This was originally a Livejournal meme, but I wanted to publish it on my real blog.
Write a comment, and I’ll
1. Tell you
why I friended you my first impression of you and/or why I read your blog.
2. Associate you with something – fandom, a song, a colour, a photo, a word etc.
3. Tell you something I like about you.
4. Tell you a memory I have of you.
5. Ask something I’ve always wanted to know about you.
6. Tell you my favorite user pic of yours.
7. In return, you
must should post this in your LJ website/Facebook profile (but I’d rather you commented and didn’t pass this on, than not comment at all.)
I’ll be adding answers to the original blog post, so continue reading…
- I think I know exactly when I met you, but I’m not 100% sure. In any case, the first impression was gradual. You were Per Ivar’s friend, and you were quiet. My first clear image of you (you know the mental image thing?) is in Deichmanske Library. The image is from a few days after Thanksgiving, so I had already known of you for a while then. You were wearing your winter coat and carrying a big umbrella, and you looked very put together. I think I was a little bit unsure about you. Apprehensive is probably the right word. I think it’s to do with the fact that you were a close friend of one of my close friends, but I didn’t know anything about you besides the fact that you had known him longer than I had. I think when I meet people through other people, and I don’t get to know them on my own, I actually get a little insecure about how to treat them. When we had a class together, and you said: "I’ve heard that you write," and we started reading each others’ blogs, I could finally get to know you as someone separate from Per Ivar. And so in many ways, you were an internet friend while you were only a real life "person I know about" for a little while.
- All the songs we dance to obviously. The color of the scarf I gave you, because your Mac "wears" it, so I see it with you all the time.
- You really care about your friends. I think that’s a very good trait – and an undervalued one today.
- Swimming in the pool, when you said: "Oh, I should have known you years ago!"
- Do you feel that I treat "The Organization" as some sort of anthropology research, and does that make you feel uncomfortable?
- I met you at a party at Aina’s apartment. You seemed nice, you knew where Lier was, and you appreciated Aass. I actually started reading your blog so that I could see what you’re thinking about when we’re not at a party with Aina and Martine.
- The robot mask. Bacon pancakes.
- You encourage readers to correct your use of commas on your blog. I have to love that! In real life, you’re a friendly person and very comfortable to be around.
- The Halloween party at Amplifier.
- What provoked you on November 18th? I don’t care who – but what value or view was so provocative that it got to you?
- You noticed my e-mail address and said: "espen.com? You know espen.com?" You’re not the first person I’ve met that way, but it’s always fun.
- Linux. Your black coat, because it’s sort of cape-like.
- I like your blog. You talk and write about things that many of my friends don’t know or care about (although espen.com does)
- All my memories of you are from media class.
- Since your blog is much more political than personal, how do you feel about more diary-type blogs and the whole Facebook, publish-your-own-life side of the Internet in general?
- First impression: you made supporter songs and other Drammen crazyness bearable. In fact, you were an incredible person to party in Drammen with. I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again though.
- The color orange. Jack and coke. The white wine we’ve shared a couple of times.
- For someone who claims they "don’t write good e-mails", you write great e-mails. And we can have long conversations about nothing that seem meaningful and important (trust me, that is actually a compliment).
- Waking up way too early and staying perfectly still so as not to use up our energy before Kristine got around to feeding us – and then being sent out to buy breakfast.
- Are you angry at me because of the last time we saw each other?
- You’ve heard this story before, but I want to tell it anyway. I noticed you from across a crowded room (no, seriously, I did) at Aina’s Halloween party. You were wearing a polka-dotted dress, and although I don’t remember your accessories, it worked. Which, when you’re a tenth grader living in Lier, is not something you see every day. No, I didn’t grab hold of the nearest person and demand to know the name of this extremely well-dressed girl, but I did somehow find out what your name was before I got around to talking to you. Probably because Ingvild said: "Look! It’s Elisabeth!" And then I thought: "Oh, no! She’s Elisabeth, my enemy!" (Kind of like in Romeo and Juliet, only not) Because as a tenth grader in Lier, I was used to the concept of "She was a bitch to my friend; I can’t talk to her EVER". Turns out I was confusing you with someone else, and this delayed our friendship for years. The moral of this story should be obvious.
- Peep-toe shoes. Lemon pasta with spinach sauce. The following songs: "If she wants me" by Belle&Sebastian, "Past the mission" by Tori Amos, "My best friend" by Hello Saferide.
- You are a good writer. Even when you’re not trying, your sentences always feel right. And you can convey a lot of emotion with very few words – something I noticed before I actually knew you, so it’s not just because I now know more about the emotions behind the words.
- When you met me after the horrible Macro-economics exam and did all the right things to make me feel better – for the rest of the day.
- Have you ever complimented me and not meant it?
I don’t remember exactly when I met you, but I do know that I didn’t dislike you – even though you say that you got that impression. Sometimes I just forget to smile. I was probably preoccupied, or experiencing that uncertainty around friends of friends that I wrote to Heidi about. I do remember the first time we had lunch together, just the two of us. You convinced me to buy really bad coffee, and we’re still friends – so I must really like you.
Tea, Poland, Frie Kunster
You are an excellent co-worker – which makes me wonder why you think I’m so organized. You’re pretty good at that yourself. And you can sing, which makes me a little jealous. But this is something I really like: even though you give off this impression of being a soft and sweet tea-drinking girlygirl whom I always picture wearing a seafoam green woolen sweater over a lacy top (I don’t know if you even own these items, it’s just a mental image), you can still say really harsh things like: "Ugh, babies, ick, I’m trying to drink my coffee in peace." Surprises are good.
I have two memories I’d like to mention: your birthday dinner party, when every girl except me broke into song and I was suddenly surrounded by a choir. And when you were really excited about your new lace-up boots: "Julie, Julie, I got shoes like yours!This may seem like a really not-personal question compared to some of the others, but since you’re a literature major, I really want to know: What are you reading these days? Also: what do you want for your birthday?
- The first time I saw you, you were dressed like Kurt Cobain. Your friends said you always dressed like that. (This was right before I noticed Sjokoladepiken for the first time) When I met you a few years later at university, I was glad to see a vaguely familiar face. After sitting next to you at dinner on the first night of the first class trip, I knew we would be friends
- Doodling around lecture notes. Pommes noisettes. The color of the wrist warmers and the coffee cups I gave you – I gav
e them to you because I’ve always associated you with that color.
- If we see a documentary or hear a debate about the Middle East or another tragic situation, you’ll have a strong emotional reaction and need to sit down and discuss it afterward. I can always trust you to be more messed up than I am whenever we’re confronted with that kind of tragedy. And sometimes I may seem cynical to you, but I appreciate and relate to that heartfelt initial reaction.
- Nearly all of my memories of Prague are with you.
- What are you going to do when you grow up? We haven’t talked about anything like this since we first started college, and you could do so many different things.
- You wore glasses and actually introduced yourself as someone who spent too much time in front of his computer screen. And when we had our first conversation, it started with a grammar question. So definitely a geeky first impression. I started reading your blog (or well, journal) because I was honored that you gave me the address, since you had specificly said that you didn’t want people at school to read it.
- Internet comics in general, any geeky stuff I don’t understand – although this reminds me of several people, you are one of them
- When I read your old blog, sometimes it was like reading my own mind. Not always, but sometimes.
- That first conversation.
- Why doesn’t your new site have RSS? And on a more serious note: How are you really doing these days?
- You were dressed almost like Marthe, and we were all dressed like princesses. I honestly couldn’t tell you two apart, and I was focusing on remembering who was who.
- Corsets, Iver Neumann, the magic Shoes I borrowed this summer
- Do you know why I nearly always have time to have coffee with you? Because our conversations inspire me.
- The first time I visited you just to visit you. But that’s the memory you wrote about me, so I’ll tell you why I was there in the first place: At your party a couple of days earlier, just as I was leaving, you grabbed me and said: "We should play together more often." I seriously had no idea up until that moment that we would ever cross over from "friend of friend" to "friend" or that you even wanted that to happen.
- I’ll return your question: Are you happy?