Looking Back at 2012

2012 has been an ...interesting... year.
To be fair, it's felt like shit most of the time. Still. Good and bad I suppose, at the very least it's been eventful!

I have survived the last few months of uni, finished my dissertation, put my work together for the final exhibition, and graduated with a 2:1 degree. 

I have lost, and found, my inspiration to paint.

I left my flat, and found myself not feeling 'home' anywhere for several months. Settled in eventually though, and now I'm happily living with my boyfriend, his family, and a cat!

I've been between homes and between identities. No longer student, not yet employed.

I nearly got a job, but it slipped away. I still don't know what went wrong. No luck finding anything else so far.

I've been travelling between Norway and England a lot more than usual.

I have knitted a jumper.

I have suddenly got a massive makeup collection. Yeah, don't know how that happened.

I have watched I, Claudius and now know the first 5 Roman emperors in chronological order because of it. 

I have started to update my blog more than once a year (!)

I also got Twitter and Instagram.

I've learned basic Dreamweaver skills, and working on an artist's website. How exciting!

I have gone blonder, and blonder, and then short.

I have visited a nightclub! 

I've been on the back of a motorbike, and loved it.

I have been going for long walks in the countryside, and forgotten to bring my camera.

I have bent a spoon with my miiiiiind (a.k.a. ice cream)

I have been drinking a lot of wine. 

I have discovered drunkenness IS the road to happiness. Next year, I should probably get some help...

Happy New Year, everyone!
May 2013 be better than 2012 for everyone, whether this year has been kind or cruel to you. I know I'm hoping for a less rocky year, time to finally find my identity, sort my life out and learn how to be happy. I'm also looking forward to a year of more photography.

Just A Thought

My future and work situations have been a bit of a headache for me the last couple of months. I have been applying for many jobs I don't really want, but would rather do than playing at being a housewife with a small part time position on the side. I have considered teaching, but there is a problem; I don't particularly like groups of children. I don't mind kids, some of them are awesome, I just don't like them in packs. I'm not excited about studying to be a teacher. It seemed like a good step forward with a fine art degree, but it's a lot of work for something I'm not particularly excited about doing. It's the same argument I use whenever I pass a Vacancy sign at a hairdressers; yeah I'd get work, but it's a lot of time and money spent on education to do something I'm not suited for.

I have, however, been playing with the idea of getting some further education. Something practical this time. As in, something leading to job opportunities. Yeah I want to study history, psychology, more philosophy... all the fun stuff. But that would make me a mediocre academic, not a worker.

But what about cookery? Or catering? Or something leading towards that? I had a work trial in a kitchen a few months ago, and loved it. A bit depressing that pretty much all the food was pre-packaged and/or frozen, but hey. That's modern food industry I suppose. Maybe I could even do some business/leadership classes after that, and eventually end up with my own business some day?

Not saying I will definitely do this, but I am playing with the idea. Wondering if it's something I could get excited about.

My English Xmas

Well christmas is a time to spend with family, and this year, I've spent it with my boyfriend's. It has been a lovely time, starting Christmas Eve with christmas telly, alcohol and wrapping presents. I also spent the afternoon making gingerbread, 2nd year in a row, while listening to a mix of English and Norwegian holiday tunes (with a big thank you, thank you, thank you to my dad and sister who got me Putti Plutti Pott last year, because that is a tradition I truly missed living abroad- it's not on spotify and keeps getting taken off youtube).

Then Christmas Day, we woke up before the sun (probably around 10) to open presents. Everyone gathered in the living room, still sleepy, and opened the gifts one by one. Even I got quite a lot, wich was a bit of a surprise, being a newcomer in the household and not technically a family member. This included a lovely pink furry lounge set from the grandparents and a Pandora bracelet from the family. I also had the most amazingly deceptive present from my mum - a notebook and some nescafe coffee, or so I thought. When we were finished with the opening and started tidying and putting away, I thought 'I'd like one of those,' and opened the box. Then I laughed. She really got me this year.

See, my mum has this funny habit of packing presents in misleading boxes. You can usually tell, because of some tape, a bulge, unnatural weight, strange sounds, &c. Not so this time. I swear she even got the weight right. What I found in the box was a lovely necklace, a mini marc jacobs daisy perfume and some mini travel containers for cream, toothpaste or similar size restricted 'liquid' substances.

Then it was off to my boyfriend's grandparents for dinner. The turkey was delicious, and the company amazing. We had crackers with lots of strange stuff in it (like a yoyo, that the boys fought about) and high quality jokes (Q: Who is never hungry at Christmas? A: The turkey - he is always stuffed) and also some very festive flashing earrings. Everyone with pierced ears (including boyfriend's dad) wore them, the boys put them on their jumpers like little nipple ornaments. Class.

Today, Boxing Day, we had some more family over. Once again a very relaxed party, spent playing iPad Monopoly and Just Dance 3. That is such an awesome way of making yourself look like an absolute idiot, which is what I expect everyone to think of me anyway, so I didn't care. Honestly, I've always hated joining in and doing things I haven't done before/am rubbish at, and I've got 2 left feet and no coordination, but I've been trying to get out of my comfort zone a bit more than I normally would lately. That is to say, do stuff I'm not comfortable with BEFORE I'm so drunk I don't know what I'm doing. 

More xmas telly and attacking the nibbles tonight, and that's christmas pretty much over for this year. I'm guessing I'll come back to my own family for a proper Norwegian christmas celebration next year, but until then, there's some time for new year's resolutions, getting a life, and generally staying alive. Not to mention I'm going for the 360 Photo Challenge in 2013, so lots to do, lots to learn.

Merry Xmas and Happy New Year everybody!

xX

To my 13-year-old Self

If I could tell my 13-year-old self one thing, it would be to think about what she writes. Even if she's upset and angry and writing in what she thinks is a private diary. Because the written word survives, and it might end up hurting someone. Diaries are mislaid and turn up years later.

It is a bizarre experience to be confronted with something you wrote in a rage 10 years ago. Mainly because you really want to give the person who wrote it a slap. Thing is, people change. Feelings change. My 13-year-old self isn't me, not really. She lived, thought and experienced things very differently from me. Her priorities were different. Her life was different. She loved and hated very different things. She was short tempered, mean and stupid. And she could turn ink into poison.

From what I remember of the time, writing was a way of blowing off steam. I couldn't talk to my parents, wasn't allowed to shout, and NOBODY UNDERSTOOD ME. No teenager ever had the same experiences I did. Or something.

Writing to blow off steam?

Here's how to do it right.

Put all your feelings to the paper. Don't hold back. Get everything.
Once it's done, set it on fire. Watch all the negative energy burn away and disappear. You don't need it. Negative thoughts are not worth keeping. Who knows, you might even feel better.

Things are Things

Yesterday, I had a pretty bad day.
Determined to get to the bottom of the wardrobe, where quite a few things were just 'temporarily' placed when I moved in because I don't really have a better place for them, I discovered that things were not only cold in there, but wet too. On further investigation, quite a few of my things turned out to be attacked and probably ruined by mould.

That's a few of my coats, some accessories, fit flops and all but two of my handbags. The handbags were the hardest blow, because they were really very nice, not ridiculously inexpensive in their time, and one of the bags was practically unused and also last years christmas present from my mum. Needless to say, I was gutted.

Though it also forced me to think about the meaning of these material things I've been collecting. It's not as if it's stuff I use every day. OK so some of it s stuff I've used quite a lot and been meaning to dig out from the bottom of the wardrobe, and my fit flops... let's just say I've practically lived in them during the summer months of the past few years, because they're like flip flops but super comfortable.

But they can be replaced. Most of the stuff can be replaced. Maybe not the silk scarf my nan painted for me a few years ago, that was a bit of a loss. But the other stuff... none of it was that unique. Sure I'm sad, and of course I think about what this stuff cost when I bought it and how nice it used to be. But it's not the end of the world. At least not until tomorrow.

Things are just things. Some are more precious than others, but very few are essential.

I used to love this bag.

And this one. Great size for uni, space for everything.

Nooooo not the fitflops :'(

YouTube moment of the day: Cat Falls Into Bathtub

I don't smile every day, but sometimes, something just comes along to make me laugh hysterically.

It's usually got something to do with cats.

Thought I'd just share this video of a cat and a bathtub, because it's cute. Enjoy.

The Breakfast Problem

I'm not a breakfast person. This might possibly be an extension of not being a morning person. When I've dragged myself out of bed, still half asleep and wandering around like a zombie, I simply don't feel ready for food. I'm not hungry, nor am I tempted to eat.

Still, primary school propaganda says breakfast is the most important meal of the day (though this may or may not also be a scientific fact), so an effort should be made to eat something.

Years of research (also known as Life) has resulted in this small list of breakfast options, containing predictable variations of the breakfast classics everyone knows and loathes (or maybe that's just me?).


Breakfast Smoothie
Admittedly, making a smoothie in the morning does take some time. Peel and dice fruit, add yoghurt and/or juice, blend, and clean blender. It can, however, be made ahead. My mother makes smoothie in bulk, and stores it in the fridge in convenient, portion-sized containers. All you have to do is take it out of the fridge and drink. I think it's a great way to start the day, all the fruity goodness is refreshing and can give you a much needed kick in the morning, and do i need to mention it's full of vitamins AND one of your five a day?
There are ready made frozen smoothie fruit mixes available on the market, which makes things easy. The good thing with smoothies is, of course, that you can add anything you like. I did a dead simple strawberry, avocado and strawberry yoghurt smoothie once, which sounds weird but tasted really nice.

Porridge
I know many people swear to oatmeal porridge in the morning. Horses among them.
I have a periodical love/hate relationship with it, sometimes it's really nice, other times I can't bear to think of it. Porridge is nice with a bit loads of sugar, though an interesting variation is using syrup instead, and when I was a kid I usually had it with loads of raspberry jam (enough to make it a lovely dark fuchsia colour). For healthier varieties I've seen suggestions to add fresh fruits and berries.

Cereals
The breakfast classic, and usually the last thing I want in the morning. I know cereals come in every flavour and variety, but more often than not, it's not very tempting anyway and I'd rather skip breakfast altogether. I think it's the idea of things soaking in milk that doesn't particularly appeal to me. Milk is one of the things I find sickening in the morning (no I'm not pregnant, I've been like this since I was about 8). A more appealing way is eating a bit of muesli with yoghurt and fruit. I like strawberry yoghurt and banana slices.

Bread, Toast and Sandwiches
I'm not a fan. Bread generally feels dry and tends to give me that 'grow in the mouth' feeling, making the classic Slice of Bread with Cheese and a Glass of Milk a definite no-go. Though there are some bread varieties and sandwich fillings I can't resist (as long as it's not too early in the morning). The classic bacon sandwich, for example. Or, to make it more interesting, a BLT. Bacon is also absolutely amazing with brussels pâté. As is watercress.

Pancakes, Crumpets, Waffles and other Sweets
Most of all remind me of a petit déjeuner - breakfast the French way. Something sweet with no more nutritional value than a cardboard box. Tempting, but you're probably better off not eating at all... But if you've got the time, you could make French toast using brown bread. I like bread with bits of grains and seeds. French toast recipes usually demand white bread, but this demand can be ignored. Personally I prefer the texture of brown bread anyway, because you still got some bits to chew on after it's been soaked in the egg mixture. French toast is great with any variety of jams, my favourites are strawberry and apricot.

Eggs
Not for me in the morning. Eggs make me feel a bit sick if I have them too early. Same with milk and cheese. Some people like them though, and personally, I think they're good for brunch or a very late breakfast. Egg and bacon is the classic I guess, though my boyfriend is partial to eggs and soldiers (soft boiled eggs with fingers of buttered toast to dip). In my family, the centrepiece of a late weekend breakfast is always a nice serving of scrambled eggs with chives, served with cured ham (typically the Norwegian Westfaler) or Danish salami. It also works brilliantly with smoked salmon. Another strange thing I quite enjoy is hard boiled eggs on bread with Norwegian Kaviar.

Full English Breakfast
I'll include the full English as a weekend/hotel option, because I could never have this regularly! Too much... Though it is nice for an occasional treat.
Eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, a tomato, baked beans, hash browns, toast and, if you're not me, black pudding (to make it a full Scottish, add haggis).

Do I have to say 'serve with tea'? My favourite that is available abroad is Twining's English Breakfast. There are differences between the major tea brands, I find Twining's is the best for regular black tea blends, such as the english breakfast, earl grey &c, while Lipton is far superior when it comes to fruit teas.

Home made cards Rock

Just found this card I made for my oldest cousin's confirmation. Thought it was quite cute, so I decided to share it before I delete the images.

I quite enjoy making cards. It's a nice personal touch for a special occasion.

Generation Instagram

I think I read an article somewhere about 'why instagram is killing photography'. The main point of it was that boring, pointless and dull photographs are made interesting by applying a filter, therefore this generation of aspiring photographers never learn how to take an interesting photo. After downloading instagram and running most of my existing iphone photos through it, I kinda see the point. But honestly, I don't think instagramming will ever actually replace learning photography, with a proper camera, without fancy effects and filters to make it look 'cool'. It has more of a social networking feel to it; upload photos of everything and anything. Se what your friends upload. Get 'likes'. Is it such a bad thing that there are tools available to let everyone feel they can create something beautiful, even without the talent? Surely, this has no effect whatsoever on professional photographers?

Outside the teenage no criticism <3 bubble, I think there are clear lines between popular instagramming and 'serious' photography. One is a bit of fun and available to everyone, the other is extremely difficult to achieve. Believe me, I'm still nowhere near becoming a 'serious' photographer. And even if instagram can make any old rubbish look presentable, practice makes perfect, and practicing framing and taking pictures will probably improve the eye for composition, which again is a step towards getting better at 'real' photography, art or layout.

All in all, yes, you do see a lot of rubbish about. But the feeling I get from the criticism of the phenomenon does resemble the common art snobbery that seems to make anything that is accessible to everyone bad art, or at least less valuable than that which is only accessible to the select few. If anyone can understand and appreciate it, it's bad. If just anyone can present a good looking picture, photography skills become less valuable.

Fun, fun, fun

Playing with instagram effects. Christmas display at Norway Designs.

The bar/bistro where we had dinner yesterday

Gathering at Wayne's Coffee

Norwegian Winters and Me

View from the living room.
And SHUT UP about sunset photographs.

It's another cold Norwegian December afternoon. The temperature where I am is about -13. My first thought when I woke up today was to get a fire going.

For a Norwegian, I'm not very well adjusted to the cold.

I prefer to stay in front of the fireplace, with a hot drink and a nice, big blanket to a day of winter fun, fun, fun!

Or better still, hibernation.

Of course I can't deny white rooftops and fire creates a cozy atmosphere, now we're just missing a christmas tree and some fairy lights...

 

THIS makes winter manageable.

Meatballs: The Perfect Sunday Dinner

Well then, advent. And candles.

Also the day I decided to make dinner. See, living in England, I occasionally miss Norwegian food. It's just one of those things. Meatballs for example. My dad's home made meatballs to be precise, with Norwegian gravy, potatoes, pickled beets... yeah. But I'm not sure about the recipe, so it's kind of a silly thing to make when you're cooking for 6. So I cooked it for 3 today. MOSTLY with ingredients you get in the UK.

Meatballs are really quite easy to make. Mince, an onion, an egg, and I used a little bit of maizena corn flour. Dad usually uses potato flour, but I thought corn flour would basically do the same thing. 

Pop it in a frying pan with a ton of margarine. This is a real difference between the way my family cooks and the way things are done in my boyfriend's family; at his house, you fry things with a little bit of low calorie fat spray. As little as possible. Here, you use a big chunk of margarine, then add some more. 

So unless someone interferes with my cooking, I use a mix between the two. I tend to use my judgement. I'll use low calorie spray if the buttery flavour isn't super important for the finished dish. Of course that means I sometimes subject a dieting woman to more fat than absolutely necessary, which is baaad. Guess I'm doomed to fail any diet, and should therefore probably make sure to stay fit enough to never need one.

Anyway. Norwegian gravy. It would have been an absolute disaster without food colouring, should have let butter and flour burn a bit before adding stock and milk. I also have a very difficult relationship with sauces - it gets too thin, then too thick, and then too thin again - but we saved it in the end, and the food turned out OK.

Now this is normally a cheap everyday meal, is it really fit for a cozy sunday dinner?

Considering it's pretty much identical to what I usually have as my Christmas dinner, I'd say yeah. If only because I don't care much for pork belly and can't stand medister sausages and balls (THIS is why I've got an English boyfriend - Turkey is so much nicer), daddy's home made meatballs is the only thing i'll eat. 

So here it is, my home made, festive Sunday dinner. I'm so proud.

Also, for some strange reason I keep thinking it's Friday. WTF?

Atheist Pope

Just woke up. Had this really funny dream where I became the Pope.
The first ever Atheist pope!
Also, woman. I hear that's kind of a big deal in those circles.

Quicksand Manor

Right now, I'm visiting my family in Norway for a bit. And it's nice. Mostly. There's just one thing I've noticed that really really really annoys me.

Things have an uncanny way of just disappearing.

Not because people 'borrow' things and don't put them back, that doesn't really happen anymore. I mean things get swallowed up by the mess. Eaten by the house. Disappear into a different dimension. I think 'I need this thing'. I look for the thing where I think it might be. It's not there. I look for the thing where it might have ended up if it's not where I thought it was, where it would be if I'd just put it down and forgot about it, and under the couch. Then, if it turns up at all, it will be exactly where I thought it was supposed to be. Or under my bed.

I know this is an internationally recognized phenomenon. It doesn't only happen to me. It just seems to happen a lot here. Plus it's super annoying.

Hey. You're My Project.

My sister is studying media at the moment. Right now, she has a photography assignment about 'someone with a talent'. Because she's lazy  I'm a brilliant artist, she has decided to do her project on me. This has involved some artistry and a bit of posing on my part, and lots of hard work and frustration (terrible model, bad lighting, and troublesome equipment) on hers.

Because I'm also a narcissist, I've requested a copy of the photos. You know, to kick start my modelling career. Or something. Some of the pictures turned out alright. Among them my new profile pic!

'By the way, you have to draw or paint a self-portrait'.

I think the idea here is about an artist's way of representing him/herself. You use your work to communicate who you are and what you stand for. There is no separation between the artist and the artist's work. I have actually done a project that gave me similar associations, though visually, it looks very different.

At work.

This one speaks for itself I think. Drawing stuff is always necessary, and pencils create pretty lines!

Still at work.

'I need you to draw or paint a union jack because you have to pose in a picture with a union jack and a tea cup' 

Because I'm, well, living in England and tend to try to limit my tea intake to about 16 cups a day. My boyfriend also happens to be an absolute addict and should really just be kept on a drip. He keeps saying he'd probably bleed tea. It's not quite true, luckily, because that would very possibly turn me into a vampire every time he had an accident. And that might increase the number of 'accidents'.

This one is kind of a disaster, but I like it.

Everything is kind of blurry and kind of horrible, because it's winter and we've got about an hour of daylight on a good day, though since i got home, an hour of daylight is close to what we've had the whole week. The camera isn't really up to the night photography challenge, and because it's f***ing freezing outside standing still is kinda impossible because I'm shaking. This picture might not end up being part of the actual project, but I quite like it. It's artsy. 

___

My sister had a different pick of the series, and told me the presentation went very well (she got a 5-/B-) . Apparently the teachers LOVED the concept, the variety and the finished pictures, but would have liked to have such things as lines and movement of the CD shelf mentioned in the presentation.  Oh well, positive feedback is positive feedback, and I'm happy to be a part of such an interesting project!

The Tea Tastes Different In Norway

Maybe it's the water. Maybe it's the milk. Maybe it's psychological. But the tea tastes wrong. And I'm constantly thirsty.

Actually... it's probably the water. It's the most difficult thing about living abroad. When I come back to Norway after being in England, the water tastes dirty. Back to England, and it tastes like chlorine. Adjustment is necessary, and being away for about a week, I just get enough time to adjust. I usually choose not to.

Life is a Lemon and I want my money back

I've cracked it. This song is all about tea. You order English Breakfast tea and accidentally got Lemon.
You'd like a full refund, and since tea is serious business, your day is ruined. As is the rest of your life when you think about it. Lemon tea!

Christmassy Cinnamon Coffee

The weather is cold and grey. Winter is coming. It's still a month left until Christmas, but hey - December soon. What you need is a comforting drink in front of the fire.

I'm normally a tea drinker, but days like these, I enjoy a bit of cinnamon coffee. It's the easiest thing ever to do, too:

1. Make coffee as you normally would. Instant works just fine.
2. Dig out your powdered cinnamon from the cupboard (if you haven't used it since last x-mas it'll be at the back, if you recently attempted the cinnamon challenge you may have to go out and buy some more)
3. Add desired amounts of sugar and cinnamon. Stir.
4. Add milk (you could probably skip this if you don't like your coffee white, and just go ahead and enjoy already)
5. Optional - if you've got a bit of whipped cream, put some on top for a luxurious finish. Sprinkle with cinnamon.

cinnamon sticks are added strictly for presentation purposes

Sit down, enjoy, and think about christmas baking for a minute. You know you want to.

Picture Sells a Scent

I was reading a girlie magazine today, and came across something unexpectedly refreshing. It was a perfume advert, of all things.

Let me explain. Perfume ads don't make sense. See, it's kind of hard to use a picture to sell a scent. You kind of have to sell an image. So to me, perfume ads say f**k all about the perfume, beyond 'beautiful women wear it. It makes you sexy and male models turn into drooling puppies.' Perfume ads are suggestive, they're beautiful, and it leaves you with no idea what the product might be like (unless it comes with a sample. That is brilliant). Just look at these (randomly chosen) examples. What can you say about these perfumes?

Kind of heavy?

Light and girlie, may contain pink roses?

Light and fresh?

That's just guessing, based on the ads. I have but a faint idea of what 'light and girlie' might small like, for example, or whether I'd like it at all. I'd say it would appeal to someone who likes a lot of pink, girlie girl, so probably quite sweet and not too strong. Alternatively, anyone who'd like to be Natalie Portman. These three adverts are gorgeous, but they essentially say the same thing. 

That is why I found this ad absolutely amazing. Yes it's beautiful, but more importantly, imagine what this perfume might smell like? I'm thinking maybe, possibly, a hint of daisy?

I absolutely love this ad. I want to try this perfume because of it.

Oh by the way, I don't own any of these images. They have been shamelessly googled.

Telephone Terror

It has been brought to my attention that I am not, in fact, completely 'normal'.
For example, I have been told that normally, people don't have a panic attack by the thought of making a phone call. I do. And despite previous statements to the contrary, people around me have come to realize it is not merely a matter of me 'being silly'. I am genuinely terrified of dealing with people over the phone.

Now I'm aware that many people find phone calls somewhat unpleasant, and I can come up with several reasons why I wouldn't be entirely comfortable with it.
- I much prefer dealing with people face to face, so I can see their facial expressions and body language.
- I'm afraid of being unable to hear/understand what people are saying, and they are unable to hear/understand me.
- I HATE having to lead a conversation. I never know what to say.
- You know that moment after you've dialed a number, before anyone picks up the phone? That moment of uncertainty when you don't actually know whether or not you've reached the person you're trying to get in touch with? That.

Well, these are all reasons why phone calls can be unpleasant, but downright terrifying? That doesn't really make sense. It doesn't explain the way my heart rate doubles and I start shaking when the phone rings, or why I need to sit alone in a quiet room with the door closed, with pen and paper or my laptop (or preferably both) in front of me, trying to control my breathing to stop hyperventilating in order to make a call. These are not rational reactions.

Furthermore, I don't know why I react this way. I can't remember any terribly unpleasant experiences in my childhood, in fact I used to phone people all the time. And I still remember being a kid with my first ever mobile phone. What ever happened? Could calling a wrong number a couple of times really have such a strong effect? I know I was a sensitive child but... really?

Did something happen that I have repressed?

Here choccy choccy...

It has been claimed that chocolate helps against depression, and I'm sure there's something in it.
I really wanted some chocolate today.

And I've got some, too... packed away in my backpack, along with all the other stuff I was supposed to bring back for my sister. And it's a massive one.

Basically, I am something of a personal shopper for my sister. She requests something, I go out and buy it. Quite a luxury. And if it wasn't for the fact that she's in a different country, I'd ask her to get it herself. Politely. NOT. Anyway. She asked for a Galaxy chocolate bar, so naturally I picked up the smallest one I could find, a christmas special family pack about the same size as the magazine I went out to get her.

Unfortunately, it's also quite suicidal, and currently screaming at me.

Bloody emo chocolate.

Chop, chop - there goes my hair!

Today, I had a haircut.

Not just any haircut, no no. A dramatic change.

Something so huge, in fact, that my hairdresser asked for permission to take before-and-after photos of me. I had my hair cut short.

I've enjoyed the long-blonde-hair look for well over a year now, but it's got to the point where I'm getting sick of constantly brushing it, and drying it... dear me, drying it! It takes forever!

Even my boyfriend admitted that, while he quite likes the look of my long golden locks, he is not so keen on the taste. I can see where he's coming from; long hair gets everywhere.

Now I have had short hair before, so I wasn't too scared having it all off again. Truthfully, I believe I can rock any hairstyle except the long look; long hair somehow washes my face out completely. Which is ironic, considering the cultural link between long hair and femininity, grace and beauty. 

I'm loving my new hairstyle, and can't stop messing with it!

Little Granny knits the "Skappel-jumper"

Norwegians will get the x-mas reference here... I hope

Every now and again, I enter what is commonly known as Granny Mode, and get a sudden and inexplicable desire to knit something. This most recently happened a couple of weeks ago, and as a knight in shining armour, the Internet was there to help me search for possible projects. Something other than "scarf".


This is how I came across something incredibly odd. It appears that my native country, Norway, has been home to something of a knitting craze over the summer of 2012. Young girls are teaching themselves to knit. Wool shops have been struggling to meet the demand for Alpaca yarn in greys, whites and browns over what is normally a rather quiet season. All in all, this is very strange behaviour and surely an early symptom of the zombie virus that will eventually wipe out the majority of the human population.

Actually, the Norwegian knitting hysteria is caused by this jumper, known as the Skappel-jumper because of its connection to celebrity Dorthe Skappel. The story, as I've understood it, is that she enjoys a bit of knitting, and has been photographed wearing her own, home made jumpers. As have her increasingly well known daughters. (I have to take the internet's word for that, as I am rarely exposed to Norwegian media in general these days and don't tend to follow fashion or gossip if I can help it) So, as people were getting more and more curious as to how one of these unique pieces of clothing could be acquired, Maria Skappel posted the instructions on her blog.

Norway went mad.

When I was a school girl, art teachers would face a desperate struggle every year to attempt to teach another group of kids to knit, with responses ranging from reluctant attempts to complete anarchy. Knitting just couldn't lose its granny image. Therefore, this phenomenon is quite extraordinary if you ask me. Which you do. Since you're reading my blog.

Now, for the very first time, I am starting work on a knitting project that is part of a fashion craze! I have chosen a different type of yarn though - as Alpaca yarn, and indeed any yarn with a high percentage of quality wool, is quite expensive. What I'm using instead is a 50/50 Meriono Wool and Acrylic for my thicker bit, and a fine yarn with small silvery sequins (31% wool) for added detail. Both from my local wool shop, that I went into for the first time less than a week ago and am now in love with!

My yarns and knitting needles, displayed so they just happen to show the labels clearly.

So, my Skappel-jumper
Because I'm a small girl, I made some adjustments. The pattern I worked from suggested to make it 80 stitches wide, I did 66. With the sleeves, I started at 28 rather than 40, and took it up to 52 as suggested.
And of course the yarn is different, as I've already mentioned.

The total cost of the yarn and equipment used was £51.47
broken up as follows:

2 pairs of knitting needles, one long bamboo and one 60cm round, total £6.20
1x 2 yarn/wool hand needles from amazon, £1.77 per packet of 2
8x Wendy MODE yarn, each £3.25, £26 in total
5x King Cole Galaxy yarn, each £3.50, £17.50 in total

It took me just under 2 weeks of intensive knitting to finish, and I'm quite happy with the result. Not blown away by it, there are some awkward bits - namely the seam connecting the sleeves to the torso - but hey, I made it myself!

I do feel a sense of pride and achievement to have knitted my very first jumper. I think it has also given me a new perspective of the value of clothes in general, in terms of the cost, time and effort it takes to make even the simplest of items. Making a jumper from good quality yarn, even taking out the potential cost of the labour, is not cheap. It costs more than you would typically pay for a (let's face it) better looking, finished product from somewhere like Primark. Even considering their materials are typically cheaper (bought in bulk and typically 100% acrylic), taking into account the margins needed to make a profit, imagine the value of the work going into producing each item? It can't be much?!

Parents and Sweethearts: How to sabotage a Girl's Relationship (with her parents)

Well people, confession time. I don't have a great relationship with my mother. Never had. It used to be very much up and down, but lately, it's been mostly down. I can't stand her company, and it alters my behaviour, so right now (which effectively means forever and ever and ever...) my mother is mad at me for being rude to her or something.

Now while my relationship with my mother has been up and down over the years - I blame my upbringing for many of my bizarre hang-ups and anxieties, though she did have her enlightened moments too, so it's been good and bad - recently, over the last couple of years, us getting along has depended on me being overbearing and smile through any bulls**t. That works just fine as long as the conversation doesn't get personal.

And that's just the problem. Lately, when we do get together, it does get personal. She clearly disapproves of my decision to stay in England and live with my boyfriend, and acquired a habit of putting in 'as long as you're okay with it' about five times a minute, which clearly demonstrates to me that, if she was in my shoes, she would not be okay with it, and I shouldn't either.

The funny thing about all this is, of course, what every parent of a teenage girl knows or will soon discover: telling her you disapprove of her chosen sweetheart, or trying to sabotage her relationship, will only ever damage one relationship, and that's yours - with your daughter.  And my mother knows this.

Years ago, I was dating a guy who was, shall we say, not right for me. My dad picked up on this straight away, of course. His disapproval was not at all subtle and I started avoiding my dad, spending more time with my boyfriend instead. When I eventually did come to the same conclusion, the boy wasn't right for me, it was something I discovered all by myself, without daddy's help. This was also when my mother confessed she knew it wouldn't work, she just didn't say anything because
A) She didn't want to damage our frail mother-daughter relationship, and
B) Because she trusted me to discover it for myself.

So what has changed? Why suddenly this urge to try to come between me and my boyfriend by coming in with constant, not-so-subtle digs at him? Why on earth does she think, if I have to choose between them, I wouldn't choose the one who makes me happy every day over the one I could never please?

It's MINE.

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Yay I'm popular ^^ Thanks everyone on the internet. Never thought my ramblings  would have an audience.

Ghost Stories

I am not a great believer in the paranormal. Sure, I believe people experience things they can't explain, and get scared. It's just that I don't necessarily believe the scary experience is caused by the spirit of a dead person or demon. Just because I can't explain something doesn't mean there isn't an explanation. Of course this view puts me in the same position as pretty much every ghost story protagonist, ever.

Not believing in ghosts has not prevented me from having ghostly experiences. Three, in fact, and I'll share them with you.

These stories are all set in the same place, the farm my grandparents used to own in the middle of the a forest in eastern Norway. It is fairly old, though I'm not entirely sure how old since I never paid any attention to the family history. It is also far between the farms, so you wouldn't hear the neighbours. It is not, however, the kind of place you would expect to be haunted. It always had a warm and welcoming atmosphere, since my grandparents were always warm and welcoming people, and no stranger was allowed to pass without entering the kitchen for a cup of coffee!

Footsteps in the Night

My first ghostly experience happened when I was a little girl. I had my own room on the 2nd floor of the house, while my grandparents slept in their downstairs bedroom. There was no one else staying there at the time. As it was late at night, and I was very young, I stayed up reading a book a long time after my grandparents had gone to bed. It was a quiet night, though probably some wind outside and typical natural sounds I cannot recall, and did not pay attention to. The book in question was one of those christian teen-targeted anti bullying stories, and quite forgettable.

I believe it was some time around 1-2 am when I heard footsteps coming from the room next to me, passing my door and continuing down the stairs. I heard the stairs creaking, as they often did due to their age. At the time I was slightly puzzled, but figured it was just my grandmother, as she had a habit of walking around the house at night. I couldn't figure out what she'd been doing upstairs this late though, and for some time too, as I hadn't heard anyone walk up the stairs since I 'went to bed'.

Then, some 10 minutes later, I heard footsteps again, this time coming up the stairs. I looked up from my book, as I was expecting my grandmother to ask me to turn the light off and go to sleep. As I heard the footsteps pass my door into the next room, I saw nothing. Not even a shadow. No one left that room for the rest of that night, and I never heard those footsteps again.

Checking up on us

As a teenager, I stayed at this farm for a week with a few friends to work in a nearby stable. As my (maternal) grandparents, who owned the farm, were away for the week, my (paternal) grandmother had agreed to stay there with us, since we were not yet old enough to be away for so long without adult supervision. She slept in the downstairs bedroom, while we all occupied the large room upstairs, across the hall from my bedroom.

We had a blast, enjoying our time there immensely, and at night we would do as young girls do; stay up chatting for a bit, then do individual stuff like listening to music, reading and writing diaries as it was getting late, occasionally looking up from whatever we were doing to share an interesting or funny quote, ask a question or talk about some newly discovered music. We always made sure to close the door properly, and kept the noise down to avoid disturbing my grandmother. One night, as we were doing this, all settled down in our own beds or mattresses, we all saw the door handle being pushed down slowly, and the door creaking as it was opened slightly. We were puzzled, as we assumed it was my grandmother checking up on us, so why wouldn't she make herself known, or close the door?

We asked her the next morning, and she assured us she had got an early night and never left her bedroom.

The Baby

About 7 years ago, I was staying at the farm with my horse Blaze, a couple of friends, and Gaz, my (now ex) boyfriend.

One night, we went out to check up on Blaze when we heard a baby crying. Confirming with each other that we all heard the same thing, we hurried inside, terrified. We knew there were no babies at the farm at that time, and if there was one visiting one of the neighbours, we would not have heard it. Furthermore, we all perceived the sound to come from the same place, an abandoned outhouse.

The next morning, still shaken, we decided to investigate. We climbed the ladder into the attic of the outhouse, where we thought the sound had come from. There, right underneath the window, there was an old cradle.

The 'Feminist' Reaction

As a rule, I am not one to worry much about excessively sexualized depictions of women. I tend to just accept it. Hell, I even enjoy dressing up once in a while, with the specific purpose of looking more attractive to my boyfriend. In short, I am a very, very bad feminist.

Therefore, I am quite amazed at my reaction when my boyfriend turns on his motorbike racing. What am I reacting to? The girls. Seriously. What do they do? A lot behind the scenes I hope, because all you ever see on screen is some lovely looking young ladies wearing as little as possible, whatever the weather, standing around with stiff, frozen smiles on their faces. This is what I don't care for. There is no way, in my wildest imaginations, I can come up with any reason, however far-fetched, for those outfits. They seem to be designed for the sole purpose of giving men something to look at. For some reason, that makes me uncomfortable.

Similar arguments could be made in media such as film and games, I suppose. Impractical 'armour' for female characters is, after all, not an uncommon issue. BUT in the darkest, wildest corner of my imagination that could be down to self-expression, or allow them to move freely, or something like that.  A female game/film character has to take some initiative to do what they do, so it is not such a leap to imagine they may have been the ones making bad choices in the wardrobe department, too.

So, to try to put my finger on exactly what makes me uncomfortable, hopefully without becoming an absolute hypocrite, I believe it might be this: the apparent lack of choice. When the sexy outfit looks like a uniform, and the wearer looks out of place or uncomfortable in the situation, something feels wrong and my feminist side wakes up for a minute to voice its disapproval before it goes back to sleep and I put on an outrageously impractical outfit for the task I'm about to undertake.

No, I always wear this when I paint. It makes me feel like a pin up-artist.

"I don't mind"

I have, at times, been accused of being indecisive.
It's true, I am.
Because most of the time, I don't mind.

Not only do I not have a strong opinion either way, I know that usually, the person I'm with does. Look, I can be quite stubborn. I'll fight my corner if I have to. I can also be terribly opinionated, and I find the idea of repeatedly sacrificing my own needs and desires to please others absolutely ridiculous. This is not why I sometimes have trouble making a decision about what to make for dinner.

I have trouble deciding what to make for dinner because I'm usually the least fussy eater in the room, and being told I can make 'anything' is quite a challenge when I have to consider other people's cravings and preferences that they won't tell me about.

And just one thing that annoys me beyond belief:
Saying It's up to you, only to either complain about the decision, or refuse to go with it.

Seriously.

If you don't mind, you don't mind.

Something worth Blogging About

Well, diving into my first self-help book, I'm trying to follow some advice from it, not because I'm not incredibly negative towards many of the ridiculous sounding suggestions, but because that negativity might be the reason I refuse to try the techniques and, as a result, something that just helps to keep me down.

One of the suggestions in it was to create a to do-list. Mark what should be done today, this week or this month, and then stick to it. I'm trying this, but keeping it private, and it's on my to do-list for this week to get it organized in a neat little folder (physical copy).

One technique is to keep some form of journal, and write every day. Also, do stuff. So why not try that, but publicly. On blogger. Do something worth blogging about, every day. OKAY some of this stuff might be a bit dull to read about, the point is that the question 'what i've been doing today' shall not be answered with any variety of 'nothing'

I shall keep this to one post though, to avoid littering my blog with it. MY self-help book didn't recommend keeping your 'diary' as a blog, showing a very legitimate concern about what one would like to put on the internet. I will try to keep it light and not get into anything too personal, but I'm not really too concerned. At worst, this project fails and will be an exceptionally dull blog post. 

Monday
Got up late and been home all day, made scrambled eggs on toast for myself and boyfriend who's working night shifts at the moment, cleaned the kitchen, and hoovered downstairs. Decided to wash the kitchen floor tomorrow and enquired about the whereabouts of a suitable bucket. Brightened my moods a bit to do some housework, it made me feel like I'm not completely useless. Boyfriend is a bit concerned about whether I'm depressed at the moment, since his presence has typically broken any routine and therefore I haven't felt depressed with him around before. I explained I've had it on and off for years, and I've just stepped up my effort to fight it off because I need to get on with life and not cripple myself. He left for work, I painted my nails pink peach and started writing this blog post.

I worked on my painting for a bit, then got stuck into a work project. Pleased with myself for completing what I set as a goal for myself for today, rather than give up and think 'I'll do it later'. The last thing I did today was a questionnaire for a job I'm applying for. That made me feel confused and sad again, I don't think it went very well, the questions were quite frustrating and the answers were all too similar. But hey - at least it's done.
Seriously though, do anyone know the answers to those questions prior to any training? Seems a bit odd to me.

Peach Nails! Whee!

Tuesday

Hey, guess what? Project failed. Already. Yup, not really anything worth talking about today. Worked a bit on that project I mentioned, had a quick tidy in the kitchen, watched some videos online. Got a headache and felt awful. Later, I started to feel a strange pain in my mouth (seemingly from the underside of my tongue, pretty far back) that made swallowing extremely painful, in such a perfect spot that mouth, throat and ear hurt all at the same time. Physical pain preventing me from doing stuff I intend to do when my mind alone can't stop me? Unheard of. I'm sure that's never happened before. Only EVERY SINGLE TIME I set out to do something.

Wednesday

Slept badly as I woke up every time I had to swallow. Did you know you do that quite a lot? Anyway, got up, boyfriend went out to get me some ibuprofen.What would I do without him eh <3

Anyway. Took that, worked well and I fell asleep on the couch. Then I managed to do a bit of work, followed by some time working on a painting. The painting has got to the stage now when its size is less significant because it's broken down into different parts. Rather than a huuuge canvas, it's 3 horses, foreground and background that can be worked on individually. I like that. There is nothing more frightening than a blank canvas. Maybe except phone calls. I hate phone calls.

Painting so far

Thursday

Not much to report. Got up late, worked quite efficiently on the football project.

Also made a stir-fry for dinner, loosely based on the BBC Good Food Chicken Chow Mein recipe, using the ingredients we had in the fridge. It turned out OK... Nothing special. A bit bland. More soy sauce and ketchup next time I think. 

Friday
Same as before. Throat/ear/mouth started hurting again. Worked on my project for about 5 hours, then put in a few hours on my painting, until I was to tired to paint anymore. Hope to finish it this weekend, want to start working on a new one. Went on Dead Rising for a bit, getting a bit dull because I've missed most of the missions - couldn't do the Backup for Brad on time, since I was too inexperienced and too low level to do anything other than walk in, get shot and die over and over and over and over, so when I finally got around to it (enough health, orange juice and decent weapons to NOT die) it was too late to continue that storyline. Oh well. Boyfriend assures me I can play through just surviving for another 12 hours (game time, duh), then start again at a higher level and do more of the quests and story missions and save people and all that stuff that drives a game forward. Putting buckets on zombie heads and running over them with a lawnmower is only fun for so long. Even if that is hilarious.

Started feeling a bit down again at night. Don't know why, got a few things done, and didn't really suffer from loads of negative thoughts - not that negative thoughts is much of a depression trigger anyway, it's more of a feeling. Heavy, dull and slow feelings that suck the joy out of everything. Then I start to think negative thoughts, because everything is useless, I'm uncomfortable around other people and generally being silly. Also, I'm about to run out of ibuprofen.

Saturday
Very dark day today, though it's nice and sunny outside. Guess the weather has less impact on my moods than I thought. Got little done on the football project as I found myself more often than not just staring at the wall. Had trouble facing my painting. Felt lonely, wanted to cry, couldn't figure out any specific reason for it - life, in general, just feels empty and meaningless. I can't figure out why I'm down, but then again I can't find any reasons not to be. What do I enjoy? What's fun? What's pleasurable? What do I want?

Had a few drinks and watched Downton Abbey with the "in-laws" (not really in-laws since Boyfriend and I aren't married, but you now what I mean), that was nice. They're a laugh. My dad once said there is no way Boyfriend and I will ever get married if I get on with the in-laws. I LOLed, but not really bothered about whether or not we ever get married. Commitment is the same with or without the paperwork.

Sunday
Got ibuprofen and rolo-cookies. Won a pair of motorcycling boots on ebay. Should be quite safe on the back now. Guess it's only a matter of time until I'll want a bike, too. Got dressed up in a nice short skirt. Watched some production footage from The Hobbit on youtube, getting quite excited about these movies now, they look gorgeous. Just hope I'll be proved wrong about 3D, that's the only thing I'm slightly worried about. I'm not sold on 3D yet. The films I've seen weren't all that impressive to say the least, 3D added absolutely nothing to experience other than a headache.

A Change of scenery to change my life, AGAIN

Over the years, I have needed a change of scenery every now and again. A new place, I thought, a new start. That is what I need. Once I get away from my current environment, everything is going to be ok. I will be happy. And I have turned my life upside down, moved away from the city, turned everything upside down again to study abroad... and it makes no difference.

Sure, for a while, things seem a bit brighter. Anything that breaks the routine - which is why I don't tend to get too depressed when my boyfriend's around. The one thing I have realized, though, is that I can change everything around me and it will make no difference, because the one thing that doesn't change - the one thing I really need to change - is myself.

I have a fairly impressive ability to be miserable, wherever I am, whatever I do. Have my own horse? Miserable. Following my dreams to study art abroad? Please. Absolutely, completely and utterly miserable. In a house with other people? Too crowded. On my own? Lonely.

Frankly, I'm tired of dragging my miserable old self around everywhere. Without my personality, life would be great. Imagine feeling awake. Imagine feeling passionate about something. Imagine happiness. Excitement. I think I felt that once. Maybe twice. I'm not sure. Doesn't happen a lot anyway. I've always been a bit on the gloomy side. As a teenager, I almost saw a psychologist once, but apparently I wasn't suicidal enough for further treatment. Which is good right?

Recently, my absolute favourite thing to do is going on the back of my boyfriend's motorbike. That is absolutely thrilling. I know if we crash, I'll probably die (since I got some proper equipment that might be more 'seriously injured' than 'dead' but shush). There's something about facing the possibility of death that makes me feel alive. It is unsettling that I don't seem the least bit afraid though. Let's hope that's because I trust my man blindly and feel confident we won't crash. Not, you know, the death drive that I never got properly into while skimming the surface of Freudian psychoanalysis so I can't really say what it's about, other than quoting wikipedia:

 In classical Freudian psychoanalytic theory, the death drive(s)^[1] (Todestrieb[e])^[1] is the drive towards death, self-destruction and the return to the inorganic: 'the hypothesis of a death instinct, the task of which is to lead organic life back into the inanimate state'.^[2] 

Some seem to think the solution is ridiculously simple. Snap out of it. Stop being so miserable. Think happy thoughts, look on the bright side. Well, if it really is that simple, I must be enjoying my depressions on some level, because I somehow can't seem to do that. I know life would be easier and more enjoyable if I wasn't miserable all the time, believe me. It's just not that easy to rid yourself of thought patterns you have been stuck in for years, and trying to control your feelings, well... Personally, I have never managed to do that. I can control my actions, most of the time, but not my feelings. Just because I don't lash out and kill someone doesn't mean I'm not angry. Just an example.

The truth is, I should probably seek some help to deal with this. Another attempt at seeing a psychologist, talk to someone, maybe learn some positive thinking. What's stopping me? Well I'm not terribly good at asking for help. And I wasn't too impressed with the psychologist the last time around. It felt a bit like... acting. Lean forward. look at patient. "uh-huh... and how do you feel about that?" nod. nod. look thoughtful "why do you think that is?" Perhaps I was just unlucky, or maybe my teenage self found the falseness of the approach - the appearance of pretending to be interested, because he is paid to pretend to be interested - too distasteful. Maybe my adult self would cope better. Maybe it's time to dive into some self-help books.