Not Perfect

I’m well aware that this blog has turned into more of a PR-platform and professional portfolio than the college blog it once was, so today I’ll tell you some things that have nothing to do with TV-interviews or so-called “Public Relations.”

You see, in-between the filmmaking, traveling, media appearances, film festivals, homeless awareness work, guest speaking events and heavily accented radio interviews, I’m just a quirky goofball with zero math skills.

So, here are eight confessions I never thought would make it onto the blog.

Well, now you already know I suck at math. And I don’t mean “I kinda struggle with this antiderivative equation in this advanced calculus class.” No no, I’m actually so bad I need special tutoring just to pass my Math 140 class here at Augie, and I still don’t understand why we always need to find that “x.” I know I’m good at other things, so I don’t let it get to me. But I have cried.

If smoking wasn’t dangerous, I’d probably smoke two packs a day and wear a perfume with the smell of nicotine. Okay, that’s taking it a little far, but I do have a suppressed love for cigarettes.

Don’t believe me? Well, this is not a random gif I found online. It’s me; from my punk-phase and short-lived acting career. But don’t worry, it passed.

However, when this photoshoot called for a cigar, I didn’t exactly object. Photo: Rannveig Froestad.

Since we’re sharing secrets and stuff, I can tell you about the I tattoo that I took as an impulsive and rebellious teenager, and about how I’ve stopped counting the times I’ve considered removing it with laser treatments. Just hours after I got it, I tried all the home remedies, including the infamous “sea salt-rub” to make it go away. Please do not even think about trying this at home. I’ll share the picture when I’m less unproud.

I absolutely cannot sing. One time in middle school, I was going to perform a song with a friend on the Norwegian Independence day, and I didn’t know how terrible I was until after we had already signed up, so I lip-synced the whole thing and blamed it on “a faulty microphone.” To this day, I don’t even sing in the shower.

I’m allergic to pretty much every animal out there, and as a result, I was one time indirectly accused of being a prostitute at a motel. Read more HERE.

I’m a recovering exercise addict, and ruined my own track career with stress fractures and injuries, multiple times, which resulted in this questionable “How to work out on crutches” video.

Every now and then I risk my friends’ lives by not wearing my contacts when I drive them around. “Oh, was that red thing with white letters a stop sign?”

I automatically take on an even thicker accent when I get pulled over by the cops: “Ay’m so sawrry, Ay’m frawm Nawrway, yu see.” Just to get some extra sympathy for not obeying “knowing” the rules, and hoping they will ask me about “lefsa” or “lutefisk” or bring up their great grandmother’s uncle’s neighbour who immigrated from Germany or some other country clearly not connected to Norway.

What you see on the blog vs. what really happens:

Photo: Mike Shafer.
Photo: Naras Prameswari.

So, there you go. When I’m not on TV, making films, or guest speaking at high schools, I simply try my best to be me—and to represent what I believe in—to the best of my ability.

I’ve made mistakes; some of them visible in the form of unwanted ink on my body. The conclusion is that I’m not perfect, and I    clearly   have some things to improve.

Bless y’all,

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