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Jessica Baliciel. Alien chick. 27 år. Mother of cats (4 stk). Forlovet med Espen siden 01/01/17.

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#meToo


Category: Personlig // 18.11.2017 at.23:17 o' clock // 3 comments


OBS: Dette innlegget inneholder skildringer om overgrep, som kan være triggende / støtende for noen. Leses på eget ansvar.



"Hvor gammel var du da du mistet jomfrudommen?", er et spørsmål man ofte får, både av blogglesere, av venninner og i grupper på sosiale medier. Som oftest forteller jeg dem at jeg var sytten, nesten atten år gammel. At fyren het Kim, var litt eldre enn meg, var fra Vennesla, og at jeg var oppover ørene forelsket i ham. Og det er sant: det var en fyr som het Kim. Han var eldre enn meg. Han var fra Vennesla. Og jeg var forelsket i ham.

Men.. Det var ikke han som tok jomfrudommen min. Den mistet jeg et år tidligere, til en mann fra Grimstad, som het Jørgensen. "Ikke store forskjellen det vel?", tenker du kanskje. Og kanskje er det ikke det - i alle fall ikke for deg.

Men hva om jeg fortalte deg at den dagen jeg dro for å treffe Jørgensen, var det for å se film og bli kjent? At jeg ikke hadde noen intensjoner verken om kyss eller kos - og hvertfall ikke sex?

At han fortsatte å klå, enda jeg sa nei og dyttet ham bort flere ganger? At da jeg reiste meg opp for å gå, ble jeg dyttet ned igjen med makt, mens han gikk bort, låste døren og puttet nøkkelen i sin egen bukselomme - ga meg beskjed om at ikke faen om jeg dro herfra før han hadde fått det han ville ha? Hva om jeg fortalte deg at han la sin vekt på meg, og jeg ikke var sterk nok til å dytte ham av? At han var sint og truende? At hadde han ikke vært alene hjemme, ville jeg skreket på hjelp?

Hva om jeg fortalte deg at hadde jeg hatt et valg.. Så hadde vi ikke hatt sex?

Hadde jeg hatt et valg, ville jeg ikke stått der halvnaken midt i veien og kledd på meg i regnet, fordi jeg ikke kunne komme meg bort fra ham fort nok. Hadde jeg hatt et valg, ville jeg ikke sittet i fosterstilling i dusjen senere samme kveld, og forsøkt å vaske bort følelsen av å være ekkel og skitten. Hadde jeg hatt et valg, hadde jeg ikke ligget våken den natten.Hadde jeg hatt et valg, ville jeg ikke brukt de neste tre årene av livet mitt på å være livredd for å treffe på ham på gaten, på butikken, i byggefeltet der borte på Fjære..

Hadde jeg hatt et valg, ville jeg ikke falt inn under voldtektsstatistikken.

Dessverre har man aldri et valg i slike situasjoner. Nettopp derfor er vi så avhengig av et samfunn som forstår, og et rettssystem som fungerer. Dessverre har vi ikke det, heller. I alle fall ikke ennå...
 


3 comments



#Dødsangst


Category: Personlig // 07.11.2017 at.12:11 o' clock // 6 comments


Det var en helt vanlig høstmorgen. Den første frosten hadde lagt seg på bakken, limt fast både blader og småstein. Jeg husker ikke hva jeg hadde på meg denne dagen, eller hvilken måned vi var i. Jeg husker ikke en gang hvilken dag det var. Det eneste jeg husker, er historietimen vi hadde på skolen akkurat denne dagen. Jeg gikk i tredjeklasse, og denne dagen skulle vi se film i historietimen. Jeg husker ikke stort av filmen. Det var en animert film, husker jeg, men hva den handlet om har jeg glemt. Det eneste jeg husker - den eneste scenen i hele filmen, i hele denne dagen som har brent seg fast i netthinnen - var en scene hvor en mann ble narret til å drikke av alderdommens krus. Jo mer han drakk, jo eldre ble han, til han til slutt skrumpet fullstendig inn. Døde, som en gammel mann. De andre elevene lot seg ikke merke av denne scenen, men jeg? Jeg sverger at - om så bare for et ørlite sekund - frøs blodet til is i årene mine.

Jeg fikk ikke sove den natten. Mamma ble irritert. "Nå. Må. Du. Legge. Deg!", sa hun, gjennom sammenbitte tenner. "Men mamma, jeg er redd", svarte jeg. "Redd for hva?", spurte hun. "For alderdommen", svarte jeg.

Hva sier man egentlig til en tredjeklassing som er redd for å eldes? Til en tredjeklassing som har mareritt om å en dag våkne opp som en gammel dame, og se at livet har passert forbi? Hva slags skrøner kan man fortelle ei lita jente for å roe henne ned? Jeg vet ikke. Det visste tydeligvis ikke mamma heller. Neste dag ringte hun læreren vår og ga ham en kjeftesmelle. Sa at kanskje skulle de ikke ha vist en slik film til en gjeng med tredjeklassinger.

Men mamma forsto ikke. Jeg var ikke redd for alderdommen på grunn av scenen i filmen. Jeg visste forskjell på film og virkelighet. Jeg visste at monstre ikke fantes - men like fullt visste jeg at alderdommen gjorde det, og det skremte meg. Ikke fordi jeg hadde sett en mann i en film drikke av et krus som gjorde ham gammel, men fordi jeg visste at alderdommen snek seg innpå oss alle sammen, forkledd som lange sommerdager og kalde vinterkvelder, forkledd som smil og latter, tårer og smerte, minner og drømmer. En usynlig fiende man ikke kunne løpe fra. En sykdom det ikke fantes noen kur mot.

Fra den dagen av bestemte jeg meg for å ta opp kampen. Jeg skulle finne en måte å overvinne alderdommen på. Jeg slukte alt jeg kom over i jakten på svaret. Lå svaret gjemt i 1800-tallets vampyrutryddelse, eller i 1600-tallets heksejakt? Lå det i sagnet om de vises stein, eller dealer med djevelen? Lå det i artikler om stamcelleforskning? Lå det i genmodifisering? Hvor enn det lå, skulle jeg finne det.

Årene gikk, og plutselig var vi kommet i ungdomsskolealder. De andre barna gledet seg; et skritt nærmere de voksnes verden. Jeg grøsset; enda mindre tid igjen. Var det på tide å gi opp? Akseptere realiteten for hva den var? Kanskje. Gjorde jeg det? Vel, jeg forsøkte, men enn så hardt jeg forsøkte, klarte jeg ikke slå meg til ro med det.

Helt til en dag.

Flere år senere sitter jeg her igjen. Tjuesyv år gammel. Jeg ser at flere av de menneskene jeg vokste opp med, nå har begynt å få de første tegnene på aldring. Små rynker rundt øynene eller munnen. Flere av dem er foreldre nå. Jeg ser meg i speilet, stirrer, gransker under fullt lys. Er de der hos meg også? Rynkene rundt øynene og munnen? Nei, de er ikke det. Dag etter dag trekker jeg et lettelsens sukk. Men om natten våkner jeg. Kald og varm på samme tid. Blir liggende og stirre. Den er tilbake: frykten for at neste gang jeg åpner øynene, neste gang jeg ser meg i speilet, skal jeg se et ansikt som er akkurat littegrann eldre enn i går...


6 comments



Kan jeg ikke bare få leve?


Category: Personlig // 10.10.2017 at.21:17 o' clock // 6 comments


Jeg er stresset. Livet stresser meg. Min egen alder stresser meg. Dagene som kommer og går, timene, minuttene og sekundene stresser meg. Det er en stor ball av konstant uro i magen. I hodet, og i hjertet. "Må ikke stresse", sier folk. "Takk som sier ifra, da skal jeg jammen slutte med det!", har jeg lyst til å svare sarkastisk, for så enkelt er det faktisk ikke.

Jeg skulle selvsagt ønske at det var det. At jeg kunne knipse med fingrene og poff, så var stresset borte. At jeg kunne vifte med tryllestaven, og sim sala bim så forsvinner uroballen i magen. Men verden er sjelden så magisk og enkel som man ønsker at den skal være.

Jeg skriver ikke blogg med håp om å håve inn millioner eller bli A-listekjendis. Jeg trenger ikke spalteplass i avisen eller intervju hos Thomas og Harald. Trenger ikke invitasjoner til blog awards og fancy priser som kan pryde peishyllen hjemme (dere vet, den peishyllen jeg ikke har). Trenger ikke å bli godt likt, høyet opp i skyene og forgudet som et slags overmenneske bare fordi jeg kan trykke på et par taster på et tastatur og utløseren på kameraet.

Men jeg skulle gjerne hatt frihet. Jeg skulle gjerne kunnet pakke baggen og overraske kjæresten med tur til varmere strøk når den første snøen faller. Jeg skulle gjerne hatt muligheten til å si "nei, nå kjeder jeg meg" og spontant bare booke en tur til et litt mer spennende land. Jeg skulle gjerne hatt muligheten til å reise rundt i verden, og lære min egen planet å kjenne.

 Tanken på at å kanskje bli gammel uten å ha fått sett hva verden har å by på - dèt stresser meg. Veldig. 

Å leve er å utforske.

Kan jeg ikke bare få leve?


6 comments



Skal jeg fortelle deg en hemmelighet?


Category: Personlig // 22.09.2017 at.16:44 o' clock // 7 comments


Det blir stadig vanskeligere å komme på ting dere ikke vet om meg, uten å bli for personlig. Likevel klarte jeg tjueseks stk denne gangen også! Så her kommer et god håndfull 'hemmeligheter'. Enjoy!

01 eBay har tullet det fullstendig til med min forståelse av hva som er billig og hva som er dyrt. Før hadde jeg en slik "så lenge det koster under tusenlappen, er det billig"-tankegang, mens nå kan jeg gå inn på Cubus, se en bh til ca 200 kroner - ish, og tenke at det er svindyrt, fordi man får akkurat det samme til 38 kroner på eBay.

02 Jeg har alvorlige problemer med å kle meg etter været, spesielt om vinteren. Jeg klarer rett og slett ikke gå i lag på lag med klær, eller tjukke jakker, fordi det gir meg en følelse av å ikke kunne bevege meg. Derfor går jeg med sommerklær året rundt. Er det skikkelig kaldt drar jeg på meg en høstjakke, et par vanter, tjukke sokker.. Men du ser meg aldri med skjerf.

03 Jeg sparer på alle starbucks-koppene mine fordi jeg planlegger å gjøre noe skikkelig kult med dem, men jeg får aldri somlet meg til å faktisk gjøre det.


04 Jeg ser helt normalt i dagslys, men i mørket / dårlig opplyste rom, ser det venstre øyet mitt kun kalde farger, og det høyre kun varme farger. Veldig fascinerende, i grunn. Jeg har fått det sjekket, og det er visstnok ikke noe galt.

05 Jeg har ingen parfyme jeg bruker fast. Jeg bytter jevnlig mellom parfymene i Victorias Secret Mist - serien, Paris Hilton's 'Just me' og Dior. Sistnevnte er forøvrig oppbrukt nå. 

06 Jeg elsker dyr, men kan ikke fordra lyden av et dyr som har et skikkelig festmåltid med sin egen rumpe (slafser når det sleiker seg i anus), jeg synes det er SÅ kvalmt!

07 Jeg har bodd i fosterhjem.

08 Jeg kan plutselig få helt random sanger på hjernen. Akkurat nå er det "jeg er en banan, henger i et tre, faller aldri ned!"

09 Jeg har ikke sett på tv på over to år. (Netflix og andre streamingtjenester teller ikke).

10 Jeg synes ikke fifty shades eller twilight er skrevet så fryktelig dårlig som alle skal ha det til. Selv om førstnevnte har en tendens til å bli litt kjedelig og tørr innimellom.

11 Jeg kjøper alle favorittseriene mine på blu-ray / DVD, som en slags backup til den dagen internett går til helvete.

12 Jeg leter fremdeles etter en parfyme eksen ved en feiltagelse kastet i 2010. Den lukter kanel. Flasken er rund og lyseblå, med grå kork. Noen som vet hvilken jeg mener?

13 Jeg har aldri vært russ.

14 Da jeg var fjorten ville jeg ha piercing i navlen og playboytatovering ved siden av. Er fremdeles evig takknemlig for at mutter'n sa nei.

15 Jeg trives godt uten sminke og går som regel uten.

16 Jeg liker verken sushi, kaviar eller champagne - alle de tre tingene det er 'kult' å like. Haha.

17 Jeg liker ikke pære eller bringebær, men er veldig glad i pærebrus og bringebærdrops.

18 Jeg er en introvert, som også betyr at jeg har behov for å være helt alene i blant.

19 Jeg har aldri tatt sol.

20 Jeg legger meg aldri med sminke, uansett hvor full jeg eventuelt måtte være.

21 Før drasset jeg rundt på en stor veske hver gang jeg skulle ut. Nå stikker jeg telefon, visa og nøkler i ei lomme, og er good to go.

22 De aller beste bloggidèene mine får jeg faktisk mens jeg står i dusjen.

23 Jeg er sterk motstander av dyremishandling, men jeg støtter faktisk dyreparker. Kristiansand dyrepark, for eksempel, forsøker å gjøre dyrenes oppholdsted så likt deres naturlige omgivelser som mulig. De får jevnlig mat, og får veterinærbehandling ved behov. Mange av parkens dyr er utrydningstruede på grunn av menneskers jakt på dem, og da synes jeg faktisk bare det er positivt at noen gir dem et trygt sted å leve og formere seg. Det skal imidlertid nevnes at det ikke er alt jeg er enig i. Jeg kan love at ingen ble sintere enn meg da parken avlivet kenguruene for å få plass til geparder. Likevel, stort sett, er jeg positiv til dyreparker.

24 Jeg har lenge tenkt på å skaffe meg en elektrisk tannbørste. Synes de gode, gamle greiene begynner å bli litt avleggs. 

25 Jeg hadde såpass mye komplekser som ung at jeg pleide å sitte og se på bilder av folk jeg ville operere meg til å ligne på. Jeg er evig takknemlig for at jeg ikke var toppblogger med millionlønn den gang, ellers kunne jeg fort gått på en smell eller tjue.

26 Jeg har blitt invitert inn til God Morgen Norge på grunn av bloggen 5 ganger opp igjennom årene, men de har alltid avlyst i siste liten.


7 comments



Den gangen jeg nesten ble kidnappet


Category: Personlig // 19.09.2017 at.18:42 o' clock // No comments


Dette er kanskje et av de lengste, og mest personlige innleggene jeg noen gang kommer til å skrive på denne bloggen. Dette er også en av de hendelsene som har påvirket meg aller mest i løpet av livet.

Klokken var litt over syv, men allerede hadde solen gått ned og mørket senket seg. Store, tunge regndråper falt fra himmelen. Splat, splat, splat, sa det da de traff den våte asfalten. Sokkene mine var gjennomvåte. Hadde jeg visst det kom til å regne, ville jeg kanskje valgt noe annet enn joggesko å gå med. Jeg burde jo egentlig ha visst det; det var tross alt regnsesong nå. Det fine, grønne gresset hadde for lengst blitt brunt. Bladene på trærne hadde for lengst blitt gule og falt ned. Nå lå de og druknet i vanndammer rundt omkring, sammen med meitemarken som var kommet opp fra jorden i et forsøk på å berge livet. 

Det var en høstkveld lik alle andre. Det var ingenting ved akkurat denne kvelden som tilsa at snart skulle livet mitt snus fullstendig på hodet. Hadde jeg visst hva som ventet meg, ville jeg kanskje snudd og løpt i motsatt retning. Hadde jeg visst, hadde jeg kanskje ikke gått ut i det hele tatt. Men jeg visste ikke.

Ikke ennå.

Jeg var kommet til fotballbanen nå. Jeg gikk langs tribunen. Så på det mørke treverket som nå mest av alt så sort ut. Så på gresset, med de hvite oppmerkingene. Målene i hver sin ende av den gigantiske banen. En gang hadde jeg spilt her. En gang hadde jeg løpt rundt med knebeskyttere og fotballsko sammen med jevnaldrende elever fra klassen. Men så hadde jeg sluttet, for fotball var ikke noe for meg. Jeg hang liksom ikke helt med. Var mer opptatt av publikums reaksjoner enn å spille på lag. Slik blir man ingen god lagspiller av.

Med et siste blikk på fotballbanen, vendte jeg den ryggen. Nå var det ikke langt igjen til jeg var hjemme. Nå skulle jeg bare følge veien, ta til venstre ved første sving, og så følge veien igjen, så ville jeg være hjemme. Med raske skritt løp jeg over veien. Den hadde ikke noe fortau eller veirekkverk, så her gjaldt det at både gående og kjørende holdt øynene på rett sted for å unngå ulykker. 

Jeg gikk i grøftekanten. Forsøkte å ta opp minst mulig plass. En rekke biler kjørte forbi. For hver bil som passerte, sprutet vannet opp over føttene mine. Jeg brydde meg egentlig ikke, men jeg visste at mamma kom til å gjøre det. Disse skoene kom ikke til å være brukendes i morgen, så fulle av vann som de var blitt nå.

En sort bil med en rød stripe på svingte inn bak meg. Stoppet. Det samme gjorde jeg. Et vindu ble rullet ned. "Hei, du!", ropte en voksen mannsstemme. Jeg dro ikke kjensel på den. "Ja?", ropte jeg tilbake. "Kan jeg kjøre deg noen plass?", spurte han. "Ellers takk", responderte jeg.

"Joooda", maste han plutselig, "kom nå da, så kjører jeg deg hjem! Moren din lurer nok på hvor du er hen!". Jeg tok et par skritt bakover. "Mamma vet hvor jeg er hen. Jeg bor rett borti her. Ellers takk", sa jeg igjen. Følte meg plutselig litt utrygg på hele situasjonen.

Så hørte jeg det klikket i et belte. Før jeg forsto hva som foregikk var døren blitt åpnet. Lynraskt var han ute. Jeg snudde meg. Løp, men var ikke rask nok. Han fikk tak i jakken som jeg hadde knyttet rundt livet. Den gled opp, og jeg løp så fort jeg kunne. Jeg kunne høre ham banne bak meg. Jeg snudde meg ikke. Fortsatte bare å løpe, mens jeg kunne høre bilen svinge ut igjen og kjøre etter meg.

Det våte håret klistret seg til ansiktet mitt. Det brant i lungene. Våte joggesko klasket hardt mot asfalten. Hjertet hamret så fort at jeg trodde det skulle sprette rett ut av brystkassen. Men jeg stoppet ikke. Jeg bare løp. Så fort jeg kunne. Svingte inn så fort sjansen bød seg. Løp gjennom private hager. Tenkte det ville være vanskeligere for ham å følge etter meg der. Jeg ville gråte. Jeg ville skrike. Jeg ville ringe på hos noen. Søke tilflukt. Men fornuften tok meg. Det var best å ikke ta noen sjanser. Det var best å ikke lage noen lyder som kunne avslørte hvilken hage jeg befant meg i. Best å ikke stoppe opp for å ringe på hos noen, for hvem vet om de i det hele tatt ville åpne? Nei, det var best å bare løpe, og håpe at jeg ikke snublet.

Så var jeg ute på veien igjen. Ingen flere hager å løpe i. Jeg stoppet ikke. Fortsatte bare å løpe. Rev opp ytterdøren, hev meg innenfor og låste den. "RING POLITIET!!!!" skrek jeg for full hals, til familien på fire som satt der i stuen og så på tv. Nysgjerrige blikk møtte meg. Mamma, pappa, storesøster og storebror. Jeg sank sammen. Skalv og gråt. Forsøkte å snakke, men klarte ikke.

Da jeg omsider fikk talens makt igjen fortalte jeg om mannen som hadde forsøkt å gripe tak i meg. Om bilen som hadde forfulgt meg. Mamma forsøkte å roe meg ned; Jeg hadde livlig fantasi. Han skulle nok bare samme veien. Han ville nok bare sørge for at jeg kom meg trygt hjem. Politiet ble aldri varslet. Selv den dag i dag er jeg overbevist om at jeg ble utsatt for et kidnappingsforsøk, enn så mye mamma forsøkte å dysse det ned.



Kidnappingsforsøk er ikke uvanlig. Annenhvert minutt blir et barn meldt savnet i Europa. I Norge alene kom det inn hele 198 savnetmeldinger på barn (under 18) i perioden januar-mai 2017. Dèt er mange. I alle fall mange nok til at vi bør ha det i bakhodet.


Da jeg gikk hjem den kvelden, var det fordi moren min syntes det var tullete å skulle bruke bensin på den korte kjøreturen. Jeg var ni år gammel, stor nok til å gå hjem alene, og veien var absolutt ikke så fryktelig lang. Likevel var det så vidt jeg faktisk kom hjem i det hele tatt.

Så kjære foreldre, til dere vil jeg komme med en oppfordring:

Vær så snille å kjøre den ekstra kjøreturen. Selv om barnet er stort nok til å finne veien hjem selv, og avstanden er kort. Selv om det fremdeles er lyst ute, selv om det er midt på ettermiddagen, og selv om det er 'unødvendige bensinutgifter'. For sannheten er at noe kan skje når som helst, hvor som helst, og med hvem som helst. Det er bedre å miste bensin enn å miste et barn.

Har du ikke mulighet til å kjøre barnet hit og dit, og synes du barnet kanskje er hakket for ungt til å ha sin egen mobiltelefon, så skaff i det minste en GPS-tracker, så du alltid kan vite hvor barnet befinner seg. Dette armbåndet (affiliatelenke) har gøyale farger for barna og kobles opp mot din telefon ved at du laster ned en app på telefonen din. Derfra kan du følge med på hvor barnet befinner seg. Dere kan også ringe og sende tekstmeldinger til hverandre. Er barnet i fare, klikker det på SOS-knappen, og du blir umiddelbart varslet. Klikk på lenken og scroll nedover for å lese mer om produktet.

Det verste man gjør i slike situasjoner er å tenke "det skjer ikke oss", for "vi bor i et trygt byggefelt", og "dessuten er det alltid noen som passer på". Jeg bodde også i det som ble ansett som et trygt byggefelt, med masse hus rundt oss, og noen som 'alltid passet på'. Helt til den kvelden hele min virkelighetsoppfatning ble snudd fullstendig på hodet og jeg tilbrakte de to neste årene livredd for å bevege meg utendørs.


0 comments



This might surprise you


Category: Personlig // 09.09.2017 at.23:31 o' clock // No comments


01 When I was ten years old I had an italian pen pal named Alessandra Sestito. I still remember her street name, house number and city. I haven't spoken to her in years, but google tells me she's now a journalist, author and television writer living in London.

02 I've never done drugs, but I have been drugged twice.

03 When I was twelve, one day I got so fed up with the popular girl in class spreading rumors about me, I went up to her, and this is what happened:

me: So I hear you've been spreading rumors about me?
her: yeah, so?
me: so I'll give you something to talk about
*punches her in the face and walks away*.


04 I only own about six pair of shoes.
05 Half of my closet are "when I get skinny" clothes.

06 When I was four years old I was sent to my room to 'reflect on my behavior' for singing along to a song and messing up a word. I wasn't allowed to come out until I apologized, and I never sang in front of my parents ever again.

07 I did a nude photoshoot when I was 19 (and no you won't find the pictures anywhere. I don't even have them myself)

08 I wasn't baptized until I was thirteen years old.
09 I am physically incapable of telling lies.

10 I've mentally changed the name of 'world of warcraft' to 'world of whorecraft' in my head after my ex dumped me for some girl he met on there in 2015. I don't care if it's childish. I'm allowed to refer to people who try to sabotage other peoples relationships as 'whores' if I want to. It's not like I owe them any respect.

11 When I'm in a bad mood, I like to go out and look at the stars.

12 When I have trouble sleeping, instead of counting sheeps, I like to try to memorize the lyrics to a random song in my head.

13 As a kid I wasn't really a big fan of the typical children's tv-shows like Teletubbies, Scooby Doo, Bugs Bunny,  the powerpuff girls, or Norwegian shows like UHU or Blåfjell. I found them boring, and therefore never watched them. To this day I still don't get the hype. I did like pokemon. I did like Darkwing Duck. I did like Tom and Jerry, Noahs ark and that one with Chip and Dale, but other than that, I usually prefered shows that I wasn't allowed to watch, like Buffy the vampire slayer and Goosebumps.

14 I love the smell of books.
15 Ever since I was a child I've felt that time's running out.
16 I don't have any birthmarks. 
17 I have freckles on my feet. That's the only place I get them.

18 From I was 3 years old and until I was 19-20 I was terrified of babies and toddlers.

19 I started blogging when I was nine years old (1999).

20 The very first person I decided to meet up with in person after chatting on social media, was a girl from Askim, named Marie. We were twelve, I think, and met on MSN groups.

21
I only started watching 'the vampire diaries' because Paul Wesley told me I'd probably like it. I didn't know he played one of the main characters (Stephan Salvatore) at the time.

22 When I was fifteen I started writing a book about a fifteen year old girl who had a secret identity as an international pop star. Her name was Sara, and her stage name Sierra. I think I made it to my seventh chapter before all of a sudden Hannah Montana came out. Naturally, I threw my work away and refused to watch the show because I felt like the universe had just taken a giant dump on me. I later gave the show a chance, decided it sucked ("I could've done it better"), but for what it's worth; Hannah Montana the movie is one of my favorites, and I think Miley Cyrus is awesome.

23 I spent a lot of time writing songs and making up melodies when I was younger, but as we all know by now, I can't sing, so I never did anything with it. Had it lying in my drawer forever, until I threw it away.

24 I've always hated the sound of my voice, so much that even in elementary school, I was searching online to find out if there existed some kind of surgery to change your voice. It didn't, and it still doesn't, which kind of annoys me. You can send a man to the moon but you can't change a persons voice? That's just.. Blah.

25 I've never been drunk in another country. 

26 When I was fifteen (2005), my mother and I went to Spain, during which I befriended a guy named Robin. On our last day he came asking for my e-mail adress, and as years went by we added each other on facebook, and would talk occasionally, until 2012.

 

DID ANY OF THESE SURPRISE YOU?


0 comments



Jævla bloggen


Category: Personlig // 07.09.2017 at.18:27 o' clock // 14 comments


I dag må jeg blogge på norsk, om jeg da i det hele tatt skal gidde å blogge. Hver eneste gang jeg logger inn, får jeg hjernteppe. Jeg sitter i evigheter, forsøker å komme på noe å skrive om, men klarer det ikke likevel.

 

Jævla bloggen.

 

Norsk eller engelsk?
Blogg eller ikke blogg?

Hør av dere,
gi meg noen tanker,
for jeg er helt tom.


14 comments



26 things you didn't know about me


Category: Personlig // 01.09.2017 at.12:35 o' clock // No comments


01 I refused to use painkillers (ibuprofen) until I turned nineteen. I had read somewhere that they relieve pain by interfering with / blocking the transmission of pain signals to the brain, and I suspected that this could cause permanent changes in the brain. So until I was nineteen years old I never  used painkillers.

02
I've never used birth control pills
03 I've had my current iphone since 2013.
04 I've never played with Barbie dolls

05 People tend to call me out on my way of speaking, as I sometimes use words that are 'outdated'. Like 'skjøge' (meaning 'whore') and 'det kan du ta gift på' (literally meaning 'you can take poison on it'. It comes from the medieval era, and the story behind it is that if you were absolutely sure of something - for example that the sky is blue - you'd be willing to drink poison. Back then they believed that if your claims were true, God wouldn't let you die of poisioning, and therefore, it would be safe to drink poison if you were absolutely sure of something. Obviously, they weren't the smartest of people. No wonder they were dropping like flies back then!).   

06 I'm still friends with my favorite teachers on facebook and instagram.
07 I don't like pineapple
08 I have my mothers eyes
09 What I dislike most about myself, is that I can't sing.
10 I have my dads hair.


11 Teachers used to call me "angel hair" when I was younger, due to the fact that my hair was longer, thicker, softer and more shiny than most peoples. Kind of like how you'd imagine an angels hair.

12 I haven't been drunk since september 2016.
13 I wasn't allowed a VISA until I was 18.

14 When I was seven I stole flowers from the neightbors garden to give to my mom on mothers day.

15 I'm obsessed with pleiadians.
16 My favorite season is summer.
17 I have nightmares at least twice a week.
18 My favorite color is turquoise.
19 I never wanted children until I turned twenty five.

20 I love sequin, metallic, galaxy, holographic and neon clothes, but I also like pastels, lace, early 1700's women's fashion (you know, with skirts worn over wire hoops so you couldn't sit comfortably, corsets, hair so big you could hide an immigrant family under it, all that stuff) and even some of the typical goth clothes.

21 In Kindergarten and elementary school I had my mom make me carnival costumes, because when all the girls wanted to be princesses, and all the guys wanted to be superheroes, I wanted to be a lion. Or a dog. Or a bat. Or a godess of the sun.

22 I'm turning twenty seven in twenty four days
23 In school I always got in trouble for talking back.
24 I believe in vampires

25 As a child I used to write down names, words and symbols that came to me in my dreams. My old bedroom door still has 'avalanche' written on it. It wasn't until I grew older and learned english in school, that I understood that avalanche is another word for snowslide. 

26 I usually play dumb when people start talking about the occult. In reality, I know a thing or two.

 

DO WE HAVE ANYTHING IN COMMON?
MAYBE YOU'LL ALSO BE INTERESTED IN:
GET TO KNOW ME A LITTLE BIT BETTER


0 comments



Get to know me a little bit better


Category: Personlig // 24.08.2017 at.20:32 o' clock // 2 comments


01 I had my appendix removed when I was six years old
02 I bite my nails when I'm bored
03 My eyes are super sensitive to (day)light.
04 I shave my legs every day. My hair grows super fast!
05 My favorite animal is the fruit bat, also known as 'flying dogs'.
06 I believe in aliens

07 I've never tried to smoke a sigarette.
08 I don't get hangovers.
09 My favorite food is pasta.
10 I sleep in sports bras
11 I believe in life after death
12 I've never done drugs (not even weed).

13 I'm left-handed, but I can't use any of those things made for left handed people.

14 I don't sing. EVER!
15 I've never had a one night stand
16 I've never worn hair extensions
17 Unlike most girls, I don't want company in the bathroom

18 I typically avoid people with a lot of money.
19 I feel very uncomfortable around my own family.
20 I dislike my own birthday, but I still want people to remember it.

21 I've had red, black, brown, lime green, pink, blue, honey and blonde hair.

22 I have an older brother I've only met once
23 I don't have any tattoo's or piercings.
24 My first, and only, celebrity crushes were Spike and Angel from Buffy the vampire slayer.

25 I overcame my fear of spiders when I was 16 by letting a tarantula crawl on me

26 I'd rather watch a concert on TV than be at the concert.

 

DO WE HAVE ANYTHING IN COMMON?


2 comments



Angel on earth


Category: Personlig // 22.08.2017 at.18:40 o' clock // No comments


She stretches her arms out,
stares up at the sky,
wishes for wings,
that could teach her to fly

she's trapped on earth here;
feet tied to the ground,
the forces of gravity,
keep pushing her down

To the world she's just a person,
to a person, she could be the world,
she wants to be an angel,
but she's only a girl

She's life's puppet,
and she'll break all the strings,
but for now,
she's just a girl
dreaming
of earning her wings

 


0 comments



The (only) good thing that came from bullying


Category: Personlig // 21.08.2017 at.18:02 o' clock // No comments


When I was six years old, I was beaten by my fellow classmates for being fat. Looking back at old pictures, I realize I wasn't. I was a healthy, thin girl. But it changed me. From that day forward, whatever went wrong in my life, the devil on my shoulder would always tell me it was because I was fat.

When I was eight years old, people started to make fun of my voice. Every time I picked up the phone, the caller would mistake me for a boy, and my older sister found it hilarious. She would constantly tell me how, when I gave her the phone, the caller said things like "I didn't know you had a younger brother", or "was that your brother?". Eventually I just stopped answering the phone. People in my class made fun of my voice, too. They called me a boy. This resulted in that, for a short amount of time, I refused to speak in class or read out loud because of my voice.

When I was ten, the cute boy in class turned me down, because I was ugly.

Every day they had a new excuse to beat me, call me names, threaten me and treat me like trash.

One day in history class, when I was twelve, the teacher asked the whole class to stand up. "Those who are against death penalty, sit down", he said. Every single one of my classmates sat down. At first it was just one or two. Then a few more. Then another few. In the end, they all sat down. As I looked around me, I noticed I was the only kid still standing. People started mumbling. Staring. "Aren't you against death penalty?", the teacher asked me, obviously thinking I hadn't heard him, or that I was too stupid to understand that I was supposed to sit down. "No", I answered. More mumbling. More staring. "Why not?", he asked.

"Well", I said, "it depends on the situation. Should a thief be sentenced to death? Of course not. But what about rapists, then? Or child molesters? Or killers? Why should they be allowed to live, while their victims hide, terrified, in their own homes, scared of going outside because they might see him again? People often think of death as punishment, but it's not. We're all gonna die some day. Death is the easy way out. If you really wanted to punish someone, you'd keep them alive. As a victim of rape, or bullying, or abuse. You'd keep them alive, and let them live their entire lives scared of what's coming next. Always looking over their shoulder. Not being able to sleep at night because they're too stressed out and scared. Let them re-live the same moment over and over again as soon as they close their eyes, till they find falling asleep just as scary as what happened to them. That's punishment. That's the kind of things that makes you wish you were never born in the first place. What death penalty is really about, is giving closure to the victims. So they no longer have to look over their shoulders. So they no longer have to live in fear, just thinking that one day he's gonna get out of jail and walk free again. So they can breathe out, and be safe, knowing he's gone forever, and can never come back to hurt them. That's what it's all about, and that's why I'm not gonna sit down. Some people ruin lives, and they shouldn't get a second chance".

For a minute, the room went silent. Even the teacher seemed a little confused, a little insecure, about what to say next.

It was in that moment I realized something; because I had been mocked and dehumanized for so long, I wasn't afraid of what they'd think of me. I already knew. Nothing I said or did could make them dislike me more, or treat me worse, than they already had for years. Even if I had sat down, pretending to agree with them, it wouldn't keep them from using me as a punching bag later.

So that's at least one good - one good in an ocean of bad - things that came from being bullied from a young age: I was never afraid to speak my mind, say "the wrong" things, have "the wrong" opinions, or wear the "wrong" clothes, because every consequense I could possibly fear from standing out and being different, I had already experienced. 


This is not a way of saying it's okay to bully a person. It's never okay to take someones happiness, inner peace, self esteem and will to live away for your own amusement. I'm just looking at the bright side of things here. Finding the good in the bad is the key to overcome your pain.


0 comments



I refuse to be an energy vampire


Category: Personlig // 14.08.2017 at.12:30 o' clock // No comments


In modern times, where people tend to self diagnose a lot and use these diagnoses as a way of getting sympathy and attention, having a real diagnosis or two can be challenging. I, myself, was diagnosed - may I add; by a professional - with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and social anxiety not too long ago. It would only be natural for people to wonder: am I turning into one of 'those people'? Am I gonna be someone who wears my diagnoses high and proud and try to create this whole 'PTSD-Jessica' personality where I sit on social media and complain about my life being a living hell, and how I'm just a victim of society?



The short and simple answer to that question is no. I refuse to be one of those people who enters a room and suck all the happiness out of it. I refuse to be "poor Jessica", the girl with all the issues. I don't want to be that annoying person who's always complaining about life being unbearable. The one people eventually will start to avoid because it's just so depressing being around her. I think we've all met some people fitting that description, and although they might be nice people, and we feel sorry for them, they're just not pleasant to be around.

In case you guys didn't know, there's actually a word for those kinds of people. They're called energy vampires. Because instead of sucking your blood like a normal vampire, they drain you of your energy. I, for one, refuse to be an energy vampire.

One thing my psychiatrist told me, that I found very interesting, is that the diagnoses shows themselves in different ways. No two people with PTSD or social anxiety are the same. The diagnoses shows itself in certain ways, that are unique for every person. While some people with social anxiety will find it challenging to go to the mall or anywhere there are lots of people, others, like me, really enjoys those kind of things but will instead find it hard and unpleasant to pay for things and communicate with the cashier. With that in mind, I thought it'd be a good idea to tell you exactly how my diagnoses portray themselves in my case.

MY SOCIAL ANXIETY ISSUES:

I find it difficult to order (or pay for) things face to face.

I have some serious issues picking up, or making, phonecalls.

  Videochats? I just can't.

I can't speak foreign languages (such as english) if there are Norwegians in the room / house / apartment. Funny enough, I have no problem speaking english in front of americans or any non-scandinavian person.

I can't work out in front of people, use the vacuum cleaner, show emotions, dance, write (or type on my laptop) or sing in front of people. Fun fact; I have absolutely no problem doing any of those things if I'm playing a character. I used to do some acting back in my younger days. But as me, the real person, I can't do those things.

I sometimes get so nervous socializing that I get physically sick. Like headaches, stomach cramps, all kinds of bad things.

  When I get stressed out, my brain just blanks out and I can't function. So naturally, I could never work as a cashier (which I had to find out the hard, embarrassing way when I was seventeen).





MY PTSD ISSUES:

I have re-occuring nightmares at least twice a week about things that have happened in my past.

If I hear certain names I might have an instant, mental breakdown.
 
I have flashbacks, both images and sounds, that can ruin my entire day.

  There are places I can never visit without getting totally fucked up. The house I grew up in used to be one of those places. The very first time I went home alone after moving out as a nineteen year old, I had a mental breakdown the very same day and my then-boyfriend had to come get me. I was 23 at the time.

I find it unpleasant to walk anywhere near the road by myself after dark, due to things that happened in my past. I actually feel safer walking in the woods in pitch black darkness.

  Certain voices can make my heart skip a beat.

I don't feel safe around people with knives. Even if they're just cutting vegetables. Once again, because of things that happened in the past.

I always have to check my bedroom window before going to bed, to see if there's anyone out there.

 

But I'm still a happy person who loves shopping, travelling, partying and a little bit of attention. Who speaks her mind and feel confident looking different. Who's not bothered by people staring at me. Unless, of course, I'm doing certain things mentioned above.


0 comments



Be the change


Category: Personlig // 12.08.2017 at.02:29 o' clock // No comments


Sometimes,
random names pop into my head.
So I search them up on facebook,
and stalk their profile for a few minutes,
just to see if they're okay.

Sometimes,
a mouse or an insect enters my home.
So I pick it up,
and carry it outside.

Sometimes,
I get overwhelmed by memories.
Faces and places,
things I've said and done.
So I take my time to text people,
and apologize for things I said ten or twelve years ago.
For things I did,
or for things that may or may not have hurt them.

The people whose names pop into my head,
will never know I saw them,
that I stalked them on facebook,
that they were on my mind.
But that's okay,
they don't need to know;
as long as they're safe.

I watch over them,
not because I owe them anything,
not because I know them,
but because at one point,
when I was all alone,
all I wanted was someone to see me.

When I save an insect or a mouse,
I often have people asking me why.
Don't I know that these are pests,
or just worthless beings?
But I remember a time,
when I was the one they called a pest,
and I was the one being treated
like my existence didn't matter.

I apologize to people,
for things they probably don't even remember,
and I do it,
because I wish someone would apologize to me,
for hurting me
all those years ago.

I am not a better person than anyone,
but I'm trying.
Because experience has taught me
that you can't make the people of the world change,
you can only change yourself
and hope that one day,
the rest will follow.

Treat people like you want to be treated,
and be the change you wish to see.
And if once you were treated badly,
be the person you used to wait for.
Be the hand you wanted to hold,
or the guardian angel you wish you had.
Be there for someone else,
because no one was there for you,
and you know how much that hurt.


0 comments



So you wanna discuss body types?


Category: Personlig // 25.07.2017 at.02:48 o' clock // 4 comments


I don't like discussing body types. To be honest I think there's way too much of that going on already, and no matter how you twist and turn it, nothing good seems to come from it. It seems, to me, that people can't 'accept' a certain body type without dissing an other. If that's how it's gotta be, I think the best thing for us all, would be to just shut our mouths. As long as you're dissing one body type to justify an other, this war will never end. As someone who suffered from anorexia in my early teens, I find it especially provoking that people are so quick to label every skinny person they see as "anorexic" or "sick". Most skinny girls aren't actually sick. But I, a chubby girl, was.



I developed Anorexia Nevrosa when I was thirteen years old. Before that, I had spent years trying to lose weight the healthy way. I first started worrying about my weight when I was nine years old, after being called fat and ugly ever since I was six. Even at such a young age people would call me names, beat me up, steal my lunch because I was "already fat so there's no need to add to it by eating" and tell me that the reason nobody wanted to hang out with me was that it was 'embarrassing' to be seen with a fat person. At that point I wasn't even fat. At nine years old I had a flat belly and a gap between my thighs. I was an active and healthy kid.

At that point I didn't actually think of myself as fat. I wanted to lose weight mainly because I wanted people to stop calling me fat and treating me like scum. The idea that being skinny is the only true way to love and happiness was forced down my throat from a very young age, thanks to classmates and parents. The weight gain started when I started dieting the healthy way. I first tried the "eat small meals every 2 hours" or something like that, which made me gain weight fast. After that I tried the typical "eat breakfast every morning" thing, which also made me gain weight like crazy. What's really bizarre is that I didn't eat much. I ate normal portions, and it was all healthy stuff like bread, fruits, and so on. I was also an active girl, riding horses, playing soccer, etc. Yet, no matter how hard I tried losing weight, I only got fatter. And fatter. And fatter.

At the age of thirteen I was chubby. I had a bmi of 20, which is considered normal, but my belly was hanging out and my thights were rubbing against each other, creating painful sores. So yes, chubby - or fat - was definitely the right word.

At this point I was so done with everything. Being big made me suicidal, and I had reached the point where I no longer cared. I just wanted to die. So I decided I wanted to starve myself to death. From the moment the idea popped into my head, there was no hesitation whatsoever. I put my piece of toast down, threw it away, and stopped eating completely. For the following days I didn't eat anything. My mother had to sit on top of me and force a piece of bread down my throat because I refused to have a bite.

I was very strict with myself. If I so much as thought about giving in, I would take the nearest, sharp object I could find, drag it across my arms until I started bleeding and then, if I was still hungry, I'd put salt in the open wound. I used pain and self harm to distract myself from hunger.

This is how I started losing weight. As the weight started coming off, I started going on google to find tips on how to keep it up. I found a pro ana community full of advice on how to hide the negative effects of starvation, how to stop your stomach from growling, how to trick yourself into thinking that you're not hungry, and so on. This is also where I became obsessed with my weight.

At one point it was so bad that I even refused to take showers (gross, I know) because I was afraid there could be calories in the water.

So, what did I look like on the outside? Was I the typical skinny girl with collar bones, thigh gap and ribs showing? No. I was still a very chubby girl. If you were to spot me on the street, you'd never think I wasn't eating. You'd probably think I was eating too much. You'd never think I exercised for two full hours every day. You'd probably think I just sat on my ass all day. When my hair started falling out due to starvation, I was still far from skinny.

And that's just the thing. Everyone thinks that a girl with eating disorders must be skinny. That she must look starved and sick. But truth is, many of us start out as big. It's not the skinny girls in magazines that are to blame, or the dolls bought at Toys'R'us. It's our fellow classmates, calling us names and making fun of our weight. It's the boys turning away in disgust when you show up to a date and you don't look as slim as you did in the photos where you were sucking your tummy in so hard you couldn't breathe. It's your parents treating your skinny siblings better than you. Some big girls never reach the 'flat belly' stage before they die of starvation. Some never even get past the "overweight" category. Yes, anorexia makes you lose weight fast, but that doesn't mean you'll be skinny in no time. If you're big, you gotta work your way down. From big, to chubby, to normal, to skinny.

Most skinny girls aren't sick. They just eat healthy, in healthy amounts, and exercise once in a while. But some of them are.

Most big girls aren't sick either. They jusy eat unhealthy, in unhealthy amounts. But some of them are.

I think that the amount of big girls being uncomfortable with their body, secretly skipping meals to lose weight so the bullying will finally stop, are a lot higher than you'd expect. So maybe next time, when you're at a resturant, and there's a big girl sitting by the table next to yours, have a look at her. Don't just assume that she's "sitting there stuffing her face like the fat pig she is". Maybe, in reality, she's just moving the food around on her plate, taking small bites now and then, chewing and spitting it out in her napkin. And maybe, next time you see a skinny girl with thigh gap and collar bones, instead of calling her out for being anorexic and "the reason people get eating disorders", have a look at her. Is that, maybe, a chocolate in her pocket?


4 comments



The story behind the angel on my nightstand


Category: Personlig // 15.07.2017 at.17:17 o' clock // 3 comments




My grandma got sick with cancer two years ago. Living so far away from her and being low on money at the time made it nearly impossible for me to be there in person, so I thought I'd buy her something to let her know that even though I couldn't be there with her, she was still on my mind. 

I spotted a beautiful, sleeping angel in a store, and bought it, with the intention of giving it to her. 

As I tripped over my cat when I got home, the angel broke.

Giving broken things to people as a gift is considered a very inappropriate and rude thing to do. Especially if they're sick.

So I put the angel away, with the intention of either trying to glue it back together and keep it for myself, or throw it away, later.

Then I forgot about it.

My grandma took her last breath on january twenty sixth, 2015. She went peacefully in her sleep, just two days after I last saw her.

When my now ex boyfriend and I broke up in august later that year, I found the angel while cleaning out his stuff from my closet.

I just couldn't throw it away.

So I placed it on my nightstand instead.

It wasn't until earlier this week, two years later, I noticed something strange.



The angel seems to be crying from it's left eye.


3 comments



What do I look like in real life?


Category: Personlig // 15.07.2017 at.12:33 o' clock // 8 comments


People on social media often ask me what I look like in real life, or accuse me of photoshopping 'the hell' out of my pictures. To those people I only have one word: snapchat.

Add me, and you'll see real pictures and videos taken right then and there. No photoshop. All real.



 


8 comments



The healthy way to escape reality


Category: Personlig // 12.07.2017 at.11:08 o' clock // 2 comments


What do you do when you feel like running away? When life's stress - or painful, and you just can't deal with reality? Some people do drugs. Some people get drunk. Some people turn violent and punch the walls or self harm. Me? I close the door, turn off the lights, lay flat on my back in my bed and listen to relaxing music.


Close your eyes, clear your head of all thoughs and stress, and just listen. Earbuds in, thoughts out. Music on, world off!



MY FAVORITE RELAXING SONGS TO LISTEN TO

CELTIC WOMAN - The voice
IZUMI TANAKA - Leaf in the wind
ENYA - May it be
MEAV - Ailen duinn
MEAV - The songline to home
MIDORI - Angelic realm
LÈO DELIBES - The flower duet from Lakme

THOMAS TALLIS - Salvator mundi
THOMAS TALLIS - If ye love me
MARTIN LANDH - Lilac (scaled down version)
ENYA - Only time
AMATUE - Endless eternity 
KERLI - I'll find you

 


2 comments



Normal


Category: Personlig // 07.07.2017 at.18:10 o' clock // 5 comments




I once knew a girl with big, blue eyes.
She wore her long, wavy hair
in a high ponytail.

When she was seven she heard her mother say:
"you shouldn't eat that. It's nothing but calories".
so she pinched her stomach,
threw her cereal away,
and didn't eat breakfast that morning.

At the age of nine she watched a group of kids
make fun of a boy for having brown teeth.
So she went home,
and bleached hers.

At the age of twelve she saw the other girls in her class
wearing shorts skirts and revealing tops,
talking bout how guys will only like you if you show a little skin.
So she went home,
and came back the next day,
wearing her older sisters clothes.

At the age of fourteen she watched one of her older sisters friends
get slapped across the face by her boyfriend on a public bus.
"Oh, he didn't mean it, it was just a misunderstanding", the older sisters friend said.
These were the same words
the girl told herself when she was raped by her boyfriend four years later.

At the age of sixteen she was skipping meals and counting calories,
wearing short skirts and revealing tops,
there were no spark left in her eyes,
and no smile on her face.
Standing in the schools bathroom,
staring at herself in the mirror,
she thought to herself:

"at least I'm normal".


5 comments



The monster in me


Category: Personlig // 06.07.2017 at.15:49 o' clock // 6 comments


There's a villain in every story.
The wicked witch of the west,
a wicked witch of the east.
The evil stepmother,
a monster,
and a beast.

What does the villain look like,
some people may ask.
it doesn't always have a black cape,
a witch's broom,
or a big and scary mask.

I have a villain of my own,
but she's kinda hard to see.
She has a really good disguise:
she looks a lot like me.

Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who's the fairest of them all?
Monster, monster, inside of me,
tell me, what do you see?

Rip me apart,
tear me to shreds,
make me a prisoner
inside my own head

Tell me what I am
and tell me what I'm not
Tell me what I need,
and tell me what I've got
You bring out my scars,
my sadness, fear and agression,
you cause me a lot of envy,
and leave me with depression.

Deprive me of my confidence,
take away my self esteem,
cause me to fear judgment,
and make me yell and scream

you taunt me with your words,
like this is some kind of game,
but when it comes down to it,
there's no one else to blame

This villain's not a creature,
or a devil sent from hell.
It's not a witch or demon,
the villain is myself.

I try to fight it but it won't stop
it's never gonna cease.
It's mean, it's a liar,
I'm the beauty, and the beast.

There's a villain in every story,
that statement is true,
but how do you kill the monster


WHEN IT LIVES INSIDE OF YOU?


6 comments



Wanna know a secret?


Category: Personlig // 02.07.2017 at.21:55 o' clock // 2 comments




My friend was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

She was like a Barbie doll with big, beautiful eyes and long, blonde hair.

She was the kind of person that could make any piece of clothing, even something as corny as a pair of cherrox, look like the coolest thing ever, simply by wearing them.

The ultimate trend setter, even from such a young age.

Some people can light up an entire room with their smile.

She was like that.

Some people can wrap anyone around their finger.

She was like that, too.

Even the other parents and teachers fell weak to her charm.

She was every teachers favorite girl, and every boys secret crush.

She was the girl that all the other girls wanted to be friends with.

The popular one.

She was the friend I was looking for in the hallway every day of school.

The one that I was excited to see.

The one that was hard to say goodbye to when it was time to go home for the day.

I was happy whenever I got a hold of her first, so we could play together.

Recieving a compliment from her could brighten my entire day.

I just wanted her to like me...

...More than all the others.

I wanted to be her favorite.

I got jealous when others came to play with her.

It broke my heart when she turned me down to play with one of the others, or said that we couldn't hang out because she had already made plans with someone else.

More than anything, I wanted her all to myself.

"You know", my mother told me, "at your age, it can be difficult to know the difference between liking someone as a friend, and having romantic feelings for them".

But I knew.

I knew because all I wanted to do was kiss her.

Run away with her.

Have her hold my hand.

Promise me we'd be together forever.

I was five years old...

And I was in love with another girl.


 


Every summer thousands of people gather in Oslo to celebrate what is known as the "pride parade", the highlight of Oslo Pride Festival, to show their support to the gay community. Living so far from Oslo, I've never been able to attend it myself. This year the parade took place yesterday, on July 2nd, and even though it's a day too late, I thought this would be a good opportunity to 'come out of the closet' to you guys. I've known I was bisexual since I was five, and I've never felt the need to hide it, but at the same time, because I've always treated it like just a 'normal love' thing, combined with the fact that I've only been interested in 3 women and never actually flirted with or been in a relationship with one, most people don't actually know about it. But now you do. I would  like to add, though, that I still find it weird and extremely turn off when people - both male AND female! - start sending me pictures of themselves out of nowhere. That's no way to start a conversation, you weirdo! Especially not when I'm already in a relationship. You could be the hottest person on the planet and I'd still find you ugly if you were offering me your body and obviously flirting with me while I am in a relationship. Being a relationship destroyer should not be a goal to anyone. And if it is, then you should be ashamed of yourself. Plain and simple.


2 comments



Stop putting me in 'the girlfriend zone'!


Category: Personlig // 01.07.2017 at.11:46 o' clock // 2 comments


I've always been more comfortable around guys than girls. A lot of girly conversations bore me. I don't feel the need to talk - or hear about - every piece of clothing a person has bought, every person they've slept with, or what they think of their own body. I prefer going to the bathroom by myself, and the very idea of having one or two other chicks in there with me just creeps me out. I don't feel the need to take my makeup and 500 other things with me wherever I go. I take my keys with me. I take my visa with me. I take my phone and my camera with me. That's about it. I'm more relaxed around guys because when I'm with girls I feel like I have to think carefully about the things I say so I don't offend anyone. Most girls, for some unknown reason, love to twist words around and go full drama queen, so I always feel like I have to pay attention to how I word things. With guys it's not like that. With guys I can speak freely. Guys don't fantasize about killing you if you disagree with them.

Obviously, I don't have many female friends. What might actually surprise you, is that I don't have many male friends, either.




We all know what it's like, don't we? You meet a guy and you start hanging out with him. You invite him to movie nights, you go to parties together, sometimes you just sit around and talk about anything and everything. 

Then comes the moment when you find out that all this time he's seen you as a potential girlfriend. This has happened to me time after time. I hit it off with a guy, we spend a lot of time together, and then he wants to take things to the next level. 

When you tell him you only like him as a friend, he stops being one. He stops inviting you to parties. He stops calling you asking if you wanna hang out. He stops texting you. When you call him, he says he's busy, that he already have plans with someone else.

You don't have romantic feelings for him, so he cuts you out of his life completely and moves on to the next girl.

Later, when you run into him, the conversations are short and awkward. Sometimes just a wave before he runs out of there before you get a chance to speak to him. Sometimes just a "hi" and some small talk. This is because the moment you met, he put you in the girlfriend zone, and now he can't see you as a friend.

This happens every time I meet a guy, and personally, I think it's really unfair.

Since when was a little bit of friendship too much to ask!?  

 


2 comments



Behind blue eyes: get to know me


Category: Personlig // 29.06.2017 at.21:56 o' clock // No comments


Hello everyone. I'm sure most of you already know me, either from facebook, from my older blogs or in person. Maybe you're someone I went to school with, maybe you're a friend or a family member of mine, an ex, or someone that I used to know a long time ago. Still - and because I've noticed some new locations in my 'who's reading?' section - I thought I'd share a few facts about myself.



I have three first names, which is a very uncommon thing in Norway. The average Norwegian only have one or two, unless they are royalty.

I  took singing lessons at the age of fourteen.

I love animals and growing up we always had pets. We've had a cat, a dog, two mice, a bunch of fish, a turtle, four hamsters, a bunny, two guinea pigs and ten degus. I also had a habit of taking injured or homeless animals home and care for them, so we've also had a raven, a snake, and a bunch of stray cats (that I would let into my room and feed without my parents knowing).

  At the age of thirteen I discovered the horrible truth about the meat and dairy industry. Thinking that people would be just as horrified as I was, I printed over twenty pages and put them up all over school property. Imagine my internal heartbreak when a girl said to me, with a 'you're being overly dramatic' tone in her voice: "So what? They're just animals". As if their pain meant absolutely nothing.

From I was about six years old and until I was about eighteen I wanted to be an actress. In the end, I decided acting wasn't for me after all.

  I'm obsessed with anything paranormal. Ghosts, vampires, aliens, angels, demons.. Urban legends, folklore, old summoning rituals, exorcism, posession, spells, latin, enochian (the language of angels), saren (the language of pleiadians), crop circles...

As a child I never played with dolls. The idea of pretending to be a mother, or a teenager, just didn't appeal to me.

I'm very hard - almost impossible - to impress. While other girls will go crazy over a celebrity talking to them, or get more into a guy if he shows off his wealth, I just don't give a shit. If all you've got is a pretty face and a lot of money, I just don't find you interesting at all. Mainly because there are over a billion people fitting that description. If that's all you've got, you can easily be replaced. Nothing that is easily replaced impress me.

I have a weird obsession with conspiracy theories, and if you think that's bad, you should see what your government is up to ;).


0 comments



Hvorfor livingdoll?


Category: Personlig // 19.06.2017 at.20:31 o' clock // No comments


Jeg har alltid hatt et litt spesielt utseende. Derfor opplevde jeg også fra svært ung alder at utseendet mitt ble mye snakket om, kommentert og kritisert. Spesielt klassekamerater og andre jevnaldrende var fæle til å være ekle og kalle meg forskjellige ting. "De jævla øynene dine, du ser ut som en alien, for faen", hørte jeg en gang ei jente i klassen min si. Etterhvert som jeg begynte med sminke ble ordet 'alien' byttet ut med 'dukke'; jeg ble jevnlig fortalt at jeg brukte alt for mye sminke, at jeg ikke så naturlig ut, og at jeg bare burde holde munn, for dukker kan ikke snakke.

 Rundt år 2008 fikk jeg Paris Hiltons selvbiografi i julegave. Man kan mene hva man vil om Paris Hilton, men èn ting lærte hun meg: "no one can make fun of you if you've already made fun of yourself first". Så istedenfor å la de stygge bemerkningene og kallenavnene definere meg, valgte jeg, litt sånn sarkastisk, å gjøre dem om til brukernavn på sosiale medier. Jeg opprettet profiler og blogger under brukernavn som Barbie, Bimbo, Alien .. Mer eller mindre det meste de klarte å lire av seg som en fornærmelse.

I 2013 så 'de russiske levende dukkene' dagens lys. De opptok stadig mer plass i mediene. En etter en dukket de opp med sine unaturlige kropper og ansikter. Sitt lange hår, sine syltynne neser, store øyne og timeglassformede kropper. Plutselig var det ikke lenger negativt å se ut som en 'alien' eller en 'dukke'; det var den nye trenden. Alle ville være slik nå. Som Valeria Lukyanova, Anastasiya Shpagina eller Anzhelika Kenova. Èn etter èn begynte de normale jentene å skyggelegge nesene sine for å gjøre dem smalere og mindre. Legge lipliner rundt leppene for å gjøre dem fyldigere. Tegne opp øynene, bruke linser og lime på store løsvipper for å gjøre dem større. Kjøpe seg waist trainer for å gjøre midjen smalere. Plutselig var det jeg hadde blitt hånet for i så lang tid - det å se unaturlig og 'falsk' ut - en slags bisarr trend.

Det tok ikke lang tid før jeg ble beskyldt for å kopiere Valeria Lukyanova. Ofte opplever jeg at jeg må 'bevise' via snapchat at jeg er et virkelig menneske og ikke har stjålet Valerias bilder. Folk sliter, av en eller annen grunn, med å se forskjell på oss.

På den tiden var det en annen blogger som brukte brukernavnet livingdoll.blogg.no. Jeg måtte dermed vente til hun slettet bloggen sin. Dette gjorde hun i 2014, men ut av respekt, og fordi jeg ikke ønsket å bli beskyldt for å prøve å ta hennes plass, ventet jeg noen år til før jeg tok det i bruk.
 


 


0 comments



Om meg


Category: Personlig // 19.06.2017 at.15:46 o' clock // No comments


Velkommen til Livingdoll.blogg.no, en blogg skrevet av 26 år gamle Jessica Baliciel, bosatt i Gol kommune med fire katter og en hund. Jeg er opprinnelig fra sørlandet, nærmere bestemt havnebyen Arendal, hvor jeg tilbrakte mine første nitten leveår. Deretter gikk turen til Tønsberg, Noresund, Krøderen og Lillestrøm, før jeg i 2013 endte opp i Gol. Den tjuefjerde september 2016 ble jeg kjent med Espen, som jeg forlovet meg med fire måneder senere, 01.01.17.  



Jeg har alltid vært glad i å skrive, og opprettet min første blogg i 1999, da jeg var ni år gammel. Mange år, og et dusin bloggplatformer senere, endte jeg opp her på livingdoll.blogg.no. Her vil du finne blogginnlegg om mote, sminke og DIY-prosjekter, men også mer personlige ting, som tanker, minner, meninger  og hendelser.


0 comments


WHY ENGLISH?


Through social media I've come to know a lot of people from all over the world. Most of them don't speak Norwegian. Some of them read my blog regardless. So I wanted to make a blog in a language they could actually understand.

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