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

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My 7 year old killed someone yesterday

Category: Story of my life // 31.07.2017 at.23:43 o' clock // 2 comments

Minsten caught his first mouse yesterday. He jumpet in the window with something grey in his mouth, dropped it on the floor and just sat there, staring at me with his big eyes. I could tell he was proud. He turned seven on july 25th, and until yesterday he's never shown any interest in catching anything. Not mice. Not spiders. Not birds. Nothing. I guess because Sophie comes home with dead mice and birds at least twice a week, Minsten felt like he had to impress me somehow.

The mouse was still warm when I picked it up. Even through the toilet paper I used to pick it up, I could feel the warmth coming from it's tiny body. At first I thought it was still alive, so I gently poked it to see if there was any reaction. There wasn't.

Knowing Minsten did this to impress me, I picked him up and cuddled him for a minute, telling him he's such a good boy. I know this behavior will only encourage him to do it again, but at the same time, I can't act like he's done something wrong, when the truth is that catching mice and small birds are perfectly natural for a cat. Once he looked the other way, I threw the mouse out. At first I thought of throwing it in the trash, but decided to throw it out the window instead.

As an animal lover it always hurts me to see lives being taken, but at least this way, another hungry animal - such as a fox, a bird or a stray cat - might get a meal out of it.

I know most people will think of me as a weirdo for caring so much about a dead mouse, but that's just part of who I am. I am someone who cares. I am someone who values life, even in it's tiniest form. I am someone who loves this planet and every soul on it. I know I'm not supposed to. I know I'm supposed to think of these small creatures as pests and worthless beings that should be killed and thrown away like garbage; but that's just not who I am.


Spend a day...

Category: Tanker & meninger // 30.07.2017 at.18:38 o' clock // No comments

July's coming to an end, but we've still got about four weeks left of summer, so here's a few things you can do before going back to school or work.


Spend a day organizing your pinterest albums. If you're anything like me, they're probably a mess.

Spend a day reminding the people in your life that you value and appreciate them. Call your grandparents. Text your siblings. Show up at your BFF's house and invite them out for lunch. Send a letter to your mom or dad (if they live far away), ++.

Spend a day going through all your clothes and give away clothing you don't want anymore. Give it to your local second hand shop, a homeless person who needs them more than you, or siblings / friends who wants them.

Spend a day watching all those popular movies that everyone's always talking about. Dirty dancing, star wars, Harry Potter, lord of the rings, star trek, the Blair witch project, titanic, avatar, the notebook, the lost boys, interview with the vampire, the fault in our stars, twilight, fifty shades... You probably won't like all of them, but at least now you've seen them. 

Spend a day alone and just think. What are you looking for in a partner? In a best friend? What are your career goals? Dream job? How can you reach your goals? How can you fix your problems? How can you improve yourself? Things like that. Get to know yourself a little. Know what you want, so you won't get confused later.

Spend a day educating yourself on global warming, veganism, animal testing, child labour, poverty, religion, abortion, racism, different diagnoses ++. Even if you don't care about any of it, it's nice to know what the actual facts are. When it comes to veganism; watch cowspiracy on netflix. It'll tell you everything you need to know.

Spend all of your days enjoying the summer!



Dear straight girls (and gay guys)

Category: Verden, fra mitt perspektiv // 28.07.2017 at.22:19 o' clock // 3 comments

YO IN DA HOOD!, as we used to say back in the days. The more I think about it, the funnier it gets. I'm sure every 90's kid can relate. You had to get off the internet cause your dad had important calls to make. You had to download music through limewire (which took forever) and when you played the song you just downloaded, thinking it would be Beyonce, it turned out to be some indian dude singing. If you downloaded music videos they usually turned out to be amateur porn. Those were the days, eh?

I'm sure teenagers today don't have a clue what I'm talking about, which means; I'm old. Practically a dinosaur. But you know what they say; old people are the wisest. So let me share some of my wisdom (lol) with you. Some I learned the hard way, others are just plain logic. 

Just because he's your boyfriend, doesn't mean you owe him sex.

If a boy says he likes you but he's not ready for a relationship; let him go. Men are natural born hunters; if they want something, they'll chase it. If he's not chasing you, he doesn't really want you.

If a guy says he wants you, but runs to someone else the minute you turn him down, he never really wanted you in the first place. He wanted whoever he could get, not someone in particular.

If you're 13-14 years old and an older guy 18+ gives you attention and wants to be with you, chances are, he's manipulating you. Usually a guy 18+ would go for someone his own age, that he can show off to his buddies, party with, move in with and have an actual future with. When a guy that old goes for someone that young it's usually because teens that young are easier to manipulate due to the fact that they are insecure and have a burning desire to prove that they're not little kids anymore. You'll probably end up accepting a lot more from him, and do at lot more for him, than any partner his age would. Because he can win any fight, and manipulate you to do anything he wants - usually sexual stuff - by saying things like "I didn't know I was dating a baby" and "I thought you were more mature".

If he won't have your relationship on facebook, he's probably hiding something. Like a wife. Don't fall for the "psycho ex" excuse.

Never trust a guy who's always on his phone but takes hours to text you back.

If he's cheating on his partner with you, he'll most likely cheat on you with someone else.

If he constantly mocks you, tells you how much you need him, and makes rules about how you are 'allowed' to dress, who you are 'allowed' to talk to, if he hits you or kicks you, apologizes, promise he won't do it again, and he still does, just walk away. He's never gonna change, and it'll only get worse. Every time you forgive him, every time you stay, he loses a little more respect for you. And some day he won't bother apologizing for the pain he's causing you, or promise it won't happen again. He'll just do it, over and over, and you'll be too weak to care. If he really loved you, he wouldn't treat you like this.

If he cheats on you once, end it. He'll probably do it again.


How I'm becoming immortal

Category: Tanker & meninger // 27.07.2017 at.16:02 o' clock // 14 comments

You never really know a person until you're at their funeral. At least that's my experience. While funerals are always sad and heartbreaking, I really like - and it's a weird form of 'liking' because I'm bawling my eyes out in grief - those moments when the speaker (usually a priest) tell us about the deceased. When they give us a short summary of that persons entire life. Where they were born, where they grew up, their first marriage, their first child, things like that. And the additional, personal info, like how they would donate money to different charities, or how they used to text their significant other short poems when they were apart. Things like that, that is usually not talked about. Things you'll never know about a person, until you're at their funeral.

That's the moment when you feel like, for the very first time, you know them on a deeper level. For the first time, you know who they were behind closed doors. Who they were when no one saw them. As you sit there, you come to the realization that every person has their own story. That there are so much, so many thoughts, so many memories, hidden behind their smile. As you sit there, you begin to see them in a whole new light. Because there's so much you never knew. You realize that it wasn't just a person who died, it's a whole story. A story that will never be told again. So many thoughts, so many experiences, so much wisdom, lost forever, hidden inside someone who is now gone.

That's what inspired me to write a book. Not in the hopes of earning any money, but in the hopes that when my time comes, my story won't die with me. It'll be right here, available to anyone who wants to know the real me. Because we all have a story to tell, an experience to share, and wisdom to teach. We all have something that shaped us into the person we are today.

One day I'll get married, and have kids. Grandkids, even. And when my time comes, I want those I leave behind to know that even though my body is six feet under, my eyes can no longer see and my mouth is silenced forever, my story - everything that is me - will be immortalized through words on paper, so I'm never truly gone.  


My new dress is on sale!

Category: Klær og tilbehør // 26.07.2017 at.13:49 o' clock // 4 comments

A little over two weeks ago I bought a dress. It didn't arrive until today, and as I went online to find the link so I could share it with you, I noticed that it's now on sale and you can get it for only C$3.79 (NOK 24 ,-). I, personally, paid three times as much for mine. Wish I'd waited. Still, I can't say I'm dissapointed in myself, because it's definitely worth the money either way.

While I love the dress, I think it's important to tell you that it's not actually as long as it looks on the pictures. It's more like a hoodie. At least on me. Probably because I'm a bit curvier than the model. Also, you should move up two sizes because it's asian size, which, generally, are about two sizes smaller than european size. I'm an EU size medium, and bought XL, which fits perfectly.



It has a lot ot stretch.

The material is very thin and comfortable.

  .... Yet it's also very warm, so it'll be the perfect dress / hoodie for fall.

It has a very comfortable, soft kind of fabric on the inside.




Unconditional love

Category: Story of my life // 25.07.2017 at.19:38 o' clock // No comments


all this time,
the sun never says
to the earth:
"you owe me".
what happens
with a love like that;
it lights
the whole



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?


5 tips to fall asleep

Category: Verden, fra mitt perspektiv // 24.07.2017 at.18:57 o' clock // 2 comments

I've suffered from insomnia since I was very young. Probably 6-7 years old, give or take. So if you ever just lie there with your eyes closed, trying to count imaginary sheeps, counting backwards from ten, checking your alarm clock (or phone. We use phones nowadays) every 30 minutes, thinking: "it's 3:30! I REALLY need to get some sleep!" and so on, I know what it's like. So in this blog post I'm gonna share a few tips that works for me, and hopefully also for you.

A hot shower will make you feel more relaxed and comfortable. Combine this with new bedding, and you'll probably fall asleep in no time!

In this blog post I've shared some very good songs to fall asleep / relax to.

It's just another distraction. How do you expect to fall asleep if you reach over to check your facebook, blog, e-mail ++ every 3rd minute? Turn your wifi off, leave your phone on silent, and pretend it's not there.

Close your eyes and imagine something you really want to happen. The hot guy in your class asking you out, for example. Or you finally being able to buy your dream house. It doesn't even have to be realistic. Imagine you can fly. Or turn invisible.

Sometimes the reason you can't fall asleep is because it's too hot, or the air's too heavy. Let some fresh air in. Or get a fan.


Get high quality brushes for less $

Category: Skjønnhet // 22.07.2017 at.13:04 o' clock // 2 comments

Remember that time, last year I think, when I spent $21 (168 NOK ,-) on a fancy new makeup brush in pink? Well, if you want an update on that, let me tell you that those pink hairs started coming off pretty soon after I bought it. So this time, when looking for a new makeup brush, I didn't bother going down town to buy another overpriced product. This time I went online and found a really, really cheap one.  

Obviously, at such a ridiculous price, I was expecting some low quality crap. I mean, even the expensive one that I bought last year turned out to be a waste of money. I thought this time, at least I wouldn't waste as much.

Imagine my surprise when it came in the mail. This was definitely not the junk I had expected. This actually seems to be of good quality. The hairs are so soft and comfortable on my skin, and they - don't! - come off! I'm so in love with this brush right now, and will definintely be buying a thousand more! Get it here!



If one man can show so much hatred..

Category: Norway // 22.07.2017 at.11:40 o' clock // No comments

On July 22nd 2011 a bomb went off in Oslo. The very same day, not too long after, reports came in about a man shooting teenagers at Utøya. Seventy seven people lost their lives that day, in the incident that will go down in history books as the first terrorism attack on Norway since world war 2.

In Norway we typically refer to it by the date it happened: 22.Juli (July 22nd). We do so, because this didn't only affect the places where the terrorism took place. It affected us all. In such a small country, you're bound to be related to it somehow. Either you have a family member or a friend who died, or you know someone who knew someone who did. This isn't "the Oslo tragedy" or the "Utøya massacre". This is a tragedy, a massacre, a terrorist attack, that affected us all (read more about it here). 

Every year, when the summer starts to fade, and the calendar marks the date july 22nd, people gather in the streets of Oslo and on Utøya to lay down flowers. To come together and say some words. Share some thoughts. Hold hands and cry for the lives that were lost and the families that were destroyed. Every year they have a camerateam filming, so that those of us who can't make it there in person, can still be a part of it through social media and TV's. Every year on this date the newspapers print a story on the front page of someone who were affected by the tragedy. So that we will never forget how lives were changed that day.

The sign says:



If you're interested in hearing my personal story, let me know in the comments.


I see humans but (still) no humanity

Category: Tanker & meninger // 21.07.2017 at.17:28 o' clock // One comment

I remember reading an article a few years ago. It was about a troubled man from Drammen (Norway). As he was sitting there with one foot out the window, ready to jump to his death, people gathered in the streets. They were talking. Shouting.

But they weren't trying to help him. They weren't begging him to hold on. No. "Jump!", they shouted, with their phones pointing towards him. They were filming. They were laughing and cracking jokes. They hadn't come because they were worried about him. They weren't there to save him. No. They came in hopes of getting something on tape that would get them a few extra views on social media. They cared more about getting something shocking on tape than a mans life.

At that point my heart broke. Not for me this time, but for humanity as a whole. At that point I realized that humanity is lost. Empathy is slowly fading.

That was 3 years ago.

Today I sit here with the exact same feeling. My heart has once again been broken by the people of the world. As I heard the news about Linkin Park singer Chester Bennington commiting suicide, and saw how people were cracking jokes about it on social media, I realized that sadly, nothing has changed. People are still assholes. Empathy continues to fade, as ego grows bigger. I read status updates saying it's good that he's gone so he can't make any more music. A friend of mine wrote that. Maybe he meant it as a joke, maybe he didn't. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that a person killed himself, and people joke about it like his life, his pain, meant nothing.

It's bad enough that we live in a world so cruel that people kill themselves to escape reality, but now we're heading in a direction where we find that amusing. Actually, we're not 'heading in a direction', we're already there. This is our reality now. People are in so much pain they think dying is the better option, and instead of being affected by that fact - instead of trying to change the world - we simply laugh at those who couldn't take it?

1 comment

5 tips to become a morning person

Category: Verden, fra mitt perspektiv // 21.07.2017 at.13:40 o' clock // 2 comments

Do you feel like there's not enough hours in a day for all the things you have planned? Chances are you're just sleeping them away. So here's my 5 tips to get out of bed earlier.

If your room is dark you'll convince yourself to continue sleeping. So throw those curtains away, keep your window open and let the sun in! 

Music makes you feel more energized. Create a spotify list, name it "Wake up bitch!" or whatever you like, and play it every morning. I suggest you include the following songs, even if these aren't the kind of songs you'd normally listen to:

Survivor - Eye of the tiger
Cyndi Lauper - Girls just wanna have fun
The pointer sisters - I'm so excited
Little Mix - Black magic
Manian - welcome to the club
Special D - Come with me
Special D - you
Smokie - living next door to Alice

Some people drink coffee, some drink energy drinks, and some simply want a glass of cold water in the morning. Find something that works for you.

It's painful, but I promise it's worth it.

Get some sun in your eyes and wind in your hair. Smell the morning dew and the fresh air.


Let me be completely honest here..

Category: Verden, fra mitt perspektiv // 18.07.2017 at.22:42 o' clock // 2 comments

While browsing the internet today, I came across this picture.

My immediate response to this was, and will always be, to roll my eyes and shake my head. I'm gonna spare you the lies, and be completely honest: there's no way the little girl on the left could ever compare to the young woman on the right.

Before you attack me for being 'a cold hearted bitch', let me tell you a little bit about the little girl on the left. Her name is Adalia Rose. She suffers from something called progeria, which is a rare condition that makes her body age several times faster than the average human being. People with progeria typically live to be around 8 to 21 years old. Adalia's body, despite her young age, is like the body of an old lady. She will never have flawless skin, or long, thick, shiny hair. She will never have a pair of perfect double D's or a butt like the Kardashians. She will never be able to fit society's standard of what's considered beautiful.

So no. Comparing her looks to the woman on the right and telling her that they are just as visually attractive, is a big, fat, cruel lie. You know it. I know it. Adalia probably knows it. She's not blind. She has eyes. She can see. She has a brain. She can understand. She doesn't suffer from stupidity or denial, she suffers from progeria. Anyone who's seen her on TV or follow her on social media already knows that she's a very clever, young girl with a lot to teach us. She knows she's different. She knows she'll never be the next Miss Universe. So why bother lying? 

Because you want her to feel good about herself?

No. If you wanted her to feel good about herself, you'd tell her what a brave little girl she is. You'd tell her how talented she is. How funny she is. How clever she is. You'd tell her how strong she is. How she's such an inspiration. How she's so precious. You'd tell her that she's amazing. You'd tell her that you're there for her, if she ever wants a friend or just someone to talk to. You'd tell her that there are more important things in life than flawless skin and long hair. If you wanted her to feel good about herself, you wouldn't have to lie. There are a billion things you could tell her, a billion compliments you could give her, that has nothing to do with her looks.

But you don't care, do you? You don't care about her illness. You don't care if she believes you. You're just saying nice things so you can go to bed in the evening feeling like a good person. Like you did something good today. You're saying she's beautiful because deep down, you feel guilty for thinking the opposite, and you think that by "saving" her with lies about how beautiful she looks, you're a better person.

Adalia is beautiful. But it's not because of her looks. She will never look as good as the woman on the right. Adalia is beautiful because of her personality. How she makes people smile, even though she's the one fighting the hardest battle. She's beautiful for never giving up. She's beautiful for being different. But don't say she's just as good looking as a photoshopped model on a picture on the internet, because that's a lie, and we all know it.


What's on my face?

Category: Skjønnhet // 17.07.2017 at.20:55 o' clock // No comments

EYEBROW PENCIL (get it here):
Here's a major secret: my eyebrow pencil is actually a lipliner. But it's brown, so who cares? If they came in black, I'd probably use it for my eyeliner as well. It glides on so easily, and it stays there! It's so easy to work with! I love it! Also, it's waterproof and, because it's so affordable, you can buy one in every color to see which one looks best on you. I'm wearing shade number seven (nude, although it's more like an auburn brown if you ask me).

EYELINER (get it here):
I've been using this eyeliner since I was seventeen and I'll probably keep using it until I die. It's waterproof, it stays on all day, and it's easy to apply. What more could I possibly ask for? When it comes to mascara, I don't really care. All mascara's are basically the same, it's the brush that makes them different.

Love my big, striking blue eyes? So do I. I got them from my mama here.

EYESHADOW (get it here):
After primer and foundation I apply eyeshadow. I first apply the color havannah (the darkest one) on my eyelids and smooth it out, before applying the color banana (the second light one) under my eyebrows to make the gap between the eyebrows and the eyelid appear bigger than it really is. I also use this eyeshadow palette to contour my face.

LIPLINER: (get it here):
Shade number ten. I love it!

I wrote an entire blog post about this once. Read it here.


My favorite primer that I use all the time (except for when I'm wearing sunscreen) is this one. I wrote a blog post about my favorite foundation here.

ANTI AGE SECRET? read it here.




Laila M Nikolaisen wants to have an incest 3way

Category: Story of my life // 17.07.2017 at.11:09 o' clock // 10 comments

So, we all know this woman, right? She's 47 years old, has a blog where she posts screenshots of personal documents sent to her by NAV (which is short for Ny Arbeids - og Velferdsforvaltning = New Labor and welfare administration) and goes on a neverending rage about how she's been treated wrong. To most of us, however, she's known for leaving totally random and unrelated comments on our blog posts. Such as this one;

(TRANSLATION: "why is it so important that my life is ruined and no one gets to know about it?")

She left this under a blog post about my dead grandmother, so naturally, it pissed me off. Especially since this is the second time within 24 hours she's left this bullshit on my blog. Not too long after that, I got a new comment. The same comment, from her again, but on a different blog post.

After that, some guy named Erik also left a comment. Like hers, it was totally unrelated to my blog post. And like her, he's also old enough to be my father.

(TRANSLATION: "more cyberbullying. )I didn't write this)".

He then left another comment, explaining why he left this random bullcrap in my comment section:

(TRANSLATION: "I'm writing a lot of posts because I'm being denied rights, after hearing that I'm persecuted by the mafia at Rimi Bjørndal in 2003. I also heard that Rimi-Hagen uses me as a drone against the mafia. And dr. Johnsen at Blakstad said that I'm not functional").

Obviously doctor Johnsen is right, based on the fact that we don't have mafias in Norway. They both kept leaving comments in the comment section on various blog posts. The latest comment is some juicy stuff about Erik's dirty underpants. Yummy. Thanks. Loved getting those details on a blog post about my grandmother. Hasthtag SoClassy.

When I checked my hotmail today I noticed a new e-mail from Laila.

(TRANSLATION: "When should we fartfuck? I'm ready anytime. Erik's joining, too")

Due to the fact that they both share the last name Ribsskog, which is not too common in Norway, I'm just gonna assume that these two are related. Either they're father and daughter, brother and sister or cousins. Either way, she wants a threeway with me and her .. Whatever it is. I'm just gonna say brother.

Sorry, girl, but I'm engaged, and incest isn't my thing. But hey, you two sicko's have fun. Just please don't reproduce.


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.


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.



DIY hair extensions on a budget

Category: Skjønnhet // 14.07.2017 at.21:58 o' clock // No comments

Hair extensions are pricey. If you're low on money, chances are, you simply can't afford them. At least not without having to save up money for them first. Synthetic wigs, however, tend to be a lot cheaper. So in this blog post I'm gonna show you how to turn a cheap wig into a full head of hair extensions.



A wig ( here )
Clips ( here )


Flip your wig upside down and inside out, so you can easily see where the hair strips are sewn.

Cut out the fabric inbetween the strips.

If done correctly, you should now have a bunch of hair strips similar to the ones pictured above. If you think they're a little too thin, you can sew one or two on top of each other to make them thicker.

Sew a clip in the left corner, then another one in the right corner, as pictured above. If your strips are very long, you should also put one to two in the middle of the strip.

That's it! You should now have a handful of hair extensions, ready to be clipped into your hair! Just remember that they are syntethic, and should never be dyed, washed in hot water, brushed when wet or curled / straigtened with a curling iron.



The one I'll never get over

Category: Tanker & meninger // 14.07.2017 at.14:11 o' clock // 2 comments

I thought of you yesterday.
I thought of you the day before that, too.

I think of you whenever I hear a new song.

"A would've loved this".

I think of you when I see old classmates all grown up with a carreer and children.
"What would A's life looked like, if she were still around? What kind of job would she have? Would she have a boyfriend and kids? What would they be like? What would she be like?"

I think of you when I listen to spotify or watch netflix.
Things you'll never know, because they didn't exist back then.

I think of you whenever I read celebrity gossip.
Back in your days, no one had heard of Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj, The Kardashians or Kylie Jenner. Miley Cyrus was still Hannah Montana. Paris Hilton was still playing a dumb blonde in "The simple life". We listened to Cascada and Snoop Dogg, from mp3 files we had to transfer from our computer to our phones.

I think of you whenever I'm eating chocolate cake.
Thinking back to that day when we were put in groups of two. You and me, baking a cake. The day we become friends.

I think of you whenever I hear someone mention Spain.
Wondering what our lives would've looked like, had we actually moved there, like we had planned.

I think of you whenever I see a picture of a heart with an arrow in it.

Your tattoo, on your left hip. A heart with an arrow, and the words "Te amo siempre". I remember when it was new, how proud you were to show me.

I think of you when I'm frustrated.

How you would always let out a "gaaahhhh", widen your eyes and wave your hands.

I think of you when I see girls with long, thick, black hair.
Yours were like that.

I think of you when it's raining.
How you would always sigh and get frustrated because your hair would curl.

I think of you when I see someone with brown eyes.
Yours were like that.

I think of you when I hear a baby's laughter.
How you loved kids.

I think of you whenever someone mentions the zoo.
How we would sit in the timber slide (tømmerrenna) in Kristiansand Zoo, take selfies and laugh. I remember you filming it.

I think of you whenever I visit Arendal in the summer.
Remember how we used to walk around for hours, looking at stuff, planning a future in Spain.

I think of you whenever I hear the song DJ IRONIK - stay with me.

Your favorite song. How you would write down the lyrics on your desk, on your essays, on your books, and how you would randomly text them to me.

I think of you whenever I read a poem.
How you used to text me short poems to brighten my day. How on your last day on this earth, you texted your mother and me the exact same poem.

I think of you whenever I see a hearse.
Remember how I broke down and cried when your coffin was placed in one.

I think of you whenever I hear church bells.

Remember the pain and sadness from your funeral.

It's been ten years. When you ended your life that night, you didn't erase the pain.
You gave it to someone else 💔.



A world of clones

Category: Verden, fra mitt perspektiv // 13.07.2017 at.11:36 o' clock // 8 comments



Fifteen pictures. Fifteen different people. Yet, they all kind of look exactly the same. Kylie Jenner's (picture number 7) copying Anastasia Petrova (picture number 6), and Isabel Raad's (picture number 8) copying Kylie Jenner. In a way they all look like Kim Kardashian, who's copying Megan Fox, who's copying  Angelina Jolie. Then you have Alena Shishkova, who looks like the blonde version of Megan Fox, and Sophie Elise (picture number 13) who's trying to look like Alena Shishkova. Round and round in an endless circle.

It's a world of clones.

Same hair, same lipstick, same highlighter.

Same poses, same smiles, same look in their eyes.

Same eyebrows, same lashes.

Same surgeries, same injections.

No originality.

Just real life copy- paste.

Surgeries becomes real life photoshop.

Makeup becomes real life lightening.

Makes me wonder who these people really are

when they're not trying to be someone else.


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!


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



Looking for a tracksuit?

Category: Klær og tilbehør // 11.07.2017 at.22:50 o' clock // No comments

Do people still wear tracksuits? I know I do, but do you guys? Is that still a thing? Obviously the time when we wore tracksuits everywhere, and in plain sight, is over. It ended in 2007, I think. But do you guys still wear them in private?

If so, you might be interested in these! I know some people might find them trashy, but honestly, who cares? And who knows: They might just be 'back in style' some day
(like those awful bell bottoms from the 90's that, in my opinion, should be salted and burned, supernatural style!).









You won't believe what she looks like now!

Category: Skjønnhet // 11.07.2017 at.02:25 o' clock // 2 comments

I'm not a big fan of gossip, but in case you missed it, mama June - known from the tv-series "here comes Honey Boo Boo" - was on a weight loss journey earlier this year. She went from a size 24 (EU size 54) and looking like this:

To a size 4 (EU size 34), and she now looks like this:

It's amazing how much healthier, happier and confident she looks. A true inspiration to big girls everywhere who feel like their weight is out of control.

If June Shannon, a 37 year old mother of four, can turn her life around and find the will to eat healthy and exercise more in order to lose weight, so can you!


Why looking younger is not a bad thing

Category: Skjønnhet // 10.07.2017 at.19:39 o' clock // 2 comments

It's funny how, at least in my case, when you get to a certain age, people mistaking you for being younger, kind of feels like a compliment. We spend our entire childhood and teenage years trying to appear older, wiser, more mature than we are, and then one day, when you reach a certain age, you're no longer insulted when people say you look younger. What, to you, once meant "childish, underdeveloped and immature", suddenly has a whole new meaning: beautiful.

When you're seventeen you want people to think you're twenty one. But when you're twenty six, at least in my case, you don't mind people thinking you're seventeen.

I get mistaken a lot. Especially by cashiers. Whenever I'm buying alcohol or tobacco, they ask me for ID to make sure I'm at least eighteen years old. Even when I'm buying energy drinks, they sometimes ask me to show them my ID, even though you can legally buy energy drinks from the day you turn fourteen. When I willingly show them my visa, which has my date of birth printed on it, they give it back with a slightly embarrassed look on their face. As if they just realized they insulted me. "Oh.. You've been old enough for a long time", a female cashier said to me the other day. I couldn't help but smile. To me, being mistaken for being younger is not a bad thing. It just means I have no visible signs of aging on my face. Honestly, it's nice to know my weird habit of using suncreen every day and keeping out of the sun is paying off.

When I was a teenager people used to mock me for looking younger, but guess who's laughing now, bitches!

(Also, looking younger might just earn you cheaper tickets on the bus / train / zoo / anywhere, and the clothes in the childrens section are usually cheaper. So there's that.)


Hemmeligheten samfunnet ikke vil fortelle deg

Category: Tanker & meninger // 09.07.2017 at.02:23 o' clock // 8 comments

Jeg vokste opp i en kult. Det samme gjorde du. Du bare forsto det ikke, fordi fra det øyeblikket du tok dine første skritt og sa dine første ord, har det blitt presset nedover halsen på deg - bokstavelig talt. Du forsto det ikke, fordi du ikke kjenner noen annen virkelighet. Du kjenner kun virkeligheten som eksisterer innenfor de rammene kulten har satt. I dine øyne er dette normalt. Du spiser det, du puster det, du lever det, og de aller, aller fleste setter heller aldri spørsmålstegn ved det. De aller, aller fleste vil forsvare det, og til og med forsøke å trykke ned mennesker som våger å gå imot det kulten har lært dem. De aller, aller fleste vil gjøre narr av dem, kalle dem stygge ting, le av dem, og kanskje til og med dikte opp ting som ikke stemmer og forsøke å overbevise andre om at det er fakta. Hvorfor? Fordi det er det du har blitt opplært til å gjøre.

"Hva er en kult - egentlig?", lurer du kanskje på, der du tenker tilbake på gamle filmer du har sett av små grupper med undertrykte mennesker som følger èn, ofte overdrevent religiøs, dominerende og emosjonelt ødeleggende leder. Dèt er en kult. Men en kult, per definisjon, er også en sosial gruppe definert ved sine religiøse, spirituelle eller filosofiske trosretninger, eller deres interesse i et spesifikt mål eller objekt.

Ikke alle kulter består av små grupper mennesker som lever i telt eller hytter. Ikke alle kulter har strenge regler. Ikke alle kulter krever at du gir opp noe av ditt eget for å få bli et fullverdig medlem. Noen kulter, slik som den du er oppdratt i, består av store grupper med mennesker boende i hus og leiligheter. Ikke alle kulter tvinger deg opp klokken halv syv om morgenen for å be til mannen i skyene eller behandle lederen sin som et overmenneske. Den kulten du er oppvokst i, for eksempel, luller deg inn i en illusjon av frihet. En illusjon om at du står fri til å ta egne valg. At du ikke har noen leder, og at du kan tro på hva enn du vil. Noen kulter, slik som den du er i, tvinger deg ikke til å ofre noe av ditt eget - nei, den tvinger deg til å ofre noe som tilhører en annen; deres frihet, og liv.

Når vi tenker tilbake på andre verdenskrig og de millioner av jøder som ble gasset ihjel, spør vi oss ofte: "Hvordan kunne det tyske folket la dette skje?". Vi lurer på: "Forsto de ikke at det var galt? Hvorfor forsøkte de ikke å stoppe det?". Svaret på disse spørsmålene er veldig enkelt, og kan oppsummeres i ett ord: hjernevasking. Barn på den tiden ble fortalt av sine foreldre og av samfunnet generelt at dette var det rette å gjøre. At jøder, og homofile, ikke var slik som deg og meg. De var ikke like intelligente som oss, og manglet evnen til å forstå ting på samme måte som du og jeg, derfor var det ok å behandle dem på en slik måte. Man ble, rett og slett, bedt om å se en annen vei, og lukke øyne for det som foregikk, fordi dette var nødvendig. Hele samfunnet ville kollapse om ikke jøder og homofile ble holdt i sjakk, og fikk vandre fritt i gatene, formere seg og ta seg til rette, som du og jeg.

Den dag i dag ser vi tilbake på vår egen historie med skam og anger. Den dag i dag forstår vi at det er galt å gasse jøder. Vi forstår at det er galt å holde mørkhudede som slaver, og å sperre mennesker med forskjellige utseendemessige avvik inne i bur og vise dem frem som sirkusattraksjoner. Vi forstår at homofili ikke er noen smittsom sykdom. Vi har kommet langt, og vi skammer oss over hva som trengtes for å få oss hit vi er i dag.

Likevel er det èn gruppe som gjenstår. Selv den dag i dag er vi offer for hjernevasking. Selv den dag i dag, når vi sender våre barn på skolen, blir de lært opp til at det er ok å mishandle en spesifikk gruppe med individer. De blir fortalt at disse individene ikke er som oss; de er ikke særlig intelligente, og de forstår ikke ting, slik som du og jeg. Akkurat som våre forfedre, blir vi lært opp til å se den andre veien og lukke øyne for realiteten. Lukke øynene for mishandel og drap på millioner av levende individer. Vi lærer at dersom vi slutter å mishandle og drepe disse, vil konsekvensene være katastrofale. At de eksisterer kun med det formål å underholde oss. De er mat, de er underholdningsobjekter, og de er moteartikler.

Du har nok forstått hvilken gruppe individer det er snakk om - nemlig dyrene. Hver eneste dag blir millioner av unge og friske dyr slaktet for å mette vår etterspørsel. Bønder voldtar sine egne kuer (kunstig befruktning) en gang årlig, så de kan produsere melk. Så fort kalven er født, blir den tatt ifra moren og enten oppforstret på morsmelkerstatning eller slaktet. Hvorfor? Fordi det er det som er nødvendig, slik at vi kan få melk i glasset. Ta opp en hvilken som helst skolebok om kosthold, og den vil fortelle deg at kumelk er veldig viktig for oss. At det er den som bygger et sterkt skjelett og sunne tenner.

De aller fleste av oss aksepterer dette uten snev av skepsisk, fordi det er det vi blir lært opp til å gjøre: suge til oss informasjon, og aldri tenke på egenhånd. Men dersom du en dag satte seg ned og faktisk tenkte gjennom dette, ville du kanskje forstå at det er noe som ikke gir mening; en ku produserer melk slik at kalven kan vokse seg stor, sunn og sterk. Dette inkluderer rask vektøkning. Du, min kjære leser, er imidlertid ingen kalv. Dine barn er heller ikke kalver. Det er en veldig åpenbar størrelsesforskjell på en kalv og et menneskebarn. Den vekten som er normal og sunn for en kalv, er ikke den samme vekten som er sunn eller normal for et menneskebarn. Hvert eneste pattedyr produserer melk for sine avkom. Når du er liten, blir også du gitt brystmelk. Som seks-syv-åtteåring finnes det absolutt ingenting i kalvens brystmelk du har behov for. Rett og slett fordi... Du ikke er en kalv! 

Helt fra du var liten har du blitt fortalt at du trenger kumelk og kjøtt for å overleve. Men om dette stemmer, hvorfor finnes det da så mange vegeterianere / veganere? Og hvorfor finnes det laktoseintorante mennesker?

Interessant nok er vegeterianske / veganske kosthold en av de tingene historiebøkene unnlater å nevne. De vil fortelle deg nesten alt du trenger å vite om Leonardo DaVinci; når og hvor han ble født, hva hans foreldre het, eventuelle søsken, hans beste og verste øyeblikk.. Men de vil ikke fortelle deg at han ikke spiste kjøtt, eller at han var så glad i dyr at han pleide å kjøpe dem bare så han kunne slippe dem fri igjen og de ikke trengre å leve i bur. Bøkene vil fortelle deg mye om Albert Einstein også; ting han sa og gjorde, men en ting de ikke vil sitere ham på er utsagnet:  "Nothing will benefit human health and increase the chances of survival of life on earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet". Ønsker du å vite mer om Mahatma Gandhi, vil historiebøkene hjelpe det også der. De vil fortelle deg at han var fra India, født under navnet Mohandas Karamchand. Du vil få høre om hans utdannelse, hans familie, hva han kjempet og sto for.. Men ikke at han var vegeterianer. 

Isteden vokser vi opp til å tro at bare raringer og dumme mennesker er vegeterianere / veganere. At dette er mennesker som har sett alt for mange Disneyfilmer, og at det er greit å gjøre narr av dem.

Vi blir lært opp til å bry oss om miljøet; alltid skru av lysene når vi går ut av et rom, og ikke bruke så lang tid i dusjen. Bruke bilen bare når det er nødvendig. Men de forteller oss ikke at sytti prosent av regnskogødeleggelsene skyldes biffproduksjon, eller at mengden vann som trengs for å produsere èn enkelt hamburger er tilsvarende det å la dusjen stå på uavbrutt i to fulle måneder.

Det vi er en del av, det vi lærer våre barn, det vi praktiserer - det har et navn. Det kalles speciesisme - på godt norsk; artsdiskriminering. Speciesisme er troen om at èn art er bedre og mer verdifull enn en annen og at den 'mest verdifulle' arten - i dette tilfellet; oss mennesker - har rett til å bruke den mindre verdifulle arten - i dette tilfellet; alle dyrearter utenom vår egen - slik de selv ønsker, være seg om det er slavearbeid, underholdsningsobjekter, mat, mote eller hva enn vi måtte ønske. Speciesisme er kategorisert som en religion som har sin opprinnelse i kristendommen, hvor de tror at Gud skapte mennesket i sitt bilde, og dyrene var hans mat og klær.

Så slik er det; du er religiøs, og du vokste opp blant 'en sosial gruppe som dyrker en religion' - per definisjon en kult. Du tror det du blir fortalt av skolebøker, lærere og foreldre uten å stille spørsmål, og om noe går imot den trosretningen, blir det umiddelbart holdt hemmelig fra offentligheten for at de ikke skal få idèer, stille spørsmål, eller på noen som helst måte begynne å tenke selv.

Forhåpentligvis kommer det en dag i fremtiden hvor vi ser tilbake på denne æraen i menneskehetens historie, og føler den samme graden av skam og kvalme vi i dag føler av å tenke på hvordan vi pleide å behandle mennesker som var annerledes enn majoriteten. Til syvende og sist er det dèt alt alltid har - og alltid vil - handle om: straffe andre fordi de er annerledes.




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".


I spend a ridiculous amont of money on...

Category: Skjønnhet // 07.07.2017 at.15:18 o' clock // 5 comments

Having a house full of animals means basically two things: 1) you'll never walk alone (literally. They follow you everywhere!), and 2) you'll have to wash all of your clothes far more often than normal people. You won't believe the amount of money I spend on scented fabric softener. It's insane!

I have mainly two favorites. There's this one, a golden bottle from Lenor, that smells like teen spirit (orchids, honey, everything that is sweet and delicate and beautiful. It smells like optimism, sunny days, hopes and dreams), and then there's another one that I'll be telling you about tomorrow.

What's your favorite fabric softeners?


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



I'm addicted to the pain

Category: Skjønnhet // 06.07.2017 at.12:02 o' clock // No comments

The alarm goes off at 07:00 AM. I turn in off and get out of bed. I walk into the bathroom. Do my daily routine, including brushing my teeth. To finish it off I rinse my mouth with Listerine. The purple one. It has a strong taste and it kinda feels like my mouth's being stabbed with tiny knives, but I kinda like it. The more painful it is, the more I get the feeling that it's doing it's job.

I've tried others. Tasteless ones, and minty ones. I don't like them. I need to feel some sort of.. discomfort, while using it. Otherwise I feel like they're not as effective. Not as strong. Guess I'm just weird like that.


Whenever you're feeling suicidal

Category: Verden, fra mitt perspektiv // 05.07.2017 at.14:32 o' clock // No comments

"If you believed someone was truly going to kill themselves, what would you do about it?", a girl named Jessica (nice name!) asked me yesterday on social media.

Assuming that I had a car and a drivers license, assuming I knew where they lived, I'd ring their doorbell. "Come with me", I'd say. We'd drive far away. I'd take them somewhere new. A new town and a new place. We'd walk around in the middle of the night, staring at the street light and the moon and the stars, and I'd remind them how peaceful the world can be at night.

We'd sit on a cliff and watch the sun rise over the ocean and I'd remind them that every morning when the sun rises, you are given a second chance at life. A new chance to start over, or make things right.

We'd go buy ice cream and they'd be reminded of how good it tastes.

I'd take them diving, and we'd explore a whole new world hidden under the surface. I'd take them to a pet store or a shelter to connect and play with animals, to remind them how wonderful these creatures are and that every life has value.

We'd walk around town and look at the people around us, and I'd remind them how every single one of these people have their own problems to deal with.

Assuming I could afford it, We'd get on a plane and I'd take them somewhere new. I'd show them a new culture and remind them that the world is full of possibilites. Full of new places to see, new smells to enjoy, new tastes to discover and new people to love.

And then, when the day came to an end and it was time for us to head home, I'd stop, and I'd say:

"You don't have to go back. You can stay right here, if that's what you want. You can leave your old life behind and start over. End your routine, not your life".




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.