Chasing Failure - The only way to actually succeed in life

I've been thinking about the purpose of life and how to achieve your goals. And it's all rooted in the simple idea that we as humans control our own lives.

But maybe I've been coming at this from the wrong angle.


What is life?
Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. We’ve all heard that quote.

I call bullshit on that.

Life is breathing in and out. It’s something you do without even noticing. You can’t NOT live. It’s simply not possible. You also can’t NOT pay attention to your life. It’s there. You’re in it. There’s no escape. So the idea of life happening somewhere outside of your perception? That’s just madness.

No matter what you do, you will be in your life, and you will live it. And unless you’re in a coma, you’re gonna notice that you’re living it. You might be disappointed or feel inadequate or a thousand other things – but as long as you breathe, you live.

But what about the things you do in your life? The meaning of it all?

Ah yes. Doing something in your life besides breathing is expected from most of us. A shame really. I quite like those days when I do nothing but breathe. But at the same time, those days make me feel horrible as well, because I feel like I’m wasting my potential and my limited time on this planet.

So, we’ve uncovered some more aspects of life: Expectations – from others and from yourself.

Let’s move on to the next key word: Control.


What is control?
Control is to exert force over something or someone to achieve a goal of some sorts.

If we agree that life is simply breathing, what is the goal we’re trying to achieve through the use of this control? Breathing in and out will happen regardless, so clearly that’s not our focus.

Oh no.

We aim to achieve a goal, set by our expectations, in order to achieve a level of satisfaction and accomplishment.

This goal will inherently be meaningless. Because life is short and no matter what you will die. Even the legacy of great people such as the pharaohs of Egypt and the emperors of China has been eroded by time.
Nothing lasts – not even humanity itself.


Letting go
This is turning pretty bleak. I don’t mean to be discouraging. I’m just trying to paint a picture where this idea of needing to be in control is utterly ridiculous, because in the end, it won’t make a difference.

The only thing you can actually control in this life is your breathing. The rest is just illusions of control.

Realize your insignificance in this life that you have. Embrace it. And start carving out the little piece of the world that you want to spend your time breathing in and out in.

I still believe you need to set yourself some goals – something you want to achieve. But don’t attribute the failure or the success in your life to yourself. Instead, embrace the inevitability of failing. Even if you succeed, it will not matter in 100+ years after your death.

So if you are going to spend your life failing at something – what do you want it to be?

It's time for an existential crisis

I’ve never had an existential crisis.

Not really.

I’ve always believed in my core that the world made sense. There was a plan or some sort of glue that would hold it all together. It was just a matter of figuring it out.

The Universe will give me what I need. That used to be my mantra and my way of comforting myself.

I’m shaking my head right now, ashamed by the level of self-centeredness and naiveté needed for such a belief to make sense.

Needless to say, I don’t feel that way anymore.

This is gonna be a not so happy post. So I'll fill it with Jensen Ackles fan art. Because I figure that will offset some of the darkness of this post. Source.

I’ve always loved Coketalk’s way of viewing life: That you should look into the abyss and laugh at it.

This is the first time I’ve ever really looked into the abyss. And I'm not laughing (not yet anyway).

Life isn’t fair. Shit happens. And it doesn’t make sense. There isn’t a pattern of any kind.

The abyss is bleak. And it is savage.

It doesn’t scare me. What’s the point of being scared?

It doesn’t intrigue me. There’s nothing to figure out. Nothing to anticipate. It just fucking is.

And then it isn’t.

The world hasn’t changed. It’s the same as it has always been. But I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time.

It’s not a cruel place – not by any measure. That would entail a sense of intent behind the causes and effects that simply does not exist. Such an intent is merely a projection of my own sense of identity.

There is no meaning. There is no sense. There is no pattern.

Source.

Maybe this is just a phase and I’ll emerge later with a new sense of purpose. But I doubt it.

We’re all just talking animals, inventing complex systems to live in, all to distract us from the fact that we’re going to die.

I’m not sad about it. I’m not happy about it either. I’m just seeing it as a fact. The earth revolves around the sun. The universe is unimaginable big. Gravity keeps my feet planted on the surface of the earth. And there is no point of it all.

I mean, life and all the systems we’ve created within the abyss are still marvelous. Wondrous. Beautiful, even. I can appreciate the beauty of this existence on the brink of madness.

I don’t quite know how to act in this world that I’m seeing now.

With kindness and grace I guess. Because when all else fails, all we have are each other.

And in an instant it can all be over.

I’m trying to avoid jumping to any conclusions. Life might be pointless. But I’m still figuring out if living a life is pointless as well. I’m leaning to a no right now.

Maybe I’ll laugh at the abyss next week. For now I’m just staring contemplatively at it.

I suppose laughter will come. Until it's my turn, please enjoy Jensen's laughter below.

I don't know who made the original gif but I got it from this post (source). If you like a smiling Jensen you should go check it out. It made me feel lots better.

This post was dark. I'm not sorry. I will find my way back to the light. Ask me tomorrow how that's going.

No answers here this time

I’ve been having a hard time, lately. Harder than usual.

I lost my mom last week. I’ve written some unfiltered posts about it on my tumblr. You can see them in chronological order here: day 0, day 3, day 7, day 8, and day 9.

That last one I wrote a few hours ago and almost posted to this blog. But I didn’t. Because it reflects a view of reality that I don’t really like. It might very well be how I feel right now, but it’s not how I want to see the world.

I don’t want to be hopeless.

But I’m afraid I am right now.

My world has been shaken to its core and I’m still trying to figure out how this new world works.

It’s clear that fairness doesn’t matter. Neither does individual will or hard work. Destiny or a higher power is a load of bull-crap too.

Doing the best you can, will not get you what you want. The world – at its core – does not care about you.

We are all going to die. It's just a matter of when.

I know there is freedom somewhere in this realization too. Freedom to let go. Freedom to spend your time however you please. Freedom to not care about trivial shit. And freedom to find joy in the simple things.

But I’m not there yet.

Instead I’m sitting at the edge of a black hole, wondering what the point of it all is.

If I ever figure it out I’ll let you know.

What to do When Your Passion Doesn't Exist

I get so tired of people telling me to go after my dreams. Because what dreams are we talking about here?

The one I had when I was a teenager and wanted to be a YA fantasy writer? Or the one I had when I was 6 and wanted to be princess? Or is it the one I had last night when all I really wanted was to road trip in the USA until the end of time?

Take your passion. Make it happen.

It’s even in a god damn 80's pop song, for crying out loud.

I grew up on this shit. Go confidently in the direction of your dreams and all that jazz.

And I get it. You’re supposed to go after what you want. You are not supposed to be paralyzed by fear or feel like you don’t deserve good things in your life.

But what if you just don’t know what your passion is?

Like. I really love eating icecream, but somehow that doesn’t translate to being a passion. I also really love reading fiction. I love shopping for clothes. I love browsing etsy for cute stuff. I love tumbling through tumblr and seeing the beauty of the world from the comfort of my own bed.

But none of these things qualify as being my Passion – with capital P.

So what am I supposed to do?

There are countless posts out there for how to achieve your goals. There are people out there who will give you tools for how to become more productive, how to overcome your tendency to procrastinate, how to network your way to your goals and so on and so forth.

They all seem to take for granted that you have a goal. And I feel like a failure because I can’t even manage to define what my passion is. It’s this first step on a thousand mile journey and I can’t even do that.

I’ve failed before I’ve even begun.

This is depressing.

I googled “how to find your passion in life” and 9,350,000 results appeared. So at least I’m not alone in this quest.

The top three results were about ‘finding’ your passion, insinuating that it was just a matter of uncovering this thing that already exist within.

So apparently there is a passion somewhere inside of me, waiting to burst out, like some sort of alien, and show me the light.

I don’t buy this line of thought. There isn’t a premade passion inside of me just waiting to blossom. If that was the case, then if would have appeared by now. I’ve listened to myself. I’ve asked myself the ‘tough questions’. I’ve brainstormed. But still, nothing.

This view of Passion with a capital P is also limiting in my view, because it implies that you have a ‘true passion’ out there. The implication of this is that anything else you do is false, and most likely a waste of time.

I don’t like dichotomies like that. I don’t like splitting the world up in a ‘right’ way to live (where you follow your capital P Passion) and a wrong way (where you’re complacent and/or blocked).

I’m not blocked.

I just don’t have a freaking passion. That doesn’t mean that I’m broken.

It just means that I’m a bit confused. And that I’m working on figuring my life out.

And I don’t need these condescending articles telling me that it’s just a matter of asking the right questions in order to discover this Passion that exist within me.

Anyway. One of the articles had the point that passion isn’t something that you are born with – it’s something that you cultivate, and nurse into existence.

Based off that logic, the author of the article created this formula:

(curiosity + engagement) x time = passion

The article explains the formula rather nicely. Basically you need an area you are curios about, you need to let yourself explore this area, preferably with people who also find this subject interesting. And then you need to devote yourself to it over time. 5 minutes isn’t enough.

I like that it takes a more pragmatic stance on this weird passion-thingy.

It takes some of the pressure of to just focus on an area where I feel a sense of curiosity. It doesn't have to be my passion. It's just something I'd like to know more about.

So that would be my advice to you guys. Forget about following your passion. Forget about finding your purpose in life.

Just find something that you are curious about. It doesn't matter what it is. It could be silly. It could be something you think is completely useless. It could be totally impractical. It doesn't matter.

If you like, tell me in the comments something you're curious about. If you find it interesting, somebody else probably does as well. Maybe even me.

Pies and Crumbles – Or How to Live a Lie

So I tried to make my words into actions.

I tried to convince myself this week that I was a pie-making enthusiast. That would be the lie that I was gonna live.

I imagined it would be fun tinkering with cake recipes, making magic in the kitchen. I love the smell of a cake in the oven and I love eating cake. So I thought it would be a fun lie to live for a little while at least.

I decided I wanted to bake an apple pie. It’s fall after all and I’d been wanting a slice of warm apple pie for weeks.

Then I realized I don’t have a stick to roll out dough, making it extremely difficult to make a pie crust. I usually use empty bottles, but I didn’t even have that.

So I began to look for recipes that wouldn't necessitate such equipment. I settled on baking an Apple Crumble. This recipe.

After I had added the ingredients for the crumble together I realized it was for twice as much apple as I actually had.

And as I began to cut up the apples and prepare them with cinnamon and sugar, I realized I’d used all the sugar in the crumble and forgotten that ½ cup of it was supposed to be mixed with the apples.

I felt like such an idiot for not even being able to follow a set of simple instructions.

Then came the actual creation of the Apple Crumble. Of course, there was way too much crumble compared to apples, but I just piled on what could fit, stuck it in the oven and hoped for the best.

The result? A nice Apple Crumble – a bit on the sweet side. And an extra bowl of crumble that I decided to make cookies out of a few days later.

All in all? A success. But it was a frustrating process, and I certainly didn’t feel like a success afterward.

I also don’t think that I’ll be trying to live that lie anymore. Yes, I like to bake, but I fumble along when I do it.

Like I do with everything else in life, apparently.

But I had yummy Apple Crumble to keep me company for a few days, which was nice.

What lie do you want to live?

I watched Sabrina the other night. It’s was the 1995 version with Harrison Ford. The old one with Humphrey Bogart and Audrey Hepburn is much better, but sometimes you deliberately do things that might seem out of character (like watching a remake when you know the original is way better) just to see what happens.

The movie is so unremarkable that it was hard finding a picture that captured the essence of the plot.So I settled for this because of the bikes. I love bikes.

I’ve been watching a lot of romantic films lately. I don’t know what that tells you about me. I think maybe I’m looking for answers. What the question is I’m not quite sure though. I think I’m searching for that too.

Even though this version of Sabrina is pretty forgettable, one part of it stuck with me.

It was when Linus Larrabee (played by Harrison Ford) confesses his true love for Sabrina (played by Julia Ormond). He explains that his love for her started as a lie, which grew into a dream, and now he was standing there hoping against hope for the dream to turn into reality.

I remember when I was a kid and people would ask me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I would tell them all sorts of things. I tried to be consistent, but to be honest I had no clue what I wanted to be.

I quickly learned that wasn’t an appropriate answer.

So I started to get creative.

I told them I wanted to become an archaeologist (after having watched Indiana Jones). I told them I wanted to become a writer (I love books). I told them I wanted to become a journalist (the more respectable version of a writer). I told them I wanted to become a lawyer (I blame Ally McBeal).

Now at the time I didn’t think of these stories as lies. But looking back I see that they were.

As we get older we’re told to be reasonable. To only take calculated risks. To not live with our heads in the clouds anymore. And I guess we’re told these things with the best of intentions. But why aren’t we allowed to be dreamers anymore?

It happened gradually, but the result was not to be mistaken: Playing pretend – or lying – became something you weren’t supposed to do anymore.

As an adult it’s expected that you have it all figured out – or at least pretend that you do. Somehow that lie is still accepted.

I don’t know what I want my life to become. I don’t know what I want to achieve. But maybe I can start with just telling myself a few lies. Just to see how they match the color of my eyes. And maybe one of these lies will stand out. I’ll think about it more than the others, imagining it in more and more details. Until it’s no longer a lie, but a dream – a goal.

Sometimes it’s necessary to deliberately tell yourself something that you know is not true, just to see how it fits. How else do you grow?

I don’t know if that’s how you’re supposed to do it.

I don’t even know who the lie is for – the one you’re telling it to? Or yourself? I suspect the latter.

So ok.

For the next week I will live a lie. Why not?

It shouldn’t feel too different from what I’m doing now.

If you could play pretend and live a lie - what would your lie be?

Advice for when you are lost in life

It’s been a while. Sorry. Life just always seems to get in the way of actually posting my thoughts here. Plus I think to myself, who evens cares?

But whatever. So I’ll talk into a void. I’ll rant. I’ll whisper. On rare occasions I’ll even scream.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking this summer. I’ve been trying to find a purpose now that I’m no longer a student but a ‘real’ and ‘proper’ adult.

And my use of those quote thingies merit the use of this gif:

What can I say, I’m a sucker for socially handicapped angels in trenchcoats.

I’d love to say I’ve found the answers. That I know what the purpose of my life is to be.

I haven’t.

Apparently these things take time.

But I will tell you what I’ve done and maybe you’ll find that helpful too.

Listen to yourself

That little voice in your head that keeps blabbering on about how tired you are, and how life would be better if you were better, and how you haven’t gotten far at all?

You need to pay attention to it.

I know it’s a lot more comfortable to just sit on the internet and browse or to lean back and watch Netflix. I don’t want to seem like a saint here. In the past month I’ve seen the entire series of Breakout Kings (it’s not even that good – I just couldn’t stop), the first season of Modern Family (this is actually really good though), countless movies (mostly romantic comedies or action movies I’ve seen before and love), and then an assortment of episodes of series I started but didn’t have the attention span to finish (this include shows I know are great but just didn’t struck a chord – The Wire and Orange is the New Black).

(geees - I watch a lot of shows)

Anyway.

You can’t ignore that voice forever. You might as well just pay attention to it and listen to what it has to say.

Be kind to yourself

This is an important one. Because that voice in your head? If it’s anything like the voice in my head, then it’s a fucking manipulative bitch. My voice is always disappointed in me, and nothing I do is ever good enough. It’s actually horrible to be in my head sometimes.

And that is why you have to be kind to yourself.

I like to do a simple test to see if what I’m filling my head with lives up to the criteria of being kind to myself: The things that are going through my head – would I talk like that to any of my friends?

Usually the answer is no, and then I know that I’m being too hard on myself.

Maybe the voices in your head are nice. My aren’t. Allow me to demonstrate:

“Oh god, so you’re writing another blogpost – what exactly are you hoping to achieve? Like anybody will read it. Or worse – someone you know will read it and fucking ridicule you. Or pity you. Because you are pathetic. Why even try to give advice? You don’t even know. So why are you acting like you got your shit together? Wouldn’t it be more productive to go home and vacuum? Which you btw haven’t done for like 3 weeks.”

And so it goes. Relentlessly. Constantly.

I would never talk to a friend like that. I would never allow any of my friends to talk to me in that manner either. It’s counterproductive and just plain mean.

And so, whenever I become conscious of my thoughts turning negative, I remind myself that it’s not ok to talk to myself like that. It’s not that I start to argue about the validity of the claims of my thoughts. They may very well be true (they certainly feel like they are sometimes). But regardless – I don’t have to listen to assholes talking to me. Even when that asshole is me.

So I stop . Take a deep breath. And tell myself to be kind to myself.

Now, being kind to oneself is not a free pass to do whatever you please. You still need to not watch Netflix all the time. You still need to get up early and get to work. You still can’t eat icecream for dinner (aaaahh who am I kidding – you can always eat icecream for dinner).

You still need to do all the boring adult stuff that comes with having adult responsibilities.

You just have to be kind to yourself while doing it.

Don’t be too hard on yourself when you fail. Just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and try again (and these lines are why this song [happy as is it] sometimes brings me to tears).

Talk until you’re blue in the face

What also helps me to squash my evil inner monologue of dreadful things is to voice these stupid thoughts to other people. Sometimes your inner voice will be very persistent in claiming certain things as truth. Sometimes it will even sound reasonable. Maybe it’s telling you that you’re underachieving because now that you’ve got a full time job, you’re not pursuing your other interests. I voiced this thought to my sister and she thought I was being too hard on myself. I’ve got a 50-60 hour work week. It’s a demanding job. And I do still pursue other interests, she pointed out. I am doing regular exercise (3-4 times a week) in order to get in shape for a race I signed up for. I am seeing my friends. My family. Heck I even read a book for fun once in a while.

So this thing that my inner voice told me that at the time seemed to be the truth, turned out not to be.

Sometimes you have to talk to other people about what you think. And then listen to how they respond.

Which brings me to the next point.

Listen to others

Listen to what people tell you. Don’t necessarily treat their version of reality as the correct one, but at least hear them out.

But more than that – try to ask them the question you yourself are wrestling with and learn how they dealt with them.

You can do this with all sorts of people – it doesn’t have to be your closest friends.

I’ve talked a lot with my sister about these feelings of inadequacies I’ve had. Just voicing them out loud made most of them appear silly.

I’ve talked to my friends of about feeling lost in life ever since I graduated. I asked them about whether they ever felt the same and how they dealt with it. And I found that most of them are still dealing with it. Every day. Trying to figure out their own purpose. And even though they didn’t have any answers it helped me. Just knowing I wasn’t alone is a comfort.

I’ve talked to colleagues about making ends meet and still finding time for other activities in life than work. They struggle as well. What seems to be working for them is to compartmentalize their life. It’s a skill I haven’t learned yet and to be honest I don’t know if I want to.

Don’t give up

This is where I’m at now. I’ve listened. I’m being kind. I’ve talked. And I’ve listened some more. I still haven’t figured out what my purpose is. But at least right now, I feel like I’m growing.

I don’t know what else to tell you.

So just, keep on rocking on. And let me know in the comments if you have any other tips for how to get 'unlost'.

On a final note - Alice in Wonderland is just filled with wonderful quotes. The dialogue between Alice and the Cheshire Cat below helped me through some rough patches.

If you don't know where you're going, any road will get you there. And there's some strange comfort in that.

So keep walking on the road of life. Keep on being kind to yourself and to others. And keep on listening and looking at the world in wonder until you find a road you like more than the one you are on.

Forget Your Troubles, mkay?

I’ve decided that my mood is random as fuck. Today I woke up angry at the world, hating everything in it, including myself. I thought I’d feel better after I got my morning exercise done. I didn’t. I thought I’d feel better after the shower. I didn’t. I thought I’d feel better after breakfast. I didn’t.

At this point I contemplated drinking coffee with no milk in it just because I wanted to make myself suffer.* The twisted logic was that since I was angry at the world, I might as well have something proper to be upset about.

I chickened out though and didn’t do it. Even in my hatred of the world I recognized that it would not make sense to add to the suckiness of it all by drinking unpleasant things.

I don’t know how, but sometime during the day, my mood got better. It seemed to happen without me noticing?

It’s like I’m a three year old kid crying because I just dropped my icecream cone. Show me a pretty picture or give me a swing-around and I’ll forget it all.

Is it really that easy?

I really love this version of the song. Who doesn't love a high-top-hat wearing House singing a song?

It reminds me of how in a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Ford explains that the secret to flying is to simply forget that you are falling. The hard part is to do that while you are hurling towards the earth at great speed.

Is the secret to happiness simply to forget to be sad?

It sounds too simple.

I have this tendency to overthink everything, though, so who knows.

I’ve always liked the Vlogbrothers and their slogan: Don’t Forget To Be Awesome. It kind of goes in the same vein of how your default state is positive. We were always meant to be awesome. Sometimes we just forget.

And rather than obsess about it, thinking of how you need to be a better version of yourself, and how you need to fix all your problems, maybe you just need to chill the fuck out?

I know I do.

Namaste motherfuckers.

*To those of you who prefer your coffee black – I mean no disrespect. I can appreciate that we don’t all like the same things. I just absolutely hate coffee with no milk in it. It’s too bitter and it just doesn’t sit well in my stomach. And it stains your teeth more than if you add milk. Maybe one day I’ll be adult enough to actually enjoy a cup of steaming black tar, but for now I prefer it with milk. 

Thoughts You Have As a Newly Minted Fulltime Adult (Riiight?)

I can’t seem to focus on anything.

I don’t even know how I’m feeling. I can’t sense my thoughts.

And the above doesn’t really make any sense. I know damn well how I’m feeling. I just can’t seem to connect these feelings with any sort of cohesive thought.

So for now I won’t even try.

I read a book yesterday. I finished it in one setting. It wasn’t even all that good, but I couldn’t be bothered to get up, so I thought, why not?

I don’t know how I feel about the book. It was alright, I guess. The main character was tired of being manipulated by everyone and had a general distrust of everyone. Parents – they fuck you up. But apart from that she was still a decent human being, believing in the goodness of others, even though it seemed she didn’t feel like she deserved any kindness herself.

After I finished the book I saw the newest episode of Orphan Black which was awesome as always. I t was a quiet episode where nothing much happened plotwise, but you got a sense of how the pieces were being moved across the board to create a set up for something bigger.

I feel like my life is on hold. No one is moving the pieces of my life around. No one is setting the stage for greater things to come.

Anyway. After watching Orphan Black, I got caught up on Game of Thrones. Got to watch four episodes in a row and that’s always fun times. People were betrayed. Some died. Some had sex. No graphic nudity though.

And after that I watched Iron Man. I really just love watching RDJ as Tony Stark. It seems like it was the character he was born to play.

After that I tried to read some more, but seeing as it was past 3 AM, and the book I was reading was boring as fuck, I just decided to say fuck it and go to sleep.

I just feel discontent. Which is bullshit because I have it all, but that doesn’t seem to make a difference to my brain.

I’m not being very kind to myself.

It always feels like I only have two settings: Full warp-speed ahead and fuck I’m a slug.

It worked alright when I was in school, because I always had so much shit to do so I never really fell into the slug state for long. I had a stuff to do to pull me out of my vegetative state.

But I don’t anymore. I have a wonderful job and an apartment and friends. But I suck at actually calling friends. Whenever I get a chance to be alone I grab it and cherish it. I rarely write people asking them to hang out. I just don’t do it. I don’t know why though.

I don’t feel at ease. I feel like I should be more.

I think it’s probably natural to feel this way? I mean, I’ve had this thing call school fill my every waking moment for the last 2½ years. Now that I don’t have that I feel empty.

I knew on some level I’d feel this way too. I guess I just didn’t know I’d feel it for this long?

I somehow always expect myself to be less affected by shit that happens. I’m always impatient. Always expecting myself to be able to absorb the changes quicker.

I don’t feel like I’m not a student anymore. I’m still just as lost. Still just stumbling through life. Still have a horrible haircut.

But I don’t get to call myself a student anymore.

And while I’ve celebrated my passing into the full-time working life, I don’t think I’ve actually mourned the death of one of my most cherished identities; I’m no longer a student at ITU. I don’t get to be that girl anymore.

Instead I get to be the woman who landed the job in one of the best companies in Denmark.

But where the fuck do I go from here?

I’ve never been good at planning ahead. I like goals. Every goal I have ever set, I have achieved.

But how does one excel at being a working woman? What is the next logical step here? Where the fuck am I headed?

I’ve been trying to not think about this too much. I’ve been telling myself that it’s the journey and not the destination that matters. But if I don’t even have an idea of what the destination is, how am I supposed to get up every morning and enjoy the journey?

This past month I’ve been drifting. And to drift for one month is not that bad. I’ve been doing my duties at my job, but if I’m being perfectly honest, I haven’t given it all I got. I’ve done what I had to, to scrape by unnoticed, but not much more. And that’s not good enough. That’s not who I am.

I’m the one who gets the job done. I’m the one you can count on to deliver those reports you need, that slidedeck, that fucking email. I get shit done. And you might not know the extent of my capabilities. You simply know that when I get a task, I get the job done. I don’t ask too many questions, I don’t try to re-organize and control every single detail. I simply present my findings.

My job is not to offer solutions. My job is to find the root causes of the problems and present my findings.

I like that job. It’s a good job.

I don’t feel Im doing a particularly good job of it right now, though.

I miss my past.

I want to go back.

And it’s so freaking unfair that you can’t.

My roommate from the university I went to in the states just texted me a pic from our first shopping trip together. I miss those days. I miss being that girl who attended university in the states and lived with three Norwegians. I miss going on road trips. I miss feeling like I was living a dream.

I’ll be headed back to the states in the fall for a vacation. I need something more to look forward to than just my next vacation. But what?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

I feel less jittery now. More focused. Not more happy. Maybe even on the contrary?

But life isn’t about being happy. It’s about being whole.

Patterns - The Stories we Tell Ourselves

I've repeated some patterns to death these last 7 years. There's a reason I hardly talk about guys on this blog. It's because it's always the same story. I meet a guy I like. I tell myself that it's nothing. He shows interest in me too and then I get hurt because I overthink everything. This happens once in a year or maybe less.

I just returned after a break and read the above paragraph. I started to delete it because it's so obviously wrong but I think I'll let it be.

Let me point out all the ways that first paragraph is wrong.

I am not the fucking reason why my relations to men never work out. It's not because I overthink it. It's not because I'm doing it wrong or scaring them off. I am not the fucking cause of the problems or the reason we don’t work out.

It’s also never the same story. The guy in question, the circumstances, my feelings; all these things are different each time.

When I meet a guy and things don’t work out, it’s due to a wide array of issues. Maybe it's timing. Maybe he's immature as fuck. Maybe he's in a weird place in his life. Maybe he's depressed. None of the above things are my fault. I am not the cause of these issues.

Which of course means that I can't control these things either. Sometimes shit just doesn't work out. And that's OK.

I can't believe I'm 27 and still have to remind myself that I am not in control of the universe.

I'm taking a chill pill now.

If I could control the universe I’d set myself up for a date with Tom Hiddleston.

 

But since I can’t I’ll just be content with posting pictures of him and appreciating the fact that he exists. It gives me hope.

Tom is like the black swan that proves that even though all you’ve seen in real life so far are white swans, other kinds of swans do exist.

I feel no remorse about this Tom Hiddleston black/white spam. It's just simply marvelous.

But I do feel it's important to note that the patterns you notice in your own behavior? They might not actually be there. It's just stories we tell ourselves to make sense of the world. Usually when I tell myself the story of my life, I put way too much importance on the consequences of my actions. But the alternative - letting go - has always terrified me more than the guilt I felt for not being good enough.

But I think I have to start letting go and be more kind to myself. I'll keep you updated on how that goes.

Failing the Bechdel Test

I’m sitting at my local coffee shop.

Next to me are two young women. Not particularly pretty, but not unattractive either. And all they are talking about are boyfriends and how they used to have them and how they don’t anymore and how they feel comfortable where they are. If their life was a movie, it would not pass the Bechdel Test.

One of them noticed that her ex-boyfriend deleted her on facebook over the weekend. Not because she’s stalking him or anything. She just notices stuff like that really quick. Riiiiiight.

And then she goes on to talk about how she would totally go for that guy she met at new year’s eve. But she’s like really enjoying being single and getting to know who she is when she’s on her own.

I’m really eaves dropping aren’t I?

They’ve left now. So now it’s just me and my own thoughts.

This one woman (who did most of the talking) kept on insisting she was happy, but her whole way of thinking and the things she talked about just didn’t match up. If you are happy being single why are you checking your ex’s facebook? Why are you thinking about that guy you met almost 3½ months ago and that ‘you’d totally go for’ if he called? It’s been months – it’s not going to happen. Why are you not present in your own life as it is? Instead you’re caught up in the whole ‘could have – would have – should have.’

Sitting here thinking about it, It sounded like she was trying to convince herself that she was happy.

I pity her.  And I see myself reflected in her. It’s actually pretty uncomfortable to see myself as someone I don’t like.

You can bet that whenever I judge somebody, I judge myself by the same standards.

I don’t quite know what to do about it.

I could try to be more positive, but that would just be the equivalent of me trying to convince you guys that I’m totally fine and a-okay as a way to convince myself. But I’m not happy about my life right now. And trying to pretend won’t be enough.

Fuck it.

I’m going to work some more on my excel spreadsheet of wonder and rainbow colors and figure out what to do some other day. It’ll be a problem for Cat from the Future. She’s much smarter than me anyways. She’ll know what to do for sure.

Non-consequential Thoughts

I had this post written where I complained a bit about my life and stuff in general, and I was all ready to hit publish, but then I thought – why would I share this with the world?

I don’t really think about what I post here. It’s mostly just whatever’s in my head. But you know that friend that always complains and never seems to be able to be happy about anything? That friend is exhaustive to be around. Thinking about it now I actually think I’ve successfully managed to not have that kind of friend anymore.

But I don’t want this blog to turn into the cyber equivalent of a negative nelly.

So yeah. Non-trivial shit and stress is getting me down at the moment, but fuck that. There are more interesting things about me I’d like to tell you.

• In an attempt to not being defined by my job I signed up to do a 8 km obstacle course, military stile. It’s called Toughest. Because it’s the Toughest race out there. Yeah – I’m not even kidding you.
• I want to write and publish articles on knowledge management, the networked organization, and whatever other buzzword I can think of. That’s gonna be a project for the next time I’m bored.
• I got a new washing machine. When you turn it on and open the side-door, lights come on inside it. It’s freaking awesome. 
• I’m considering working Pocahontas and ‘Colors of the Wind’ into my presentation at work. You only have the fun you make yourself, right? But the thing is my job is pretty … conservative. It’s famous for it in Denmark. And I’m not quite sure they’ll be able to handle a Disney reference in a presentation about our IT application landscape. It’s also going to be my first presentation. Maybe I shouldn’t press my luck? 
• I just spent an hour writing this post (twice) instead of doing actual work. But then again, it’s 8PM so I guess it’s okay to be not working.

Aah, who am I kidding. I’ve got an excel spreadsheet to gaze lovingly into.

*plays ‘Colors of the Wind’ on Spotify*

Toodles!

Ahoy! It's a Dane!

hard. We are expected to form social relations with the people we go to school with or the people we work with.

You’d think we were stuck in 18th century England where it’s frowned upon to talk to anybody you haven’t been formally introduced to, but the fact of the matter is that this is still kinda of the reality in Denmark.

Of course, almost none of the norms apply to situations in which Danes are intoxicated. When a Dane is drunk, the social norms are different. All bets are off so to speak. This is also why lots of people ‘hook up’ when they’re out partying. That’s usually the first step of dating a Dane. More on that here, if you want to read it – it’s a good read and fairly accurate.

Now of course – not all Danes are like this. We don’t growl at strangers when they approach or anything. But the general consensus is that if a strangers walks up to you and starts talking to you (outside of school, work or private parties) that stranger is either A) Crazy, B) Trying to sell you something or C) A tourist. Maybe even all of the above. Whichever the case, it’s not someone you particularly want to interact with.

It’s not because we dislike strangers. I’m sitting here trying to figure out why we are this way. I don’t really know. It’s just seen as rude to talk to anybody you don’t have any business talking to. It also extends beyond that. Even among friends, it’s really rude to just drop by somebody’s home. If a friend of mine out of the blue knocks on my door I’ll assume some sort of tragedy just happened or that something is really, really wrong.

I think part of the reason why we are this way, is because it’s seen as really rude to just assume that the person you’re visiting doesn’t have anything better to do than entertain you. Now I might be perfectly happy to see you. I might even have missed you. But if you show up unannounced on my doorstep I’m going to be annoyed too, because you’re messing up my plans.

Maybe it’s just that Danes as a population can’t handle unexpected occurrences?

Should something unexpected to occur, you can count on a Dane on handling it with a cool calm. They will always be polite. The most impolite thing a Dane will do might be to just not respond when you’re talking to them. They’ll simply ignore you in the hopes that you will go away. Because that is how we as a population deal with uncomfortable things. We ignore them and hope they go away. They usually do.

But as polite as we are, we don’t like to exchange meaningless pleasantries. The classic one is Americans that always ask ‘How are you?’ no matter what the situation is. Don’t get me started on that one. I mean – do you really want to know how I am? Like, really? You are interested in hearing about the details of my life and my mood? And then you ask me in a setting where they only thing I can possible answer is ‘Fine-thank-you-how-are-you?’ as quickly as possible because it’s a fucking shop and I’m leaving as soon as you hand me my receipt which will be in 2½ seconds.

I got used to that question. I learned to smile and say thank you. But it’s still the definition of being superficial and rude in your relations to strangers. Don’t ask me how I’m doing unless you have 30 minutes to hear me talk about my life, the meaning of it all, and the fact than I’m hungry.

This post got rather long, didn’t it? I'll stop now then - talk to you later.

Toodles

xoxo

Springing Back to Life

Things are cyclical. I know this. It’s something you don’t quite get when you’re a teenager and experiencing everything for the first time. You roll you’re eyes when adults tell you that things will get better.

But they’re not lying. Things do get better.

I’m home in Denmark again. This past month I’ve been to Scotland and Qatar with my new job. It’s been pretty hectic. I love it though. I still can’t believe I actually ended up where I am (which is in Business IT within a huge firm –the sky is the limit in this place).

It's springtime in Copenhagen. I took this picture this morning (and made it look better by using filters in instagram). The first days of sunshine after the winter always makes me happy. I love it. 

I’m sitting at my local café enjoying the fact that I’m home. I love my city more when I’ve not seen it for a while. And I’ve hardly have time to see it this month.

But as with anything cyclical I know this feeling of peace and harmony I have will disappear again. Which sort of makes it more precious?

Anyway. Cycles seems to be the theme of this post. And it seems this blog might come back to life again. I nod my head to Weak Thrust and look forward to see how their comeback will play out. Twisted as you all are, I do love you. Maybe the revival of my blog will equal yours.

The Last 10 % = 90 % of the Task

That headline above - have you heard about that concept? It's widely known in IT project management.

You have a defined task. It has a beginning, a middle, and an end. When you start you naively always believe that the project is smaller or more easily done than what is actually possible.
Some of this is due to scope-creep*. That's always an unpleasant fellow to run into. But most of it is due to the fact that you don't know what you're doing until you've done it.

But writing that down as a project goal isn't really the accepted business practice.

I'd like to think you get better at knowing you're own limits and identifying the potential areas of complexity before they hit you on the head like a freaking cement-block and delay the completion of your project. But maybe that's just wishful thinking.

I like to finish things. But a lot of things will never get finished.

It's not just IT projects that work this way. Right now I'm staring at piles of clean, neatly folded laundry. I need to put it on hangers and actually finish this measly task of doing the laundry. You'd think the hard part is over. I dragged bags of filthy clothes across town in order to wash it. I hung it up to dry. Folded it. And dragged it back across town. All I need is to finish the job. The last 10%. But I feel like it takes 90% of my energy to do it.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm lazy by nature.

By the way, this post is my attempt to motivate myself to actually put my damn clothes away. It also functions as a perfectly valid excuse to procrastinate the task - at least for a few more minutes. A win-win situation.

I've managed to have 16-hours workdays for months, juggling working a job and writing a thesis. I'll be damned if I let myself get beat by a little pile** of laundry.

So yeah. Let's all try to finish our projects, hmm? Even the small ones. They all matter in the end.

* I'm not going to explain to you what the fuck scope-creep is. Do something useful with your time and google it yourself.
** I lied. It's huge. I've been avoiding doing laundry for ages. I actually ran out of socks. Yup. I am that adamant about avoiding doing stuff.

Update and Zombie-Snails?

So. If you haven’t figured out yet, I update this blog when I’m trying to avoid dealing with my life. 

But my life right now? It’s pretty decent. 

I’m done with school. Got my master’s degree. Yup. I am now a Master of IT. Got an A too on my thesis. Booyah.
I got a freaking awesome job at a huge company. I’ll actually be travelling abroad. Hotels and airports here I come!

And while that’s nice and well, I don’t walk around feeling grateful everyday. Maybe I should? But I’m actually annoyed at all the menial crap I still have to do, like doing the dishes and the laundry. And getting up every morning. So annoying. 

I feel like I don’t quite know how to relax. It’s like I only have two settings: Super awesome ninja-woman, doing everything at once and doing it to perfection. Or Zombie-snail. There is not middle ground. I’ve been sliding into zombie snail territory. Next weekend I’ll binge watch House of Cards. That’s going to be fun. I need to catch up on Game of Thrones, too.

Me as a zombie-snail. This would be as I was watching the latest Sherlock episode - source

Fuck it. I’m just going to chill for a few weeks until my new job starts and then I’m sure I’ll be back to my old busy self. And if not, I’ll find something to fill my nights with. Possible Sons of Anarchy or The Wire.