“Yeah, I know Melinda… I do not like her very much”

You are responsible for the results you intend. No excuses.
-Looking around me I see dust, crumbs & a whole bunch of clutter that I should throw out. The dust has gathered on the windowsill, the wall mouldings, the details on the mirror, on the stack of papers on my bureau. There are crumbs on my nightstand because eating in my bed has become commonplace. The clutter? Yeah, I am good for that. I start cleaning on part of the room and then place all of the stuff that I cannot find a home for on the other side of the room. I guess after a few months, I have thrown out a third of what should have been thrown out several months beforehand​. Or, I am just bloody awful with throwing stuff out.
Bet on yourself.
-Bet on what? That I am certain to be the worst at something? That there will always be someone better than I am? THAT NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY, I WILL FAIL?
Oh wait, no that is not part of this assignment, right? Umm…. yeah, I will get back to this. I have enough sense not to bet on anything. Much less myself.
Believe the very best.
-About myself? NO. About everyone else? I often do. If it has anything to do with me, I would rest assured… I will mess it up. I am a fat, gnarly pig. I have nothing to offer anyone. I will suck the joy out of your life.
Right, POSITIVE THINKING, DUMBASS.I will wake up tomorrow & try to avoid thinking that I can make anything any worse.
Take action.
-Yes. Tomorrow I will. Today I will take some tablets and sleep as long as I can. I have no real reason to be awake. I have nothing good to say, nothing interesting to do. The boys are at their grandparents’ house so I have no-one to tend to.
Create your love story.
-Just having someone to love me more than naked women that masturbate for money on a computer screen would be great. I do not require much.
Turn a loss into a win.
-I would love to. Which loss are we talking about? I cannot think of one way to turn losing my infant daughter into a win, so that one must be out. Oh, perhaps I can turn losing my faith in myself into a win… hmm.. nope, that one is a no-go as well. How about… yeah, fuck this one.
You have permission to shine.
-That is my oily T-zone. I will exfoliate before I go to sleep.
Give thanks.
-I am thankful for my children, clean water to drink, the ability to make blueberry muffins (because Norwegians have no idea what an “American Muffin” is suppose to taste like), and yarn. Without yarn, I would use my hands to do much less productive (and probably a whole lot more bloody) things.

My sarcasm is taking my post over. Sorry, I thought I could do this but obviously I cannot.
But hey, 517 words in 10 minutes? Not bad, not bad. Oh. No, it is really 550 words! Crap, I just added more.

Ugh, nevermind.​

attack of the killer pussy cat; she isn’t real


-I realised that my life has more in common with an Amy Winehouse song than I care for.

-J had his birthday party.

-Cap’n Meow tried to distract me when I was trying to take a photograph to capture how bloody old I look.

-I listened to the wind & wished I was floating around in it like a dried up autumn leaf.

-Yeah. That is it.
I do not have much to say these days. It was decided that I am not entitled to any measure of happiness/contentment. I am trying to process this in a way that allows my dreams to die off quietly instead of a drawn-out​ fight for their survival. You think you are hopeless, at this proverbial “rock bottom” until you still find yourself falling deeper. Broken promises, broken hearts & the like.
On the bright side: when all of these stupid feelings are finally burned up I am free to live life without foolishness. I will not desire anything nor will I expect to be desired.
I will truly be the walking dead…. but even my inner melancholy goth girl is frightened.

Ah well. C’est la vie.

letting go of ideals

It is that first moment when you see that person that was only a still picture and a string of text. That awe that you feel that your face clearly projects. It is the giggles and sighs and blushed cheeks. Or those quiet intermissions when you would rather be kissing them instead of talking. Or the way your heart races when you see them smile (and you know it is directed at you). It is that absentminded fiddling with your shirt or twirling your hair while you wonder what they smell like up close. 
This is what true passion looks & feels like. 
Alternately, it is the gleeful wave you give to the other person on the camera. The witty banter or upbeat small talk. It is smiles that almost reach your eyes. It is pleasant but mostly unmemorable. 
This is what contentment looks & feels like. 
Fantasy vs reality

Love/Heart/Joy vs settling

Hope vs acceptance 

Happiness is limiting your desires. 

Be happy with what you have. 

Deny yourself big dreams or ambitions. 

Be agreeable. 


The harder it is to forgive someone else, the more I am responsible. When I understand and forgive myself, forgiving others is easy.

The men in my life have often told me that I was (reasonably) attractive. Some would even go as far as saying I was stunning. I have shrugged the compliments off because I already knew I was not. My mother let me know as a wee one that I was nothing. Even when some of my idols would admire me in return, I found a way to trivialise it.

Will has been the first one to agree with me out in the open. I am sure I have met people that would look at me and think, “UGH” and/or, “EW”, but no-one has said this to my face. I was hurt, at first, but then I took comfort in knowing I was indeed ugly. The internal tape that has been playing in my head forever finally had someone that agreed!

I have said and done some awful things because of this. I have abused myself more than anyone else could.. so how can I forgive him for just saying what I know already? He has told women that he has wanted how beautiful

(adjective; pleasing the senses or mind aesthetically, of a very high standard; excellent. ‘You have the most beautiful smile.’)/sexy (adjective; sexually appealing, attractive, or exciting. ‘Her legs are long and sexy.’)/gorgeous (adjective; very beautiful or attractive. ‘Sunsets in Hawaii are just gorgeous’) they are.

The most he could muster for me was “nice-looking” (adjective; Pleasing to the eye. ‘Nice-looking houses’).

It is strange that it is even something to discuss – we both agree that I am unpleasant to look at. It just seems wrong that the person that is supposed​ to love me thinks I am less than anyone else he has been with.

You remember why you love them. Love is about forgiveness.

I love his laugh. I love the way he gets all wrapped up in video games and yells at the screen when it does something he did not want it to. I love his doodles. I love the way he is with the boys. I love the look on his face when he is taking pictures. I love reading the fantasies he has written for others. I love how focused he gets when he is doing something he loves.

Just acknowledge that we are humans, so we are allowed to make mistakes.

I tell him this all the time. He does not want to take it. He needs to feel worse than I do. It is some sort of competition.

No one ever gets to the end of their life and thinks, “I wish I stayed angry longer.” They generally say one of three things: “I’m sorry,” “I forgive you,” or “I love you.”

(he says I do not smile enough. I cannot imagine why.)


I slept for total crap last night.
My arms kept falling asleep. I could not get into a position that helped.
Lu came to me and hugged me & my grouchiness disappeared.

The joys of parenthood.

We have had winter holiday this week. The boys went to their grandparents for a few days. Isobel stayed with us. We played Ticket to Ride & Catan. I covet vacation weeks. No, I do not get to sleep in. No, I do not get any “me” time. I spend every moment immersed in the delight that is my family.

My mother got a new boyfriend, a serious one, that moved in when I was around 12. She forced him into a role he did not want. This man was a child, no job, no real ambitions. He was married before and had a daughter. He had no relationship with his biological child until he was with my mother. She talked him into spending time with her… which I find to be odd because once he was in our lives, she was not.

Not that she was ever much of a mother. She never made us school lunches or helped with our homework. She never once read to us. Being a parent was a burden to her. Introducing a man into our lives was a train wreck for Nick & I. She went on trips for days at a time, leaving us behind. We were unsupervised, often with little for food.

On a few occasions, I thought about calling the police. I knew this was illegal… but I was afraid of what would happen to my brother. I was old enough to know what would follow.

Why people have children when they have no desire to spend their lives with them is beyond me.

My faith in humanity disappeared when she fell pregnant. Why would a woman that wanted nothing to do with her existing children want another?

One Easter, I went to Stavanger to be with Will. I felt terrible about leaving the kids with Paul. Paul was drinking heavily then. He spent all of his time locked in the basement, alone with the internet. I would have NEVER left if Isobel was not here. I spoke with her and she and I came to an agreement – I paid her to make sure the boys were supervised & fed. Paul managed to make sure they got to bed but beyond that, Isobel watched after them. I had a hard time enjoying myself while I was away! I kept in constant contact with Isobel and even though she assured me all was well, I felt guilty. No man is more important than my children. Ever.

Needless to say, I did not visit Will after that (I went with him to drive his car up when he moved. The boys were with their grandparents). Will came here every time after that. Sure, we did not get to lounge in bed all day or stay up all night but I got to enjoy the time I did have with him. I have never looked at being away from my children as a treat. They are my life.

I also never put Will in the role of “step-father”. That is not why he is in my life. I did not expect him to replace Paul in any way. I wanted him to find his own place in this household – a role he could be in with confidence. He is quite good with the boys… but I never expect him to babysit so I can go out or anything like that. The boys have a father already… and though Paul has his flaws (like we all do), he knows his responsibilities and adheres to them. They are two individual people and no where do their roles mingle.

Blending a family is tricky, I know. You have to take into consideration every person’s needs at all points in time.

I suppose if all is done with love (and without selfishness) it works out?
I shall keep my fingers crossed.