a to å challenge: a is for awesome

it's a bit predictable, i realize, me, saying things are awesome. everything is awesome, as they sang in the lego movie. and things were awesome in those days (2014), then late in 2014, things got less awesome when they (read: an uncommunicative, short-sighted middle manager with no vision who had only worked in lego in all his life and never had any other job) decided to do away with my awesome job. and then my father died. and then i worked for the lego.com team (which was decidedly not an awesome place) as a freelancer (can you say incompent psychopath at the helm?). but then, in august 2015, i decided to listen to what my fatalist presbyterian soul was telling me and look for something else. and that something else led to me awesome job back in shipping. a job where i'm using all those skills i honed right here on mpc - writing and photography and generally being creative. things really couldn't be better. in the next week, i'll spend a couple of days in a creative workshop on a ship, then i'll fly to london and spend a couple more days sailing back and forth on the english channel on another ship (or two) taking photos and then head home. it's hard to imagine that life could be any better. so for now, everything really is awesome. and i'm definitely well on the road to healed (and wiser) from the wounds inflicted by my lego experience.

i have to thank my awesome friend amy from tilting at windmills for tipping me off to this little blog challenge. because goodness knows, i'm a girl in need of an assignment.

*this is really supposed to be the #atozchallenge, but here in denmark, the alphabet ends in å, so i'm gonna go native.

for about 5 minutes...

...we were going to have a tail-ender. a little sweet person with tiny little feet to keep us young for years to come. it was a bit of a shock at our advanced ages (me 41, husband 43), but we were adjusting to the notion in our heads. and we were quite excited about it, we do after all know what we're doing now. it was just barely soon enough to tell, but the test didn't lie. and then, last night, i woke up feeling all crampy and realized that it was not to be. that's really disheartening.

it takes my breath away how quickly you can get your brain used to a shocking idea. and how quickly you can come to count on it. we were making all sorts of plans in our heads...arrangement of rooms in the house, what to do about the high chair and baby bed we just gave away, thinking we'd never need them, the notion that it was husband's last chance for a boy (him being really outnumbered by girls at our house), even names were tossed around.

yes, the timing was dumb. yes, we're old. yes, we'd be REALLY old by the time the child left the nest. and yes, these things likely happen because there's something wrong, so it's probably for the best. and my inner fatalist presbyterian knows that. but we liked the idea. and now it's not to be. and i feel sad. i think it's going to take longer than five minutes to get past this.

charming bees

"Yogic sages say that all the pain of a human life is caused by words, as is all the joy. We create words to define our experience and those words bring attendant emotions that jerk us around like dogs on a leash. We get seduced by our own mantras....and we become monuments to them." --as usual, Liz Gilbert, in Eat, Pray, Love

as i feel a drive to write and express myself in words, it's strange that the phrase above resonates with me the way it does. or maybe not, because it does state that all the pain, but also all the joy is caused by words. it is true that our words define our experience...even when bad things happen to me, in the core of my being, i know that i will be ok...the words i say to myself in my innermost self never doubt that for a moment. it's part of leading a so-called charmed life, or being, as someone said in macedonia (quoting fried green tomatoes, i believe..), that i'm a beecharmer. if i'm honest, sometimes i royally piss off the bees, but there are a lot of bees in my life that have been charmed. more bees charmed than pissed off. and if i really look at the ones i piss off, there is some intention and purpose in it on my part, even if only in my subconscious. it's because i know that it will force something to happen. something which will result in a change for the better. and it has proven true every time.

so what is my inner mantra? other than "win or don't come home." actually, maybe it IS "win or don't come home..." and it's actually served me well, as harsh as it sounds at times. because it's why that inner voice never doubts that i am headed for something better. and every time, i AM headed for something better. my inner fatalist presbyterian, who somewhere in her core, believes that everything of significance that she will do in her life is written down in a big book by the hand of god (or what/whoever s/he is), never lets me down. she's actually the bee charmer. and when the going gets rough, i'm SOoooo glad she's there, charming the hell out of those bees.

fear and other baggage

fear is an annoyance, rearing its head when you least desire it, popping up from the depths where you had tucked it away. sometimes you are surprised by what provokes it, other times, it returns like dust on your window ledge, there's a thin covering of it and you didn't even notice its arrival until it's there, keeping you awake at night, grinding your teeth. my fear doesn't have to do with dying, it's about feeling (or being shown) that i don't belong. but this piece about audrey lourde on the ever-brilliant brainpickings spoke to me, even tho' it was about the much more real fear of impending death. as the piece says, not giving in to fear is about "everyday living and making decisions." deciding not to give in to fear, to let it rob you of sleep, your fillings, your happiness and contentment and your genuine enjoyment of your job and life in general. but, in times of uncertainty, that can be hard.

i wrote the above last sunday night and left it unfinished here in my browser tab. in the meantime, i've had a whole week to ponder the question of fear. i also listened to a wonderful podcast on the topic, which, by chance (or not, if you have a fatalist presbyterian inside you), was the nytimes podcast club's pick this week - closer than they appear. it was so thoughtful, deep and self-reflective, that it made me think about fear differently. the host, carvell wallace, examines trump's america and how one can cope with living in it. in the first episode, he asked listeners to think about someone they'd like to talk to, who they haven't been able to for one reason or another - someone who they were estranged from or angry with - and about something you want to say to someone, which you haven't been able to say.

and i began to think about who that would be for me. two people came to mind, and then it became three and then four, none of which i really have the possibility to speak to, unless i really tried. but the need is still there, and i think it's actually really blocking me from truly living to my full potential. in all three four cases, it is the root of the fear i feel today in the face of some of my colleagues losing their jobs and fearing for my own.

the first one is that old norwegian misogynist dinosaur who was a sexist son-of-a-bitch to my face. in this era of #metoo, he has been on my mind a lot. i was so nonplussed at the time, that i just flushed and swallowed hard and couldn't think of a single thing to say against his ridiculous claim that a woman couldn't interview a shipping ceo. and i eventually left that job because of that incident, which i reported to hr and then was "bought out" and left.  i'd like to call him a misogynist dinosaur to his face.

the second one is uncle fester. he was utterly wrong about a situation and he never admitted that he was wrong. of course, he was someone who had no problem standing in front of large groups of people, lying to their faces, so there's that. i have heard that he has had a rather severe case of lyme disease, which makes me believe in karma. he is the least of the four, as i moved on to other jobs which took me in a better, more interesting direction. i would still like to tell him i think he's a weak coward for being unable to admit his mistake. and i probably could write to him, but i'm not sure it's worth it.

number three is an old friend who hasn't been a friend for some years. i'd love to tell him (these are all men, have you noticed?) how hurt i was by his actions, but i'm not sure what good it would do. on the other hand, i had an amazing bodywork session on friday that made me think that i hold this baggage in my body, so perhaps it would be worth getting in touch and trying to clear the air.

the last is that asshat from lego. he said i wasn't commercial. and he negated me as a person, more than any of the others (except, perhaps interestingly enough, that other norwegian twat). perhaps above all, i'd like to give him a piece of my mind. and since he's but 15 minutes away, the possibility lingers.

but then i think about whether it's really worth it. would any of them learn anything or recognize the damage they did? would i be prepared to accept it if they didn't? would my body be able to let go of the baggage i carry? at my age, there's starting to be so much, that i wonder sometimes how i can carry it all.

i'm not done pondering this and i think i'll even listen to the closer than they appear podcast again, to try and work through it (also, it's that good). and i'm definitely going back for more bodywork - that was amazing. and potentially transformative. it would be good to be able to let go of all this fear. undoubtedly a whole new wave of fears would take center stage, but then i could deal with those (i'm looking at you, alzheimer's). above all, it would be good to have something else rule my life/behavior...like awesome energy and good karma.

so much work to do.

five things friday :: early august edition

on instagram, there's this #fivethingsfriday thing and instead of typing it all out on my phone, at the mercy of autocorrect, i have decided to move it over here.

thing 1:  i had freya spayed this week. she has been our primary mama kitty for several years now, but i finally decided that there are enough kittens in the world and she has worked hard enough as a mama. it was time for her to relax. but i still feel a little wistful about it. she made lovely babies - including paws mcgraw, her sweet daughter who i have kept (see thing 2), and who also was spayed on monday. it's a fine line between enjoying kittens and becoming a crazy cat lady. i know i did the right thing, but it does feel a little bit bittersweet.

thing 2: paws mcgraw - she's everything you want in a cat - curious, funny, active, dexterous (she opens doors), snuggly, talkative and out to steal any stray pony tail holder you leave lying around (or tucked up safely inside a zipped pouch). i love her so much. she's not molly or frieda, she's all her own, but she's in the same category as they are. some cats are just special.

thing 3:  arizona. next week, sabin and i are flying to the US. we will spend the week in south dakota and then drive her new used car (a toyota, of course) to arizona so she can begin her gap year before starting at arizona state next year. i am both happy and anxious. it's the next step for her and her bravery in taking it is everything i hoped and prepared for as a parent, but it's also a really big step. but at least it means we get to visit arizona regularly! and i'm very much looking forward to our road trip.

thing 4:  the way things have of falling into place, even in a time of great change and flux and turmoil and even when they seem like they can't possibly fall into place. my inner fatalist presbyterian thinks it all happens exactly as it's supposed to, even though it doesn't always make sense initially or on the surface of things. so much goodness ahead.

thing 5:  pondering my next tattoo. we have an appointment in tempe at black sails with the lovely lolo. i'm getting a typewriter this time, with a bit of color - to remember mom by and to remind myself to write on a regular basis.