Category: The life

Blushed down the drain

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 5 Comments

Mondays.


Probably needed to be replaced though. I’m the kind of person to never replace my makeup before I’ve licked the bottom of the container. Twice. I don’t do expiration dates on makeup, I’m not that easily fooled. It’s a conspiracy and they are trying to steal all our money and build an army of leftover powder and half-empty mascara tubes.

Anyways. Had Such a good week. Filled with fabulous friends, fantastic music, melted cheese and heaps of wine. Feeling good. Great even.

AND I had three runs without any pain in my shins. Three. Tiny, but I’ll take whatever I can get. Yes body! HEAL!

Eased into work-mode over admin stuff all day and have now (perhaps inevitably) folded on promise made to husband and self about refusing to watch A star is born with Lady Gaga. I’ve decided to watch it, only I’m watching it without her. Haha that just wrote itself. But in all seriousness. The insecure singing woman / ‘ugly duckling’ turns out actually being hot – thing… It’s a story told a hundred times before, and as a ride or die Coyote Ugly fan I highly doubt this is gonna exceed most of the ones told before it. But here’s hoping.

I mean…

At least I’ll get an answer to the questions surrounding what all the fuss is about, and a) confirmation on my skepticism OR b) boost in my confidence towards imdb. Plus I wanna see for myself that awkward scene in it’s right context where Bradley Cooper rolls down his window to say whatever it is he’s saying to that insecure hair flippin little duckling as she walks away. Hate it when I’m not on top of my meme references. You really do have to pay attention in class to keep up with that stuff..

Signing off this Monday with a feeling that this is going to be the best fucking work-week ever. And a hope that yours will too.

And if not I’m right there with you on that Netflix binge wave talking to your cat about your shortcomings and lost dreams and mild concerns around your lack of ambitions over a tub of chocolate chip ice cream dipped in chunky salsa and shredded cheddar cheese. -Live it, man.

Live. it.

Btw ever noticed how cross eyed you look when you look at yourself in the camera instead of the lens?

bye

Sustaining panic

by  on  in The life • 3 Comments

I did not expect that. I’ve periodically been in slight pain for about two years in my lower right wisdom tooth, sure, but I’ve been trying to establish a certain amount of trust in my body over the years and believe in it to fix itself. Especially when it comes to minor things like physicality.

I’d of course had it checked, kept an eye on it you know over the last two years, I just really didn’t want to pull it.. And when facing the perhaps inevitable and booking a checkup on Monday I could at least take comfort in the fact that I had enough baggage in my trunk for them to be have to do a referral to a clinic offering full anesthetic operations.

Hopeful.

Because no way, HELL NO -not gonna happen; scenario me lying still for that long not being able to move with someone so far up my ass and comfort zone.., what a nightmare? Going to the dentist is bad enough just for a teeth clean. They lie on your face, smudge your makeup everywhere. Look at you with that light.. I mean is there a brighter spotlight in your face ever? Really? is it really? You’re completely helpless where you’re lying. And they never tell you when they’re done do they? They just sit there when they’re done! Upright, nice blood flow to the torso, normal face colour.. They even have the mask on to cover half their face if they so choose. Oh, how I’ve wanted to be that concealed.. And you’re lying there completely vulnerable. Double chin (they’re always positioned a bit further south than your head), half your face missing it’s cover and forever trustee that is your foundation, nodding but not hearing half of what they’re saying because all you’re thinking about is the possibility of getting up from this chair of torture. Until you’ve reached your limit and ask if you could please take control back over this vessel that is your body and sit up straight? Yes, sure. Just like that. Sure. Like why are you still lying down, you look ridiculous.

You’re an authority and this is your turf mate, that’s why.

‘Shall we just get rid of it straight away then, Viktoria?’ he asks after looking at me for a second. ‘I have a free schedule.’

…

Very unexpectedly tears started racing down my cheeks while I squeezed out pathetic ‘now?’s and ‘really?’s. I didn’t so much worry about potential pain but told him I had a long history of panic attacks. Which this scenario is begging for it to come out in and perform like an eighteen year old pre-wedded christian boy. I felt that I had once again let myself down when agreeing to this extraction with only local anesthesia, doing the exact opposite of what I’d set out to do. Which I do ALL the time fyi. I can even have a whole rejection speech written down in my fucking pocket – come crunch time I’ll end up saying volunteering. And give you a discount. In half the time I actually need. So my hesitation was petty per usual. Ok. Let’s pull this thing.

I made him show me photos, walk me through equipment and tell me the gore of what he was about to do. That calms me down. I either wanna be half dead on the operating table, I don’t even wanna know what happened, or fully in control of what’s happening..! One or the other.

While he was at it I just zoned out. Stared at the ceiling. Breathing. Trying not to shake. I’d heard stories about violent crunching and cracking, tugging and pulling, so I was prepared for the worst. It wasn’t that bad at all. But then again I think I was a bit lucky. It was a beautiful tooth after all. And the best part: hearing that he got it -I LOST IT. I swear I don’t think I’ve been that upset and relived since I was told I could start my medicines two and a half year ago. Sobbing. I just lay there with hands over my face. Soaked in sweat and SO proud of myself. What a reminder. It felt so good. I’ve been longing to cry for such a long time and was actually so happy I felt something again!

‘Did you want it?’

-What?

‘Your tooth?’

-Fuck yea. I’ll fucking make a necklace out of that and wear it like a warrior.

Look how cute that is. Still with it’s flesh on.

But why so yellow?? My teeth are much whiter..

Adrenaline over, exhausted.


I don’t have a conclusion on this. All I know is that I can still surprise myself and that should I have to pull another one I know I’ll be fine.

Home

by  on  in The life • 6 Comments

Back here.

Seams I’m still tired.

I’ve been going through a lot in my head lately which I really wanted to be done with it sooner than I was.. Feeling weak, body and mind. But I know myself by now and I’m not gonna drag this along any longer than it has too by beating myself up about it.

Stumbled upon this one whilst wandering around the house this morning.


This was the first serious job I did for the little one and may be one of my top five best memories I have professionally. I was so roused having my outfit on international TV for such a huge event. Humbled I was able to be there, right there behind her back as she embarked on this daunting journey. The Nobel Peace Prize of 2015. About an hour before she went on stage we realized I’d forgotten to make a loop on her back waist for her in-ear. Which she absolutely needs. It was winter and in the capitol around -10 celsius, so I remembered I was wearing long cotton socks underneath my flared wool trousers. I cut the ribbing on the top of my socks, opened the two seams on each side of the third panel of the dress (so lucky I had panels. So lucky my socks were white) and hand-sewed it back together. Sitting there in that big white bright room backstage surrounded by the band, managers, record company people.. Sweating and shaking so hard. Every stitch a struggle. It was one of the most intense moments I’ve had at work, still to this day.. And we deal with a lot of unpredicted shit behind the scenes, that’s sort of the job. Being on stand-by.

From my Instagram that morning. 6am.

Early morning! ✈ #christmasdecorationseverywhere!!! #Oslo

Felt so lucky. Swear I felt like cinderella and that it was I about to go on stage and present myself. It was the first garment since graduating I’d made where I’d really taken my time to do it properly each and every step of the way (minus sock obviously). The design process, the seams, lining, finishings.. A lot of the stage outfits I do for her doesn’t really acquire nor do I have time for French seams, so the satisfaction of this outfit.. I remember I loved the dress when it was finished. Which for a designer can be quite rare. Think I spent a week sewing these moths on by hand.

Be like this bull. Smell the plant.

by  on  in The life • 3 Comments

Just checking in saying hi and that I’m dark now. Feeling like myself again.

hello

Feeling grateful. Grateful for my hairdresser. Grateful for my friends that I met yesterday. Grateful for cava and rainy sundays. Grateful for the maple syrup I soak my breakfast oatmeals in every day. Grateful for the view from my bedroom window at my parents house. Grateful for meds. Fastelavensboller. Grateful for facemasks.

.

Probably could’ve made them easily myself soaking some rice paper in oils, aloe and honey but I’m not going to. It’s an investment and I’m treating myself. Once a week. Tops.

Because it makes me feel like this

Just got home after spending a couple of days at my parents and I feel like a whole new person. Nature and air.. A run in the sun. A bath. A reminder of what life really is about. If it ain’t too bad these little things really can turn a potential fall into a duckling dive. Like those cringeworthy quotes women over 50 post on their Facebook walls. The little things. Fuck yea.



Tiny love affairs and remembering to spot them

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 7 Comments

Some days I just hate people. Lately I’ve had a few. Like, not the ones I already know and like (ish) but the general masses of unknown people you meet, say, going to the supermarket. This is a cynical statement and an entirely drawn conclusion (that people suck) due to the mood I’m finding myself in. But it really does make me (I’d say on the brink of tearing up but that’d be wrong ’cause I actually did tear up at one particular point) that much happier when I do meet someone I immediately fall just a little bit in love with. Those tiny love-affairs you sometimes have with strangers? For instance that dance you do with a stranger when both of you lean the same way as you’re passing each other. Like a tiny little romance. Embarrassed laugh, blushing (‘least in my end), wave of warmth rushing through your body.. it’s like a ten second love affair.

Yes. I feed off of them and try squeeze them to the last drop. I turn. I am a turner. After a while, I turn, you know.? To get that one in a million last smile if they turn as well. Now, that’s a connection. That’s a feeling you’ll carry with you for the rest of the day.

Some things I do love unconditionally are lighting candles with no homes. Just randomly (not very safely) around the living room.

Watching Botched. Where people do stuff like this to their lips.

Makes me feel down to earth. Wholesome. Saint-like.

…

Never having to wear makeup to work.. Big one.

Anyways. I continue being bored. Gone to three shockwave therapy sessions for my Medial tibial stress syndrom (!! getting technical). Which is exactly what it sounds like. Shocking. But necessary and done highly motivated. Very exciting. And makes for the most human interaction I’ve had sober in weeks. So that’s good. Getting out of the house. Hopefully this will get my shins to heal themselves and I’ll be out there chasing medals any day now. Uncomfortable, though?! Feels so wrong. Right on the inflamed bones there?! The rest is like a hard massage and can be quite pleasant. Been swollen and blue and green and purple and yellow and sore feeling completely botched for weeks. Jeez..

What else.. Besides wasting away my life in these sweats every day..

Deer.

The other one’s home later today. Good news. Aaaaand I booked tickets for the theater on Tuesday! I LOVE (!!!!!!) the theater and would go way more often if it hadn’t been so expensive.. All about priorities though I guess. Very amped when I do decide to go though. Which is nice.

We’re seeing Hedda Gabler by Ibsen and I’m ready for some complexity involving love, life and lust with a strong woman in the middle.

Well, this was very insightful and not very useful. But that’s life isn’t it. Boring with a few flowers worth smelling in the midst. Trick is seeing them.

No I wasn’t actually, but please.. go ahead. Share

by  on  in The life • 8 Comments

I think I speak for everyone finding themselves in a similar stage in life when I say that we hate people schooling us on the choice, the gift and challenge that it is to become a parent. Advisors. They’re everywhere. There are different kinds of advisors out there, and they don’t have to be necessarily warning you about babies. Marriage. Work. Travel. Relocating. Any kind of new direction you choose for yourself, new path, opportunity taken. As long as it’s important and possibly life-altering: there they are. Loyal protectors and guardians of The Way Things Are.

There’s the classic, most common perhaps and definitely most dangerous: The scaremongers. These creatures act like normal people when not jumping on any opportunity to elevate themselves above others. They love having more experience and knowledge on whatever subject you’re dealing with in your conversation and tend to transfer their own life experiences onto other people. Now, this isn’t neccesarily bad in itself. If it wasn’t for the fact that it’s only from a negative origin. “Oooh, have you really thought about this? It will CHANGE your life you know. Parenthood (I’ll be using this as an example) is H.A.R.D. You can say goodbye to taking care of your relationship, date nights and nice clothes -heck, you won’t even have time to shower and your body will most definitely never be the same..! Not to mention the fact that it is PAINful. I mean, pain like you’ve never felt before. Did I tell you about how I almost bled out and died and couldn’t sit for like three weeks with my firstborn?”

Uhmmm… yea Brenda, I fucking thought about it. That’s why I’m going into this whole conversation with a big grin on my face –after careful consideration I have, we have,  reached the conclusion to do it. I’m not asking for your whole horrible traumatizing experience! I am in the phase of excitement and confidence that a child will be a wonderful addition to our lives. Like all parents do to begin with. Pretty sure it’s programmed in many if not most of us to be drawn to the idea of procreating. If not, humanity wouldn’t have been around for 400 000 years. Plus, I’m not stupid. Obviously I know life will change. In fact; that’s the whole point of me sharing this with you. If I wasn’t to share this with you as a conversation starter it would just be a random natural event. But we’ve thought about it and reached a decision. Obviously we are ready for the fucking change.

Another delightful category is the overly excited person: The Thunderstealer. Which in many cases can be a great category of people to know. But, timed wrongly (as people tend to be since they spend painfully little time I’ve learned reflecting over other people’s lives) this can go terribly wrong and. Worst case change your mind. “Oh. my. God. Are you kidding me? ARE you kidding me??! This is gonna be so AWESOME! In fact, Oh my God I just had the breast idea you’re gonna love this, Oh my God I said breast instead of best I’m like already halfway there already! why don’t I and Dave, I mean, let’s be honest screw Dave he doesn’t care about anything but his sports anymore; I don’t need to ask him I’ll just get off the pill, DO THE SAME???!! It’s gonna be so great!!! We’ll do playdates, drink wine together -did you know you can drink like how much wine as you want to while breastfeeding?? It’s proven, it really is! It doesn’t affect the breastmilk at all..!! Anyways the formula nowadays are so good, we can just start doing that, more time for girl-time yes? I mean, mom-time am I right???”

These people never listen and completely take over your joyful decision of changing your life course. They’re so dependent on you they’ll relocate or divorce the minute you do. They insert themselves in that special moment you’re having for yourself and taking it into whatever direction they want it to go. Not cool. More positive than previously mentioned type, but potentially very damaging for the kind yes-people out there who won’t stand up for what’s theirs. Their choice. Their moment.

Last one I’ve encountered’s the plain old negative shitheads. They shut down any idea before even asking you why you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing. “You’re never gonna make it. It’ll never happen for you. The way you’ve lived your life? No chance in hell you’re ready for this. Your relationship’s not ready for this, did you know that the divorce rate double after having children?? It’s true. (it’s not, they’ll just make up random shit to keep you where they want to: put. They need your friendship to stay the exact same because they themselves are too scared, too codependent or just unable to make the life choices they really want to. They’ll make up a study to shut you down). Don’t do this, that’s not you.. You belong here. Here with me.”

Self explanatory, this one. Negative people who’ll never have your back. Get rid of these asap if possible.

People can change, though. If you have the energy and motivation to school them back. It’s a damper on your news, but the person’s bound to learn something from your schooling. And while it may not better your relationship with each other, it can sink in with them later in life after they’ve potentially lost you. And this world needs less assholes, that’s for sure. So you might be doing someone else a solid.

Just, trust people’s judgement regarding themselves. Just let people have their own experiences. Please. You can say I told you so if it all goes to shit.

Plus come on.. babies? If cavemen could do it, I can Brenda. And you bet your sore ass I’ll spread positive thoughts around it after I’m done. You wait.

Just, shushhhhhhhh

WTF wordpress?

by  on  in The life • 9 Comments

OMG EVERYTHING CHANGED!!

When I opened this post and started writing the whole layout has changed..! I don’t do well with changes. Really don’t.

And it’s so confusing. So confusing. Not like any other writing-thing I’ve ever seen. The help-bar is gone. Probably not, but to my not-so-keen-electronic-eye it is.

Thing is! I was gonna tell you that Im getting painted today! My favorite artist in Bergen reached out to me asking if I’d be interested in sitting for her. And, self-proclaimed Yes’er that I am -of course I said yes. I’m excited! I’ve stood on stage, in front of cameras, but never still like this. I expect it to be intense. And intimate. And a little scary. Just the way I like it.

Have to go! I’m interesting and somebody thinks so. Bye

New nakeddress by the way. Wearing it on Wednesday for my birthday. Embarrassingly excited.

Great hopes and dark thoughts

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 25 Comments

I seriously don’t feel like I have anything to say lately. All though once I sit down I always have plenty. I’m just like everyone else plowing through the winter-ocean of grayness attempting to get over the promise of a fresh start that never happened. Hungover from the anticipation and the leaving of the greatest of all times behind.

.

Can’t wait till next Christmas.

.

Anyways. Here we are, back at it. Just shipped my latest package, a piece of her to the United States. What a feeling. I feel so close to everyone I share her with. So grateful. Not gonna write blessed (almost did) because those pants are awesome and I’d wish that Warrior-feeling for anyone.

Grateful for that and for the fact that I just earned some adult points through these guys.

I don’t know why but I’ve always felt grapefruits were of the more advanced citrusy fruits and only truly enjoyed by people on diets from the 90’s or old people. They’re fucking delicious.

Grateful for this snow. Bit late, but I’m not complaining. She said complainingly.

Ah… 2019. What will you bring?

I have so little patience and don’t care for waiting for anything. Even the baby I’m over trying for. It can come naturally.

Fuck, I’m bored.

That’s what I hope you’ll bring 2019. Something. Something to un-bore me. I’ve always had struggles and pains to occupy my time with. Now I’m fine and I want more. My goals have shifted with my abilities and I’m feeling ungrateful. Ungrateful and bored.

Ugh. Not even gonna apologize for that. Too bored. Maybe my boredom will be replaced with shame for entitled statements like that. Only time I’m not bored is when I’m running, high from starting a new project with a clear vision, going on dates with my husband and drinking wine with various people. I’m not saying my friends are boring. I’m just not feeling like a great friend nowadays or particularly engaged that’s all. Eating food is also a great option on ways to pass time. Kissing.

Lol, my life is so good. So it’s not about quality. My life is as good as it gets. I just need to switch some of the things I do for passing time. It’s not like the end goal is that great..! Death is the end of it and I’m just passing time for it to happen: We’ve all got a one way ticket to Death! And I’ll be damned if I’m not gonna enjoy the ride. I don’t belive in anything, I think we simply go away when we die. We stop existing. Just black and no reflection on how we did. No medal. No second shot at it.

I think.., looking at 2019.. I need a change. A new chapter. Which is good. Not looking for comments by the way with encouraging words about the past, present and future. It’ll only piss me off.

Grateful for hot water and clean showers. Rosacea under control.

I should do something for others. Like, if I was a housewife (my ultimate goal and purpose in life I’m convinced of -I’d be so good at it) I’d go to like somewhere in need and help. You know? Giving vaccines and play games with kids I can’t communicate with but still laughs at all of my jokes. Those people always say it puts life into perspective. For a while at least. Like a drug numbing the emptiness and purposeless lives we lead. You know, like Angelina Jolie in Beyond Borders. I admire those people.

I think my guilt would consume me.

But that’s not it though.. Because I can volunteer here as well. I tried once with a low-threshold organization for people with eating disorders. I didn’t get far after having my weekend introduction course. I felt fake. Like I didn’t do it because I wanted to, or needed to. Like I was doing it to have an image of myself helping others, some sort of proof that I was doing well and did now have excess energy to help others in need.. Whilst actually doing it to feel better about myself and not for them, not really. And I hate feeling fake. Plus it involves a lot of smiling. You have to be kind, almost saint-like to help others. I have way too much social anxiety for that. I think I’d feel better about building a concrete wall, or a well to be honest. That’d make me feel useful. Integrity intact.

Maybe I should study something. I need to get over myself. Face a new challenge. Go somewhere new. I wanna write more. Read.

What are your hopes for 2019? Anyone in the need for something new? Anyone bored of life and the repetitiveness? Anything?

Change the subject Carole

by  on  in Beauty, Philosophy, The life, The skin, Uncategorized • 3 Comments

I was recently made aware of a little hashtag going on on Instagram in norwegian from a fairly new friend of mine which translates to ‘change the subject’. And this. is. so. important. Especially at Christmas. Subject being: food, action needed being: stop. giving. it. so. much. attention.

Surely we know by now that the more food we have, the more options, the more focus and prestige there is on and in the food industry in (a lot of) the world -the less healthy we’ve gotten, right? Apart from the obvious benefits of cooking clean, sanitary-wise, we haven’t become any healthier in a really long time. I mean overall health, obviously. I’m not trying to talk you out of the religion you’ve joined, Carole, where broccoli is God and starch Satan. And I’m not stating hard facts here either. But most of us can understand when I say that the abundance of artificially produced options made to satisfy our every craving to such an extent of addiction on the same level of cocaine hasn’t made our overall health any better. For a lot of people. The more emotions we tied to food: rewards and penalties, numbing joy and shame, abundance and restriction.. the more food lost it’s true purpose. Which is to nurture and make your body strong and energized at the same time as bring you joy and satisfaction.

The norm has become so disturbed we don’t even notice it anymore. A mother not eating pancakes with her children whilst poking a grape fruit talking about how bad it would be for her body – that sends a message! That’s confusing for a child!! The excited child who’s been smelling pancakes for an hour, Oh so hungry after soccer practice, hearing that pancakes are bad for you and that mum slaved just for you without herself being able to reap the benefits of her own work.. that’s not a positive experience around what should have been a pretty fucking awesome thursday, Carole. And, hey, I’m not at all saying that you need to eat pancakes if you’re in need of a more balanced meal -make fish then! Make fish for your family, BUT BE happy about it. Talk positive about it. And then you can make pancakes on an occasion where you’re not eating with your kids. For another occasion. Maybe they have a friend over and you’re not joining the party, I don’t know. Just don’t make bad experiences. Pancakes are good. Fish is also.

Around Christmas there’s a lot of heavier dinners and puddings, candy and cookies floating around. And you don’t even have to be a restricting person to experience some indulging and a couple of pounds extra as a result. That’s okay! If you’re really scared about it, eat the fucking fish, bring your own meal, skip the pudding -whatever. People with common sense will respect that. Just don’t make a big deal out of it! Let us, the rest of us, enjoy our cookies and potential love handles.

We have to start minding our own business. I’m sure whatsherface has her reasons for skipping the macaroni and cheese bowl. Maybe she’s allergic. Maybe she’s trying a new diet -maybe she has an issue with macaroni and the very thought of it makes her sick. Let her make and have her choice. You don’t need to point it out.

Talk shit about her once she leaves.

Ok that one’s a bit of a stretch, but we all do it. Even you Carole.

We need to stop talking shit about food.

We have to stop commenting on our own and each other’s bodies.

If you’re not experiencing any severe health challenges and have the energy to function like you can keep up with life, chances are your diet’s fine.

Can we please get over it?

Can we please change the subject?

Champagne, while you can

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 4 Comments

Morning! Or after noon!

Small insignificant update, all though not to me and it is my blog after all; my shin is hurting again and today’s run had to be put on ice.. Literally. Chill the fuck out bro. Get some help.

But ok! There are worse things. On a positive note I get to wear this for work.. so who’s the lucky bitch really?

It’s (insert audio “it’s Britney, bitch”) me.

Been working hard this week, got the other one home late last night. Which was timed perfectly as I’ve been feeling rather lonely lately. I don’t often feel lonely, I usually love being alone and prefer my own company to anyone else’s that I can think of really.. But it’s a horrible horrible feeling, loneliness. Makes my heart break for all the lonely people out there without anyone permanent in their lives.. Did you know that babies can die without human interaction within a certain amount of time after birth? We’re meant to be together.

I can’t wait to have children. We’ve just started trying. Which freaked me out in the beginning but I’m now extremely excited about. Except from all the talking about the stuff, not very good with bodily functions. Wish I was more mature but.. -I ain’t. But I can’t wait. Maybe that’s why I’m feeling so lonely lately.. When I test negatively it reminds me that it’s still just me in this body.

Anyways. Point being that I get to treat myself with the other one to some Christmas shopping and wine later. Which makes me very content.

Have an awesome Friyay <3

Hot as ice

by  on  in The life • 2 Comments

Just finished a three week thing on anti-inflammatories plus a couple of weeks extra rest and have now had TWO pain-free runs this week. Ecstatic. Also started running on my toes finally (which I’m SHOOK about how little time it took getting used to?? Viktoria’s reluctance to take advice from anyone even though they’ve practiced it for longer than you’ve (physically) walked this earth – meet experience in other people. I’m such a little shit and I fucking know it) and am really hoping that’ll make my problems stay away. Not holding my breath, but here’s hoping.

My absolute favourite is when I can leave my water-repellent gear (it’s gear now) at home tucked away in my messy drawers, but have to use wool and gloves. That means it’s purrrfect conditions.

Pink gloves. Because why the fuck would they make black… anything for women? Or dark blue? The blue wool I’m wearing as first layer is even the other one’s come to think of it. Shook again.

NOTHING sweeter than the feeling of running when there’s frost on the ground, just before it turns slippery, and blue skies turning red for the early sunset. I was literally chasing the last minutes of sun running up a mountain that I have in my backyard. Not fucking kidding, that’s the shocking part. (Mountain. Backyard. Westcoast <3) When seeing those last seconds of it before its elegant shift to its backdrop of orange, coral and red appear.. it is the closest feeling to what I can only imagine the holiness I possess inside of me must look and feel like.

Didn’t photograph it. Savouring it myself. But here’s a sultry very salty photo of myself for you to feast your eyes on.

Freakin’ sexy that is. Think one of my toenails are turning blue again.

Not even gonna apologize about the sultriness because that’s how much I’m feeling’ myself after a good run. HOT as shit

Why do I blog, really?

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 9 Comments

I haven’t really asked myself this question since I started in 2014..(?) but I’ve been asked by many and given the answer I made for myself back then. Time to reevaluate. A comment made me question le blog and it’s very existence again, and as much as I get defensive I do love comments -that means we’re connecting, and that’s the whole point isn’t it??

(If you’re ever questioning the gifs on this blog btw; know that they’re most likely from the RealHousewives-franchise and that they’re the next best thing in the world)

So my answer’s always been that I started blogging because I wanted to accept myself. The blog was gonna be my effort to embrace my weaknesses and sides of myself I was ashamed of. Or rather maybe show the world that I was, in fact, not ashamed of them but fed up with the world for telling me to be so.

As a strong person / good girl / stubborn asshole it’s easy to not ‘claim’ your space and cry out loud enough in order to get understanding, sympathy and help when needed. And I guess I’ve never been a good shouter. *Presenting case of Way overdue burst appendix marked May 2014 as evidence number 1-V*

(I actually have two potentially fatal incidents due to this same stupidity)

I’ve always been strong (what does that even mean??) as well as repeatedly told that I’m strong. And I just..resented that responsibility. It may sound self-righteous but I’ve always felt the pressure of being more-than, above that, exemplary in some way.. I’ve put up with so much shit (!!) due to the gnawing feeling that I shouldn’t or couldn’t react to whatever shit I was faced with. For whatever reasons, are of lesser importance and significance. This feeling made it even less possible to say that I’m not that strong and actually say no to mentioned shit, which led me to become very sick.

Growing up anxiety and self-doubt is viewed as weaknesses, not strong suits. There’s no way around it, even today. It doesn’t matter what you and I (who’s maybe had to re-evaluate our whole sense of worth or just plainly is more philosophical than average) know to be true. The fact is that the world is filled with advice on how to become stronger physically and mentally in order to succeed. Doubt, fear and being slow’s just not qualities the masses see as good qualities. Which I get, it’s fine. It’s just so sad that it’s met with so little understanding when some people don’t feel this way. When I was committed for depression in 2008 I felt no shame. Well, obviously, I was depressed.. But I didn’t need encouragement from other’s telling me it would pass. To be strong. Words of wisdom on how showing weakness was, in fact!, a sign of strength. That kind of bullshit. For me, I just was. For me, I didn’t feel that it mattered if I was “doing” good or bad, “being” weak or strong. I was merely having a reaction to life at that point. Out of my control. I didn’t need the pressure of having to control the situation, or regaining control once the fog had lifted. I don’t see the point of talking like that, I gain nothing of that.

We all are. We just, are. It’s not that big a deal. We’re just living. Reacting to our surroundings. Some times it feels good, some times not. It drives me crazy sometimes talking to people with such a clear undertone of strive for achievement on every topic of every conversation.

Blogging in many ways has become a way of claiming the level of volume I want to have when I say that I see my self as strong based on all the facts I have regarding Viktoria. I lay it all out there and want to give each of my qualities the attention and respect they deserve and still reach the conclusion that I am strong. That I am doing ok. I see knowledge in doubt. And love and respect for myself and others in questioning agendas. I see strength in not feeling the need to prove myself. I am so proud of that. I’m blogging to say that I’m not waiting for your response, I’m not asking for your permission or validation of my actions. I want to be so good with myself that I’m good even at my lowest darkest place. That’s when I know I’ve succeeded. That’s when I’ll be ahead of you who’s only given your “best” qualities the time of day.

Writing a blog became the only platform I can be truly honest in. Because for some reasons I can’t when faced with you. How fucked up is that? Even I play a game when I walk out the doors, minutes after writing this.! But it’s fine. This is my space to vent. Thank you for listening. Now -REACT!

Wrong kind of crumble

by  on  in The life • 14 Comments

Often with the change of season comes change in state of mind and mood.  I’m not saying that people without bipolar disorder can’t relate to highs and lows, ebbs and flows, but come on, just.., you can’t compare. (guess I said it) To the same extent at least.

Since starting taking my medicine two years ago I’m always left confused at these times when I would’ve been feeling down. It always takes me a lot of time and some heavy days doubting everything before it even occurs to me that I must be having a depressed period underneath this veil of chemical influence. My husband always know way before me but says he wants me to kind of recognize the feeling myself. Which I can understand. It’s a sort of numbness anyone on antidepressants can relate to. Or even someone mildly depressed even I can imagine. To me this is unbearable (because we tend to forget the pain of actually being depressed real quick, don’t we) and I feel like what I can only imagine resembles feeling half dead. During this shit of times. To be honest it sometimes makes me wanna act like the ass it would take me to be to stop taking my medicine all together. Just to cry three days straight followed by some fucked up weeks and get that painful thing inside of me out. Because it’s there, I feel it. Trapped without ever reaching the surface. Not a good feeling. I’m emotionally constipated and I just wanna crumble. But am left only with crumble apple pie.

How dramatic.

But it is dramatic! Slightly traumatic, as it happens.

Stayed with mum last week for a couple of days. So there’s that.

And woke up to this this morning

So there’s also that.

I’m just wallowing in my own feelings (or lack thereof) and safety blanket alone in my apartment, other one’s off working this week.

I need to get out more, seriously. But not fucking today. Or yesterday. Or the day before that! Haha, so sad.. But I have an appointment on Wednesday. So I am leaving the premises for that.

So glad I’m working from home. And the fact that I have vegetables, noodles, potetkake, coffee and chocolate to keep me going for the next couple of days.

Tension and.. tension?

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 13 Comments

Oh my, so much has happened lately. I’m left completely empty. Not that I’m complaining, I just need to get this down real quick. I’m just at a What’s the fucking point of it all?- juncture. I mean we work and we work not only to survive at this point in time but for the pleasure that awaits at the end of it all. And the work that we do makes less sense than it used to because they’re mostly just answers to man-made problems, – you need that extra motivation. It’s no longer the need for survival or matter of life and death of ourselves and our communities that drives us away from our families ten hours a day; we’d be fine without at least 50 per cent of the occupations that’s been created over the last hundred years.

I’m sure.

…

So in order to not stop and look at the bread and butter already on your table you need rewards to keep toiling away without questioning why the f, you need that knowledge of a bigger house waiting on the top of the hill. That trip to the Bahamas, that stress-free life and expensive spa treatments with your girlfriends also not questioning their lives..? I mean if you’ve got a job doing something that actually makes sense like farming or something, and you’re earning enough to stay safe, healthy and fed.. why go the extra mile? Why try be extraordinary.? The obsession of feeling not only a respectable amount of happiness but totally and utterly fulfilled can be so depressing and seems at times unachievable compared to the amount of work you’ve put into ‘getting there’.

Right now there’s been a lot of work, lot of tension without release. My anxiety’s through the roof and I can barely buy groceries without needing to glue my broken self back together the minute I’m back in the car. As Carrie would I too can’t help but wonder.. Is the balance and presence of tension and release so consequential that the universe/destiny/energy will create alternatives once one or the other’s missing?

I need a fucking break, bye

Camel coats and other positive autumn morning thoughts

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 15 Comments

Good morning! Or noon, whatever.

I just woke up feeling very happy and wanted to tell someone. I’ve slept like a baby, woke up every two hours crying, (jokes), and am proceeding this unusually happy sunday with caution. The other one brought me coffee and my laptop to bed and this is where I’m currently at.

On an island of comfort and safety surrounded by down and a crisp breeze from the window promising colder darker times ahead. I can’t wait for winter. But am determined to enjoy autumn this year. Even though my dream every autumn, that never comes true, is to own an ankle-length camel coloured shearling coat to accompany the leafy park in which I’ll be walking in. Sunday afternoons probably. Like straight out of a movie from the decade which holds the best movies ever made- the 90’s, I predict every autumn to be. Never is. But maybe this year. Maybe this year I’ll buy a shearling, bring coffee on a thermos and sit on a worn-out green paint-peeling bench in a park watching dogs and children swim by. But most likely not. It’ll probably do what it usually does, which is fly by as those couple of weeks between summer and winter when it was really beautiful but we only watched it from inside because we weren’t climatized enough for the sudden drop in temperature and we didn’t know whether to come back from summer scared to death over the year to come and all the work put off during summer and the dark times ahead or simply to start our dear Santa’s and praise higher powers that bikini season’s over and we can start to slowly descend into chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate and not feeling shame no more for wearing full faces of makeup to make up for the loss of summer glow..

(which we never really even had in the first place, because we’re adulting and wear spf 1000 on our faces to not let cancer believe we’re flirting with it and die unnecessarily early as a result. We as women has yet to master the art of not knowing just how to act in order to achieve what’s best for us, so we better pile that shit on just in case to let it know. It is not welcome. Off limits. Not interested)

This year I’m the latter. With hopefully an actual autumn memory this time. Just the one. At least that’s what I’m feeling this morning. Oddly present in this sort of calm before the storm. With a million things to do, but very aware that it is just that. Things that I need to do. Life is something completely different that happens on the sideline.

(hope you’re not dying of a hangover, if you are: please dismiss this post and scroll further down for a more negative life approach)

24th of september shall be a very good day.

by  on  in Beauty, The fashion, The life • 19 Comments

Guess what I just did??

I just shot the campaign for my first collection that I’ll be selling!!!!

An old photo to illustrate the exact opposite of what I’m feeling.

I’ve finally found the right time to start my own commercial brand and am opening webshop in 9 days ! Fuck. Yeah.

Since I finished my education in fashion I’ve been so lucky to work with such a creative individual with such a strong signature style. I’ve supported her when she doubted, sewn her up when she unravelled and eaten and swallowed my own words when I’ve asked for her to be anything other than herself. Being part of developing someone else’s personal style is probably one of the most challenging, exciting and sobering things a designer can do. You’re not only creating what you yourself want -you have to put your ego aside and morph your own vision with another person’s. There’s different taste, referanses, aesthetics.. it can be frustrating. Because we don’t really get each other, not fully. My vision for her is not her’s of her self. And that’s the most important lesson I’ve learned through working with her. At the end of the day it doesn’t matter how intricate this detail is if she doesn’t feel like a god damn goddess warrior walking in the room. And I’ve found that the less we judge each others choices concerning how we identify, the more we are. And the more we are -the more potential is released, more creation, more art, more love. There’s nothing more beautiful than someone one hundred per cent comfortable in what they’re wearing. It can bring SO MUCH POWER. -It’s your chosen skin!! Choose to enhance what you are and want to be, without rules or correct answers. Beauty isn’t in the eye of the beholder in fashion, it’s in confidence.

My sister, my boss lady, my muse and best friend.. she embodies all of that. And she’s one of the strongest, sexiest women I know.

So..! I can’t wait to share this journey with a couple of key pieces I’ve made for her thus far. The journey’s just begun. Hopefully someone else can find a little extra strength through them too<3

9 days !!!

Enough now tho, Christmas: you may enter

by  on  in The fashion, The life • 20 Comments

Current living room state. I am living in a jungle of fabric and dust. And I don’t even mind I’m so excited these days. Good things and heavenly energy is coming and I am definitely feeling myself and life itself.

Information you’ll definitely never use;

Did you forget or simply was on brink of having a full scale panic attack in that London-summer heat we all know, to ask to note composition of fabric whilst in indian family-owned fabric shop which was mind blowingly large, and are now left unsure if you’re dealing with silk or fucking acetate? Burn it and thee shall see.

Silk becomes ashy and leaves you with a burnt hair smell and expectations of a Phoenix rising from the ashes, while synthetic stuff will curl up in a hard black lump and smell like burnt rubber, no ashes.

There. You’re welcome.

I champagned pretty hard last night (girl needs a break from work even if it’s ever so exciting)

and am now about to indulge in some trash tv. Wish you a happy weekend. May the following months pass quickly so we may all enjoy the best time of the year again. Christmas.

What can letters tell you anyways?

by  on  in The fashion, The life • 7 Comments

Was going to post this when I got home from London on Monday, but didn’t have time actually to sit down properly. But today I’m taking time. In case anybody wondered what really happened the night of the 5th of august 2018.

I’ve had my share of fuck ups when it comes to traveling by plane, but I usually have some sort of understanding as to how and why it happened. This one’s just.. so unnecessary. Because of my prior fuck ups (one being buzzed with the first one therefore late, other one looking at the arrival time instead of take off.. I think we can all relate to those two), I really made sure I read the receipts thoroughly and carefully. I really did. Especially as I knew I was in a particularly high risk fuck up situation cause I booked two flights, two trips, at one time. Both to London. Both for two people. Both at the same dates – one month apart. I’ve been known to live on the edge. This obviously proved to be too much of a challenge for me, and I can see now for the first time in my life why people have assistants for these kind of things.

I mistook the airports.

Vegard knew it the moment we arrived Gatwick and couldn’t find SAS. Fucking Norwegian.

I stared and stared at my flight detail, GLARED at them to make sure I didn’t get it wrong. I prefer landing at Gatwick and I know my second trip to London its’ arrival and departure at Gatwick, but somehow I missed the fact that this flight had its’ departure from Heathrow.

I’m stunned.

Yes, we arrived at Gatwick, but it really shouldn’t be that hard to see that we departed from a different airport. I’m so surprised to the point in which I’m almost impressed by my excelling level of brain disassociation. A skill I must have picked up somewhere along the way of this mission to survive in a world with so many aggressive impressions. Have I developed some sort of lettering adhd? Or is my brain just too busy? I am an extremely efficient person, that I know. Tell me to have it done by the end of the week -I’ll have it done by tonight. Even if I’m totally overworked -I’ll take on two more tasks just to prove myself I can do it. It’s a great skill, makes me that much more relaxed the days and hours I don’t do anything but take care of myself. Which again restores balance in my grey gardens. But it just doesn’t work in paperwork-world. You have to read the fine-prints and I never do. –Oh, it’s fine..! That’s seriously my motto in life. if I’m not dying or having a panic attack, it’ll be fine..! Will sort itself out. We’ll find a solution. This time that solution cost my poor husband over 1000 pounds. Which, to me is.. I mean, money is money. It comes and goes, ebbs and flows. I could never be devastated over money. But energy-wise.. We were absolutely knackered. So it hit us like those airport doors that supposedly’s meant to open as you approach but not always manage to do as the person in front of you was a little bit too close to you or too hesitant themselves, and I always have high anxiety over. Boom. You’re not coming any further you little bitch.

We got an airport hotel after going back to Victoria station and piccadillyed ourselves to our righteous airport and the flight next day went smoothly. So it was all good. Not as good as the shower I had when I got home, but all. good.

PLUS! I’m that much closer to my project coming to life, so it’s aaaaaaaall good!!!

Sew you later! <3

Back at it

by  on  in The life, Uncategorized • 19 Comments

IT’S BACK —-MY BLOG IS ALIVE!!!

Celebratory pancake breakfast.

They’re gluten free and full of eggs not gonna lie so I’m not as cool as I look. But I did have four. So, you know.. Pretty cool.

Just got home from this paradise.

Porec is a very small family type of spot. So not my first choice in Croatia. But we travelled with the other one’s family, so it was all good. They stayed half an hour away from us at a family resort. And Croatia is so beautiful anyways and full of delicious food, lush nature and great infrastructure, so wherever you are I guess – you’ll be fine.

Our hotel was great also. Especially since I stayed five days longer than the other one I enjoyed it that much more. Breakfast with a sea-view, beautiful food, quiet.. Adult. I love kids. But until I have my own I don’t need drops of pool in my aperol. Especially not my first one.

I’ve never been traveling much on my own except from my year as an exchange student in South Africa, but highly recommend it. Get a nice hotel if you can though. I found it important to enjoy my surroundings and feel at bit at home and comfortable without needing to go out every night. I’m easily grossed out and a bit uptight in hotels and am at that point in my life where I’d rather travel less often than cheap. But that’s just the the snob in me.

The same snob also brought expensive silk dresses to a place you’ll get sweat stains in you ass crack before your starter arrives. So, can’t always trust your inner snob.

Definitely didn’t need that.

We stayed at the Palazzo. At the very tip of the city. It was actually man-made. The tip. He wanted to build the hotel so badly he built out the entire ground. Pretty snobbish.

Another thing I learnt from being alone on holiday is that you’re quite vulnerable. So I recommend bringing safety nets. Like books and maybe a laptop if you’re tired of museums, sitting at cafés alone with your book and your wine and decide to stay in one night. It’s ok not to be cool and cultural all the time.

Hold back on the flirting also. E.g. smiling. Dangerous game when alone. Making eye contact more than twice accompanied with a smile will apparently most definitely be interpreted as nothing less than an open invitation to your divine quiet zone you’ve created for yourself, your wine and your book.

Unless it’s towards the waiter. To signal that you need another one. Smiling in this case will definitely give you a head’s start and you might even get yours before the German.

Lot of Germans in Croatia..

I also did whatever the fuck I wanted to. Which felt surprisingly odd ’cause usually you’d have conversations with your friends, spitballing ideas before deciding to do that stuff that you really want to do but you’re not entirely confident enough to commit to right away.. I did all of those things. Empowering.

But the rain sounds pretty good now. Back home with my very exciting project. I feel ready. Strong. I feel good. I’m even letting my hair do it’s own thing. Which apparently is this. I’m cool with that.

Shower milk and milk in general

by  on  in The life, The skin • 2 Comments

Remember my rash late November I assumed to be a stress induced hive breakout brought on by my (self-diagnosed) post traumatic stress disorder-like behaviour after fleeing that volcano on Bali?

‘Course you don’t. But I do. Turns out this may have something to do with it.

Look at it.

So tall. Esthetically pleasing on the eye.. So subtle. A sniper from the side.

Cleansing shower milk. Cleansing. Milk. Shower..

I’d been piling that shit on as body lotion for weeks after fishing it out of one of those tax-free two for one baskets at the airport after my long and traumatizing journey back to Norway. I’m stunned. It looks exactly the same as the fucking lotion.

Anyways. That was a waste of antihistamines and unnecessary alienation from my cheap (in every sense) Christmas sweater I was led to believe contributed to my hive breakout.

Probably could’ve worn it every day..

Ok. Over to something less heartbreaking. Had a business meeting yesterday. Business meeting on my terms (since it’s my future business we’re talking about and I’ll run things like I want to run things and only hire and work with people I’m super into as humans beings). So obviously a bit hungover and having one of these mornings. (Note that I am not vegan nor allergic to anything but I do have a sensitive stomach and simply prefer a lot of vegan options. Plus I hate milk, always have. In case you were wondering why I was drinking chocolate oat milk and not normal chocolate milk like the normal meat-eating person that I am would. It’s delicious and you should stop stealing babymilk to little cows and try it. (Not a passion of mine either actually. I’ll just take whatever convenient moral highway that effortlessly come my way to appear more engaged than I actually am. I have no leftover energy for cows, sorry)

You guys I’m so excited about the project I’m working on. It’s big. Huge. And I can’t wait to show you.

Yes, you.

I go work now, this is costing me money I don’t have. I go work: pantless and guilt-free with my trash-tv running in the background. I kind of love life.