SOS

In nine days I will be on a plane heading home for christmas. In nine days I will be halfway through my bachelor. And in nine days I will have spent half of my three years in London. (Well, approximately nine days, to be correct. You get where I’m going.)

I remember still being a little girl, with everyone telling me how the years flew by so fast. I laughed about it. Shrugged. Didn’t agree. But then I grew up, and hey, what happened to the last two years? It seems like christmas was a couple of months ago, uni started three weeks ago and that 2013 just started. I’m getting old, no doubt about it, but will every year from now on disappear this fast? If so- help.

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Quote

“If you’re a bad writer, no one can help you become a good one, or even a competent one. If you’re good and want to be great… fuhgeddaboudit.” – Stephen King on writing

When counting sheep doesn’t help

night

For late nights and bus rides in the dark, for rainy days, for the hours when you’re supposed to be asleep, for the times you feel sad, for the times you feel stressed, or for the times when you feel happy. For working hours at the local café or the school library, for strolling along the Thames or the park, for flying home. For heartbreaks, for reminiscing someone you once loved. For butterflies and blushing.

Zzz

The lastborn

Being the youngest out of three sisters, I have always had a tendency to try to stand out in a way. The lastborn is said to be the most free-spirited, fun loving, manipulative and self-centred. I can honestly say that I do recognize myself in these statements, both good and bad.

Two years ago I applied to universities in London. One and a half year ago I dragged two heavy (and I mean HEAVY) suitcases with me on board a plane and landed in my new home country. Now, only one month away from being halfway through my bachelor degree, I’m proud to be as free-spirited and open for new things as I have grown up to be.

Self-centred. Not something I’m proud of, but I like to think that the extent of the ‘me, me, me’-syndrome decreases every day. Well, who am I kidding? Today’s society is build around a bunch of competing self-centred individuals, the majority from the ‘Me Generation’ that I’m born into. The generation where everyone strives to be the best, and the most perfect version of themselves. But let’s stick to the point, shall we? As a little girl, I loved to put up shows for my family. It almost always included singing, even though it is a well-known fact that no one in my family has been provided with a talent for song. But talent (or my lack of it) didn’t matter, as long as everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. Me me me.

If we continue the reminiscing from my childhood, I may as well point out my manipulative side. As daddy’s little girl, I’ve been used to get things the way I want. This is sadly the truth. I can’t recall how many times my older sisters have called me a brat. But isn’t that one of the perks of being the lastborn? I don’t claim twisting people around your little finger to get things your way is okay, but as the last born you will always be the last bird flying out of the nest, prevented by parents that is not quite willing to let you go yet. And with that comes a bit of pampering, even if you’d like to admit it or not.

It is almost frightening how I find my own personality in these statements of the last born in a flock of siblings. At the same time, it is quite fascinating how much the timing of your birth says something about you as a person.

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Battersea bridge by night

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There is nothing more amazing and beautiful than bright city lights. Especially bridges (and especially this one). If I could marry it, I probably would. Well, maybe not, there’s really not that much cuddling to get from a bridge.

Xxxx

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be the best version of yourself. fight for you want ’till you can’t fight anymore. smile. make people admire you (or even jealous). Wear lipstick if that makes you feel better. Kiss a lot.

Brick Lane

Yesterday was spent in one of the best parts of London, Shoreditch. Brick Lane has the best vintage shopping, and the most creative street art, so what’s not to love? IMG_0601 IMG_0611 IMG_0614 IMG_0617 copy IMG_0620 copy IMG_0623 copy IMG_0624 IMG_0626 IMG_0630 copy IMG_0631

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Pictures from a small family park near Lillehammer in Norway called Lilleputthammer, where I spent the day with my five nieces and one nephew (plus my mum and sisters. You don’t expect me alone to take care of six small children running around in a park, do you?). Everything in the park is super tiny because it’s designed to be the children’s own facilitated version of Lillehammer, so the houses are miniatures and very, very charming.  I wish I could live there, but then I’d have to shrink- a lot.

 

The future is a scary place

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Choosing what to study is scary. I know that there’s no shame in quitting and simply start over again with another subject, but still.

Choosing what to do after you’ve studied for a bachelor or master is scary. You’ve got your student loans knocking on a door in the back of your head; making sure you’ll never forget. It’s time to get a real job. A look at me, I’m grown-up job. Fast.

Can you ever be one hundred per cent sure that you’ve chosen the right path while you’re still walking it? No, I don’t think so.

I have for a very long time been pretty determined on what I want to do when I grow up, and maybe also who I want to be. After desperately wanting to be an actor at the age of 8 or 9 (when I ended up crying out of nervousness on my first audition for a play), and also wanting to be a vet even though I’m allergic to almost every animal on the planet, I found out what I really liked to do- and what I didn’t end up crying or sneezing of. Writing. Most people might think ‘Well, you’ve found your thing, good for you’. But again, choosing what to study is in many ways equal with choosing what to do the rest of your life. I am not afraid to say that Mr Journalism has been the one all the way. Was it wrong of me to exclude everything else along the process of figuring out who I wanted to be? Writing is not my only interest, but it’s still the only interest that has gotten my full attention and appreciation in the planning of my future. I guess it is easier to come up with one plan and stick with it, rather than looking at millions of options. If you see it the other way, however, it is easier to regret your choice when you haven’t been checking out all of your possibilities in the first place.

This is not a ‘I regret my choice of career preparation’ text, because I really don’t. I love writing, and I have fun in the making of my bachelor in Journalism and Creative Writing. Sometimes I just wonder whether I’ve taken on my evaluation of options to easily. I do take the eager I feel, both for the rest of my years of studying and for getting a real job, as a positive sign. A sign that I’m heading in the right direction. Heading for my dream job.