.

Growing up also means adapting to life's shifting gears. An aid to my adaptation process, and notable mention in these transient reflections, is my ever-faithful powerbank. This reliable companion has been a silent supporter during those long train rides to Oslo, ensuring my phone, my music, my solace, never shuts off. More than just a simple device, it’s a metaphor for resilience, a token of constancy in a world always on the move, just as we are while growing up.

Growing up, then, is like this train journey – a transition, an evolution, and sometimes, a tug of war between the past and the future. All the while, we move on, leaving behind a trace of what we were, but carrying with us the core of who we are. Even in the face of harsh winds of reality, our wheels do not stop. They merely adjust to the different rails that life lays in front of us, leading us into the uncharted territories of adulthood.

But today, the melancholy is too poignant to ignore. As I sit here on my train towards the bustling city of Oslo, it is unavoidably apparent that the passage from childhood to adulthood can often feel like less of a graduation, and more of a mourning. A mourning for the loss of innocence and the gain of awareness - a bittersweet trade indeed.

As mournful as this train ride may be, my mind now is filled with the gratitude of growth. For though it comes with harsh winds, it also brings resilience, understanding, and wisdom. And as I gaze out the window to that weather-beaten landscape racing by, I realize this train ride, like my journey towards adulthood, is a beautiful one. And it's all worth it.

Tags: growing up self-reflection adulthood

Against the frigid 13°C backdrop of an Oslo morn, I find myself by the window of a train, gazing at the landscapes blurring past. A dreary prettiness that's accentuated by the complexities of life's wistful, heartrending symphony. The melancholic lilt playing on a loop in my head reminds me of the managing long-term goals, an idea which I can't seem to shake off.

Planning, discipline, tenacity - all noble acts of a tenacious spirit, stepping stones towards the bliss of achievement. Yet, as I sit here, the artificial gloom of the cabin around me, I perceive it as a tightrope walk, not fodder for 'how I made it large' stories. It's a journey compounded by heartbreaks, setback, and unseemly compromises.

Still, the key to manoeuvring this labyrinth lies in our approach. Goals could be like distant horizons on a helve of foggy uncertainties, or they may be milestones, dotting our life's journey, pushing us gently yet firmly towards fulfilment. Those somber musings on a mechanical beast racing towards the city bring me comfort, the acceptance of my place in the grand scheme.

Goals - long-term ones should be like the powerbanks we carry. Incredibly beneficial, they relieve the troubles of low battery life, providing potential sustenance to our devices. But beyond that, they are reminders of preparation. Their silent support is incredible, sheer power bundled in this amoebic piece of metal. So are our long-term goals, silently powering us, even when the world disconnects.

Yet, today, depression lingers. Each beat of my heart echoes heavy, like the solitary droplets of a persistent drizzle against my window. There’s an exhausting bleakness, a curtain drawn over life’s vibrancies and replaced with blue-gray hues. But every journey has a destination and this emotional trip has its own cure. I simply need to chart its course.

This morning, I happened to chanced upon a Norwegian news article about a helicopter accident involving the Iranian President. The details are peppered with conflicting accounts, a jumbled puzzle missing pieces, not unlike the lexicon of depression - confusing, intricate, and mind-bogglingly contradictory. Yet what's surprising is that we still try to piece together the story. Find the missing piece, make sense of the senseless, walk on the path strewn with uncertainties. Such is life, such are our long-term goals.

As I pen down my thoughts on this train ride to Oslo, I'm reminded that life isn't a collection of smooth transitions. There are roadblocks, detours and obstacles. You might lose yourself in that dense fog of hopelessness. Fear not, for powerbanks exist, and so do maps to guide you back on track.

Let your long-term goals be your personal powerbanks, comforting, empowering, and guiding you toward that faint glimmer at the end of a seemingly never-ending tunnel. For the essence of living isn’t in basking in the frigid clarity of an achieved moment, but in the tussle, the strive, and the restless pursuit of a distant dawn.

Tags: life goals self-reflection Motivation

The gentle rhythmic sway of the train, like a lullaby, comforts me in the plush seat, as the morning's chilling 7°C temperature outside paints the carriage windows with dainty crystalline patterns. It may sound strange, but there's something alluring about winter. Its morbidity, its austerity, it screams transience, yet its captivating beauty is undeniable. I think that's how I am feeling today: a delicate blend between icy-cold solitude and the feathery touch of life.

Speaking of life, I read something earlier that sparked a trail of thoughts. It was the essence of a debate that happened in the Norwegian Parliament. No need to get into the details, but it highlighted the delicacy of trust — so easily shattered like a thin layer of ice. Trust, a nondescript emotion, so powerful yet brittle. It requires time to build, but can be destroyed within a mere fraction of a second. And isn't it the same with our personal achievements?

Every day, we triumph. Little, big, monumental — every victory counts, every achievement is worth a celebration. These accomplishments, like trust, are not built in a day. They come with consistent efforts, perseverance, stumbling blocks, wiped tears, and unfaltering determination. And like trust, they are delicate, yet strong enough to build the castle of our life. And so we should celebrate them, savour them, and honour them, as they march us forward in the arduous journey called life.

One such achievement I distinctly remember, was when I learnt the importance of a simple device – a powerbank. I know it sounds trivial and mundane, but when you're on a train in the middle of nowhere with a dead phone, the importance of a powerbank strikes you like a revelation.

From managing to keep my phone charged on long journeys to ensuring I have enough juice to write these blogs - such a small accessory has become a beacon of reliability. It's commendable how such a tiny gadget can immensely streamline your day, making your routine hiccup-free. So much power, so much potential, encapsulated in a palm-sized device, is surely a validation of human ingenuity, an achievement that, paradoxically, we often forget to celebrate. And so today, I acknowledge this understated piece of technology that has become an essential part of my story.

Celebrating personal achievements does not necessarily mean grand parties or public validation. Sometimes, it’s about self-reflection, sometimes it’s about acknowledging your resilience in overcoming a hurdle, and other times, it’s about deriving immense satisfaction from a seemingly simplistic milestone.

Pardon the moroseness of this discourse, but euphoria and ecstasy aren’t the sole companions of achievements. Even within the brooding shadows and chilling silences, triumphs should be celebrated, for they are the guiding stars in our journey, durable as a powerbank, yet delicate as trust. And in this glorifying dance between triumph and trust lies the beauty of life. The life that, despite its stark winter-esque bareness, burgeons forth with a sumptuous symphony of celebrations.

Tags: self-reflection personal achievements life philosophy

Crisp morning air greeted me as I stepped onto the train this morning; 4°C, a stark reminder that winter is nipping at our heels. I stood by the window, looking out at the desolate landscape and the lone houses flashing by, snow just starting to frost the rooftops. It got me thinking about the cozy indoors and my mind wandered off to a hot topic that has been making waves lately – DIY crafts and projects.

There's something so fulfilling about DIY projects. Diving into a creative pool, stirring up your imagination and coming up with something born out of your own hands and heart is truly therapeutic. The process of creating, the thrill of seeing an idea transform into a tangible piece, it's a feeling like no other and I believe it’s an excellent counterpoint to my usual busy daily activities. We live in a world that often pushes us towards perfection and sometimes forgets the beauty of imperfections, just like those in our homemade creations.

DIY crafts are like the perfect blend of beauty with functionality. They are the face of an energy we often forget we possess, dotted with mistakes, splashed with love, and wrapped cozily around with learning.

Speaking of functionality, one of my favorite and most useful DIY projects has been building a powerbank. Powerbanks are our lifelines in today's digital world, a must-have in every bag. Their significance only seems to amplify in the gloomy winter months. I mean, you can never risk having your device die on you when you're caught up in scheduling meetings or, like me, drafting a blog post on a moving train.

Building my own powerbank felt empowering. It gave me a sense of self-sufficiency and the final product became a source of joy and pride. Taking the powerbank everywhere, I not only get to enjoy its practicality, but it also serves as a wonderful conversation starter – a silent testimony that we are so much more capable than we give ourselves credit for.

Yet, even as I immerse in the joys of DIY and the convenience of my homemade powerbank, I read a news article today that made me reflect. It spoke about the proposed regulation of disclosing alterations on social media images, particularly those posted by influencers. This constant pressure to conform to impossible ideals, be it the perfect body, or the perfect lifestyle, is indeed worrisome. And to an extent, I understand the qualms about the new bill, it could inadvertently render vulnerabilities widely exposed.

Turning back to my own tiny world of DIY crafts, I can't help but consider the beauty of imperfection. Every tiny glitch, stitch out of place, or color out of line is what makes each piece unique and authentic. In a world that is increasingly moving towards the meticulous curation of perfection, perhaps we need to remind ourselves now and then about embracing the imperfect, the real and the raw.

Here in my heart, I know, we are our projects, our stories, scarred yet beautiful, fragmented yet complete, evolving and yet perfectly us at every moment. As the landscape whizzes past me, frosted in the morning chill, I can't help but smile. As the world around us spins into a cocoon of curated perfection, let’s not overlook the charm of our uniquely beautiful, imperfectly perfect selves.

Tags: DIY Crafts self-reflection Powerbank Project

With watery gaze, I look over the sheet of ice that has settled atop the world outside my train window, the warmth from my steaming cup of coffee doing little to stave off the bitter reality of the -9°C my phone screen mocks me with. I blink away the moisture that threatens to betray the sorrow that lingers in the corners of my eyes, my heart heavy with the knowledge of the tragedy at Rådal. The brutal nature of it stirs a chilling sense within my soul, colder than the frost kissing the glass next to me.

A cruel reminder of the world's incessant harshness comes to mind; a lesson as sharp and clear as the icicles hanging from the train station rooftops. I've recently embarked on a new venture - learning how to drive. You would think this is an avenue of liberation, of empowerment. Yet as I sit here, I can feel the gear stick in my hands vibrating with an unfathomable dread. The thought of maneuvering a machine so powerful on streets that hold stories grimmer than this Nordic frost sends a shiver down my spine, making the warmth in my carriage seem more like a parody of comfort than an actual sanctuary.

The fierce, biting cold outside is a disturbing reflection of the navigation I'm trying to master. When you're learning how to drive, it isn't merely about the mechanical aspects, but more so about understanding human behavior on asphalt stretches flecked with life's unpredictability. My instructor told me it's about anticipation, about slowly mastering the art of prediction without really knowing what honking horn or rapidly approaching tail light may present.

Today, the car's rearview mirror doesn't just hold the image of a thousand reverse parks and hill starts before it. It is refracting the blood-stained horror of Rådal, a tragedy unfolding in the life of someone who held expectations of a future much like any innocent person behind or even ahead of a car wheel might.

The news article leaves me shivering, a pregnant woman's life slashed away, a man charged for murder, an alarming absence of answers. I clench my hands around my coffee cup, the steam warming my face but chilling my soul. The train tunnel's passing darkness echoes the same ominous feeling as the silence that drowns a car abruptly totaled.

Driving suddenly feels like carrying a sword; mighty, important, giving a sense of grandeur, yet lethal when not used right. It evokes a painful interrogation of the responsibility we share in each other's lives, whether we are hand in hand, side by side, or merely separated by the lanes of the road.

The train moves on, carrying the weight of my thoughts, the burden of learning, the poison of loss, and a resolution more agile than that ice-cold wind has left in its wake; to respect, not fear, the power that our actions hold over life's tapestry. As I raise this invisible toast to understanding and mastering my new skill with humility and love, I realize no tear has yet fallen. The sorrow has not disappeared, but instead has found a place within me, its pain serving as a beacon, quietly lighting my journey ahead.

Tags: driving safety self-reflection personal growth

In grey dawns such as this one, when the icy chill brushes against my skin, when the world outside seems all but frozen and as immovable as the frost-laden landscapes passing by, I can’t help but reflect on the life I lead. The luxury of traversing across snow-capped peaks and dark abysses from the comfort of this train, which hums with a familiar rhythm amid the relentless cold. It is a rhythm that intends to cut through the frosty silence, much like the unsentimental digital world I have been navigating, a world where connections are as fleeting as the passing scenery outside my window.

In this frigid landscape, the news of conflict from distant lands seems jarringly surreal, adding to the desolation that gnaws at my core. The stark yet blurry contrast of global unrest and my Sunday morning melancholy is overwhelming, but today, it all feels analogous to my experiences with online dating in some inconsolably sorrowful way.

Just as faceless drones wage their remote wars, the digital space too offers a similar narrative. It’s a battleground of hearts and minds where individuals, stripped of their corporeal existence, venture into the abyss. Much like silent aircrafts, whispers of desire and longing glide unnoticed across millions of screens, often disappearing into the void without ever delivering their payload of emotions.

In the ambiguously structured and deceptively endless world of online relationships, we teeter on the brink of truth and fabrication, forever guessing the other’s intent. The intention, not only to populate our desolate digital deserts with potential companions but to dissect, disrupt and decrypt the networks of connections that hold and shape us. The pursuit in understanding who we are, what we want and how we love seems just as cryptic as the coded intelligence right in the center of geopolitical operations.

The distance between two hearts in such an environment can often feel as vast and cold as the counterterrorism operations in Yemen, leaving us staring at the abyss, waiting for an echo. Yet, we persist. Each failed connection, each heartbreak, subtly shifts our understanding, reshaping our digitised identities and expectations. Our hopeful hearts pulsate to the rhythm of this ever-evolving dance, in step with the beat of our lonely keyboards.

By a curious paradox, as my train hurtles through the winter’s silence, my heart, too, wades through the heavy solitude of the countless online profiles. Each one a possible connection, a potential end to the bitter echoes of solitude, yet another phantom in this mirage called the internet. The spectral reality of online dating and the bitter-yet-sweet nuances that it offers become particularly poignant on mornings like these when the sky's stony grey echoes both the melancholy and the hope in my tired heart.

The drumbeat of this train, moving steadily in its rhythm, reminds me of the inherent possibility that each new day brings. Hope and despair, warmth and iciness, love and war; such strange bedfellows do they make in these modern times. And so, I continue, not with a definitive purpose, but the weary determination that stumbles upon tiny revelations at each juncture - about the intricacies of online dating, about global conflicts, and most importantly, about myself.

Tags: self-reflection online dating introspection global conflict

As I find myself settled in the familiar humdrum of the late afternoon train, nestled between the soft blue fabric of the seats and the detached droning of the engine, I can't help but contemplate the topic at hand: celebrating personal achievements.

A strange phrase, isn't it? Poised somewhere between self-congratulation and recognition, it feels rather like a cruel punchline in the disheartening narrative my day has become. Just minutes ago, I was peering over a news article about a sudden landslide. Although the raw shock of disaster tended to grab headlines, my journalistic instincts had me riveted to the seemingly arbitrary nature of the event. In the cloying chill of the Norwegian winter, the world just tilted sideways without any logical explanation, and we were made forcibly aware of our vulnerability. In moments like this, the self-celebration of personal achievements seems jarringly trivial, even indulgent.

Yet, my pessimism must not overshadow the fact that every accomplishment, big or small, is indeed something to be celebrated. After all, aren't we all striding toward some semblance of success and achievement in our lives; are we not all navigating the intricate labyrinth of our personal aspirations?

But, you see, the world has a way of diminishing the value of our struggles. The banality of the day-to-day can often dull the shine of our accomplishments. The landslide, the sudden shock and chaos of it, is a fitting metaphor for the intrusive uncertainty that breaks into our lives, overshadowing our small but precious triumphs and reducing them to obscurity.

Through the frosty window, I see the landscape outside blurring into a mix of wintry blues, with the temperature hovering at a brisk 3°C. The horizon bodies a muted spectacle of nature’s enigma, mirroring the uncertainty that we as humans are so often manifested amidst. Suddenly, the prospect of celebrating individual achievements seems dispiritingly insignificant, an empty echo in the vast expanse of life's grand theatre.

It's a desolate world we live in, isn't it? Where our personal victories often bite the dust in the face of grander narratives. Yet, we persist and perhaps that in itself is a victory worth celebrating. Amidst landslides and life's unpredictable upheavals, maybe the real achievement is in rising above the basement of despair and choosing to celebrate the victories nonetheless.

As I travel this wintry path through introspection and realization on this daily commute from Oslo, I don’t have the answers. And that’s a hard swallow. But isn't seeking, questioning, and enduring also a form of accomplishment? Life, it appears, revels in such complexities.

Tags: self-reflection personal achievements life challenges

As the train rattles on familiar tracks towards home, away from Oslo and the whirlwind of academia’s careful conflict, I find myself in a contemplative mood. Outside, the temperature drops to a chilly -1°C, minuscule snowflakes falling haphazardly against the train windows. The stark rawness of winter reflects perfectly the tearful mood that envelops me.

I've always believed that as people, we should celebrate our personal achievements no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. Today, I thought, was a day to celebrate, for I had taken a step further towards my dreams of becoming a journalist; navigating through the labyrinth of ethics, responsibility, and the power to influence. But a celebration quickly turned into introspection after reading a particular piece of news.

Celebrating personal achievements often acts as a mirror, reflecting the essence of our actions and decisions. In my case, it made me contemplate the very purpose of my chosen path and its more profound implications. I've always been taught that journalism’s luminary principles include the pursuit of truth, a commitment to fairness, and protecting the underdogs. But today, the news I encountered made me question everything.

Linking personal achievements with what I'd just read, I thought of those accolades earned, not by virtue, but with questionable ethical conduct. The merit of such achievements presents itself as a conundrum. As journalists, we wield a potent sword, with the power to influence, the ability to shape perceptions. But such power surely warrants immense responsibility?

In the chilling fold of such introspection, I'm left tearful, not quite by the biting cold sneaking into the confines of my train compartment. Rather, it is the frosty revelation of the very real potential for misuse of the power vested in me. It's realizing that a well-intentioned path might unwittingly contribute to an ecosystem teetering precariously on the edges of exploitation, simplification of grave offenses, and skewed representation.

A sense of achievement certainly nurtures our development, fosters hope, and fuels perseverance. But at what cost? Here, on a train veering through the wintry landscapes of Norway, I grapple with these concerns.

Today, I celebrate myself, the progress made, but I also build stronger consciousness, one with the capacity to question the very roots of my actions and choices. Personal achievement should not be ephemeral, rather, it should be a portrait of rights, responsibilities, and ethicality we paint, one stroke at a time. As I embark on this continuous journey of development, I'm reminded that integrity, ethics, and responsibility are not just words, but vital pillars holding high the sanctity of my dreams.

There is indeed a fine line between celebration and contemplation. My reflections today teetered precariously on this edge. Today wasn't as much about celebration but a realization. Here's to the personal celebrations that validate our growth, and may the purity of our intentions continue to guide our way forward, even amidst the harshest of winters. As I peer out into the winter gloom, the frost catching on the corners of the window, I understand that today was an achievement in its own right - a tearful realization, the reinforcement of an ethos.

Tags: journalism ethics self-reflection

As I nestle into the rhythm of the train softly swaying home, the cold Norwegian landscape, wound in a temperature of just 5 degrees Celsius, brings about a chill that dances on my fingertips, urging me to share a few thoughts. Today, I won't talk about the snowflakes freckling the tracks or the intoxicating aroma of kanelboller wafting from my tiffin. I'm ever so slightly dismayed, thoughts crowded with the relentlessness of life and the transient moments we often take for granted.

Dear fellow 20-year-old, let us talk about a few things. Not that I'm a veteran at this game of life or anything. Still, there's this gnawing feeling, the need to stop for a moment and offer a few bits of wisdom, or maybe just anecdotes that I've dug up from the way I've been living.

Today, as I flicked through the headlines, one incident stuck with me. A young woman, my age, found dead in a far-off place. The circumstances, the location, it was all too eerily overwhelming. The unknown plagues me. Yet amidst my twinge of distress, the journalistic pulchritude of life’s slipperiness only ensues in manifold. My heart, wrapped tightly in empathy, sends shivers down my spine as I turn the pages forth into the chaos that dances beyond comprehension.

One may ask what advice there could be within this morose snare of life’s unpredictable gyrations. Amidst the churn of emotions keeling forth, might I suggest, ever so slightly, the power of a powerbank. Not the electronic one you might initially envisage, though do carry those along. They’re absolute lifesavers in a world that moves faster than you can charge your phone.

No, dear 20-year-olds, the powerbank I speak of encompasses more than the pervasive connectivity of the modern age. It represents a reserve of courage, kindness, empathy, resilience, determination, and joy. Recharge your emotional powerbank daily with these virtues, and you'll find yourself equipped to tackle whatever surprises life stores up in its secret keep.

Remember, much like the electronic powerbank that keeps our phones running and helps us to stay connected with the world, our emotional powerbank is equally important. It helps us to stay connected with ourselves and navigate through the roller coaster tide of life.

Diffidence tends to creep in when you least expect it; pledge to befriend courage. Kindness, show it in abundance, even on days when you feel nothing deserves it. Cultivate resilience, wear it as an armour against the many 'a slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.'

Stay determined, even on gloomy afternoons such as this. And never let the spirit of joy depart from you. Let it light your eyes, warm your heart, and shape your lips into a smile that defies dismay.

These lines spill from my heart, the anticipated click-clack of my keyboard a symphony against the steady chug of the train. In the words of the ever-resounding Mega Mind, "Destiny is not the path given to us, but the path we choose for ourselves.” And to choose, we must have power, in whatever form it presents itself, be it a piece of technology or a sturdy trait.

With that, my young compatriots, I sign off today's train musings. Lean into life's uncertainties with your all-powerful powerbank. Remember to recharge, for yourself and for the world around you. Until tomorrow’s journey, let us hum to the rhythm of resilience, and despite the chill, let warmth reside within our hearts.

Tags: self-reflection personal growth emotional wellbeing

There is something uniquely blissful about observing the vast, crisp, white wonderland outside my train window; snowflakes scattered around like a canvas of immaculate beauty. Yes, it's a crisp 4°C, but the Norwegian landscape seems to emanate warmth and comfort in its own peculiar way. As I immerse in this sight, my mind spirals into reflections on a recent wholesome conversation, the essence of which could be encapsulated in three words; Navigating adult friendships.

As we mature, the term 'friendship' subtly starts to evolve. No longer is it solely about birthday parties, borrowed pencils, or shared secrets at sleepovers. It becomes a layered, intricate tapestry woven together with threads of mutual respect, understanding, care, patience, and most importantly, growth.

As I ponder on, I equate adult friendships to old, sturdy Norwegian houses, beautiful in their antique charm yet replete with hidden complexities. Just like how these houses battle fierce weather, our friendships face trials, conflict, and disagreements. Yet it is this tumultuous weather that strengthens the wooden planks, as it is through these conflicts that friendships deepen and become meaningful.

We navigate these friendships with intuition, with time, and with immense patience. At times, we slip, we fumble, but that should never discourage us from seeking the delightful warmth that these bonds offer. Our bonds are like our other investments; they thrive when nurtured, wither if neglected. This maintenance, my dear readers, is not a chore, instead, it’s an investment that warms our heart and nurtures our soul.

Just like how I read Høyre party's consideration of the pension reform today as a solution to the complex economic issues, we must remember that resolving our personal entanglements too isn't a 'no-brainer'. It requires effort, understanding, and a strong desire to make things simpler. From their perspective, a sustainable solution embraced by all seems to be the key to a settled future.

Similarly, navigating friendships as an adult demands proactive communication, openness, and sustainably managing our expectations. It’s about long-term building which should actively involve every 'political party' encountered in our journey; be it joy, sadness, bitterness, or forgiveness.

And sometimes, all it takes is a quiet train ride, accompanied by the bliss of a serene winter afternoon to realize this. As the snowy landscape fades into a blanket of twilight stars, I store away my thoughts, smiling at the warmth it brought, even at just 4 degrees Celsius. Just like the Norwegian landscape, friendships might seem cold and daunting; but when navigated with care, they are a source of immense warmth, comfort and, most importantly, bliss!

Tags: adult friendships self-reflection Norwegian landscape

As I sink into the softness of the worn-out blue train seats, the gray, chilly world outside my window anchors my fingertips against the electronic pulse of my laptop - coaxing them to reflect on an epistle I stumbled upon today. It wasn't about the tides pulling at the moon's whims or the delicate balance of a teeter-totter. Not quite.

The narrative revolved around an audacious tango between the forces of global diplomacy and social consciousness. A potent perfume of criticism and defensiveness filled the air, a seemingly sticky matrix of the past vestiges of history mingling with the winds of the present. A potent reminder - it seems we toggle between learning and forgetting, forever caught in this enticing, Sisyphean ballet.

In this curious dance, societal norms undoubtedly arrive fashionably late, impacting us like the quiet hum of the arrivals and departures of my fellow passengers, influencing the direction we take, guiding the moves we make. Not always obvious but there, at the back of our minds, commanding subtle yet profound control.

And let's face it, societal pressures are a bit like this train ride - seemingly straight, predictable, but gaze deeper, and you discover undulating undercurrents of norms, ethics and preconceived notions. And unlike this pleasant, two-degree chill, they often leave you uncomfortably warm, prodding your sense of worth, challenging your actions, questioning your choices.

Earlier, the crumpled paper cup of the coffee I gulped down echoed an observation; it's how we respond to these undercurrents that creates ripples of change. A stoic defiance or a gentle acquiescence, both stand to define our existence and alter our story's course.

Back to my thought thread weaving through the diplomatic labyrinth mentioned earlier, it brought to fore the parallel pressures nations face - societal norms with geographical frontiers. Their tango is far from delicate; it's fraught with accusations, defensiveness and complexities - like battling against an invisible tide, but nonetheless, it's real, palpable.

The modern world loves its binaries - black or white, right or wrong, with us or against us. Moved by this perceived pressure, we wind up casting countries, individuals, cultures into boxes, cemented with our narrow definitions and biased judgments. They straddle an unenviable tightrope, battling perceptions, like misunderstood protagonists in an over-elaborate plot.

The uproarious criticism and the echoes of accusations make one thing abundantly clear - societal norms and their consequent pressures are not limited to personal lives. They pervade nations, impacting diplomatic relations. It's a complex dance, rife with contradictions - a brew we're simultaneously sipping and brewing.

As the homogenous landscape continues its dialogue with the settling twilight outside my window, my thoughts meander in my electronic ink puddle. This tantalising mix of societal norms, diplomatic etiquettes, and swirling accusations makes for an intriguing brew, a peculiar blend of bitter and bold.

This dance, critical and laughably complex, tickles my sense of irony. Could it be that our consistent efforts to conform to norms while battling adverse perceptions mirror our collective fear of non-conformity? Do we shudder at the thought of societal norms not met, much like a bare tree shivers at the mercy of a two-degree chill?

Alas, societal norms' pressure - global or personal, echo a timeless dance - sometimes clumsy, at times harmonious, but eternally entertaining. As my train journey winds down, and the soft hum of moving wheels lulls me, I can't help but chuckle - isn’t this dance of society, norms, and values an elaborate cosmic comedy?

The hills now appear closer, painted in winter's lingering frost. A soft smile tugs my lips, leaving me tickled - in bemusement, reflecting on societal norms or anticipation for tomorrow's potential epistle, who knows? But isn't it all part of this grand, convoluted, and ever so delightful dance? To ponder, to question, to laugh - isn't that the dance we’re all choreographing, one blog post at a time?

Tags: social consciousness societal norms global diplomacy self-reflection

As the train slices through the chilly November afternoon, my fingertips hover above the warmed keys of my laptop, guided by rhythm of absent thoughts. The scenery changes from the steel and concrete of Oslo to the familiar patchwork quilt of forests and quaint wooden houses that mark my journey home.

These commutes have become a small part of my college experience; sitting quietly in the corner of a train, a spectator to the changing landscapes outside while fighting the urge to succumb to the lull of the train. It's soothing really, a moment of solitude that seems to exist outside the cycle of assignments and deadlines.

College can be an overwhelming tumble of new experiences. Lectures, seminars, group work and a slew of emails that ask more of me than I think possible. I've come to realize it’s not just about learning in classrooms, but equally about learning myself - my limitations and strengths, both equally important, and equally worthy of acceptance. With every assignment, every research paper I write, I feel an incremental change, a growth, a shift in perspective. And this very train ride becomes my anchor, my time to process the thoughts and discoveries of the day.

Reflecting on the day behind, I am drawn to a snippet of news I read earlier, a chilling account of a missing woman from Ålesund. Been missing for several days now. The sad reality that she may be out there somewhere, battling the same cold I am shielded from inside this comfortable cabin stings me. The details of the woman, still fresh in the cyber pages of smp.no, are etched into my mind. A stark reminder of my privileged reality; to live an uninterrupted life, to have the freedom to take this journey every day, to ponder, and to write my thoughts down, unthreatened and unafraid.

It’s a sobering reflection, one that makes all college stress seem trivial. Somewhere in these hours spent learning and growing, it's worth remembering that the world continues its dance outside the university bubble. That people are fighting unspoken battles, that same world is darker to some people than it is to me. In all this maelarchy, I become acutely aware of one thing - Choices. The power to affect change. The power to carve my own path.

In the vast spectrum of college life, filled with all shades of experience that are too complex to pour into words, I somehow find myself grasping a deeper understanding of life’s fragility and beauty. There’s something about college that triggers immense growth, not just academically, but in personal perspectives. And amidst the lessons taught in classrooms and libraries, there lies another lesson, a silent one, pulled from the delicate leaflets of newspaper columns and lived experiences.

As the train pulls into my station, I pack away my laptop and don my coat, steeled against the unforgiving chill. My heart still feels heavy with the news of the missing woman, her life another unknown narrative being written somewhere outside this train. Pushing away the curtain of thoughts, I step onto the cold platform. College has changed me, I can feel it. And it's not just knowledge taking root, but empathy growing within me. A desire to use the power of words wisely, to shed light, to make a difference. Even if it's just by writing about it - every word a pledge, a silent prayer. A hope wrought in ink that the woman missing in Ålesund is found soon, safe and sound.

Tags: college life self-reflection empowerment through education

As my journey starts by fleeing my warm, cosy home, a wave of grey dewy daylight greets me. The sleepy skies hint at the calm chill of 8 degrees Celsius. I find myself reflecting on the rough pendulum swing that is my student life. Between studies and the need for social interaction lies a fragile balance.

One end of the string holds the emblem of heavy books, research papers and dates with my laptop late into the night. I am bound by the beauty of journalism, my passport to the uncertainties of the world. My heart finds solace in stories, in voices often unheard. Between understanding and writing about societal issues, world crises and local narratives, my academic life leaves little or no time for a conventional social life.

Yet, on the other end of the swing, a firm voice reminds me of the need for a social life. The joy of laughter shared in old halls, midnight cups of bitter coffee in the company of friends, the thrill of last-minute travel plans, they form a vital part of my being. In these memories, I find the fertile soil where the seeds of my creativity sprout.

Lighting them both without scorching either is but a battle. As I pen down these thoughts, nestled comfortably in my train seat, the brouhaha of the world fades away. Assignments, deadlines, social gatherings, they all seem small as I watch the world pass by.

It’s here, in these minutes of quiet, I find my balance. These moments of solitude that miraculously seem to bond my contradicting lives. A battery pack at my side, I am reminded of the power of preparation and the fortune of foresight. Its continuous surge of energy is my metaphorical reminder of the need to keep going, to keep juggling.

Yet, my heartstrings are strummed with a melancholy tune as I glance at the morning news. An unfortunate incident in Belgium snatches two young lives. Lives that had travelled in hope of witnessing a thrilling football match. Their dreams and aspirations, abruptly halted, reminding me of the unpredictable whims of the world.

These moments bring forth a new perspective on life and its delicate balance. A gulp of reality washes over me – reminding me to treasure every conversation, every shared smile, and every fleeting moment of solitude.

As I descend from the train, the chill of the morning gets replaced by a strange warmth. A reassured heart braces itself for the class, ready to juggle the whirlpool of studies, only to return to this blissful solitude in the evening, recharged by the faithful powerbank of knowledge and friendship.

So, here's to the ebb and flow of student life, to the melancholic charm of early mornings and to the empowering energy of powerbanks - literal and metaphorical. The symbols of endurance, resilience, and foresight that keep us going, even while balancing on the adventurous wire of life.

Death, news, laughter, sorrow, hopes - they tend to cross our paths every day on the rollercoaster ride called life. And somewhere amidst these ups and downs, we find our balance, our sweet equilibrium.

Tags: balance self-reflection student life journalism struggle for balance

As I sat on my usual morning train from home to Oslo, chugging through the brittle 7°C weather, I couldn't help but dwell on a profound sense of melancholy. The drab hue of the cold outside reflected my inner turmoil, while I grappled with the news article I had just scrolled through on VG - another narrative on political power, this one discussing the decaying grip of Hamas in Palestine. Stories such as these, dealing with the interplay of power and responsibility, always trigger a battleground of thoughts within me.

This morning, in particular, it cloaked my previously intended blog topic, ‘Celebrating personal achievements', in an almost sombre introspection. I found myself asking, 'What does it truly mean to celebrate personal achievements, when set against such a vast canvas of collective human struggle?'

But then, perhaps it is even more relevant to address this topic amidst the broader brushstrokes of global anxiety. We all live lives of relative contrast - our personal victories may seem insignificant against the backdrop of the world's uncertainties and intractable political dilemmas, but they are, in fact, profoundly relevant.

I feel it's easy to downplay our personal achievements, particularly when we're routinely exposed to the struggles people across the globe are facing. We think, 'How can I celebrate getting a good grade, a promotion, or finally managing to afford that vacation, when parts of the world are trembling under the strain of power, poverty, and fear.' It may seem inconsequential, even selfish, to revel in our success when there is so much suffering elsewhere.

But then, when we think about it, isn't it these very melancholy juxtapositions that make celebrating our personal achievements all the more essential? More so, when these achievements come as fruits of persistence, resilience and determination in the face of adversity?

It's the little victories we take for granted that breathe life into the somewhat gloomy fabric of reality. The collective human struggle is significant, but equally significant are our individual journeys. They humanize the broader narrative, giving it a face, giving it a voice, giving it 'us'.

Perhaps, it's time to shed the guilt attached to celebrating our personal achievements. Perhaps we must understand that every personal achievement celebrated is a push against the looming despair the world tends to throw at us; it's our own way of telling the world, 'Despite you, I rise. Despite you, I hope. Despite you, I celebrate.'

Each day we continue to try, to strive, and to succeed is a testament to our inherent human resilience — a resilience that, despite a crestfallen heart and a world full of strife, refuses to bow down. So, today, let us choose to celebrate our personal achievements, big or small. For these humble triumphs are reminders of our strength as individuals, a strength that mirrors the perseverance of humanity at large, irrespective of the formidable challenges we collectively face.

So, here’s to a toast to our personal achievements – a beacon of optimism, a sign of defiance against global despair, and a celebration of our indomitable spirit. No matter the grim stories around, let’s hold onto our hopes, victories, and celebrations. After all, what is life but a series of battles fought and victories gained, both personal and collective?

Tags: personal achievement global issues resilience self-reflection personal achievements global anxieties