On Nothing, Apparently.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted on this blog. Part of it is because I’ve been busy with work. But it’s also because I’ve been going in circles in my head about this existential crisis that I’m in.

I still don’t have an answer. I’m not used to problems I can’t solve.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to describe this paradox that I’m experiencing.

What’s happening is that I know that life is unfair and meaningless. Life is random and will end up hurting me.

But despite this, I still choose to get up in the morning. I go to work. I make things happen at work. I see my family and friends and help them when I can. I keep on keeping on, and I don’t understand why.

Life is finite. It will end. Why am I not trying to get more out of it?

I should quit my job, I should chase my dreams, I should do everything in my power to get as much living into this one life that I have.

But I don’t. I just continue living my humdrum life.

This is a paradox I can’t wrap my head around.

If life is meaningless, why do I still follow the rules as prescribed by society? Why do I conform to what’s expected of me?

I’m thinking about this and dismissing any answers just as fast as they appear.

It’s not because I’m afraid. I decided long ago never to let fear rule my life (and as a consequence have done lots of amazing things).

It’s not because I’m lazy. I have the ability to achieve what I set my mind to. I’m simply too stubborn to give up and I’m not afraid of hard work. I actually quite like working hard towards a goal. It gives me a sense of accomplishment.

It’s not because I don’t know what to do. I could start writing more. I could start travelling more. Seeing more friends. Living more. The possibilities are endless.

It’s not because I’m exhausted. I have energy. I do things.

So what’s holding me back?

Nothing. Apparently.

Messy McMessy

I recently visited a friend, who was in town and staying at somebody else's place.

This place was like something out of a magazine in terms of its chic decor. Even though it was in the middle of Copenhagen it was spacious and artsy and filled with curiosity items. Not enough to make it seem like a lost&found but just enough to make it quirky and charming.

Right now I'm sitting on my bed, looking at the laptop-screen, thankful I can't see my room.

If I were to look beyond my computer I wouldn't be able to see the floor. It's covered in stuff,

And not cute stuff. No. Just layers and layers of STUFF.

It's a complete mess.

I have so many things that I don't even know where to put them.

I'm not the kind of person who collects random shit. But because of my mom's passing, there's been an increase of stuff - clothes mostly. And no where to put it.

I would love to live in a place that was spacious. That had room for cute, artsy things.

The things you own definitely end up owning you, and right now I'm feeling lost.

The good news? There's a way out of this mess.

The bad news? It requires hard work and lots of boxes.

I've ordered the boxes from Ikea, so I guess what's left now is the hard work,

My favorite hobby

I watch a lot of TV-shows. Not as many as I used to, mind you. But it’s still one of my key hobbies. To sit back, relax, and be taken into a different world.

For some reason, watching TV-shows is not really thought of as a worthwhile hobby. Oh no. It’s more something you do to avoid thinking. To avoid existing. It’s basically wasting your time.

A while back I was at a work-dinner and my boss asked me about what my hobbies was, just to make conversation, and I was stumped. I’d only been there a month and still trying to make a good impression. Was I allowed to say that my idea of a great weekend was no plans, pajamas, and a long list of TV shows to catch up on? That my preferred hobby was to find new TV-shows worth watching?

Heck, even reading has a better reputation than watching TV, despite being arguably just as inactive and passive an activity.

Just recently in The Flash, Barry Allen (the titular main character), said that his social life consisted of running at super human speed and Netflix. It was obviously not something to be proud of.

I hate that watching TV has gotten such a bad reputation.

But it should also be noted that part of the problem are the social circles I move in. I’m 28, well-educated, and working at a prestigious company. My colleagues spend their free time sailing, playing squash, training for marathons, and being apparent super humans. It’s exhaustive.

I don’t get why some hobbies get the stamp of approval while others don’t. It’s about the dominant culture of the society we live in and maybe one day I’ll write about that as well.

But I enjoy watching TV-shows.  And I’ll keep prioritizing doing that. And it’s not about just passing time. I love spending time with these characters. I see their struggles, and how they deal with impossible situations, and it gives me hope that I’ll be able to deal with my own issues.

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.

So apparently I'm blogging about my job now?

I had a really great day at work.

My colleague and I managed to win in foosball and give the other team a bright and shining egg. I love when that happens.

The weird part is a lot of not so great stuff actually happened today. But we came together as a team and fixed it. I love when you're able to feel like you're actually working together - and not just people working within the same vicinity.

So what happened? A little after 2PM a lot of our systems started crashing. I am responsible for most of our web-based applications. Every single one I’m responsible for (on our SharePoint and .NET farms) were unresponsive. Our automatic phone systems were down as well. The combination of this affected all of our 2000 employees.

I’m in application support, in case you’re wondering. I know a bunch of stuff about the different applications and I help develop new ones and maintain the ones we’ve got.

I don’t know a whole lot about servers. I don’t have any hard technical education, with the exception of a java-programing course.

I have access to every server that is important for the applications I support. And when the applications became non-responsive, I logged on to the web-front-end servers in the SharePoint farm and there was no issues I could see. The load-balancing tool told me that they were online and working just fine.

So when everything seems to be working, what do you do? You reboot everything you can get your hands on.

This was done by the server-team.

But it didn’t work.

Now at this point about an hour had passed. I’d given notice about the error to the relevant people in the business. And I had called users from our different locations in the country and established that it was indeed all users across the board that was unable to access the web applications.

Not sure what to do, I logged onto the application servers and started checking the event logs. It turned out there were a lot of error messages regarding one of the SQL servers in the SharePoint farm.

On the SQL server, there was some information messages about a failed windows update in the event log.

I gave this information to the server team, and it confirmed their suspicion that it was an issue with a group policy that had affected the firewall of the SQL servers. This had also been the issue with the Solidus server responsible for the phone application.

It meant that they now with certainty knew what was wrong. And how to fix it.

And it sounds so fucking obvious when you write out like this. Like of course, this is what was wrong. But I feel proud as hell, because I actually helped solve a server-related issue.

Usually when our systems crash I fidget around a bit but I’m never able to actually contribute anything that the server-team isn’t already on top off. So either I’ve gotten better at this. Or they’ve gotten slower.

Anyway. I kick ass at my job. And I had sushi and champagne for dinner.

All in all a pretty good Friday.

I hope you all get to have days like this too, once in a while. They’re nice.

Love and Skydiving - A Well-known Metaphor

Have you ever sky-dived? 

The scariest part of sky-diving is the part where you’re sitting on the edge of the plane, and you’ve just watched the people before you jump out and become tiny black dots in a matter of seconds.

You’re sitting on the edge, wondering why you ever thought it would be a good idea to fly 13000 feet up in the air in a tiny airplane, strap yourself to a stranger and jump out of the plane.

But once you’re there, sitting on the edge, you don’t have a choice. The guy you’re attached to has all the power and when he pushes you out of the plane, the only thing you can do is try to remember to breathe.

The first few seconds are absolutely terrifying. There is no up or down. There is no center of the world. There is only cold air and complete confusion.

The guy you’re attached to knows what he’s doing though. So even though it feels like an eternity, you are very quickly horizontal in the air, arms and legs bent in the correct position.

You are now rushing toward the ground faster than you could ever have thought possible.

Once you’re falling like this you can’t scream. The air is rushing toward you in far too great a speed, forcing into your lungs. So you grit your teeth and do your best to just breathe. The air burns cold as you breathe in through your nose. You remember you were supposed to look up and once you do that, the fall doesn’t seem quite as scary. Keeping your eyes on the horizon you see the mountains. The pretty, pretty sights. And if it wasn’t for the difficulty of breathing and the rushing sound of air you might be able to forget that you’re hurling towards the earth in 60 miles an hour.

You actually fall for such a long time that it starts to feel a little bit comfortable. It’s still a chaotic sensation of wind and coldness, but the view is pretty and the feeling is exhilarating.

Then the guy on your back signals that it’s time to pull the chute.

You might have thought that the best part of a sky-dive is the falling. But falling is overrated.

When the chute opens and you go from 60 miles an hour to 10 miles an hour it feels like time stops and you’re just stuck in the middle of heaven, floating.

Serenity.

That is the word that best describes this feeling.

The rushing sound of the wind stops and you suddenly realize how peaceful the earth really is. You look down, and everything is still tiny below you.

Insignificant.

And still so very important.

But this post isn’t just about sky-diving. It’s also about love.

Whenever I kiss a guy I really, really like, I get this feeling that I’m falling without a parachute. It’s the most exhilarating, fantastic, and scary experience. And you’re so lost in falling that you forget that you’re even supposed to be wearing a parachute.

I’ve come to not particularly like these kisses. Because when you fall without a parachute it’s going to end bloody.

Last weekend I kissed an old friend. We have always balanced that fine line, but timing has never worked out before now. And it’s not true love – we’re both too jaded right now for that. And we each deal with issues that make us unfit for each other. But I trust this guy more than any other. I’ve told him my deepest darkest secrets. And he hasn’t rejected me. He’s been there. And we’re not super tight like that. We don’t hang out that often. But for the last ten years he’s been the guy I knew would always be on my side. He’s been my friend. And I’ve been his friend.

Anyway. We kissed. And it just felt so natural. So comfortable and effortless. As I left his place and took the bus home I felt safe and completely happy with myself and my actions. Because I knew I trusted him. I knew I liked him. But I also knew that I didn’t have to be afraid of us ever becoming a couple. Of us building a future together. Of me sacrificing my dreams for his happiness (the story of most of my relationships). It just felt right.

It felt like he was my parachute.

And I know I’ll land soft on the ground sometime in the future. Everything has to end after all. But right now I’m just enjoying floating in the air.

Because after all falling is overrated.

99 problems

If you hadn’t guessed by the title, this post isn’t exactly filled with unicorns and rainbows. Sorry. Maybe next time?*

Anyway. Let’s get started.

In November 2009 I was fired. (Yeah. That sucked.)

Through a stroke of luck I was able to stay in my job as a temp and even get a raise, but now my time is up. Or almost, anyway.

My last day is August 31th 2011. Nearly two years after I was let go, I finally have to actually move on and do something else with my life. Problem is, I have no idea what or if I even want to.

There is a lot of downsizing going on at work right now and seeing all these people being let go, is a constant reminder that my time here is short as well. Of course, it’s sad that they’re losing their job, but if I’m being completely honest, I’m more upset about my own (99) problems: What am I supposed to do with my life? How am I going to pay my bills? What will make me happy?

(Yes, I am extremely self-involved – I could pretend not to be, but I hate keeping up appearances)

My parents want me to go back to school and study full-time. “You’re wasting your potential,” they say.

They say this as lovingly as possible, but it still puts pressure on me to do something with my life. Something great. Something inspiring. Something more awesome than just holding a normal 9to5 job.

The thought of studying full-time does appeal to me. Going to classes, reading, studying, even taking exams. I like finding answers and learning new things.

Still, going back to school also feels like I’ll be regressing into my safe zone. It’s something I know and something I know I’ll be able to excel at.

And one day I’ll graduate, and what will I do then?

I feel as if going back to school would be like taking all of my problems and putting them on hold for the two years that I’ll be studying. But once I get my degree, the problem of what to do with my life will still be there.

I’ve been told I focus too much on the problems in my life. I’m trying to just go with the flow, I really am. 

But it’s really, really hard. 

* Oh who am I kidding. Meet Charlie the Unicorn!

Fluffy mind-melt

I stayed up all night and watched Doctor Who with a friend. 12 episodes, booya!

But alas, I am now paying the price. I feel like I've been zombiefied ( huh, so the spell-check doesn't think that zombiefied is a word. That's a shame.)

 

Picture of Doctor Who because I mentioned him. And because I like looking at him. He seems like he's thinking deep thoughts too. Or maybe trying to use a psychic mind-melt power on me.

Anyway. I've been doing a lot of staring into space today and thinking really deep thoughts that go absolutely nowhere because I can't seem to focus on them long enough. I was supposed to do my homework today. To research how to pay taxes in the US. To write on my WIP.

I've done none of the above.

Instead I've been contemplating what the core of my stories are, and in extension what the core of my life is. To explain. I recently read this blog entry about the core of the your novel and how you can change anything in your story, as long as the core remain intact.

It seemed like a really good concept and it got me thinking about what the core of some of my stories have been. Of course, being nothing, if not narcissistic, I also started thinking about what the core of my life is. What is the one thing that I absolutely will not change about myself? The one constant in my life?

(It's easy to base the core of your life on something that isn't really yours, but that's a blogpost for another day.)

I didn't find the answer I was looking for - my brain is pretty much mush today after all - instead my mind wandered into the territory of what my philosophy of life is.

I believe that it doesn't really matter what you do with your life or where you are in the world. Those things are simply the extra filing of the cake that is your life, so to speak. What matters is how you act. And I believe, that as long as you act with enthusiasm and kindness, you will find happiness - no matter where you are and what you're doing.

So this is me, being an enthusiastic and kind zombie for the rest of the day. 

Credits for the picture

Hello?

I haven't been updating this blog. I have a lot of good reasons and even more bad ones. But it's not like I haven't been thinking about this blog. Thinking about appropriate topics and I even have a few drafts prepared.

Confession: When I'm stuck at work and have a few idle moments, I like to write and send myself emails. I write whatever is in my head and sometimes it frightens me what comes out in the page. Some of it would fit perfectly on the blog. Most of the time - not so much.

But dear Cat, you might think to yourself.  If your thinking and writing, why aren't you blogging? (yes, I'm imagining that people are actually reading this [don't judge]).

The answer? It's embarrassingly simple.

It's because I'm afraid that I will scare you away. I'm afraid that if I let the world peak into the twisted wonder that is my mind, I'll be rejected. Truly rejected.

I'm tired of living in fear.

Which is why I'm going to click on the 'Publish'-button now.

What defines us?

I watched an episode of Torchwood* yesterday and it really got to me. 

The episode was called Adam and it was about an alien that managed to manipulate each of the teammembers memories. This ended up changing them radically (e.i. a cynic womanizer became a romantic fool for love, the quiet nerdy girl blossomed into a self-assured and sexy woman).

At the end of the episode, when they’re trying to remember who they used to be, they’re asked to look inside themselves and find their core memories - the moments that defined them and shaped their lives.

 

It got me thinking about my own defining moments and just like the characters on the show, I feel like I’ve been defined more by the bad stuff than the good stuff. I remember clearly the first time I had to take on the role of being a parent, because my mother was too drunk and no one else was around to do it. As the youngest sibling of four, it was a totally new feeling and very, very scary. I was terrified, but I couldn't show it, because then my mother would just become even more difficult to deal with. I remenber feeling utterly lost, but oddly in control of the situation at the same time. It was a very weird sensation. Bittersweet. Certainly not something I would classify as a happy memory. 

And so it goes for a lot of the moments that I feel have defined who I am.

 

Why is it that hardship seems to make a bigger imprint on us than all of the good times?

 

I took a break in my blogging here, to ponder this question and you know how they say 'ask and you shall recieve'? 

Well...

 

I was just surfing the net and reading the news when I stumbled upon an article (in Danish) about epigenes and how a traumatic event in your childhood can literally change the epigenes of your DNA.

 

We're talking about how psychological trauma can actually effect you right down to the genetic level. That suffering in your childhood can make a lasting imprint on your DNA. This certainly seem to explain the nitty gritty details of why it changes us.

It would appear that mind and body is connected on a multitude of levels.

I don't know if that is a comforting thought or not. But it does make me think about the characters I write about. What kind of trauma have they experienced? How did it effect them? Do they even know how deep the wounds go?

I was surprised to learn that I've been changed on a genetic level because of things I experienced in my childhood. But the creative writer in me wonders how this might be the seed of a story. 

* Torchwood is an British sci-fi show, a spin-off of Doctor Who**. It's about a team of humans, defending the world against aliens. 

** Doctor Who is one of the best shows ever. If you don't know it, you really, really should. Start by watching this. And that. And just because I kindda think he's adorable and you should see him in all his adorableness here's a picture of David Tennant as the Doctor: