Making room on the top floor

The strangest and most frustrating thing that can happen to me is having my head full of thoughts that just won't stick on paper. That's kind of how I feel tonight, but I'll give it a try seeing as I probably won't get any sleep until I've gotten some of the thoughts out of the overcrowded brain of mine.

For some strange reason the universe has thrown a full blown attack on my cowardice lately. I've been aware of it for a long time - as I've written before, and tried to do something about it but to be honest without much of an effect. Obviously it's hard to change such a core part of one self, but right now it feels closer to impossible, though I have to say that having cowardice as part of my core self doesn't sound too appealing either. Just to think that I was in Las Vegas for a night and didn't gamble once. I assumed I wouldn't win and to my astonished surprise - I didn't. On the other hand (the strong hand that always wins the argument) I didn't loose either. The really sucky part though is that in life, every time I don't gamble for fear of loosing I end up feeling like the biggest looser anyway.

Ok, so being confronted by my silly fears and my lack of courage to actually face them is one of the things that are bothering me right now. The other is the unintended homesickness I've been flushed with the last couple of days. I never really miss Sweden. I never really think about Sweden, it's just always mom, dad and the devil called my sister that I miss, but last weekend was spent in Malmö and walking around aimlessly in the city hearing the language made me realize how much I actually miss it. Then on top of that I've started to listen to an amazing Swedish singer whom more than effectively touches my heart with her words and usage of the language in a way that makes me really miss using it myself on a regular basis.

Nop, this isn't working - I'm still awake and my head is as full as ever. I got three and a half hours of sleep yesterday and I'm not intending to make a habit out of it, so I think I'll just try and sort these thoughts out tomorrow, hopefully with better luck. But before I hit the bed, here are some pics from this weekend and the amazing concert with Melissa Horn - Ah Sweden, how I miss being able to say things like "fika" and "skaffa hund" who knew I could miss such simple things...

The melted ice-princess

I don't like to be wrong. Who does? I especially don't like to be wrong about myself. I tend to think that I know myself very well, so it doesn't really sit well to find out that one of the things I've always considered one of my key trait is wrong.

It's strange but I consider myself a pretty cold person. I'm not sure friends and family would agree, but I know how much I actually keep inside and how much I censor out. I very seldom get extremely angry or (unfortunately) happy. I tell my friends a lot, but never the darkest most embarrassing and self degrading thoughts, those I keep to myself - let them grow and fester inside until I feel ten times worse than when everything started. Very healthy, I know.

This Friday I had the strangest roller coaster day I think I might ever have had - emotionally speaking. I was on the highest of high and fell subsequently to the lowest of low. First of all I am impressed by the fact that I even have the emotional range to move that much, it's good to know that no matter what I sometimes might think, I'm actually not made of ice. Second of all I'm happy (and a bit embarrassed) that I was surprisingly honest to one of my very best friends whom I kept texting until the early hours in the morning. Third and lastly I'm extremely pleased that already Saturday morning came with some leveled thoughts and insight - and best of all, I didn't break in the process. I know it's weird, I think I've only ever mentioned it to one other person before and I got some very weird looks in response, but I'm always afraid that if I ever let myself get really sad I might never be happy again. I know, it's stupid but non the less it feels real at the moment.

All in all a very interesting Friday. Who knew I could actually feel so much in such a short period of time?

The outfit for Fridays roller coaster ride

Taking the train from Malmö to Copenhagen Friday evening

Another extremely interesting fact? I always tell myself (and very often other people tell me) that I have too high standers that people can't live up, that I'll never be impressed or surprised because I always expect better or more. Well that is a lie. Some people impress and surprise in the most amazing ways - ways I didn't even have the fantasy to imagine beforehand. It's good to know, and to remind yourself when people disappoint you or other people try to lower you expectations. I smile just thinking about it.   

The lady with the red cape

As a kid you get asked who your hero or role model is, who would you like to be like when you grow up? You're supposed to say your mom or teacher or maybe a movie star. I always said my mom, and sometimes my dad, but the truth is I just didn't know what else to say. Does that sound harsh? It does doesn't it. I mean, I love my parents and I have the utmost respect and admiration for them, but I don't want to be them. I've been raised to want to be more, to aspire for more and expect more for myself.

Last week I had some classes that I found immensely inspiring. In part it was the subjects, the novelty and greatness of them, but mostly it was the professor. She is a lady of 66 years who has worked in Public Health all over the world with among others the WHO and the UN. She has worked in the field and taught classes at university and lived all over the world. She taught a class in Public Health Demography, one in Aging, one in Human Rights and one in Sexual and Reproduction Health. As I said, it might have been that these subjects are new and in my general interest, but I think she personally made them fascinating. As I was sitting there, mesmerized by the statistics (and I'm not even joking!) I couldn't help but think, "this is what I want to do - how did I never know one could work with this?" and "I want to be like her when I grow up". 

I know, it sounds like a little girl admiring her teacher and I guess it kind of is, and I've never had that before so it feels a bit silly. The thing is that as everyone who has read a single one of my posts about my work, or asked me about my current job, know that I am crazy about what I do. I love it, everyday, even at the crappy "babies-keep-forgetting-to-breath-and-kids-don't-stay-in-their-mommies-bellies-for-as-long-as-they-should"- 24hour shifts. I wouldn't want to trade it for anything else in the world, except that I would like to combine two things, working as a pediatrician and working in public health internationally. I guess I already knew it or I wouldn't have applied to the course or have been considering working with MSF for so many years, but this has made it clear that it's not just a kind of fluke, this is something that feels like when I started med.school, it feels so right.

Clearing up a misconception

There are some people that intimidate me enough to make me sound like a bitch when talking about them, it’s not a very charming personality trait, but then again I’m only human. I would like to clarify though, that my bitchiness stems solely from a twisted form of admiration. So if you fit in to one of the two types below – I’m sorry, I have most likely badmouthed you in the past or at the very least thought some less than decent thought about you.

The first type is the prissy princess that isn’t prissy at all. She’s cool and collected, smooth and elegant. She knows her wines, her art and literature and is of course an eloquent speaker that easily makes friends with all kinds of people. It’s the girl that can walk around a whole summer day in white crispy clothes and by the end of it look, well like when she stepped out the door in the morning. Her hair silky smooth and in place, her make-up pristine and not a trace of sweat or flushness on her face. She walks in heels like she were barefoot and no matter how cheep her clothes are they always look like quality garments.

The second type is the relaxed hippie girl. She’s the girl that makes backpacking and sleeping in a tent for a Woodstock-type of festival while looking great seem like the easiest thing in the world. She’s mellow and easygoing, talks to everybody and gets intimidated by nobody. It’s the girl that rocks cargo pants and a white tank top as if it were designer exclusives. She laughs loudly and drinks beer with the guys while keeping her femininity intact. She doesn’t do the flushed and sweaty look either, but if she did she’s just look natural and beautiful, and as she doesn’t need make-up or hair-products to look amazing there’re no worries about making either stay in place.

The thing is these two types (whom I know plenty of girls that fit in to by the way!) make me feel like a mess or an uptight square respectively. I can’t relax and take beer because it tastes despicable and I always squirm out of having to buy the wine to any social occasion knowing I might end up buying cooking wine. My clothes are either too cheep-looking and wrinkly or too put together and matched. I get tongue-tied when trying to talk to anyone I haven’t talked to at least 50 times before and even the simplest conversation topics become to difficult to handle. I mean, I don’t really get much of the modern art out there and while loving to read I don’t think neither The Hunger Games nor the latest Nickolas Sparks novel is what people call “good literature”, and don’t even get me started on music – how am I suppose to come across as an intelligent (or at the very least not a ditsy teenager) woman in her late twenties while confessing that my Taylor Swift playlist on Spotify has been playing on repeat the last couple of weeks? And even if I could somehow fake my way too seeming like I’m not a complete dork inside you just need to see me on a semi-hot day walking out of my apartment, I promise you, all it takes is a couple of steps and all efforts gone into brushing my hair (which I don’t incidentally, but you know what I mean…) and carefully applying make-up is lost, I’m red as a tomato, glistening with sweat and the hair has curled and flying every which way.

Anyway, this wasn’t really supposed to be a “bash Arlen” post – I mean, maybe I could change, if I really tried, but why would I? I absolutely love my sappy “Americanized” (yes that’s supposed to be an insult) romance books (or movies) and how else am I supposed to dinner if not while dancing around to Taylor’s amazing songs? And I guess if I really had to bring wine to a dinner there’s always Rosé right? But darn it, I do wish I knew the secret to not looking flustered and sweaty on summer days.