Salt Lake City?

I got offered a position in Salt Lake City. Or rather strongly encouraged to send an application by the manager who’s going to do the hiring.

My first reaction? Absolute glee. I really wanted to do it. I was honored that he would ask me. Delighted that I was given the opportunity. Ecstatic about the prospect of actually doing it – getting a job in the states.

Then the fear and the panic set in. This wasn’t a job offer after all – just an encouragement to send in a resume. What if I wasn’t good enough? What if I didn’t like it? And was Salt Lake City even where I wanted to go? I had always pictured myself to be more of a coastal kindda girl. And Salt Lake City? Capital of the Mormons? I drink. I swear. I’m a mess half of the time I’m awake. What if I went to the other side of the world and there was no one there to catch me when I fall?

Then my planning instinct kicked in. I thought about my apartment in Copenhagen – how was I going to pay off the mortgage? What about the vacation I had planned in October? Would I have to cancel it? And what about my thesis? Would I still have time to work on my master thesis along with all the hassle and stress of relocating to a different country? And what about my family? I’ll admit; part of me likes to have my family on the other side of the world. But I love them too. And I want to be there for them.

All these voices in my head are saying no. It’s clear that it’s a bad idea. The timing is off. Maybe if I wasn’t writing my thesis it would be better. Maybe if it was a coastal city (like NYC of SF) it would be better.

I know that there are a lot of practical reasons as to why taking a position in Salt Lake City is a bad idea right now.

But what I feel is shame.

I feel bad that I’m not jumping on this opportunity. This is something I’ve always wanted – to move to the states with nothing but two big suitcases and a pocket full of dreams. I’ve always wanted to create a life for myself free of the strain of old relations and bad habits. I’ve always wanted to do the things that sound awesome to do.

A friend of mine is relocating permanently to Montreal. She’s flying off into the sunset in about three weeks. And I’m so happy for her. And not at all jealous actually. I know my time in the states will come.

I’m just afraid that I’m letting that opportune moment slip through my fingers because I’m too afraid to reach out and grab it.

Am I being a coward?

Some years ago I made a promise to myself that I would not let fear be the only thing holding me back from doing stuff. I became an expert in asking myself ‘why not’. Why not go out? Why not talk to that guy? Why not go skydiving? Why not study in the states? Why the fuck not live my life as I damn well please? (See? I definitely swear too much..)

It’s been fun.

And I’ve learned to separate what was fear from what were valid concerns. Or so I thought.

The thing is this is the first time I’m considering doing something where it feels like it’s more than fear holding me back. It’s not just me being neurotic and imagining stuff. I’m not just making up excuses. (riiigth?)

Finishing my master thesis is a priority of mine. Being there when my brother gets to be dad for the first time is a priority. Watching that kid grow up? I want to be there for it all. But how can I if I live in the states?

I’m afraid that I’ll lose the people I love.

It’s one thing to go away for 4 months to study abroad. It’s an entirely different thing to leave and never come back.

I don’t know where I’m going with this.

And I still don’t know if I should send that resume or not.

It's Messy Before it's Clean, Right?

My room is a mess. I suck at doing stuff like vacuuming and putting clothes on hangers. Not a good combination of things to be sucky at.

Update on the friend business: It wasn’t what I thought it would be. But nothing is broken so that’s good.

And other than that I’m trying to get myself into thesis-writing mode.

Like for real. I have 6 months where I have to write a thesis. It’s really doable. But I’m pretty stumped by the step of finding a problem to write about.

So to remind myself that I’m further along than I think I am, I’m going to make a list of stuff I’ve done:

• I found a subject that perfectly combines Technology and Business: YouTube
• I wrote a list with 16 areas of YouTube I’d like to investigate further.
• I wrote a 20-pages paper about user interaction and gamified processes on YouTube
• I found my thesis advisor
• I’ve read about persuasive technologies, gamification, business models, motivational theories, and a bunch of other stuff I can’t remember.
• I went to a lecture about big data and found out that it really is just a buzzword.
• I’ve bought books about behavioral and cognitive economics, information visualization, and the fallacy of technological solutionism (give them to me Amazon so I can read them!)
• I’ve investigated the business model of YouTube and found that they are constantly trying to increase their revenue, currently by diversifying their products.

So I’ve done stuff. But I want to do more. And most importantly, I need to find my angle on this project. So far I’ve found that even though I knew YouTube was a huge area to tackle, it is even larger than I thought. Maybe even larger than life? Anyway. All I need is a good title and the rest will follow.

Ideas so far include “YouTube: A Case Study of a Persuasive Business” and “How YouTube Creates Revenue: Aligning Consumers, Contributors, Creators, and Customers”. Maybe I should go in a totally different direction: “Why YouTube Trolls are the Best Trolls” or “YouTube: It’s the Shizzle!” or “YouTube: The Parasite of Google?”

I mean, the possibilities are endless, and that’s kindda the issue. Suggestions are welcome in the comments.

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.

An Annoyingly Deep Post

I haven’t said much here. I’ve always used this blog as a place to moan and bitch and be annoyingly philosophical (and occasionally to gush about geeky stuff). 

I saw this blog as a relatively safe place to be negative and whiny.

But there’s never a safe place to do that. You shouldn’t try to minimize the pain you inflict on others. You should try to figure out why you have this need to whine or be negative in the first place.

I got a roommate when I moved over here. She told me I needed to get out of my own head. She said it was okay that I bitched, moaned and complained to her. She wanted me to come out of my shell. It’s not that I’m shy. I’m not. But I protect myself from the world (side-effect: protecting the world from me).

Being that level of open with another person might seem trivial to those who already know how to do that, but it’s a whole new world to me.

The thing is, once you start to open up, once there’s somebody else than yourself listening to your thoughts, it becomes clear that something isn’t right.

So far in my life I’ve managed to create coping mechanisms (deny, deny, deny all the problems). But I don’t want to deny my problems. I don’t want to develop coping mechanisms. I want to not have a need for them anymore.

No more thinking 15 steps ahead, trying to anticipate the actions of others, to try to figure out how they will end up hurting me.

Did you know that if you think 15 steps ahead, everybody will potentially hurt you? And then you begin to take steps to avoid them hurting you. You try to please them. Try to make them like you, so they will nice to you in return.

The underlying assumption is that they will hurt you. They might not intend to, but they will end up doing it anyway. It’s just a matter of time (this is a lesson learned through experience). And since they don’t mean to, it’s up to you to stop it.

Crap has happened to me and I’ve been hurt. I guess it has happened to a lot of people. My personal way to deal with it has been to say that it was okay, because the person responsible for the sending the shit-storm my way didn’t know better.

But you know what? That’s fucking bullshit.

People should know better than to bully each other. To torment each other. To lie. To use violence.

I’d like to think I am this complex mess. That my problems are truly unique. That at least in my level of fucked-up-ness I can be something special. But I’m really not. My personal set of problems are just a regular round of trust issues, coupled with mild anxiety and debilitating feeling of guilt.

Trust more. Worry less. Forgive those around you and yourself.

Yeah.

Fuck if I know how, though.

Observations of the American People

Once you go somewhere that doesn't have this, you immediately want it. 

You are generally more open and engaging towards strangers than Danes. You say what’s on your mind, and I kind of like that about you.

You are seriously obsessed with the flu. Get over it. You do not need to get a vaccine. If you get ill, you’ll still survive. I promise.

People in Washington really do love to hike.

You are incapable of pronouncing Danish words (including my name). It’s highly entertaining to hear you try though.

You really do need a car to get around. Mostly also because campus is kind of boring.

Everybody in college wears sweats. I only packed my pretty clothes (because, really, why do anything else?) and while I do feel fabulous all the time, I’m also aware that I’m most likely the only one to be in a skirt and heels.

Apparently the general consensus of Americans is that if a female has short hair, she must be a lesbian. And while it’s always nice to know that I’m welcome in the Diversity Center, it’s a little overwhelming to be surrounded by a flock of shorthaired lesbians/bi/whatever, who assume I need a ‘safe place’ to hang out.

Also, why are there no taxes in Oregon? It’s like this mythical place of wonder and Voodoo Donuts and no taxes.

... yeah.

It happened. I officially lost another boyfriend.

No, I didn’t misplace him. He’s not that kind of lost.

I left him in Denmark. I told him I didn’t want a long distance relationship.

And now, a month later the gravity of the situation has hit him.* He changed his status to single on facebook.

Everything has an expiration date.

I don’t know what I expected. That nobody was gonna get hurt, I think.

Ugh, I am such a bitch.

But whatever. We had a good run. It ended. Time to look to the future, I guess.

What I really want to do is watch Fight Club on repeat. But I'll settle for this video of Joseph Gordon-Levitt singing Lithium.

*A side-effect of being honest: You hurt people. 

The Irrationality of Rationality

I had an existential crisis the other night. I had moved into campus and met my new roommates. We were talking about decorating the living room area by putting up posters and fairy lights. I got on amazon looking for posters. And that’s when the ‘fun’ started.

I looked through what must have been thousands of posters, and even though I tried,  I truly couldn’t pick out something fit for hanging in a living room. It was ridiculous.

I kept looking for that perfect thing that would fit in and give a sense of ‘home’ to the white walls. Nothing was good enough. And the few posters I did find, I wasn’t comfortable buying, because what if my roomies didn’t have the same taste as me? What if they didn’t like them? There was just too many variables to take into account.

My roomie saw me struggling and promptly told me to back of the poster-searching. That she would take care of it.

“You don’t need to put that much thought into it, you know? It’s just posters,” she said.

I wanted to agree with her, because somewhere in the back of my mind I knew she was right. But I just looked at her and hyperventilated slightly, my fingers still itching for browsing through just one more page of posters, because maybe the poster would be there.

She shook her head in disbelief. “God, how did you ever choose a college?”

The truth is I didn’t. I stumbled over it and thought ‘Why the hell not?’

I know that’s not what you’re supposed to say. I’m supposed to say that I chose to do this because it is a dream of mine (which it is). But I never dreamt of Pacific Lutheran University. I dreamt of the states. So how did I end up here in Tacoma? A combination of availability, timing and the will to act (I can feel that I’m a student again, because I immediately thought of the garbage can theory).

I spent one of my exams last year, arguing to my professor that it didn’t matter what actions what taken. What was importance was the simple fact that an action was in fact taken. The human mind and its inclination to eliminate cognitive dissonance would soon come up with more than enough reasons for why that particular action was taken.

You didn’t need a rationale beforehand. That would manifest itself soon enough as your need for a personal narrative would take over and create a story that incorporated your actions and made sense.

Even though I know that there is no way to act rational, I always try to do it. I look at all the posters to find the best one (and do you know how many posters amazon has? It’s freaking daunting). I try on all the shoes in the store in my size before buying any (if that). I routinely browse ikea.com and the likes in order to find the perfect bookcase (three year into the search, and it still hasn’t happened [but does that mean I give up and just buy something that is ‘good enough’? Of course not, because I’m stupid like that]. The result? All my books are piled in countless stacks on the floor).

It’s not perfectionism, as my roommate assumed.

It’s not stupidity, as I’m inclined to believe.

It is a deeply irrational attempt at acting rational. Or rather, it’s an attempt to control the world around me by collecting all relevant data (even though that’s impossible).

I think I’ll stop trying to do that. It’s quite stressful.