One Norwegian Alaskan in Madison.



Sleep is for the living, and grapes are my pill of choice

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It's been long since I've said more than words. They're easy to work with, they convince you that you understand what I mean, but they can't tell you everything. With that in mind, pictures. Lots of them. They're coming and they have stories to tell, but until then, words I have.

Tijuana, Alaska, and Seattle. They're on the mind, and they're in my heart right now. It's a little warmer than the depths of my professors' souls right now in this wee city, and by that I mean fuck! I ran up 12th towards Volunteer Park yesterday morning with my other half, and each run makes me love Seattle just a bit more. Maybe we lost a few alveoli due to the searing cold, but feeling the blood course through my ears as we passed the Needle down Denny made up for it.

The puny showing of snow from this weekend reminded me of my x-country skis in the basement, which came down with me after my visit up to The Frozen North. It was my first time home for Christmas in three years, and so much has stayed the same. My parents' living room reminds me of a time capsule, with papers and magazines from the last ten years piled haphazardly on every flat space available. Seriously, to sit on the couch I move piles to the table, which are then moved to the Parenthood's bed in their room during dinner, and are then moved back to the couch at bedtime. This has been going on for the entire 20 years of my existence. Pack rats have nothing on my folks.

Home was where I needed to be, though. Reconnecting with friends and...oh yes, my skis. Ohh, my skis. So beautiful. So fast. So mine. Kat and I reintroduced them to the snow at Crevasse Moraine after Christmas and about 7 in. of new snowfall, otherwise known as heaven. It was perfect - freshly groomed trails, no stopwatches, and no spandex! I miss the hot tang, but not the racing.

Aside from rediscovering a few muscle groups, being back reminded me how proud I am of Alaska. The people are fuckin' crazy, but Alaska doesn't care. The mountains will still be there, and the snow will keep falling. It's beautiful to be able to hike to unnamed lakes and live surrounded by a ring of mountains. In the summer I can catch as many salmon and clams as I could possibly use, and run away from the crazies to get lost in the hills...as long as I can borrow a car from the Parenthood. The only thing I regret is the death of Wild Bill while I was at home. Evidently he terrorized me at the store during my childhood, and I never got to return the favor.

Alaska is still my home, though my parents' house is beginning to feel like just that. My apartment in Seattle is more my home than their house is. The longer I keep it and the more attached I become to it, though, the more afraid I become that it will become a retraint, and hold me down when I have the chance to break free and explore more of the world. University does a fine job of that now, but once I've graduated I don't want to take over where my classes left off.

I don't want the convenient idea of staying here and going on to grad/med school seduce me into giving up my freedom to roam. When else will I explore? All I can manage now are small trips squeezed in between mad quarters of academics. Ghana was rushed, and Tijuana was light-speed. The trips were small, but mighty. I know this now, though: people are people, no matter where you go. Any expectations about the next place you visit? Throw them out. You have no idea how similar these people's dreams are to your own.

I think Tijuana will come later, in pictures and perhaps a few words. Until then, sleep well and dream in color for me.


Off in la-la land...

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Hi, you've reached Malicho. I'm not mentally in right now, but please leave your New Year's resolution du jour and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Cheers!


That's right, I said disco.

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In the year 2005 I resolve to:

Bring back disco.

Get your resolution here



About me

  • Homebase Madison, Wisconsin
  • I was raised in Alaska, am the shortest person in my family, and I can wiggle my ears.
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