I could change the name of my blog

Well… it has been a while! It is not that I haven’t written anything, but I have deleted it all again, because it just wasn’t right. So! Now it is, and I am publishing my first blog post after I moved house. Or to say it right, after I moved from house to apartment. To be precise, I now live on 5th floor. That’s why I thought, that I totally could get away with changing the name of my blog to  “The view from fifth floor”, because moving all the way up here has definitely changed my perspective. Which is why I find it appropriate for me to even write a blog – I see things from a  different perspective than so many others. But I guess most people do that…


Anyway, moving all of my family’s crap from a quite big house to a rather small apartment was pretty strange. We have cleared out more stuff than I could ever imagine, but it has been worth it. Even though I feel like every empty space in my room has been filled with more stuff than what it actually could fit, it works. Having a smaller space and lesser stuff is good. I have come to a point, where I could take almost every little object in my room, and argue why I left it there. I guess that is good?

Clothes rack

Not only do we have less indoor space, we have also moved from a small town to the city of Copenhagen. The Copenhagen package included noise, no ventilation and loads of stairs, but it also means a roof terasse with amazing sunsets, everything just around the corner, and people everywhere. Wait. Is people everywhere really good? Nah, sometimes it is frustrating and tiring, but sometimes it is good. It is good when you crave company and conversations, or a helping hand every now and then. Which you do. Even though I catch myself complaining about the crowded streets, I also find that I grow for every day I spend in the crowd. I learn how to let them in when I want to, and shut them out if I need to.


Okay, so that was it for now, I will return with an update on the categories on the blog, where I might change a few things… Next week, I will hopefully also be posting something, as my sister and I are going to Amsterdam for a couple of days!


Fighting laziness

Being a teenager has never really been my favorite thing. The day before my 13th birthday, I told my mom that I would never get lazy and sleep in late. I hated how every teenager where so damn busy being tired that they didn’t do anything else. I hated that they didn’t have the energy to jump around, and dressed in boring baggy clothes. The first couple of my teenage years went pretty well. I kept my child spirit, could still get up early, and still fancied a good old jump in the puddles outside. At this point in my life, my fourth year as a teenager, I have to try my hardest to avoid the signs of a true teenager. I still wake up later for every day, and when I am finally up, I feel the laziness coming. Every day is a fight, to not become that annoying lazy teenager I remember from when I was twelve. I have so many ideas and wishes and dreams, and being tired all the time frustrates me. That means that I have absolutely no energy, and can’t  get myself to fulfill the tasks I have to do or want to do.

So wake up early tomorrow. Jump in a puddle. Stay in the rain with no worries. Wear a tulle skirt. Draw something childish. Dance. Sing. Do not care. Fight for what you want.

If I were to draw my head…

… I would start with my neck. Draw it simple, and the face simple to. No expressions – to the outside it would seem nice and organized. I would draw my skull cut open, and in my head there would be no brain. Instead there would be a hundred different people, some tall, some small, some happy, some sad. One of them would tell me to cry, another to dance. One would tell me: “Gorgeous”, another would say I’m ugly. A fancy looking girl would tell me to dress as I want, but when I do, another would tell me I shouldn’t have done it. In a crazy crowd, one would be of right mind and yell what I should do. But I wouldn’t hear it from the fear of the others. At times they would all start jumping to cause me headache, or lay around not willing to do a thing. Sometimes they work like a team, and I would draw them building a ship. And sometimes they would sit by themselves not willing to talk nor cooperate.

But I can’t draw.


I am running from reality,
and trying not to stop.
But one day I will trip or fall,
and reality will catch up.

I never know when the path is rough,
I never predict my way.
I never know when I suddenly find,
a place I want to stay.

Even when I find my spot,
I will want a new.
‘Cause humans never get enough,
need other stuff to do.