Norway, Babaay

So. Hi!

Today, I am leaving for Norway with my class! This will be very interesting, I think.

Since this is our last year, we get to go on the annual 9th-grade-school-trip. The destination choices are all pretty lame, but we lucked out: me, and my class of 22 students, accompanied by our hopeless class teacher and our in-favour-of-student-slavery math teacher, are going to Norway - to canoo, climb, walk, bike and river raft!

I am very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very excited about this! River rafting!! I have never, ever, in my entire life, tried something so dangerous and exhilerating! Of course I say this now (yaaaaaaaaaaay, river rafting, big waves, screaming kids, danger excitement, yaaaaaaay!) but I know that as soon as I'm at the foot of the river, I'll be thinking "Ooooooh shiiit..."

Oh snap!

Okay, tell me that that does not look like the most terrifying thing in the world???

We'll be leaving today, in only one hour, and we will be travelling for around a bajillion hours by public transport. Car to the trainstation, train, faster train, bus, ferrie, bus bus bus bus bus bus bus, arrival at 1.30 in the fucking morning. Though I'm stacked high on snacks and food, this 12-hour journey sounds very tiring. 12 hours!! By bus and train and ferrie and bus and.....

Like I said, I'm stacked high on snacks, food and candy. I have a humongous sweet tooth, and I loooooove sour candy. So, for my birthday (august 5th, in case you're wondering) my two best friends gave me a container of my favorite candy, which holds 100 pieces of the most delish sour candy I can think of. Yummie in my tummie! So now, after having eaten around half of it, I'm bringing my little bucket of joy with me to Norway babaaaay! I will most probably arrive in a very hyper, sugar-coated state!

Fido Dido Super Sauer Candy
Aka My Bucket Of Joy

My favorite piece is definitely the red head with the green hair!

So! In around half and hour, I'll be heading out the door, going to Norway babaaay, on my very last trip together with the class I have been in for 10 years! That is one freaking long time to be together with the same 25 people (some of which have changed, or even left, over the years). For our last trip together, we had a sweatshirt made, with a scetch of our class picture on it. Some of the funniest drawers in our class got together and drew a comic drawing of all of us, displayed pretty humorously - as I understand. 'Cause, you see, we haven't actually gotten the damn thing yet! These to very funny people are also probably the most disorganized people in our class! I shudder to think that we actually let them handle the finance and delivery of the sweatshirts.... We only just had them delivered to one of the guys' house yesterday, so none of us have actually seen the mythical sweatshirts yet. It's a tradition that you have to wear it on your trip, and preferrably the rest of the year as well, so it's just tough luck if they're ugly.

Gotta run. I have a country to visit!

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry

To make a fool of yourself on paper, or to not make a fool of yourself on paper - That is the question.

Hi!

So, today I did something new. I guess you're supposed to do something new every day, but I don't always get around to it... I like to think that everything I do can never be the same, no matter how many times I repeat it. Because life is irrepeatable.

Well, todays irrepeatable act is this: Today, I applied for my first job.

It's not even a real job - it's called a "practise". But anyway, the "practise" I applied for is this job at a radio station, where you get to produce your own radioprogram. Cool, I know, right? In the program, you get to produce your program, meet some of the talented hosts that work at the radio-station, get classes in interviewing technique, be the host, producer and the reporter of your program AND (this is the part that really appealed to me) you get to make your own DJ-program, where you pick all the songs you want to play yourself! I am so psyched about that part - I live and breathe for music, talking about music, listening to music, performing music, and it will be so amazing (if I get the job) to try it all out in a radio-program!! I recently bought a ton of CD's from amazon, so I'm all prepared if I actually get the chance to choose music for my poor listeners... If they don't like rock, alternative and indie, that's just tough luck. Haha-HA!

Here is some of the music I have been listening to lately:

The Kooks   The Strokes   Kiss Kiss Kiss   Black Rebel Motorcycle Club   Vampire Weekend   Band Of Skulls

It's all really good stuff, and I love it all. I dare you to click the links - you might even like it!

Well, I thought the job-practise-thingy sounded really interesting, anyway, and since it's manditory for students in the 9th grade to have one week working at a job-practise in start of the school year, I thought "Why the hell not?"

I'll tell you why. It's friggin' terrifying.

This could be me, after about the 2nd time I reread and changed my whole application.

All I had to do was send an e-mail, telling the people working at the radiostation about who I am, what my interests are, why I want to join the team, and what I think I'll get out of the practise week. Okay, no problem, I thought. I'm good on paper. Words are my thing. I can send an e-mail! I'm an intelligent, interesting person with a lot of experience in music, writing and performing - I can do this!

Good luck, pee-brain.

I just sent my application to the e-mail on their website. I so hope it's the right one - would be embarrassing if I sent it to the totally wrong person..... Oh god. Now I'm all paranoid. Must agree with myself not to open the answering e-mail, if the title is "Who are you?". I'm hoping that I didn't sound way to eager and over-confident. I have a sneaky feeling that I did. In the add they had on their website, they wrote that our application should be "around ½ page"..... I wrote a whole one. I was on the verge of writing two. I pounded the whole thing to around 5 billion times, checking for errors, rephrasing again and again, until I knew it all off by heart. It would even be horrifying to me, if I had spelled something wrong - my name, for example.

I love music, I love performing, I love singing, I love talking about music - but I'm really really scared of this job. Or more, if I get rejected. What if I don't get it (which is probably the most probable thing that will happen)? Can they not like me, even though they don't know me? I was pretty sceptic about the job at first - but now that I've written my application, I have molded myself into their view of the perfect candidate, and I have done this so thoroughly, that I can almost delude myself into thinking that I already work there. I have gone absolutely mad with enthusiasm, and typed untill my fingers felt numb. I just hope it's good enough.

Me singing. I was preparing for a show we put on at my school last spring.

Anyway. With all that said, I'm actually pretty optimistic about all this. If I don't get the job, I'm fucked. But I guess that's okay too. At least now I know I've tried my best. I spent time on my application, I fretted about it, I considered what it would be like to actually get the job. And now, I can forget about it.

At least until I see the inbox of my e-mail.

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry.

Hello. I am Roseberry, and I am a photographoholic. "Hiii, Roseberry...."

So. Hi.

I'm going to tell you a little something about me: I am addicted to photography, editing photos, and posting photos on my Deviantart-profile. I should probably be in photography-rehab, or something. I feel like I should be getting some sort of counseling, or going to meetings, or at least be talking about my addiction. It's like smoking (even though I don't smoke, I suspect it works the same way). After a while, I start to reeeeaaaallly want to take pictures. And edit them. And post them on my profile. It's like some sort of physical desire - and it's slightly ridiculous...

Here is a link to my Deviantart-profile - please, check it out if you like photography, or if you feel any sort of desire to look at unprofessional, badly edited pictures taken by a fifteen-year-old girl. Ha. Fat chance that anyone is going to click on it!

My Deviantart Profile!

Heres an example of my addiction: Every day I come home from school, or anything really, I go straight to my computer. Normal teenagers are addicted to facebook, or perhaps messenger. Not me. I go straight to deviantart.com and see if anyone has commented or liked my photographs. This is a rare thing, I tell you, but afterwards, I just can't get myself off the website! So for lack of things to do, I start posting photos. Old photos. Manipulating photos. Editing. Posting. Editing. Posting. Searching for other photos. Posting. Editing. And so on, and so on, and so on and on and on and ononononononononononon.

Though I actually feel like I'm a decent photographer, and that my camera is really good, I don't get a lot of feedback, which I would actually really appreciate if I did. Actually, now I think of it, no one really follows my work! Except a few people (friends, who mostly do it out of pity, haha). But I just keep editing pictures and posting them, editing, posting, and so on, you know the mantra.

I actually really like it. Photography, that is. I have only come to notice this after my parents gave me my camera, a Nikon D5000 incidentally. It's great! I use it all the time, taking pictures of anything and anyone that comes my way! Graffitti, amazing (and unknowing) people, scenery, plants, the city, you name it! I really didn't have a hobby before, that I could do without any sort of instruction, or that I took up with my own will, so this is new to me. I wasn't any good when I started, but I liked fooling around with it - I have taken about 500 pictures of my feet, hands, hair, desk, floor, dog, eyes, nose, shoes, and a lot of blurry shots taken while I shook my camera. So, yeah. I wasn't any good. Now I see myself as a mediocre photographer. I'm okay, but I don't think I really leave an impression.

Here are some of my best shots (in my opinion):

Folding Anguish

Immunity

Falling Into My Own Head

Gimme That Swing

In The Heart Of The Flame

Capturing Your Passion

In My Hair

Her Whip

 

SO THAT'S MY GOAL! I really want to become a great photographer - not that I wan't to live off it, though - so that can join in conversations about lighting and lenses and angles like a real pro. And just, well, be a real pro! I don't really expect that I'll be better than... well, anyone, to be frank, but I actually really enjoy it anyway.

Thanks for listening (and looking!),

I Am Roseberry.

At this point, I wanted to scream and shout and jump up and down with joy - or just simply go to sleep.

So. My first real day of school as a 9th-grader. Ju-fucking-hu.

I have looked forward to this day since my very first day of school - when I was about 5 years old, with short, badly cut hair, big dodo-eyes, and a sense of purpose called "I want to be like them someday!".

Through my whole carreer as a student at my Danish school, it has been the notorious 9th-graders that were the TOP of the school. Every year, a new set of 9th-graders comes along and have to beat, or at least live up to, the standards set by the previous 9th-graders. From my position in the schools pecking-order, I was, in the 8th grade, the subejct of belittling, relentless teasing and ridicule of the 9th-graders - just the same as all my fellow classmates.

But now - ohoho, noow - it is us, the 8th-graders of last year, who get to rule the school. It is us who gets to make remarks, sing loudly and out of tune for morning assembly (and get away with it), watch the rest of the school struggling through different tortures, while we struggle with our own more difficult, slightly more mature struggles.

And after all this waiting: I'm finally here. Our class has been moved to the North Wing (uuh!!), where the oldest students have always been settled (woow!!). Together with these honors, I was presented with a growing stack of homework, and a growing worry of the posibility of not getting my exam when the time comes.

Though the shine will wear off eventually, the glory of being a 9th-grader is still glowing in all of our stony, teenage-eyes. And though I have been rambling on about the glory and honor and joy and blablabla of being in the eldest year in school, I am exhausted! I have been carrying around huge loads of books, poring over those same pages, scribbling until my hand ached from writing too hard on the paper, and concentrating until a permanent wrinkle between my eye-brows appeared. I have learned and learned and learned, and thought and thought and thought, and worried and worried and worried, and obsessed and obsessed and obsessed, until my brain hurt so much that I just wanted to turn it off.

So, with no further ado, I am, at 5 pm, taking my tired 15-year-old body, and going to go to sleep.

Thanks for listening,

I Am Roseberry