Welcome to Skottustelpa's page of fun and games. Skottustelpa is amazing, beautiful and incredibly talented. Everyone loves Skottustelpa. Go, Skottustelpa, go!
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| Skottustelpa, The Continuing Saga Welcome to Skottustelpa's page of fun and games. Skottustelpa is amazing, beautiful and incredibly talented. Everyone loves Skottustelpa. Go, Skottustelpa, go! |
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Tuesday, March 29, 2005  History of a broken heart, part II posted by Skotta | 9:27 PM | Monday, March 28, 2005  This is one of the coolest shots I have ever seen. I saved this on my laptop about two years before I met the guy who filmed this part of the movie. I have also met the choreograph. Do you think that's fate? posted by Skotta | 11:51 PM | Thought I was getting seasick because the screen kinda wobbled ... until I realized that I held the mouse with one hand and my electric toothbrush in the other. 
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10:16 PM
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 An old one but nevertheless solid. I do find though that people generally have a hard time saying sorry. Text says "Sorry I punched you" and "Gee thanks, that makes my eye a lot less sore". posted by Skotta | 6:09 PM | Saturday, March 26, 2005 The Domistication of Me I was reading the cover article of the Village Voice (which I pronounce Willage Woice due to my uncanny way of not recognising the difference between the V and the W). It is written by a 26 yr old Brit living in New York. This is her blog. She will have a book contract in about 15 minutes, if she hasn't one yet. I also read a blog written by and Icelandic Magga. Magga and Mimi are both journalists. I read them because I share some of their experiences. Mimi is living officially illegally in New York. I have done that. Magga has lived all over the world. I have done that. Magga is aproximetly my age and has just had a baby. She is probably close to being where I am heading. She has a relationship with a good man, and is getting her kicks from different things than before. Mimi is getting her kicks probably similar places me and Magga got our kicks just a few moments ago, it seems. Reading both of them today stirred up some thoughts in me. I never travelled, I was never a tourist anywhere. I moved places. And lived places. If I wrote a book about my years in Hamburg it would be called How To Live in a Foreign Country for a Year Without Any Human Contact Whatsoever. If I wrote a book about my years in New York it would be called The One Who Got Out In Time (subtitle: or how to party until there is not a breath left in your body). I don't have a snappy title for my years in Cologne, and I don't have a title for my colorful years in Reykjavik. I don't have a title for my solid years in Copenhagen. But as you can see from the other two titles, I have had a very twisted existance. Life has changed drastically. Today I am totally domisticated. I never thought this would happen to me. I have a solid relationship with a perfectly sane man, who is all that I never dared to wish for and more. Not to mention that he is happy. I have a safe roof over my head (no illegal contract, no having to look for another place because I am being thrown out). I have a legal job that I actually like and does not chew me, swallow me, and then spit me out again. I just joined a gym! Never ever thought I'd join a gym. My body is healthy and happy. Never thought that would happen. I didn't even do any of these things on purpose, they just happened to me. I travel. I walk around foreign cities and look like a tourist, not like a local. Very uncool. Very honest, my man calls it. Wanna have a baby. First time that is a realistic thought, as I have until recent years surrounded myself with unhappy, unstable people. Hell, I was most of the time unhappy, unstable people. If not both then one at a time. When reading Mimi I can allmost physically feel the exhaustion of living in New York. I loved it but I burnt out quick. I don't miss it but I wear those years like a badge. The inscription is See, I lived! Especially now when I am so often introduced as "My Girlfriend". I feel like screaming "I do cool things too!!!" In fact, I don't. I used to, but I don't anymore. In that sense I identify with Magga in her blog from March 18th, where she showed pictures of the house she lived in, in Malibu, after her blog got the comment that some people lived very unexciting lives but were able to make them seem exciting by writing interrestingly about them. (whoa, long sentence, did you get that?) (by the way, my man just passed me and gave me a really warm kiss). I've lived! I've lived! Is that pathetic? It is and it isn't. I love my life. It is stable. I love being different so much that I have chosen to settle in Denmark. Apart from that there is nothing cool about my existance. I would love to have a cool existance but I settle for licking up some of my cool boyfriend's cool existance. In reality I want to do brain research. And try to stay away from my urges to be Terminally Unique. I am of a generation of Icelandic women who was told that we were not to settle and have kids. We were to get educated, see the world. In my brain I still excuse my longing for a baby while I am secretly terrified that I am getting too old to have one. Well, I guess it is not a secret anymore ... I am afraid that if I become a mum I will die inside and get swallowed by the identity "mother". There is a weird twist there somewhere. It is the one that says that having a stable life is no fun. It is the twist that gets Magga to show pics of her Malibu house and do a bit of name dropping. A totally amazingly creative woman, with a full, happy life. I love the fact that I am where I am today by choice but not by fate. I do think it is a blessing. A part of it is the blessing of not having to be born into a generation when there existed something called the "womans role". And now I am going to eat the amazing HUGE omelet my man just made for us. We spent last night blowing out eggs and painting them ...  He is lighting the candles. posted by Skotta | 8:46 PM | Black Sabbath once made an album called Evil Woman Wicked World. Or maybe it was a single. I sometimes get the Evil Woman Wicked World syndrom. I just came across an old friends website. He wrote that he hated using the computer because it hurt his eyes or something, and commented that it was such a pain in the balls. I was so close to adding a comment. There are just oh so many ways of commenting about that man's balls. Didn't know you had balls... You have balls? Congrats, they came down!? Me a good person. Me not comment on non-existing balls with pain in them. I work hard on my pure heart. I work so hard on it that my old impulses of evil rarely pop up anymore. I had the most vicious tounge and I have hurt a lot of people through the years with it. Nevertheless. Some people just ask for it. Then my heart goes, "Please don't ask for it ... " and evil woman pops up. I get all smiley and warm and bubbly inside. Eeeeeevil. 
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Again, from the King of Links: 
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Friday, March 25, 2005 I just got this in the mail from my girl in New York. Had to share. Have your speakers on. Happy Easter! posted by Skotta | 12:05 PM | Thursday, March 24, 2005 My man is big on security. You all know that. What you didn't know, is that I have a bit of a fetish in that direction too. This is my most favorite poster in the world.  It is on the wall in every little joint that sells food in New York. I love it, I want it. The only thing cooler than this poster is the older version that some little joints in New York still have on their walls. I absouloutly love this poster. I really, really would love to have one. The old one is way cooler so I would love even more to have that one on my wall. The point is, what to do when somebody looks like this:  Well, due to my fascination with this poster, I rememberred what to do, years after my first time studying it while eating a sandwich in New York. Lucky little girl she was, after swallowing her lollie. My current use of the Heimlich is most likely to be this one: Heimlich Infant  I have to admit though, that I find these two immensly interesting: Do it yourself Heimlich  Doggie style 
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Yay! I am on a 5 day break from work. The beauty of it is that my Amazing Boyfriend took the 5 days off. I love Easter. I am going to hang out with my boyfriend for 5 amazing days doing nothing. Nada. Zilch. Except maybe decorate with little birds and then make little birds, and blow out eggs and paint them. And eat tons of good food.  I am eating tons of food this Easter because I have now officially joined a gym. It's a nice little cheapo gym where a nice, determined Lithuanian lady showed me the ropes. I thought she would just show me how the thingies work. Thingies as in the maschines you wrap yourself in and them move misc body parts while trying not to injure yourself. Nono. She sat me down and asked me what I ate. Then she learned me how to read the Nutrition Facts on a bottle of soda. Then she told me how much of each line in the Nutrition Facts can be in my meals. I have always ignored these labels because I have never known what they meant. I'm an artist, not a nutritionist. She then asked me what I did for exercise. Nothing (because I thought sex was the wrong answer). I told her that up until a year ago I biked two hours a day. What happened? I got a boyfriend. I tell you a secret, she says with her thick Lithuaninan accent, as she leans towards me. Your body like a man. When we got married he got fat too. It took me a while to get it. She meant that, like her man, I gained weight in a relationship. Then she walked me through a training program she had decided for me. Ten of this, and then ten on the other side, and then a break, bring a water bottle, then ten of this again and then ten on the other side. Next torture bench. Ten of this then pause then ten of it again. You mix, it more fun. If she hadn't been thin as a pin I'd name her Olga from Russia. I am also to do things with an elastic so soon I will be doing this:  Neeeh, it's more likely I'll look like this: 
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Monday, March 21, 2005 There comes a time in every relationship where your knowledge of each other just deepens. Tonight I found this out about my Amazing Boyfriend: Of the Muppets, his favorite is Lew Zealand, The World's Finest Boomerang Fish Thrower.  Now, I have always been into hairy guys. Here are two of my favorites: Sweetums  Chewbacca  For more Muppet info click here. posted by Skotta | 11:21 PM | Steinrikur aka The Link Master (as in Obey) has sent me this link, and it is actually for my friend Hellboy. Other new are: I am madly in love with my man. Easter is coming. I am a happy chipmunk and I baked a cake yesterday. posted by Skotta | 9:52 PM | Friday, March 18, 2005 And here is an interesting 80's link ... Who remembers Bravo? My best friend in class used to sign up for next months copy at the local bookstore (in Glaesibaer). I guess she collected these. Upon a dare I am now coming up with a Nick Kershaw album:  This is not the LP I had. Sveimhugi might have it? Whatever. I wish I could say that Nick ruled my world. At least there was no competition for the posters. There were plenty to have after my friend had tore her Wham! posters out of her Bravo. And now my man is making me frikadeller. Mmmm, with cornflakes and feta cheese. posted by Skotta | 9:38 PM | Here you go. Try the Smurf Name Generator. My Smurf name is Yakuza Smurf. Provided by Steinrikurinn, the king of links. posted by Skotta | 8:26 PM | My eleven years old niece was on TV this morning. You can see her here if you click on Songur. I am very, very proud. posted by Skotta | 6:24 PM | I should be punished. Want to know why? Because I have not promoted  Oh yeah. Maybe because I haven't heard it. But that's no excuse! I have heard him and he is the best. I have also told you he was voted Best Turntablist by the East Bay Express last year. Now check out Oakland Faders who just won Scion's 2004 Free Up Your Mix. Once again, my family rules. Son of Tonabaer's greatest DJ ever, the apple rarely falls far away from the oak. Or that is what we say in Iceland. DJ Platurn is my nefiew. Son of the oldest brother in the clan. And he kicks ass. Now go buy the stuff. posted by Skotta | 5:46 PM | Thursday, March 17, 2005 Oh yeah, and then of course ...  and  I am in a state of total bliss. I have great music. posted by Skotta | 7:53 PM | Now playing  I love this album. The only numbers I can't stand are Careless Whisper and Last Christmas. They are just to painful in the memory. Painfully aweful. The rest of the album just gets me going wild. Here you have the other tracks: Wham rap Young guns go for it Bad boys Club Tropicana Wake me up before you go go Freedom Everything she wants I'm your man Different corner Battlestations Where did your heart go Edge of heaven When I was a kid you could only be a Duran Duran fan or a Wham fan. You could not be both. The two were rivals and fought constantly over which band was better. Being such a weirdo kid, I opted for not "fanning" for either band. I was a Nick Kershaw fan. Don't ask. Now, in my "adulthood" I am just savouring this music. My other favorite connected to this is:  Tracks: Is there something I should know Hungry like the wolf New religion Save a prayer Wild boys Seventh stranger Chauffeur Union of the snake Planet Earth Careless memories You can't beat this. posted by Skotta | 6:25 PM | Sunday, March 13, 2005 Home alone and happy ... nothing brings me down ... ..sings Emiliana Torrini, and I couldn't agree more. I am suffering a bit from lack of sleep, partly due to weird picture game night with my brother, and partly because I spent the night at a friends house. You see, she has TV. I don't. I binged. AB came home early from work Friday, causing me to jump for joy. Until he told me he was home to pack, and then he left half an hour later. I told him that when a trip is taken on an hours notice, the girlfriend gets a present. He has spent the day flying a helicopter. I have spent the day shopping. So when he called me I told him not to worry, I had bought the present. I came home early, exhausted from shopping. I now have some very pretty things to wear in Cannes in May. I visited this site and have spent the whole evening hangin out there. Shortly after my visit, my niece joined me and we spent the evening there together. I love the internet. I really apreciate MSN Messenger. My niece has this voice that just always has been singing. I remember her as a little tiny telling the loooongest rhymes and singing. She knew everything. And now she is being noticed outside the family. She has her first TV appearance this week (on the Icelandic version of Good Morning America), and I am predicting it won't be her last. This week she has also accomplished the feat of singing solo (alone on the stage) at the stadium where Metallica played in Iceland. Her voice filled the stadium, causing her big sister to chill. She is eleven, and totally not moved by her "stardom". Rumors tell that she is had a leading role in a school play this winter. Same rumor (okay, my mum) tells that in a room full of otherwise quite noisy publicum, one could hear a pin drop when she was on stage. She was captivating. I can see her blushing through the messenger when I tell her I'm proud of her. I'll tell you more things of this elf child my niece is. When she was a baby I got the privilege of babysitting her a lot. I remember her laughing at sunbeams and talking to plants. When the baby enterred a room, everything vibrated. It was obvious to all that the baby saw things that we couldn't see. You can probably read through the lines that I care for her a lot. I could write something similarly loving about all my nieces and nefiews. Each and everyone is such a miracle human being and those of them that weren't my playmates, were babies I cared for as a teen. I have had bonding moments with all of them. And although my sister told me babysitting was the best birth control in the world, I had pure joy with these kids. And now they are all growing up! It is so amazing to watch all these individuals develop their talents and bloom. They are all so smart and talented. And they are all young people with big hearts. And I get to rebond! I think life is cool. posted by Skotta | 12:52 AM | Friday, March 11, 2005 We were playing a game, golly, we had fun. It all started with me saying that my blog needed pictures. He offered to help. Here goes:  Pigs in Space  Anna Banana  Extraordinary Cheerie!  Hugo  Geen in a bottle  Often will a sad one become very very sad and then worse  What?  semi-sad  Handsom Picture Play  Mmm, gimme some hootie  The aid of the skilled craftswoman  Gollurhouse (it's an Icelandic thing, you wouldn't know it)  Nice legs  Royal Puddin (lemmon)  Blue fag  Okay, now we're stopping! posted by Skotta | 1:42 AM |   I know this might seem very strange, but it will all be explained to me soon. posted by Skotta | 1:31 AM |  What? Don't you see the connection? posted by Skotta | 12:38 AM | Wednesday, March 09, 2005 Will the person with the Skotta doll please stop sticking those pins in it's stomach. It's not funny, and not a very grown up thing to do. Now listening: Emiliana Torrini - Fishermans Woman. When Uncle Google came up with no Image of the album cover, and Amazon asked for a password to see the pic, I needed to come up with the link. Please check it out, even though it seems like a news link. There is actually a very beautiful video there, which I reccommend you see. Meant mostly for my friends abroad, as we all know her in Iceland, and probably most people have bought the CD. If you haven't, go buy it now. You see, I have always loved her music, but got so disappointed when I heard the first tune on the radio. I was sure as hell not going to buy this CD. I was fine with just one Norah Jones, so fine with it that I let due with Norah Jones first CD. Fortunately, I got the CD as a gift. Thank you forever, women that got me the CD. True, there is a feeling there, that I am sure Norah can identify with. But to compare the two would be a sad thing. Emiliana has something that I can't put a word on but it's there. It's feel good music that nobody will suffer listening too. Chances are it'll make you feel really, really good. posted by Skotta | 9:52 PM | I can't believe my luck! I have another virus! Yeeeeah! Viruses rock! Not. This one I am aparently sharing with half the nation. My doc knew right away what I was talking about. I am turning this blog into one of those medical blogs, where you just log in if you have a question about symptoms, symptom relief, illnesses and cures. I'll just spice it up with a little "Now listening" feature once in a while. I am aware of the fact that I just described my blog. I am using all my willpower not getting into details with this ever so interesting new virus. Lets just say it hits the stomach. Hitting, being the key word. Hit and run just got a new meaning. I guess the Danish Diarrhea is the result of people eating so much penicillin this winter that their stomachs were not up to the fight when it came to other evils. I have this guru friend, who is my guiding light on most things. She tells me that mind, body and spirit have to be balanced for one to be healthy. If one is out of balance, one needs extra of one of the others to make balance again. Usually, the spiritual side is my weakest one. I have never been good with spirits of any kind. I am though learning a few tricks with this, because I found out it was the reason for my ever so messed up mind. I got spirit and mind became at ease. Now, since I moved to Denmark, the body part has just been fucking with me constantly. Okay, not constantly, but when it does, it does so with force. And whoopdy! What do you know! No energy to attend to spirit. Spirit is out, and mind gets fucked up. My friend is so right. I now hate people. My hatred is currently aimed at the stupid Danish government making such stupid application rules for University. Okay, not hatred, mild animosity. Next in line, with increased hatred ... well, I can't find anyone I increasingly hate. Maybe because I had spirituality in stock when I got the virus. Full hatred is aimed at all parents on the East Bridge in this city. They send their kids sick to school, spreading viruses among the staff. This lack of parenting skills is keeping me indoors these days. In the bathroom, to be precise. I don't feel evil yet, but I am getting more sarcastic, which is a sign that I am just steps away from tearing people apart. Oh, yes, I a have a monster in my tummy. Talking about monsters. My AB is saving the world right now. I am not one of those girlfriends that gets bothered hearing shooting and blood getting splattered coming from her beadroom. I think it's cute. I'd die if it was football. One last thing: I forget that I am read by many. I was reminded today that I have a reader who just got prego. I am so excited about this. (That she's prego, not that she reads me ... uh, well, also that she reads me ...) Anyways, on a note to this sweet woman, who asked if something was happening at our place, now that I am writing about pregnancy and pregnancy leave. Yes and no. We want one, but we don't know when. It's not being discussed, it is being wondered about, outloud, by me, because the thought is both exiting and freaking me out at the same time. AB has decided that I am not to step on a plane if there is a risk involved that I am a) pregnant b) could return pregnant So. No playing with anything more than the idea until I am back from Texas in October, and we know for sure if we are going to Saint Croix in November. I'm resting further thoughts on this until 2006, I think. Unless God has a plan ... posted by Skotta | 7:12 PM | Tuesday, March 08, 2005 And now the results of a day with mild fever: I have done nothing. Talked to my mum, done a bit of laundry. Surfed. Surfed. And now my brain is teasing me with things like: How uncool it must be to have an interesting name yet be a totally uninteresting person. I would love to go into details with this. But in fact, it is probably just one of those things my brain is using to keep me from writing my application. My hips hurt now, from sitting on the office chair. Surfing. Really. It is weird how you can use the same word over a sport that requires such use of muscle and something that can be done without using anything but a mouse. About the name thing... Really. I've just come across these pages of people who have the coolest names, but then turn out to be totally uninteresting people. To me. I am sure they are interesting to others. Like their mothers. I always think about names. I wonder if I should have picked another one. My dad said that your name is what you call yourself. I ususlly envy people, if I think they have cool names, and I constantly try to figure out how I can make mine a little bit cooler. You see, I am Icelandic, and Icelandic people tend to have long ass last names. I am lucky with my surname, but by now, very, very tired of my last name. I have had to spell my last name in 4 different languages through the years, and it is not easy, any way you pronounce the letters. Let me give you some examples of Icelandic female last names, spelled in English. Then try to imagine also spelling them outloud to the woman at the other end of the line in German, or Danish. Try this: Bjarnhjedinsdottir Sveinbjarnardottir Thorvaldsdottir Adalgeirsdottir Rognvaldsdottir Thorarinsdottir Hamundardottir Thengilsdottir Sigurdardottir Haflidadottir Eymundsdottir Dagbjartsdottir Brynjulfsdottir Bodvarsdottir Finnbjornsdottir Fridthjofsdottir Hallbjarnardottir Arnljotsdottir Veturlidadottir Sturlaugsdottir Kristmundsdottir Oddgeirsdottir Saemundsdottir and so on ... More samples can be found here. You see, if you have a name like Bjarnhjedinsdottir you tend to offer to write it on a pice of paper for the poor sod that is taking your name down. With a name like this you become uncomfortably aware of how often you are asked for your last name throughout life. And although you get used to it, there is still a tint of embarrassement there somewhere, with a mixture of a little-bit-tired-of-it, and a sorry-it's-not-you-it's-my-terribly-long-last-name. Clerks are generally sweet and they feel bad that they can't write it out. So, although little miss Bjarnhjedinsdottir feels perfectly in sinc with her Icelandic last name in Iceland, where nobody asks twice and everybody can write it, once she is abroad ... she can totally see the charm in being miss Smith. Or Jensen. Or Schmidt. Or something just as popular in whatever country she resides in. If Bjarnhjedinsdottir was really rebellious when she was a teen, or had ultra-modern parents, she can flaunt an Icelandic last name like Ingiridar-og Bjarnhjedinsdottir. That would really be a treat to spell once abroad. I'm not really complaining. I once met this Indian dude who had a last name far worse than mine. posted by Skotta | 4:57 PM | but on a happier note ... posted by Skotta | 3:10 PM | Collapsed after writing last blog. Had not eaten all day because the Special-K breakfast had made me nauseous. The explanation came around 3:15 am. Through my stomach. That's it. I am not working with kids anymore. Pest infected little things they are. After two rounds of penicillin since January, and one food poisoning (see Barfing @ Business Class), my stomach was not in good shape to fight this current virus. My apartment looks beautiful, because I cleaned before discovering why I was nausious. I had just enjoyed two days of clear skies, no drowsiness or malign bodily functions. I don't know if you can say malign bodily functions. I was violently ill yesterday, where farting was not an option. Yeah, to hell with it, you have followed all my illnesses in detail so far. Live with it. Today, I woke up really happy, feeling great. Took my temperature and discovered that I have fever. I am aparently one of those people who feel great with mild fever. I didn't feel so great last night with high fever. Oh, well. Better start working on my application for university, if I am ever going to get out of this "working with kids" mode. I'll tell you a secret. I love my life. I love it just like it is. No school, no kids, no nothing. Cool boyfriend, cool apartment, cool neighbourhood. Easy job (apart from the viruses). Sometimes I really can't believe I am applying for school, and thinking about baby-making. The nice thing about working is that when you come home, you are not working anymore. You have the rest of the day to hang out. No responsibilities, nothing. When you attend school, you are never done, because there is always homework. I won't even get into what a job it is to have a kid. I must be insane. posted by Skotta | 2:17 PM | Sunday, March 06, 2005 ... and she cooks and cleans too! Those of you who know me well, know that I am not really fanatic when it comes to cleaning house. Slowly but surely, since I moved in to the cave that was called the "shop", I have been tidying up. What happened was, that I had gotten a lot of things done before I moved in, so it looked okay, but then: I moved in! My stuff was everywhere. Mountains of boxes. We bought shelves. Whatever. This was going to be a blog. It will have to wait, because my whole body hurts right now, and I am so tired I am nauseous. I cleaned house today. posted by Skotta | 10:49 PM | Friday, March 04, 2005 Good news for the equal rights movement (at least in Denmark): Danish workplaces are now, by law, paying $139 a year per employee to the fond for equal oppertunity for pregnancy leave. The fond is used to pay pregnancy leave, a cost that before has been partly carried by the employer. What this actually means, is that it is no longer more expensive to hire a woman for a job, because of the risk of her taking a pregnancy leave. In Denmark, the laws on pregnancy leave still discriminate against men. Although they can take a pregnancy leave (paid by the state), they are not intitled to the same amount of time as a woman. Here are the rules: The one pregnant (still usually the woman) has the right to have a 4 week paid vacation before the birth. Day of birth is included in this, but you have to let your workplace know 3 months in advance if you plan on taking this vacation. If you don't take it, you cannot add it to your pregnancy leave after the birth. The mother shall, by law, hold at least 2 weeks pregnancy leave after the birth. The first 14 weeks after the birth are the official pregnancy leave. Until now, the mothers wages have been paid by the state and the employer, but are now paid by the fond. Both parents have the rigth to a pregnancy leave, added up to 32 weeks after the first 14 (week 15 to 47 can be shared between parents). In addition to that, parents have the right to 8 weeks after that, making the shared sum 46 weeks after the baby is 14 weeks old. The father can start the 32 week pregnancy leave at the same time as the mother holds her law abiding 14 weeks, or in stead of. You have the right to postpone 8 to 13 weeks of your pregnancy leave, but must hold it before the child is 9 years old. No matter where you are employed, you have the right to pay for the 4 weeks vacation before the birth, and with the fathers two weeks, paid leave up to 52 weeks after the birth. On top of this, one gets paid vacation in Denmark. You earn up to 6 weeks a year paid in full, if working full time, sometimes 7. You still earn this time during your pregnancy leave, as pregnancy leave is considered a full time employment. So if you are really smart, you can save up your wacation time from the year before, and then put it together with the 6 weeks earned during the pregnancy leave. (When applying for university, pregnancy leave counts as job experience). Then you have 4+52+12= 68 weeks with your baby in and out of belly, paid by law. And they are slowly moving towards equal rights, sloooowly, but surely. As long as women earn less, they are going to be the ones taking the pregnancy leaves. Not by choice, but because it is the best possible solution for the family's income. In my mind, I am equal when I choose to be home with my child because I want to, not because I have to. In my mind, my man is equal to me, when he has the realistic option of choosing to stay at home with his child, without it resulting less vitamins in the baby's belly. You get why I moved here? Yes, the taxes are high. But a social system, with free health care, can make me swallow a lot of my frustrations over other things. I am closely connected to a 6 month old baby now. His mother is studying to become a doctor and has do a part of her education now, which is called a turnus. This is her second child, the older one in kindergarten. The baby is starting day care. Daddy is on pregnancy leave and starts his day taking the big sister to her kindergarten, and then visits the place where the baby is going to be. He has good time, and the baby has good time to get to know the new environment. 6 months is a young age for a Danish baby to start day care. It is very unusual. His big sister was 14 months when she started. Since the daddy has so much time, the baby can have short days at the day care center. Big sis benefits from this, as she also gets shorter time in day care, getting the best of both worlds (a lot of time to play with other kids, a lot of time with daddy). I don't know about you guys, maybe many of you didn't really care for haning out with your daddies. I did. I loved it and consider myself still reaping the benefits of a close connection to my dad, even though it might have started a little bit later in life (I was 10 when my dad discovered that he might have missed out on some quality time with his 7 kids. Lucky me, I am the youngest). posted by Skotta | 3:52 AM | Tuesday, March 01, 2005 You wanna know if I'm human? I am indeed. I have this amazing coping mechanism, that enables me to do a Brian. I can always find a positive somewhere, no matter what stunts life decides to pull on me. It's a matter of attitude. If we enter the not-so-often-blogged-about zone, we see the other side of the coin. It's still reality, it's just different. This weeks blog could have sounded like this: My mother got the news last week, that she had a tumor. They operated yesterday. Yesterday, my system collapsed. I came home from work at noon, with a blasting headache, took a pill and slept until 7 pm. Woke up and hung out in bed until 9. Around midnight, I went out and bought eggs, because I needed to bake a cake for today. I burnt my arm on the pan and could not fall asleep again because it burned. The news of the tumor were just the start of the roller coaster ride. I have been extra sleepy the past two weeks because of my second round of penicillin. The side effects of the penicillin make my body weak. I won't go into details. My otherwise working like clockwork cyclus, seems to be doing a continuous eight. After buying AB's tux on Wednesday, we arrived to find the window of the car smashed, and everything stolen from within the car. We were quite shaken. The rest of that evening went into reporting it to the police, and trying to figure out if the insurance company would pay any of the stolen goods. At work, I have had continous unpleasant surprises the whole week. My stress has resulted in snappy responses, which have lead to me having to apologize to two people for my bad manners. (Not that I needed to apologize, I just do because somewhere inside of me there is a nice person). AB has had a shitty week. This has resulted in shitty temper. His brand new car was broken into, his stuff stolen. He had to go to a terribly difficult funeral. Such is life. Sometimes, when one has a shitty week, it results in shitty temper. Sometimes, our shitty temper hits the people we least want to hit it with. So yesterday. I came home and knew my mother was under the knife. I called my Amazing Boyfriend who was able to get off work early because his little woman needed a hug. On the way home, he made a long detour to get me my favorite pizza. I was asleep again when he came home but managed to regain conciousness to stuff down the worlds most amazing pizza. I got a message that my mother was out. I slept again. I awoke to get the message that they had not found a tumor. I slept again. System shut down. So what stands out after this week? Wow, man, the gala with the Queen was easy. Thank God my mothers tumor evaporated. How amazingly lucky am I, to have this man in my life, who brings me pizza and holds me when I need to be held? And how blessed am I, with the ability to apologize when I have stepped on my tounge? And by Golly, I make a great smoothie! And a person who breaks into somebody elses car is a fuckface. posted by Skotta | 6:28 PM | |
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