Yaaay, Birth Daaay

by  on  in The fashion, The life • 12 Comments

This is how I feel about birthdays. I love them.

It always starts with hot chocolate on the bed followed by breakfast with a movie of my choice. Usually something from the 90’s and my childhood. The 90’s have the best movies. For someone sensitive to colors and loud noise they’ve got the perfect balance. They’re like filmed through a soft lens.

Then we do whatever I wanna do. Because I’m the Queen. This year it was a long run together in the rain, at 1 degree celsius, haha, I’m pushing him around at this point and I love it! I used to have such a different identity. Take pride in such different things. I’m so proud of myself. And I think that’s one of the things I love about putting years behind me.

Then we go out and do what I do even better than getting my ass out in the rain.

Which is eating.

And drinking wine.

I love getting ready for that shit. Preferably with a glass of champagne. This year we did a ten-course meal at Colonialen restaurant. I always tell him -I only want a fantastic meal as a birthday present. It’s expensive enough. He never listens though.

And I wore my mum’s old dress. Yaaay. I don’t know if she wore it as a dress, It’s more like a robe maybe.. Very see-through. Who knows.. Maybe she had a slutty period. Maybe it’s négligé. But I, being so old fashioned and all (…), wore another vintage dress I bought in Nice two years ago underneath it.

Hello…

As much as I wished I could celebrate my birthday for the entire week (I’ve done that earlier and I’m very much disappointed), I’ve been very good bouncing back to every-day life.

Which is so much brighter now that I have this cactus. I always say that it’s my favorite type of flower, plant -whatever. But I never buy them for myself. I think I think of them as a non-necessary thing. Waste of money. But it really does something, having greens in your home.. So he got me one.

How pretty is it??

Going home to mum’s for the weekend. I’m over being alone.

Only one way to have girls’ night. Shamelessly.

by  on  in Beauty, The life, Uncategorized • 8 Comments

Had the most fun girls’ night out I’ve had in such a long time last night. I’ve only seen Grease once in my life, so me and Silja decided that it was time. Time to summon the troops and grease up for a shamelessly drunken night out. Turns out champagne mixed with Travoltas’ skinnyjeans and bubblegum results in flashes from late teens and karaoke. It was just what I needed and we’re already planning our next quest.

I must admit though, being as self-conscious as I am and taking myself way to seriously (not too serious to eat pizza at two in the morning, but girls gotta eat right), I couldn’t get myself up there and sing. Even as drunk as I was. Pathetic. But I really enjoyed watching the other brave women and men up there. Fighting for the high notes.. It really brings people together doesn’t it. Putting that kind of vulnerability and embarrassment on display.

Should I have been one of those bitches I hope it would’ve been Rizzo. Definitely.

This mascara only made it to my first pee at Siljas’. I tried, though, I really did.

Unlike these beauties.

These’ll last for weeks hopefully and took no effort at all.

Damn straight Rizzo. Damn straight.

Thank The Universe for girls’ night.

Education of the mind

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 9 Comments

Today I just didn’t wanna get out of bed. Took me about 90 minutes. After sleeping till noon. I woke up at noon. Got up 90 minutes later than that.

I just had that feeling. That feeling of worthlessness. Just, pure worthlessness. More than worthlessness it was a question, maybe.. A question that owned the answer meaningless. Why would I get out of bed to face my worthlessness closer and more vividly than I already am lying down here. At least down here tears can easily be absorbed and I won’t have to look at myself. Down here it’s dark. I am cocooned. Laying down here makes for some sort of weightlessness. Like floating in a pool. Like a photo I have seen taken from above of a woman, floating around in a pool. I won’t have to feel my surroundings laying here, no clothes digging into my skin -not even the harshness of the air outside of my covers. Let alone daylight that will highlight my every inadequacy. Why would I get out of bed and face a question that I already know the answer to? That I can’t. Why try to create when I know that the defeat of not being able to will harm my delicate creative mind much more and for a longer extent of time than the pleasure of finally creating it will persist? A moment of pleasure until a morning like this comes again, when all that is conquered and created previous to that morning is, again, lost to my frail feeling of self-worth.

My husband made me coffee. I asked him to drink it here with me, in bed. -He did.

He went out to make some phonecalls, answer some emails I assume, then came back not long after. Slowly peeked inside my door. The door that is the extension of my pool which is my bed. He asks if I would like to climb out and come watch an episode of The Crown with him.

And right then and there I remembered vaguely that I am in control of my next move. I could descend into my pool of tears and weightlessness and stay there scared of what could be on the surface -in the daylight, over my threshold and extension of my pool that was my bed. Or I could really feel what it was that he was asking me to do. Drink a second cup of coffee while watching The Crown. -I felt that I could.

And when I could do that, the worthlessness slowly started to diminish. If I could make breakfast too, that’d be another thing. -I could.

Oatmeal, a second cup of coffee and 58 minutes, 43 seconds of The Crown. And I felt better.

Some days are bright days in disguise. Like my day today. You’ll know when it’s right to stay in bed. But on a day like this, I actually ended up having a very good day. Sketched for hours, loads of ideas. The best day I’ve had in a while, actually. And I think it’s got to do with two things in particular.

One. He knew. I had someone who knew what I needed to be given. A choice. A choice that wouldn’t have any effect on my self-image whatsoever. Because in a world where being worthy of love, admiration and praise is only granted if you achieve a certain amount of tasks, obstacles or chores; the choice of not doing so must conclude with you not being worthy of such affection. And that’s not nice. That’s very harsh, and a world I don’t want to be part of. So if you can greet the first choice of achievement with a ‘Yes’, you’ve already started your ascend. And given a huge favor.

Two. I knew. I knew that if I told myself enough times, I would come to believe it. I would. Because I know I have. In the past. I would, again, believe the truth that is that I don’t have to do anything, that Me getting through the day is Enough. I knew that to teach my mind to throw away these negative thoughts and fears that disassociates my mind from my body would be the greatest gift I could give myself. Listening to my body, reach the right conclusions, find the good truths.. Truths that say that we are all enough. So I spent a lot of time doing that. So that on a day like today I can turn my mind over to play for my team.

Give yourself a chance, on a morning like mine. Don’t set yourself up so that you’re able to fail on your first actual task of the day. Today he made that task a positive one for me. And maybe it saved me from drowning today. Because our bodies are not lazy. When listened to, encouraged and taken care of, it wants to. Work. Fix. Make better. Create. Same goes for our minds. Our minds are not just stupid nor just brilliant, it’s both. Most importantly it is not necessarily the reality. When guided and given memories and options based on good experiences our minds can do incredible things. It can rise to be better to you than anyone else will ever be. Teach it. You can’t outrun it. Nor should you blindly obey it. Teach it!

Nothing like that first date..

by  on  in The fashion, The life • 6 Comments

He’s finally home!!

I’m usually pretty good at occupying myself when the other one’s gone, I love our life and how we work when we work, and take time off together and do stuff when he’s home. But he’s been working a LOT lately. He’s usually away for a week, then home and free for the next three weeks. Which is fantastic. He’s seldom free for the entire three weeks, but still a lot of downtime and we get to spend a lot of it together. But between the family holiday in october/november, being busy with making the wedding dress and working until Christmas, traveling, sickness and work again after new years -we haven’t found any time for the two of us alone together in months.

So last night was much welcomed and fucking fantastic. To go out for dinner is our absolute favorite thing to do as a couple. Dress up -making an effort, nice food, wine and conversations. So good. So important.

I have this top in black – it’s one of my favorite nowadays, and just got another one in pink. So stoked. Very unusual. For me to wander around in the city buying stuff spontaneously and for no reason is almost unheard of. But this wasn’t pricey to begin with, now on sale, and I went for it. It’s Samsøe & samsøe, one of my favorite brands for everyday wear. Effortless, simple and affordable. Their cuts also almost always agrees with me. Try saying that fast.

Could I look more unenthusiastic for someone drinking champagne wearing pink velvet?

I think not.

Oh! And our neighbors at the table next to us at the restaurant, big group of people, apparently had a bet about us; Was it our first date or had we been together for a long time? We took it as a huge compliment for our relationship. That after having been together for nine years someone can mistake us for being newly fallen in love. How grossly sweet.

Tacos, movie, candy and pajamas tonight. Just as good as last night. None of them good without the other one.

Treat yo self

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 14 Comments

Went to the doctor yesterday, apparently the previous guy quit. But hey, just another guy gets to see my vagina right? Life smiles to me.

But I like him! He got me sessions with this psychologist he knows (since I didn’t really vibe with my previous one), and gave me pills for my hives. Notice I can still call them my hives. Any longer I would have been it’s body. The hives’s. Because it’s all over my entire upper body. And it feels as great as it looks. Fucking burns.

But still have skin and am able to move around freely. So still stoked about that. Even though have now skin like turtle.

I’ve always wondered, when writing that something is something else’s, let’s say a house. Do you say it’s the houses’ or house’s, or something else? Because the last one is something that the house is. Isn’t it?

Had to work out at home. Because running in this slushy snow ain’t happening. So that’s a bummer. But am able to move and not weak or in wheelchair. So again not such a bummer after all.

Had to fill out a form to decide what type of a psychologist I needed, no surprises there, but it got me thinking after seeing how high my scores were on anxiety related issues. I’m so used to having anxiety and consider my life so much better now than earlier, I don’t think I even recognize how much energy I use on it. I always just assume it’s other stuff that makes me so exhausted.

So, to which extent does it really affect my everyday life? Minutes earlier, in the waiting room, I was sweating, unable to sit still, biting nails, grinding teeth, blushing -I actually cried a little in front of the rest of the people waiting.. I figured at the doctors you can do anything. You’re obviously there because something’s wrong with you.

Look at this cup the little one gave me for Christmas. Is it evergood? I think it is.

I’m scared I’m going to meet someone I know at the grocery store, will the cashier talk to me? (please don’t let it be a man and he starts flirting with me) Will my card work? (instantly reminded of work and question self-worth and importance in this world) Will I slip in the snow on my way home, exposed to all the cars driving by? Will I meet a neighbor in the hallway when I’m walking up those four floors to get to my apartment? It doesn’t matter how many times I check, I always run to the mirror the moment I get in to see if my foundation didn’t rub off somewhere along the way, my fly’s open, my skirt caught in my pantyhose, my hair like Miranda in sex and city’s (season one), if I look fat or something else. If I look bad or stupid in any way. (I do also feel beautiful, strong and great at times, just not to discredit myself entirely)

Look at this Christmas-hairclip. I’m beautiful.

These ‘little’ things that pushes me to be this person I don’t necessarily like. A person with her eyes fixed to the ground running through life scared to stop.

A person who forgets her rights because she doesn’t feel she has the right to be here.

Cancelling appointments more often than she goes through with them. (I think a lot of us do that btw, making appointments when feeling confident – dying when the day actually arrives). It’s never a good feeling. Because you feel weak or depressed, that’s why you can’t go through it in the first place (your lunch or whatever), and end up even weaker and more depressed after sending that heavy message that you’re again cancelling and will not be able to make it.

A person who lashes out, most of all to her loved ones.

Such a bummer.

I don’t want to be that. I’m not that. I get tired from it. And feel defeated, over and over again. But it is better than earlier, it really is. And I wanna continue that journey, get even better. I live once and wanna be GREAT. Get rid of that anger. And I don’t think that’s a selfish or narcissistic thing to do, choosing to work on and focus on yourself. Earlier they all just got over it. Lots of people people still do. But they hit a wall at some point. They have to take time off from work. They get pains in their body from stress due to something going on with them that they’re unaware of. They lash out. They get divorced. They drink. Take painkillers. They feel guilty.  They project their feelings of inadequacy onto others. They don’t recognize love, nor able to keep fulfilling relationships with others. They’re desperate. They take their own lives.

So work on it. Never settle. Like maybelline, you’re worth it.

Bree Van de Kamp for a day. A day I shall cherish for the many months to come and go until the next time we meet

by  on  in Philosophy, The life, The skin • 20 Comments

Today’s really been one of those days when cleaning just. feels. SO. great.

It started innocently enough; me getting home after an extended weekend at my parents house due to flu, eight in the morning, acknowledging as I walk through the front door this new wooden serving board I just got that needed oiling.. It all starts very sexy. Long story short I ended up doing every piece of wood that crossed my path (…), plus my kitchen counter top. And it felt great. And it didn’t stop there. You know that shit you almost never do, but once in a while they’ll come to you in, like a whisper in the wind from your lady ancestors –old instincts kicking in and you suddenly find yourself doing things in the most jeopardizing positions physically you can imagine, things you never knew were actual things people did when you were younger? You would never do these things unless you really wanted to. These chores are only achievable when your body wants them done and your mind and spirit agrees. And the stars align and the  fourth night moon of the first month of.. ok, stopping.

These days are gifts. Rare gifts.

 And at the end of these days you ask yourself why you don’t do this every week? Or month, even (even though you know the answer). Because it feels so good. Vacuuming and cleaning and turning of the mattresses.. Airing out the duvets and pillows until they’re as cool as the frost on the ground.. Beating the sofa cushions to death outside.. Scrubbing of the shower tiles.. So many tiles. Cleaning of the cupboards -washing away every sugar grain, deleting every last piece of evidence with it that your husband ate porridge that one time..

You get the picture.

I also washed a lot of clothes, like four washes. It was piling up there, so I’m not parading this one around too much. I’ve now got sheets hanging off of every door in the apartment and can’t close a single door.

But there’s nothing quite like that feeling.. I’ve also been on my first run today btw, since the flu officially left this temple that is my body, and washed my hair for the first time in six days. Which must be some sort of personal record. Besides the times I’ve been physically unable to do so. Obviously been washing my body during these days of abstinence. But I’m all about being as natural and sparing and caring of my nordic skin as can be from whatever I can spare it from! But I’m not gross. I just know that our bodies are supposed to produce oils. For protection. So let’s not get frantic about washing too much and give it a chance. This does not apply to certain areas. One must always wash certain areas.

Circling back to my point: I feel Clean. Mrs. Clean here, in Clean Town. And there really is nothing like that feeling. Can’t wait for that feeling when I slip into my clean bed, bouncy mattress with my new fresh crisp washed and aired christmas-linen my parents gave me for Christmas. Spoiler, it’s red.

I even ironed them before I put them on. I’m equally ashamed and excited about that.

I even put on this towel-for-your-hair-thing my sister-in-law gave to me years ago. And it just dawned on me.. It’s fucking fabulous..! I mean?

It attaches in the front. There is a button. And a, like a hook? Yea, it’s this whole thing, construction thing, in the front. Fabulous.

I just got that sense of middle eastern wealth immediately as I noticed my new Missoni towel in the background that I’d just hung up to air-dry my body (natural, caring and sparing of the skin, remember?). I even embodied this whole new persona, like:

Hey Zayed, darling; why aren’t the camels ready?

Why didn’t I just marry a rich sheikh?

Ok, maybe I do know the answer to that. Being a bipolar feministic woman of the 21st century and all.. But still! A camel and a magic carpet feat. someone pouring me tea with a side of date would be nice.

Anyways. Earned some Netflix-time before I’m off on my magic Christmas carpet. Tomorrow I work.

Bye

Ok, I seriously noticed just now that I’m using these coasters.

Checking in at 2018

by  on  in The life • 16 Comments

It’s been so long! Since I’ve checked in! With myself and the ones around me actually, come to think of it.. My mind has been preoccupied with another person lately. And that’s fine. We all have times when we have to prioritize others than ourselves. I just get very irritable when I don’t know what it is that I’m feeling. And it’s usually something. Causing some sort of anger inside of me. I have a lot of anger.! And the only way to make it go away is to try to understand it. Only way. So it’s so important to check in once in a while. I rarely know what’s going on with myself until I sit down with you.

So, hi. Happy New Year.

New-years for me has always meant one thing. My birthday’s coming up. And I love getting older.

Since turning twentyfive I’ve loved celebrating my birthday. It’s a good excuse to get people I love and need in my life together and pop a lot of champagne. Last year I celebrated with family at a restaurant. This year I’m going out with my man for a night of our own. To catch up on how I’ve been lately. How he’s been. Me first obviously. Cause Christmas is always overwhelming. For all of us.

Me. Overwhelmed on Christmas Eve. Feeling particularly round after a sugary morning followed by a really enjoyable run between the trees.

Food will always be a challenge. I still kind of freeze and go back in time the days leading up to going home for Christmas. I get that feeling that I have to starve myself to get some wiggle room for all the meals ahead. But I am experiensing more and more that it’s no different than any other meals throughout the year. More meat than I’d normally eat, but I don’t have to eat anything I don’t want to. Apparently. I used to think the whole thing was a conspiracy. Where my family and the rest of the world made these rules about all this food I’d be forced to eat for Christmas. To make me fat. The ultimate test and challenge to see how strong I could be. Christmas dinners, Christmas puddings, Christmas cookies..

Oh, the anger. Towards the happiest time of year. What a waste of energy.

I do realize I don’t have to fear Christmas. I really do. No one’s forcing me to eat anything I don’t want to eat. Even though I do get paranoid when I turn down food I don’t want, and someone comments on it. That’s maybe the one thing that stresses me out the most. People commenting on the food all the time. Just leave people be. If they’re eating a lot or too little in your opinion – keep it to yourself. No one wants to hear that over the age of two. Even at two. I still do feel that I have to prove that I’m cool now, that I don’t ‘care’ what I eat. So I do eat more than I would like to sometimes. And it’s fine. One day I’ll be so convinced in my own recovery that I don’t have to fear what other people may think. One day I’ll be more recovered.

And then these days pass. And all is normally challenging again.

And you won’t have to deal with pots this size.

And food that look like this.

I ate more than this for the record. It’s my favorite meal of the entire year. It’s smoked lamb’s meat and it’s heaven.

Look at this ambiance though. Dad always makes the dinner and the three of us set the table. And we drink like one glass of wine. It’s weird, but our tradition has just never involved alcohol. Come Christmas Eve we’re all children again. Candy-eating giggling children waiting for the next Christmas movie. We play playstation too. We’re the best at Christmas.

LOOK AT THIS

Right after new-years eve I got the flu from the other one. So I got the wonderful excuse to go back home to mum and lie down on the couch being served yet another pot of the Christmas tea we got in our advent calendar sock (I realized this year that advent calendars wasn’t just a Norwegian thing.! Through the inevitable force of social media: Kim Kardashian’s Instagram).

Me today. Overwhelmed for standing up.

Guess I’ll just sit down with more honey. Fruit. And chocolate. And watch the real housewives of New York. To get that glimpse from the real world.

I’ll take your word for it.

by  on  in The life • 43 Comments

I put a long weekend, leaked into late Monday night, behind me. I’m so tired. Which is also good. One should get really tired before the Christmas holidays. That’s how you know it’s gonna be good.

I just can’t remember the last time I looked in the mirror and felt good about myself. Not that I think anybody really does these days. But it’s really left me tearing up more than I feel that I have the energy for lately. I’m so over it. So over my self and my endless need for physical satisfaction. Why does it matter so much to me? How I think other people see me?

So my social and panic anxiety’s really bad. It’s always bad when I don’t feel pretty. I know, stupid. But there it is.

Also me.

Wined up (yes, I did just write that) in these Christmas and Christmas-parties-times. Putting on makeup like I’m ready to do social confidence and act like I really care about what you’re saying to me.

Feeling great about myself.

Only thing I feel great about is the velvet I currently live in and the red pantyhose.

And I do care, for the record. What you have to say to me.

I’ve been staying at my sisters for a couple of nights as a result. At this point I’m crying after one glass of wine over the fact that they can even stand having me. Which is ridiculous. I know they love me, I just don’t see how sometimes.

Anyways, I’m dragging these red legs to bed now. After one episode of The Crown. Early rise and a trip to the capitol with the little one tomorrow. She said she was stoked I was coming.

I’ll take her word for it.

Wombing up!

by  on  in The fashion • 7 Comments

What a slow day. I’m physically moving at the pace of a slug. My body is so over this year and is sending me very clear signals of distress and ripeness for a Christmas holiday.

But whatever. I’ll just have to move at the pace it allows me to and take my time. And my mind at least wants to work. Which is more than a lot of people can say. I just wish I could get someone else to do the physical part.. Fucking hate sewing. Wouldn’t want to start my holiday now anyways though. Christmas needs to be earned. Not to be washed up straddling a surfboard straight from Bali.

I’m so excited about what I’m creating now, though. A whole little collection for my little one’s album release next year. Which makes me laugh and cry just thinking about what I’ve listened to so far.. So good. But it’s a very conceptual way of working. I get to deep dive into her world, which makes my job (this is the way I would do it for myself) so much easier. It’s more personal. I am making a baby. With my sister.

We’re creating a story, guys. And it’s monumental.

Peek at some of the fabric I’m currently working on. Key in this little collection is different forces of nature. Always nature.

Lot of burning leaves. Melting fabric. Fabric which is basically plastic. It’s shit. And there’s nothing beautiful or natural about it. It actually makes me feel cheap and bad for the environment just holding it. Then again, planet’s got bigger fish to fry and if our orange friend to our west doesn’t start believing in climate change soon af and start making some major changes it all doesn’t really matter. Plus I made vegan burgers yesterday to last me three days, so I reckon I’m doing my part.

Airing out like crazy. The smell of this flowerbed is definitely not helping my sluggishness and is probably contributing to this headache I’ve had since touching Norwegian ground again.

But it looks great.

Friday tomorrow! Yay!

Socks within a sock

by  on  in The life • 13 Comments

Landed two days ago from a ten day trip (turned sixteen) to Bali. I actually think this has been our best family holiday yet. My sisters and I are closer in both age and emotionally than ever. My husband and I.. well we’re officially family now. So, you know, he’s there. Can’t include people too fast into your inner family circle. Mom gets too attached and you’re stuck with awkward holiday photos with him at the end for ever. The other one obviously has been in our inner circle for many many years now, but the holiday-thing’s never really happened before now.. He was probably working. So this was really special.

We’re not the type of family though to ever hand over our camera to strangers on holiday to take pictures of all of us lined up in front of whatever building none of us heard of before arriving in whatever country it inhabits. Forced smiles.. Very few of us are good smilers in these situations, usually encouraged by only one of it’s participants. Usually a parent. Most of us look constipated lined up like that. Face straight forward, maybe leaning a bit on one leg kinda posing in the hopes that it’ll make our legs look leaner and make the whole thing less forced and more natural. Which it won’t. Head tilted a little bit and a smile that peaked ten seconds ago. A look that says Hurry the fuck up.. Dad’s usually come best out of photos like these. They’re just so happy you’re all there and willing to make proof of it.

Holidays.. I’m so happy to be home.

I just started crying over the fact that it’s December and Christmas is soon and that makes me so very happy. Just now. Am now crying. It’s the time of year that I’m the happiest, saddest, most emotional yet most motivated to be the kindest and warmest I can possibly be. Isn’t that beautiful? It’s such a good time to be alive and I love my husband so much. I’m so in love with him and I love my family so much, his family.. I never feel lucky nor do I believe in it, but today I feel lucky and thank the universe that I’m in my life.

Even though I shopped for 3000 NOK this holiday, that’s like 5 000 000 Indonesian rupiahs, (and I never shop on holiday), I bought myself a Christmas sweater yesterday and I plan on watching Bridget Jones today wearing it drinking hot chocolate.

I also bought an additional pair of Christmas socks even though I owned two while I was at it. I put it in my sock hanging beside the furnace and surprised myself with them this morning. Do you have that? Advent calendar? You open one each day, every other day or once a week or whatever until Christmas Day. Be that a piece of chocolate or a thing. We used to get things like socks. A scrunchy. Pantyhose. 10 NOK for a chocolate milk at school.. I accidentally googled ‘pantyhoes’ just now to confirm my spelling and highly recommend you don’t.

Jesus, Internet. Why?

I even got a pair of socks for the other one. Put it in his furnace-sock. Which I made for him.

Needless to say, he was ecstatic.

He also got a Christmas sweater obviously. It wasn’t unisex.

Good morning btw! This is us at 07.00. We get up really early these days. He swears it’s due to jetlag. I believe it’s because my body and mind are preparing for all the magical Christmas mornings ahead. Mornings are the best in winter. Candles, dark outside, coffee and something christmassy on tv. Totally worth getting up earlier for.

I also got myself a christmassy toothbrush. You see? It has a pattern like one of those Christmas candy-sticks.

Here’s his sock. The small one. I take it all very seriously and have the bigger one.

Have a great 6th of December. I’m gonna post every day until Christmas. To bring Christmas-joy to you. Because the thought of someone not feeling the Christmas spirit is unbearable and I can’t take it with all of these emotions floating around.

Air it out

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 12 Comments

I painted one of the living room walls. I like it. White can be so depressing.

The other one helped. But I’m a better painter than him. I make it even, take my time. So I painted the second and third coat by myself. I love tasks like that. Just-do-tasks, no need to think. I’ve been doing a lot of escaping thoughts lately. I’ve been feeling as dark as my new wall on my inside and have no intention of indulging it. Can I say that? Indulging? Indulging in it? To indulge in something?

Anyways. Been running a lot, alone and with the other one. Which feels great. Except the expected minor closing of the throat episodes that forces me to slow down. I don’t think it comes from panic or being out of breath. It’s sadness. It’s suppressed tears. And they make me so very tired. How exhausting life can be. How exhausting to keep going sometimes. Keep running. Keep getting out of bed. Putting on your face. Caring about all sorts of stuff. Seems like all I’m enjoying these days is writing. My book. I’m writing every episode of my life that comes to me down. To be filled out later. I don’t really have any ambition or hope for it. I’ve just wanted to write it since I was eighteen and committed to a psychiatric hospital. I remember very well just when I decided that I would write it all down one day. The book may just turn out as a pity-party and totally uninteresting to read. Which is fine. I am, at my core though, a positive person with a positive outlook on the future. Even now, today. Because I know it’ll pass. Everything passes, life responds to you and change itself for you all the time.

Maybe this is true or maybe I just have to air out my living room. The chemicals from the paint may have gotten to my head and I’m all blur now.

I think I’ll go to my sister now. After this selfie in this very special lighting that I’m so very blessed with that enhances all of my little facial lumps and bumps <3

I can always go to my sisters, and I’m so happy that is the case. I feel so sad for the ones as dark inside as my freshly painted with chemicals wall without anywhere safe to go. I have three tips for you.

1. Don’t fear it. Cry, be in pain -it’s not gonna hurt you more than what you’re feeling right now. 2. Write it down. Or say it out loud, take your dark feeling and break it down, let it out into the room, confront it, embrace it. Bad feelings diminish when taken apart, they hate daylight. 3. Air it out. Open the window, get some air. Better yet, go outside. The leaves are beautiful this time of year.

I’m off now. There’s a glass of wine somewhere with my name on it.

After this one.

Soundtrack of the day: Moby – Natural Blues. LOUD.

Sanctitude and white on nude

by  on  in The fashion, The life • 11 Comments

If you’re anything like me, waking up Sunday morning without a hangover will most likely be the closest to sanctitude you’ll ever feel.

Even went for half-marathon long run with the other one yesterday and spent the rest of the evening drinking tea watching I Don’t Feel at Home in This world Anymore. Which, I felt, was partially true since I felt everybody was out socializing while time stood still at our house. Me and the other one stretched out on different sofas, eating Chinese take-away.. Like how you can feel totally alone in this world (in the best possible way) if you wake up really early while it’s still dark and have the opportunity to sit quietly for a while before taking on the day.

Magical.

I did, however, drink wine on Wednesday

…

Which might have something to do with it. I mean, if I don’t drink wine in over a week, that’s just.. it’s too much. My skin looks a bit better, my anxiety and physical shape improves, I make better life choices.. I just don’t see the point.

We were in Trondheim up north this week with the little one’s crew to help out and watch her perform in probably the most beautiful cathedrals in Norway, Nidarosdomen. It was the most stunning performance she ever gave in my opinion. Might have been the cathedral. Or the lighting. Might have been the fact that she was wearing a dress I worked really hard on. Or that I haven’t seen her in a while. Or the fact that I’ve gotten a whole new outlook on her after her tour in Brazil. I have such tremendous respect for that little one. So few could do what she does without breaking. And she really does make me wanna be a better person.

I was really beaten though. So I wore what I wear whenever I need a confidence boost. Something androgynous and relaxed -yet provocative. Going bra-less in a see-through oversized shirt. Perfect combo for being untouchable. For me. I’m not saying you’ll feel confident showing some nipple. You probably won’t, really.

But I do.

Put this bad boy on top and you’re a diva.

With balls.

It’s fake. Relax.

The fur.

And the confidence.

Inconvenient visits

by  on  in The life • 13 Comments

I mentioned last week I was going to Oslo for a day to work. I felt so honored when I was asked by, seriously one of the coolest women I know, Christine Dancke, to contribute to a project she’s doing on anxiety. She contacted me a couple of weeks ago after reading a specific blog post of mine. How small this country is. How special she made me feel. My voice?

She sent me some photos. How it pains me, seeing photos of myself when I’m stressed.

It stresses me.

And makes me a little sad. I worked on it for the rest of the weekend. Not that I necessarily feel like I’ve pushed myself too far or given too much, that it’s too raw.. I just always have to clean up when Memory and Sorrow have visited. Not that it ever surprises me, tears. I just always seem the forget how painful they can be. When you’re crying with your entire body and feel like you can’t breathe. And you can’t really be crying right now and need to reschedule this whole thing. Come back later, you know I’ll take care of you later. But this is the worst time. Because there’s people waiting for me. And I have to put my face on. And you’re pushing tears from my insides because that’s the only visible language that you have. I feel you, you know.

Brings me back to my wedding every time these visits. Which doesn’t really help the situation.

The weekend really was great, though. So many good people that I love. But I feel like I’ve been really busy exhausting myself lately socializing and traveling. Traveling is fucking hard when you’re drained.

I feel for the little one.

Being at home working doesn’t really make me tired. I’ve started running again.. which feels really good. You know the feeling of just wanting to take care of yourself? I can see on my face  and feel in my bones that I’m tired and need some recuperating. Which I’ll do. Cancelled all my social upcoming events and am being my best friend at the moment.
The little one’s home any day now. How I’ve missed her. The first one too, actually. Think I’ll go see them one of these days. Yes. I’ll go see them one of these days.

Turning my head to the good side !

by  on  in Beauty, The life • 5 Comments

Good morning!

I’m off to Oslo in half an hour, needs to put my face on still, but have huge announcements to make.

I changed the side I part my hair.

You like?

Huge commitment.

Got so excited I made a little dance.

I felt nice.

As a (side) bonus my smiling side is now on my better side of my top. My face. Because who smiles from the same side you have the most hair, which falls into your eyes? No. I prefer smiling from my right side. But have been forced to do the terrible thing for a year now; smiling from my worst side. Or less great side, maybe. My left side.

I have great teeth on my right side.

This side.

I’ve always wanted to fix the left one. But my closest people have always told me not to. Says it’s part of my charm. I feel it’s childish and something that tells you not to take me seriously. And that’s my biggest defense mechanism. Not that I’m mastering it very well. I’ll fix it though when I have a serious job and make money to do so!

Look at it.

This was last night though. When I blow dried it. Blew dried? Doesn’t sit with me. Anywsay, I had a really good hair-day last night. Typical, right? Feeling good when there’s nobody there to witness?

Then I slept. On one side. Not so nice this morning to say the least.

But it’s fine. It’l settle. Like the rest of our tops it needs some time settling.

Exciting day ahead, and then we’re going to the other one’s family the rest of the weekend. Up north. Or mid-country. Ish. Anyways, they’re some of the coolest people I know, and I love having out with them. So freakin’ lucky. And they like talking and wineing (I made a word just now) as much as I do.

Cheers! Love to you! And have a good weekend!

Covering up

by  on  in Beauty, The life, The skin • 12 Comments

Aaaah my skin is driving me so crazy! And it’s SUCH a small thing, I’m aware. Such a small thing. A tiny problem in one life out of ALL of the problems in ALL the lives living on this rotating ball we call “our” home. Haha actually watched a documentary-thing yesterday whilst ironing about storing our knowledge and history in some type of new technology. For humans. After we’re all dead. So.. humans further down the line.

Like evolution would be so fucking stupid.

And it’s all in 1’s and 0’s. Obviously. Because if we start all over again we’d probably fuck up as badly as this batch did and end up in 1’s and 0’s.

I think that IF.. and that’s a big if..; the hooman, the species Homo Sapiens, finds their way back to earth they’d do far better than we did. Hopefully we were the first pancake. And we got eaten immediately. Not saved and protected to enjoy later. Just fucked up, broken and eaten.

Anyways, bigger stuff: my skin. I’ve been doing the full routine recommended by my dermatologist for rosacea from ZO skin health for nine months. And six months is what it takes apparently for you to be able to really see if something’s really working. Which I… yeah. I’ll go with it. Whether or not my skin is better underneath the surface, I can’t say. Anti-aging-wise etc. I don’t fucking care now, do I? I’m not scared of wrinkles or sun-spots or whatever -that’s my life showing in my face. That’s fucking beautiful. I’m young with baby skin now and I want to go out without constantly being scared of people hugging me and in doing so accidentally wipe some of my foundation off revealing Rudolf underneath.

And what bothers me the most: people fucking going around parading great success for EVERYONE ! THIS IS THE SOLUTION FOR EVERYONE !

That’s just great.

How great for you! That your problems were fixed. I feel for you the same way I feel for people who start doing mindfulness and gets cured for whatever alleged mental health illness they popped into for a quick hello. And then make statements about everyone being able to beat whatever illness they’re battling with.

Fuck you. I feel nothing for you.

Parading about like the cat that got the cream about your success, swearing by lifestyle changes, products or medicines right and left. You’re making the rest of us feel inadequate. Unfixable.

There’s also the possibility that my skin’s just naturally gotten worse and would get to this state regardless. There is also a chance that’s the case. But why should I then spend thousands for skin products?

Also. The people thinking you’re still in third grade and fishing for compliments for your obviously superior drawing by flaunting it around being all “ooh, my drawing is so ugly…..” to the person holding this bad boy.

After a certain age you get real problems and stop fucking around with the term. And, please, you people – meet Internet. It’s all over the place. You can do anything with makeup. We won’t need witness protection programs anymore. Just Kardashian kits.

So! As a conclusion..: even though skin issues or mental health issues (sometimes they’re connected) aren’t visible at first glance doesn’t mean they’re not there.

Weekend’s around the corner and I’m doing a very exciting project tomorrow.  Which I’ll be very proud to tell you about later. Love to you!

#metoo

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 5 Comments

Internet always goes off the wall when celebrities give speeches or stand up together to bring awareness to an issue. Either it’s feminism, racism, terrorism, sexuality or sexism. Which is SO important obviously. Only weird thing is, for me, and what makes me personally never join the circus is that there’s always a crazy storm –everyone’s talking about it, but then it seldom really changes anything..? At least I feel that way. Not that they should ever ever stop obviously, don’t get me wrong. In a dream-world we would always have these topics at the top of our heads. But that’s impossible and would definitely keep us from living our lives happily. So it’s important to make noise when something so relatable and big happens. But those media-storms always makes me fear that people stop taking it seriously. Because people get sick of hearing it. Sick of Instagram flooded with hashtags, je suie Charlie’s and #Pray for’s.

I know I do.

I also know, I’m quite the cynic. So feel free to not pay attention to anything I’m saying. But! Point is: this hashtag actually made me hashtag myself.

Because this has affected my life in a huge manner. Even my hashtag on Instagram left almost only comments on my looks and not how sad it is that #metoo. And it’s so sweet of you to compliment me, I love a good compliment, but.. Read my point please 🙂 This movement, if you will, is about exposing the scale of sexual assault and harassment and started with some women speaking up about being assaulted by the pig of a man and movie produser Harvey Weinstein. Classic story of abuse from a person that has a lot of power and ranks high on the social status “score-list” (or whatever I should call it). This is an especially shocking story because so many people were affected by it, is was so well known but never spoken about.

Again, classic story.

Even this guy’s a victim of sexual harassment in the work place. He’s even gotten so used to it he doesn’t even take himself seriously anymore! How can he expect anyone else to?

It’s a vicious circle I tell ya.

So much of my social anxiety was created by men and how they approach me. I’ve always been made very aware of how they view me physically and it has left me overly conscious and very hard on myself regarding how I look. The anticipation, the excruciating embarrassing wait as I notice him judging my appearance before some disgusting comment or touch that I feel I’m obligated to laugh off as something I secretly am flattered about and want to hear. I often start blushing from discomfort before it’s even made. Aaaand, fyi, I’m saving your ass from an awkward situation by not creating a scene, as everyone else clearly sees that this is inappropriate for this setting. Which makes the whole situation so much worse.

I’ve gotten so used to feeling without power or influence in these situations. And I’m so angry that it’s become a part of my identity. How I measure myself. It makes me wonder.. if I look like shit one day, will you point that out loud as well? Can you respect me in a tight dress? Are you even fucking listening? If I set boundaries and get mad at you will you still want me as a friend, am I no longer “cool”? Will I still be a part of the team? This workplace?

I know it might seem I’m only insecure or paranoid. But I’ve been proven right so many times. I’ve now started pitying these men. What they’re missing out on; Innovative, FUNNY, resourceful and kind women. Because I promise you, we hate you and wouldn’t want to spend one minute more with you than we have to. Let alone waste our treasures with you.

I don’t always do things because it makes me look desirable you know. And you’ve made me seek that.

So, I jump on this particular hashtag-wagon to say that I understand the magnitude of this and stand by all (mostly women) who’s been shaped and affected in a negative way by how they’ve been treated by the opposite sex in the wrong place at the wrong time (in the appropriate setting everyone appreciates a compliment). Be that if you’ve been sexually approached at work, catcalled, made uncomfortable, lost self-respect and dignity, felt degraded, forced sexually or just plainly felt that your main attribute was your looks.

Here’s a photo to make me look less of a victim, and to say that I look down on you and I will eventually end up more powerful than you.

FARIKAL -Thank you.

by  on  in The fashion • 6 Comments

We started out three women with a vision. A task. And a question. A vision of forwarding healthy values we had back in the days regarding respecting and valuing the clothes we wear and produce. A task of learning and presenting Norwegian craftsmanships by incorporating them into contemporary fashion. A question; is it possible? Is it possible to use local materials only and produce in Norway alone? How close to the ‘old ways’ can we get?

The journey has been amazing. We were able to get enough capital to start our business and buy materials for the show-piece collection, thanks to a scholarship. We had our show here in Bergen, our hometown, a huge success (if I may say so myself). It was packed, hot and sweaty and the drinks gone before the last girl walked off the runway. It’s amazing the resources you’ll find in people.

Picture by Stian Servoss

We visited ladies in all corners of the country, factories, created relationships and partnerships and got as close as can be before starting production of a small quantity of garments inspired and commercialized by the showpiece collection. As sad as it is, we realized it couldn’t be done. Not for us at least. Looking at the costs, timeline, efficiency, quality, quantity amongst other things -it was never gonna happen the way we wanted it to. The conclusion had to be that the answer to our question was No.

We knew it was likely. And the natural way to go from here would be to just produce in a foreign country.. Which we honestly thought about. But FARIKAL was never about that. It was never about just creating fashion inspired by Norwegian heritage. It was a project to see what would happen if we tried doing it as close to the old ways as possible, yet modify it to make it possible to produce. Reinvent it. And we just weren’t able to commercialize it enough and at the same time get the quality we wanted for the prize we needed.

But we’ve learned SO much.

I’m so grateful for this experience. And we don’t think of this is as a failure at all. The meaning, scope and relevance of things can change along the way, and that’s ok. And I love that the three of us ventured out fearlessly on this journey together. Besides all the things I’ve learned (I think this goes for the other two as well) FARIKAL has taught me to believe more in myself. And I know now more than ever where I want to go and what I want to do. It is time for me to do my own thing, and them theirs.

So Thank you. To everyone who made this possible. We could never have done it without all of you and we’ll take you with us into our next chapter.

What’s in a name? Or a word?

by  on  in Philosophy, The life • 12 Comments

Celebrated my friend’s birthday on Monday. I wore my birth name’s design. Victoria.

(obviously never forget that I was born Victoria A. She Victoria B.)

Did you know that? I don’t see why you would, but I was Victoria until kindergarten. For about two or three years of my life I was officially a c.

A cunt.

Let’s just let that linger a bit.

Oh my god, I’m laughing so hard of myself. At myself. With myself. And all of the above. Because that’s just ridiculous. I still am one.

Ok, I’m done now I swear. On my Victoria Beckham suit.

Anyways, my parents apparently changed it at the age of two or three to Viktoria..! Because everyone just assumed that this Norwegian brown eyed girl was called the Norwegian equivalent to the English name, Victoria. They just saw life as much easier if they’d just change it..! That easy, haha, they changed it. I mean, what a hassle am I right? Explaining to everyone that you’re a c…

Little did they know I wouldn’t have much explainin’ to do as I got older. People would know straight away I was a c.

Seriously, no more cunt-jokes. And don’t you dare get surprised by me using it. It’s been made an ugly word for a non-ugly thing. Maybe one of the few things everyone need in life. I mean, where would any of us be without them? We wouldn’t..! Sure, the world, I mean the planet and all the animals, plants and fishiies sharing it’s surface would’ve been better off without them.

But, still. We’d be fucked. At the same time as we couldn’t. Not without life. And c’s.

We shouldn’t go make it ugly by being offended by using it. It’s a beautiful thing. Let’s take it back and make it beautiful.

For us.

Just us.

Here’s a grapefruit.

And I do love my new name.

I don’t want to leave you, you know?

by  on  in Philosophy • 13 Comments

I don’t fear sadness. Felt a lot of that lately. Sadness for what my social anxiety does to my life. I hate saying those words, let alone write them.

Social anxiety..

We all have it! To some degree. We all care.. Are aware of ourselves in the company of others.

I’ve just been very owned by mine lately. Couple of episodes and I’m suddenly caught in a downward spiral without an emergency exit in sight. So I end up doing what I always do. I make one. And that’s a lonely lonely way out. And it makes me very sad. It makes me sad that I can’t be for you what I so wish to be. I want to smile to you, give you some of my warmth. I want to think good thoughts about you. About us. As I behind all my ugly ones know you have for me. I’m sorry my mind is telling me you think I’m disgusting. My friend. I want to be interested in your life. I want to remember what you said and ask you new questions. I want to want to be around you. Not to hate you. You see, I do. Temporarily. Not afterwards. Not when I’ve made my great escape and done exactly what I didn’t want to do.

To leave you.

Now I’m only sad and alone. No victory or relief. Just sad for leaving you. Leaving you with one question hanging in the air. Did you do something wrong?

You didn’t.

All I want is to go back to you. But the brief moment following me leaving you released so much emotions that there is no way back to something resembling a situation where we are both humans with dignity, equals. And I can’t have that. The bubble burst and it feels like I just climaxed on built up fear and tension. Bit of hate. Quickly followed by sadness and tears. It won and I let it drag me away from a situation I know I would’ve survived if I endured it long enough. I’ve won that battle before. And even though painful, so much more painful giving in. Now just more in my heart because I’ve also let it affect you. My friend. Now a little tainted.

So I avoid you. And it really is the last thing I want.

Besides this, this week of defeat, I did have some friends over Friday to celebrate Tom Petty. It was so nice.

That’s the secret to being social when broken by anxiety; your turf, your rules. Plus plenty of time –days if you have- before and after.

And a little bit of wine.

I feel it in my bones that fall is here, winter around the corner. Dark after three, no one can see, woll socks and fuzzy legs. I’m so ready for this.