Gay (why homosexuals shouldn't raise their voice)

gay - adjective 1. of, pertaining to, or exhibiting sexual desire or behavior directed toward a person or persons of one's own sex; homosexual 2. of, indicating, or supporting homosexual interests or issues: a gay organization. 3. having or showing a merry, lively mood 4. bright or showy

There is one thing that annoys me a lot these days, and it's the way homosexuals always have to raise their voice. They always have to talk about equal rights for equal love, about how it shouldn't be shameful to love someone of the same sex, and how religion shouldn't dictate human rights. Every time questions of marriage, adoption, bullying, equality, prejudice and religion comes up, I feel they have to raise their voice, and it annoys me so much it burns me up from inside.

It annoys me so much it brings tears to my eyes.
It annoys me so much it makes my cheeks flush.
It annoys me so much it makes me cross my own boundaries for "personal space" to get in people's faces, and that takes a lot of annoyance!

Why does it annoy me? Why does it annoy me that they always have to raise their voice?

Because they bloody well shouldn't have to! 

1. Being gay; it's okay. 

It might not be the way you want to live, or the way your interpretation of your religion thinks people should live, but it's not up to you, is it? Accepting that being gay is not something one becomes (science supports this), that it can't be cured (science supports this) or treated (science supports this too), that it is in fact common in the natural world (science supports this) and not a disease, mental disorder, defect or choice at all (science supports this) gets us to a point where you should ask yourself: had you accepted this treatment of anyone else?

Have you seen how much outrage there is whenever the "fight against gingers" are mentioned? How many horrified people are talking about how despicable it is that "ginger" has become a derogatory term, and how terrible it is that children don't feel safe because they get bullied over hair colour? Hair colour? If you raise your voice for the gingers, how come you let the homosexuals fight their fight alone?

2. Words are powerful 

Whenever you allow the word gay to mean lame, bad, worse, less important, less good or any other non positive thing, you contribute. Whenever you don't speak up, you help bring about the feeling, belief and notion that gay is less than perfect. Every time you hear someone say gay in this manner and don't speak up, you help spread the hate. And it is your fault. Every time.

3. We're talking about human rights.

It is important that we take a step back from discussions of sin, hell and religion and look at human rights. Keep the discussion of what will happen to homosexuals when they die for later, let's talk about how they live. Let's discuss why religion should dictate who are allowed to marry and have judicial marital rights. Let's discuss why some people should be allowed to live their life together with the person they love, and sit next to their life long partner's sickbed when they die, and why others should go through the exact same life, but have to leave the sickbed when it's "family only". Let's discuss that. 

Think hard, think long about this question: What threat does gay marriage actually pose? What threat does it pose to society? The only real answer I've ever gotten had to do with procreation, but are we not all very much aware of the fact that our world is overcrowded already? I understand that if we were 50 000 people left on earth it could be considered unfortunate if the gays refused to contribute with their DNA. However, since we are not about to die out, I hardly think this should be an acceptable argument. (Plus, as the English royal line has shown time and time again, in times where you really really really need an heir, 'close your eyes and think of England' is a valid strategy.)

4. We (as in you, me, straight people, bisexual people, gay people, religious people, old people, young people) shouldn't accept this kind of hate, intolerance and prejudice. 

We say we don't. We shudder when we hear of children (children!) taking their own lives because of their sexuality. We agree, in principle, that it's not okay that people are beaten up, harassed or hunted for whom they love. But we shut up. We let it slide. This is their battle.

The blacks fought their own battle, why shouldn't the gays? Provocative isn't it? I heard this argument said, out loud, in good company. Know the worst part? Only I spoke up. Of all the lovely, intelligent, bright and good hearted people present, no one but me spoke. Because we were wrong the last time, I said, and I knew it's wasn't even a full truth. The fight for equal treatment of skin colour isn't over, the gay's fight has only just begun, and we are all so horribly quiet about it.

I bet we are more. I bet we are more people who generally agree that there should be equal rights for equal love, than there are haters. But we allow the haters speak louder. We allow to speak for the rest of us. And we force the gays to raise their voice, on their own behalf, every time.

Makes me want to scream.
Oh, and yeah. I put that thumb in the wrong side around.

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About comments: I will allow all respectful comments, even if you don't agree with me. All comments with real arguments and with respectful content, is fine by me. The hate I will not publish. 

Fever (why butterflies are bastards)

fe·ver - noun 1. an abnormal condition of the body, characterized by undue rise in temperature, quickening of the pulse, and disturbance of various body functions. 2. an abnormally high body temperature.

I am one of those lucky people who, at the age of 27, still gets fever fantasies when my fever gets too high. It has carried on since childhood, and has lead to me hitting my husband (to get rid of his beak with which he was planning to beak me to death), throwing books through the air (to hit the helicopters) and numerous hours under the duvet, hiding from the hot air balloons.

I get sick every now and then, and usually I understand what's happening quick enough to stop the fever from getting too high. Usually I have a couple of days with burning cheeks and shiny eyes, a little less energy than normal, but carrying on as if nothing is wrong. And I try not to whine about it.

I'm a real trooper, marching on with fever burning in my cheeks and glistening in my eyes.
Suffering in (close to) silence. 

But then every now and then, I just get worse. Usually if I'm too busy during the first stage, and don't get enough sleep. Funny that. They keep telling us that sleep is important, but I never listen.

Then the whining starts, and my body slowly shuts down. Then, I sleep a lot. Somewhere in that drowsy world of pillows and comforters and softness.... I let go. I float away. I become sick, and convinced it is okay to fly away on that magical cloud.

Probably dying of a common cold

This is the stage I entered today. The staying in bed stage. Tired and lonely, I was absolutely thrilled to discover I had gotten a visitor. He was sitting perched on my pillow, just waiting for me to open my eyes.

Mr. Butterfly gesticulated wildly and made a sound like  zzzmm zzzzm when he danced. 

Me: Mr. Butterfly!
Him: Hello!
Me: What are you doing here?
Him: I don't know, you invited me.
Me: I did?
Him: Yes, you know we butterflies can't enter a room uninvited.
Me: I thought that was vampires?
Him: You watch too much TV.

Then he started dancing on my head. A butterfly dancing makes very little sound.

Me: Something feels weird, are you sure you're supposed to be here?
Him: Oh, yes! We always come to see the sick.
Me: Oh, that's awfully nice of you, thank you, I was getting lonely.
Him: Oh, it's just to see if you're dying. We like to hold parties on dead people.
Me: I'm not dying.
Him: No... not yet.
Me: No... erh... sorry about that? I mean... I don't want to die. But sorry if it upset you?
Him: No worries, you can't win them all.

At this point I was getting slightly worried that there was something wrong with Mr. Butterfly's head. He was acting all erratic and kept jumping in and out of focus.

Me: Are you allright Mr. Butterfly?
Him: No! You need to calm down! Your head is clearing up. Stop!
Me: I'm just turning on the computer to check Facebook.
Him: Nooo!
Me: What is wrong with you? Why can't I check my Facebook?

He then disappeared for a little while. I logged on Facebook and noticed the profile pictures were moving and the text was slanted. A sudden sneeze reminded me I was sick.

Him: You think too fast, go back to bed!
Me: I need to take some pain killers, I obviously have a fever.
Him: You really shouldn't, you might get an ulcer and die.
Me: I thought that was what you wanted anyway?
Him: fair enough, I hope you die.
Me: You're a bastard Mr. Butterfly.

Close up proves I'm right. 

The fever is now going down, and Mr. Butterfly is gone. Which is sort of sad, because I'm still sick and lonely. Oh, well. You can't win them all.

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In other news: you should all check out the fabulous blog of Darcy Perdu, called So Then... stories. It is really funny and sweet!

She gives out free t-shirts for the first one to subscribe from every country, state and planet, so check out if you're one! Our very own Flickster is hailed with the honour of being the very first subscriber from a parallel dimension!
We're both very proud, and she won't shut up about it. 

Grimace (I am woman, hear me roar)

grimace - noun, verb 1. a facial expression, often ugly or contorted, that indicates disapproval, pain, etc     2. to make grimaces.

I am mostly annoyingly positive. That kind of positive that people choke on, because they want to be angry about whateveritwas, and they want to bitch about it, without hearing "she-was-probably-just-trying-to..." And I get that. The rage faces I have managed to summon, in being rational in meeting with other people's anger and annoyance, could fill a book, and it would be a scary book. A book of rage. I try to get better. I've now learned the survival mechanism called "nod and agree," it works like a charm, but I keep forgetting (mostly because I know I'm right, she WAS probably just trying to...).

However, in the interest of being fair. In the interest of sharing. Here is a list of things that makes me irrationally annoyed, angry, and no matter how much I try to see the other side of the argument, it only ever makes it worse.

In short this post will present the things that can make this transformation  occur.
Notice how even my hair bow gets angry when I'm angry. THAT my friends, is commitment. 

1. People who do anything but watch the movie, at the movies (click this, it is a link)
I've written a separate post about this. It splits my personality, 'nough said.

2. People who say "calm down" when I don't feel uncalm
It gives me an immediate Hulk-reaction. My face contorts, my heart races, and I feel like digging into the jugular vein of the person saying it. I do have a, let's say, a charmingly lively personality, but I'm (mostly) not bouncing around, screaming, waving my hands in people's faces, being high pitched, aggressive or yelly-shouty-naggy. I'm just happy, and I love discussions, and I can be awfully clear if I think something's not right. If I ever go all she-hulk on someone's ass, being told to calm down in any of these situations, will be the thing to make it happen. A friendly warning, so to speak.

3. Rice
I hate rice. Not to eat, but to boil. I cannot for the life of me get the cooking right. I'm a fairly decent cook in other aspects. I can magic up quite impressive dishes, but I cannot for love nor money, with all the help, instructions or guidance in the world, boil rice. Now, let's get one thing clear right from the start, I am able to do the student-cooking of rice. I can fill a pot with water, add rice, and then drain it when it's done. No problem. People who say "I can cook rice" and then do the student cooking, should probably be on this list.

I am talking about that thing, where you add the right amount of water, boil over perfect heat, and end up with this light, fluffy, perfectly cooked rice, that's not burned or sticky, just perfect and delicious. I keep trying, however, and it always ends in all sorts of aggressive behaviour, rice covered walls and unpleasant sounds.

4. Women who backtalk other women, for doing the exact same thing they're doing themselves
I don't think this needs any explanation. Pure aggression. I think everyone should live by the Bambi-esque motto: If you can't find anything nice to say, you might  be evil.

5. People who think socialist is a swearword
It's not.

6. Lord Voldemort

7. My own complete lack of structure 
I am such a messy, unstructured, unfocused person and it annoys beyond belief. I occasionally have serious talks with myself where I go "you need to tidy your room and make a study plan for the week!" and I am all sulky and go "yes, yes, yes, I know, I know, I'll do it right away," and then I go on Twitter for an hour, and then I play some Skyrim, and my brain goes "WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO US?" and I'm like "relax, I'm just having a break, I'll do it later," but then I don't, and the next day we go through it all again, until someone calls and goes "can I come over?" and I'm like "erh, in an hour" and then tidy and clean and fix like crazy.

8. People who list things that annoy them.

I showed you mine, now show me yours?

Topic (why people shouldn't eavesdrop)

Topic - noun 1. a subject of conversation or discussion: to provide a topic for discussion. 2. the subject or theme of a discourse or of one of its parts. 3. Rhetoric, Logic. a general field of considerations from which arguments can be drawn.

Me: I think it would be an interesting experiment for us to kidnap a child and raise it together
Santa: Really?
Me: Yes, there's just no way that child could turn out good
Santa: Because of the biological parents, of course.
Me: Obviously. It would be just our luck to pick the worst child in the universe. Oh, look at her! She's adorable!

A stroller with a cute little girl is pushed by. Right as she passes us, the girl does her best The Omen impression. She stares at us as if she is cursing our souls. 

Santa: That... was creepy.
Me: I thought you liked the wicked?
Santa: Wicked people. Wicked children I just can't abide.
Me: Oh, look! It would be perfect timing too, there's a sale on diapers!
Santa: What if the child is too old for diapers?
Me: I feel we've done a poor job in kidnapping a child if we end up with a sulky 19 year old in the back seat! It has to be a young impressionable child. One we can mould to fit our image.
Santa: Yes, that would be better.
Me: Plus, a 19 year old would be all grumpy and do the wrong things.
Santa: I would teach him to smoke, so he could get a job, and buy me cigarettes
Me: That makes sense. Wait, when did you learn to drive?
Santa: What?
Me: The teenager, it's in the back seat.
Santa: I can do a great many thing if I need to.

Somewhere during this part of the dialogue, a woman walked in behind us. 

Me: It would save an awful lot of money though, abducting a teenager. We wouldn't even have to let him live at home.
Santa: We'll arrange some sort of family drama, and kick him out after the first day.
Me: Hm... but how do we stop him from returning to the birth parents? Will we kill them or just take him far far away?
Santa: I think it's better that you don't know.

Her expression as she passed us is the reason why people shouldn't eavesdrop. I felt like running after her and say "this isn't real, we were just playing with the idea of kidnapping a toddler," but she walked really fast, and I was carrying groceries. 

Rude (I'm a cinema vigilante)

rude - adjective 1.discourteous or impolite, especially in a deliberate way 2.without culture, learning, or refinement 3.rough in manners or behaviour; unmannerly; uncouth.

I went to the movies today. I saw Cloud Atlas, which was entertaining and beautiful and a quite all right way to pass a few hours. Towards the end, I threw a sweet at the guy next to me. Hard.

Going to the movies has been one of my favourite activities since I was a child. Back then it was something special, a reward or designated treat. Later it became a way to treat myself and find inspiration. Now it's a social, inspiring, entertaining and peaceful thing to do. But I used to have a problem... a problem that just might be resurfacing. I used to think that someone, anyone, should make sure that no one in the audience disturbed the movie experience for the people around them... and that someone usually had to be me. I admit I've lied, schemed and littered to make it happen. And I take no pride in my actions (at least not very much). Most of them can be attributed to youthful indiscretion and delusions of grandeur. At least until tonight.

Example time:

1. I invented the "Civilian Cinema Guards" 
This started when I was about 17. I sat behind two boys, a few years younger than me, and they were being absolutely obnoxious. I'm not saying what I did was right, but what they did was worse. They were loud, commenting on everything that happened, laughing loud at emotional scenes, texting... at least I think this is what they did. I honestly can't remember. But they were annoying. And they were not just annoying to me. They kept going. Much like villains in the movies, who are pushed and pushed and pushed until they finally snap, I was pushed and pushed and pushed... until they awoken the Flickster (my cinema vigelante super hero personality).

Flickster very quietly stood up and leaned over in between them. She said: "Hi, my name is Amelia, and I'm a civilian movie guard here. If you don't quiet down right now, I'll have to ask you to leave."

And so they did. They shut up right away. Two terrified boys, probably a little younger than I had first thought, sat quiet as mice and watched the movie. The problem was solved, and the Flickster was unleashed upon the world.

The Flickster, armed with a CCG-badge and a box of popcorn.

2. The Flickster threw an entire group of teenagers out of a movie theatre. 
The CCG-scheme worked quite well, and every now and then the Flickster would make an appearance. Always to younger people, and only if they annoyed more people than me. The Flickster grew stronger and smarter, and I could no longer contain and control her... I'm ashamed to admit: I didn't even try.

One or two years later I sat (embarrassingly far) behind a group of teens, who did everything the Flickster hated. They shouted, they threw popcorn, they were kicking the seats in front of them, and as this all took place in Norway and the group was tough-looking, no one said a word. Until the Flickster snapped. Quickly and efficiently she climbed over the seats between us... the theatre wasn't even half full, and yet she was enraged. This group was young (about 14-15), but not stupid, so I felt I would need a little extra ammunition. From my wallet I had, quite unconsciously, pulled my library card.

The Flickster held it up in front of them, and said:
"I'm a civilian cinema guard here, and I've received so many complaints about you that I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave, right away." A second went by, two, three, I didn't move, I didn't flinch. And then they left. They just stood up and went away. 9 kids left the seats they had paid for, and walked away. Albeit, yelling "this movie sucks anyway," but they still left. People in the audience were happy, but the friends I was there with were not amused.

I understood. She was out of control. The Flickster could have gotten me into serious trouble. She could have gotten my friends into trouble. The past few years she had been a good companion, but she was growing too fast and going too far. She would have to be put down. Subdued. Locked away somewhere safe.

I had just thrown people (quite a lot of people!) out of the cinema... Thrown them out.
Not only had I been impersonating a person of authority, I had used my fake authority to manipulate the world around me. It hit me that the Flickster might not be entirely good. I had thought she was a superhero, but maybe she was a villain... I had to reel her in.

3. I threw popcorn at a posh lady, because she was talking on her mobile mid film. 
Months later, a phone was ringing a few rows behind me.  I managed to keep the She-Flick down, and wasn't even all that annoyed. The person, a beautiful, blonde woman in her 40s, the type who's got perfect fingernails, perfect hair and whose clothes don't even crease (she might have been a witch), decided to answer her phone instead of turning it of. Even then I kept the FlicksterFemale down, expecting the woman to say "I'm sorry, I'm in the movies, call you later" or "hold on, I'll just leave the theatre" or a variation over the theme. But she didn't. She started talking. And she was commenting on the movie, retelling the plot, even spoiling things she knew would happen... and I couldn't keep the vigilante  quiet any longer.

I turned around and started throwing popcorn, one at a time, at the lady. Slowly, and while facing her 100%.
When the initial bafflement had subsided, she said "what on earth are you doing?" (I might point out that she was still talking on her phone, and told the person on the other end that she was being thrown popcorn at).
Flickster answered: You come from a place where it's polite to chat on the phone while you're at the cinema, I'm from a place where it's polite to throw popcorn at people. If you wish, we can both give in and follow the  rules of normal society.

She was offended, but agreed. Two strangers patted me on the back. That acted much like a drug for the Flickster, and for a while I struggled to put her back in her cage. I managed it at last, and she's been quiet for years, except for the occasional popcorn throwing. And then today happened.

4. I threw a sweet at the guy next to me. Hard. 
Suddenly and out of the blue, the Flickster made an appearance today. The guys next to me were chatting and laughing. And to be fair, they weren't incredibly loud, and I doubt they annoyed more than 3-4 people. I didn't think too much about them, I wasn't particularly annoyed, but out of the blue I found my self throwing a sweet at them. The Flicksterium was back, and she enjoyed it. She was lured out during a quiet and very sad scene, where the boys were joking and laughing, louder than they had before.

The SMACK as the sour candy hit the guy next to me, flat in the face, sent a shiver down my spine. Also because I noticed how much smarter Flicksterella has become since the last time she was on the lose. I kept staring at the screen, chewing my own candy, looking innocent and spellbound by the movie. He was 98% I had done it on purpose. But he couldn't be sure. Not really. Maybe I just didn't like the sweet and had carelessly thrown it aside? Maybe it was the guy on the other side of me, whom I had been feeding sweets all through the movie? He couldn't know. And Flicksteria rejoyced.

They didn't confront me. They quieted down quite a bit, and the guy seemed mostly shocked by the event, and laughed about it several times. He even held on to the sweet for a while. Because he couldn't really know. And Flicksterina had a great time thinking up excuses she would use if confronted (oh, I'm sorry, I thought since it's okay for you to be a bastard and talk through the movie, that it would be okay for me to be a bitch and throw candy at you) and enjoying the fact that Santa, the friend I was with, found it more fun than horrifying.

I promise I will get her under control again. I know this is no way to behave. Throwing sweets at people in stead of politely asking the person to be quiet... Childish, I know. I'll get her back behind bars.

But until I do, know that she is out there, making the movie experience a little quieter, or a little more eventful , a little nicer and a little funnier. And she's doing it for you.

You're welcome. 

Shopping

shopping - noun 1. the act of a person who shops. 2. the facilities or merchandise available to those who shop

My mum is in England, and we're enjoying London. Good food, nice hotel, musical tonight. Today, we've been shopping, and the following facts have become obvious to me:

a) I can only go into so many stores, before the next one needs to be a book store. 
If I ignore this simple rule, I get tired. Then I get grumpy. And to cheer myself up, I start making flash-faces at people, (make a face real quick, go back to normal and then pretend like nothing happened), just to see how they'll react. When that loses its charm, no... who are we kidding, that never loses its charm. But when I'm too tired and annoyed to care about charm, I start singing out loud, and when that isn't good enough I go absolutely quiet until I'm fed, hugged or brought to a book store.

b) Politeness is a dying art form and shoppers are horrible people.
It is my theory that shoppers must all be using shopping as a way to escape the bad conscience that inveterately follows from being such a horrible person, which most shoppers are. Vicious..no... evil circle right there.

c) Handbags and shoes seem to have the ability to intoxicate some people.

d) I don't care that much about handbags or shoes. 
I tried on a pair of shoes. They didn't fit. The lovely lady in the store checked to see if they had that pair in my size, and when she couldn't produce them she seemed to expect a slap, or that I would break down in tears, or at least yell a little, but I was like "They're only shoes," and she was like "I don't follow," and I shrugged and looked for a book store, but I couldn't find any for a very long time, because there were only shoes and bags and clothes everywhere.

e) I hate shopping

In other news, I'm seeing Wicked for the first time tonight. Will be awesomelicious! 

Year (A birthday's lament)

year - noun 1. a period of 365 or 366 days, in the Gregorian calendar, divided into 12 calendar months, now reckoned as beginning Jan. 1 and ending Dec. 31 2. a period of approximately the same length in other calendars. 3. a space of 12 calendar months calculated from any point

Happy Birthday to me! To celebrate my 27th year, I've picked out 27 moments in my life that have been significant. The first ones are in a somewhat chronologically but around #12 I was getting bored, so I mixed them from there.  They're not the most significant moments by any measure. Some are funny, some are sad, some are strange, some are boring.

#1 My first memory
The very first thing I can remember is peeking out under a white plastic bucket and seeing the tips of my father's going-out-into-the-muddy-field-or-wild-forest-to-fix-something-wellies. I remember being aware of something weird floating in front of me. I now realise it was my nose. This has not shaped my relationship to wellies, buckets or noses, but it does seem like an awfully early time to start contemplating vision. Guessing I was around 1.

#2. Learning to read
I remember very clearly the first time I ever read a word. I remember the light bulb flicking on in my head as I discovered that the sounds matched up, and created a recognizable word. A word I could understand. I was about 3 1/2 years old, and the first word I read was HURRA (Norwegian for Hurray!). It was in a book about the body, and on a drawing of a woman giving birth with a guy (the father, I hope) holding a poster saying "Hurra!". My husband will not like having to hold a poster like that, but I feel it's necessary to keep my perception of how life works intact. Also because maybe, just maybe, we can teach our kids how to read while traumatising them at the same time.

#3 I remember hugging my grandparent's dog, thinking he could read my mind if I didn't breathe.
Why I couldn't breathe I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it worked.

#4 Talking teddy bear
I've addressed this before. I had a purple teddy bear. One day it talked to me. I could hear it clearly and I saw it move. Although I was just four years old, I had sense enough do doubt my experience, so I ran to my mum. When I got there, I was afraid it was an "only children can hear it" type thing. I ran back into my room... only to discover she had fallen silent forever. I somehow felt guilty for doubting her in the first place, and it's only a few years (don't judge, it's my birthday) since the last time I tried to quietly ask if she had forgiven me yet.

#5 I made all the kids in my kindergarten who weren't baptised play separated from us baptised kids once.
This still haunts me as the beginnings of a psychopathic serial killer.

#6 First piano lesson
I remember being about 6 years old and super nervous, and so surprised at how easy it was when someone just explained what all the black dots meant.

#7 First real text
I remember the first time I wrote something that had my teachers and my parents stop and listen to me, That's when I realised words were my preferred tools for taking over the world, and that I wanted to take over the world. One of them is still true.

#8 I chose my middle name (Amelia) because I thought I was an elf/fairy (Norwegian alv) and if I found my elven name "they" would come find me. I was a strange child. I was also obsessed with Amelia Earhart, the ideas must have been linked.

#9 Got a painting nominated in a national art competition for youth. It gave me a confidence I quickly lost, but it was nice at the time.

#10 First time I had a leading role in a play/musical, I was 12 years old and sure I would be on stage forever.

#11 First time I saw a big stage production of a musical abroad I couldn't sleep the following night because I was shivering with the excitement.

#12 The last night of the show my class put up when I was 15, they gave me flowers. I still have them. 

#13 My very first pay check 
I started working in a hairdresser's when I was 13. The very first pay check I got, that wasn't limited in any way I got when I was about 15. I spent it all on buying about 8 kg of mixed wrapped candy, a whole lot of fabric and had my mum make me a clown costume. It was a clown costume for a white faced but happy clown. I clearly didn't understand clowning rules. I went to Oslo and handed out candy as if there was no tomorrow. This was 2001, there was Anthrax scares going on, but I still managed to hand out my 8 kg of candy in about 4 hours. I have a picture from that day, I look insanely happy and terrifying.

#14 First time I calmed myself down from an anxiety attack I knew I would be all right in the future 

#15 Getting a computer with internet in my room changed my life, literally, over night.
Seriously. It took one night. Friendships, new geeky hobbies, music, dreams, plans - they were all there. I had a long period where I practically didn't sleep, but lived my "real life" at night.

#16 Dropping out of High School and moving across the country to a new town is the scariest, most idiotic and best thing I've ever done.

#17 The first time I looked at the night sky in 5 years (!), was the most horrible and wonderful feeling. I hadn't looked up in 5 years because my first anxiety attack was triggered by an asteroid film, but at that moment, when the stars were all "welcome back, dude!" and I was all "Thanks, stars!," on my knees in amazement, I decided never to let fear stop me from doing something again. Which has gotten me in all sorts of trouble since.

#18 The first time I was attempted mugged, I gave the thief a lecture that was so harsh and cold he ran away. 

#19 When my sister, my mum and I went to Prague for our first "girls' trip", it was the beginning of a love affair with Prague that I hope never will pass. Oh Prague, I want to be in you.

#20 Snorkeling on Iceland, in a dry-suit that was too small, with two left gloves and one boot that didn't fit, is the only time I've thought I was going to die. The pride I felt in keeping my head clear, holding the panic away, focusing on one thing at a time, being all "you're not gonna kill me ice cold water!" and "shut up Mr. Panic, you're not being helpful!", is unmatched by any other pride I've felt. And I've been proud.

#21 For my grandfather's 95th birthday I wrote a poem, and I read aloud. My father's face when I was done  is something I will never forget.

#22 My trip to Italy. 
a) I had never done yoga
b) I was extremely scared of flying
c) I had never gone anywhere alone
d) I didn't speak Italian
I cried and clung to my father at the airport, much like a child but larger and louder. When I got to Casperia, the tiny place where I ended up staying at a yoga retreat, I was so overwhelmed I could hardly speak. It is one of the best things I've ever done, but in retrospect I have no idea how it happened. My father and I agree that it's perhaps unnecessary to break quite as many barriers at the same time. And if one does, one should perhaps wait to tell ones father until one gets back...

#23 My trip to Morocco was awesome. Enough said.

#24 Getting married
It shouldn't have changed anything, it really shouldn't. We had already lived together for years, and I had known for a long time that he was the one. But getting married changed everything.

Somehow, knowing that the person you're married to chose to marry you, even though you're horrible at taking the trash out, your body isn't perfect, your voice gets super squeaky when you're annoyed, and you tend to hide in weird placed to scare your better half, then forget what you're doing and get super annoyed when he scares you by accident, it really takes some of the pressure of. It just does.

#25 Going back to school 
I love being a student. I take a perverse pleasure in grammar, linguistics, reading, writing, learning, getting up early and being under constant stress. Smart move!

#26 Going abroad to study
Hard. Wonderful. Brilliant. Social. Scary. Angsty. Lonely. Lovely. There aren't enough adjectives in the world.

#27 Finishing my first novel
NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) changed everything. Inside and outside. I've finished my first novel, I'm editing my first novel, I love my first novel, I laugh when I read my first novel. This is good. This is really good.

So! People in the blogosphere. I can see you stopping by. Leave a comment and tell me about one of your moments?