Going to California always was my greatest dream.
People say I could sing before I could talk. Music has always been a vital part of me.
Born with a cerebral hemorrhage, I spent weeks in hospital basically every third year of my childhood. On one of these occasions, in the winter of -97, I lost my voice, and had so severe headaches I couldn’t listen to contemporary pop music. The Beach Boys’ soft, blending harmonies became my rescue. I am not reluctant to say they saved my life.
Vocal exercise gradually gave me my voice back, and eventually, I could tolerate even the most noisy sound. But the Beach Boys stayed with me, as my life-giving force. And I promised myself that one day I would go to Hawthorne to give my thanks.
By the time I graduated from journalist school, prospects for getting a job in the media were no good. Following two years of unsuccessfully writing job applications, I underwent thorough examinations undertaken by the social security system, which eventually got me an internship with a local paper in Oslo. I knew this was where I was meant to be. For two years, that is…
Trying to make it as a freelancer, I soon realised I couldn't meet the demands of the business. Now living from disability benefits, I think it’s time to start over. Again. And I can think of no better way of doing it than fulfilling that old promise. This fall, I want to go to Hawthorne, California. And for the first time in years, I won't worry about a thing.
I had calculated I would be able to save a certain amount of money up to my desired departure. Learning one of my benefits will expire this April, I know I won't be able to save as much as I had calculated - if any at all.
I will be of deep gratitude to each and every one of you helping me to achieve my goal. Feeling a warm summer breeze in your hair this fall, that's me sending it from the California coast.