To change eachother

It never stops to amaze me how preoccupied we are that people should fit into our perception of an ideal person, a holder of the ultimate personlity. I don’t think I am an exception, even though it would be lovely and ideal and open-mineded and a signal of my unprejudiced self... but I am not perfect, and I an thankful I am not. Besides, I don’t think we are meant to be that opinionless on other people, it would be like carelessness if we were.
My first impression, when I meet someone, often leads to conversations with friends about how I find that person’s appearance, behaviour, voice, body language, gestures, habits (both good and bad), skills... the list goes on and on about what I noticed and find worth mentioning, based upon wheather I instantly like or dislike my new acquaintance.
I tend to ignore (deliberately?) the qualities which does not fit my perception.

Reading what I just wrote, I think, perhaps, I should be a bit worried because I understand I come across as rather superficial. Or not...?

I somehow believe it is part of human nature to evaluate both eachother, and others. We need to label people, to find their role and what part they play in our lives.

As early as 1222 Håvamål, Odins tale - Words of the High one (a collection of Old Norse poems from the Viking age) stated that:

Deyr fé,                                     Cattle die,
deyja frændr,                             kinsmen die
deyr sjálfr et sama;                     you yourself die;
ek veit einn,                               I know one thing
at aldri deyr:                              which never dies:
dómr um dauðan hvern.             the fate of the honored dead.
(Quotation from Number 77, which possibly is the most known section of Gestaþáttr)

Even back then they acknowledged a man’s reputation was noted and important.
Mankind has changed, but not that much, in 800 years.

Some qualities are more important in a partner than in a friend, and conversely.
For some reason I think the entertainment bit is more important in a friend, and I accept more outwardness and acting out in a friend, than in a partner. It is just something I do... even though I know we are independent individuals, it is hard not to think that my partner reflects me more than a friend does. He should represent what is good in me. Totally unrealistic, but still. And I don’t think I am the only one who think so.

If he has the wrong tie or wear worn out boots or say things I disagree with, I let him know. But I hate it, really hate it, when he comments upon what I wear, in a way I did not expect.

I don’t like to stand corrected either, so most of the time I try not to think too much about how I comment upon him and his ways.
A friend of mine, on the market for a new boyfriend, told me that she always made sure they never went for a meal on their first proper date.

When I asked her why, she just looked at me with an incomprehensing gaze and stated that: “If I see a man eat, and am presented to all his bad habits and manners at the table; I will never find a boyfriend”.

She might be right. I think to many people that is true. Most of us fall in love because of qualities in the other person, not in spite of.
Most relationships start out great, but then, after some time, one of the parties often try to change the other person into what they think they want from a partner.

Some times even the partner try to change, beyond personal growth, to please, because he or she thinks that is what is expected.

I often see how couples nag and suggest and offer and accept invitations to activities on the partner’s behalf; everything tiny improvements but added up, they may not be compatible with the person we fell in love with at first sight.

Domestic violence

Now and again, I find myself ponder about the most unexpected issues. Unexpected because my mind works in ways which constantly take me by surprise; it finds food for thoughts and create associations from the strangest sources.

Some times it is happy thoughts, which make me wander about with a silly grin on my face, other times they drive me mad because of the reruns; just can’t get it off my mind. (Songs, the beat and the lyrics, do that to me a lot!) I twist and turn around the subject, try to see it from a different point of view, just to make sure my prejudices don’t kick in. I know I have them, you see, but I am not happy about it.

The other day a picture appeared on facebook, which made me think. One of these disturbing ones which just gives a hint to a problem there is no obvious solution to.

We call it: Domestic violence.

Violence and abuse are not condoned as legal anywhere, as far as I know (apart from those twisted, extreme groupings, isolated from society, lacking just cause), but there is something forgiving about assault when we can call it domestic.

I can’t help but thinking the whole consept of calling it domestic is just so totally wrong. We like our own privacy, and therefore hesitate to interfere in what we see and/or hear goes on in our neighbour’s house. Still, privacy is not the same thing as amnesty to break down other people, just because they are unfortunate enough to live in the same house as you do.

The victims are children, women and men, who inhabit a profound loyalty based upon love and belonging. Powerful feelings in itself, even more so when added threats and reassurances. Often they refuse the fact they are victims, because they love him/her/them, or "...but it's my dad/mum..."

When abuse is finally out in the open and the extent is gradually unveiled, people who knew about what was going on, come forward and tell about what they have seen and heard. Very seldom they express any remorse they did not contact anyone to report their concern. BUT, they have found it disturbing for quite some time.

Feeling pangs of conscience can be very uncomfortable, what an ease it must be when someone else finally blows the whistle.

We think that victims should speak up for themselves, we do not want to take on the responsibility for their safety and wellbeing.

Maybe we think we protect our own privacy, maybe we think we will be perceived as peeping Toms, maybe we are afraid that others will mistrust our integrity, maybe we just want to make sure we are right and wait off and see IF it might happen again, one more time, just in case we are wrong.

I don’t know why we are so reluctant to speak up on behalf of someone living under worrying conditions; I just know that somehow we must change the way we think and act in order to protect victims of abuse. The outcome of ongoing domestic violence is far too often too severe, and unpredictable, for us to look the other way, for too long.

A failing mum....? Or?

It is freezing cold outside. Today, as I drove to work, we had -10 degrees celsius. And that is cold! Especially when we don’t have snow.

Funny thing that: same temperature often feels different, depending on snow/no snow, wind, sun, humidity... The sky is clear, not a cloud in sight, and it is really lovely outside, but it is cold.
With such cold weather, and no snow, the ponds and lakes freeze and it is really perfect conditions for ice skating.

As soon as the ice is declared safe we turn up in great numbers to enjoy skating.

When I grew up, we never skated. Fjords have tide, and the ice is not safe (even though I have been told about a winter 65 years ago, or so), but we had a couple of lakes with safe skating ice. I never had skates, and it was relatively far, so I never did any skating.

My kids do, though. They love it! And I have taught them how to skate by helping them put on the skates, tell them to have fun and push them out there. I never reveal my insecurity or disability and I think my fake confidence is part of what makes them try and master.

So, last Sunday I defied the cold, sacrificed my afternoon reading a good book while drinking a nice mug of tea, indoors, in my lovely, warm lounge (so what if it never happens because situations occure; a girl can have dreams, right?) and went to the lake just a kilometre from our house.
The lake was swarmed with people of all ages: from young children learning to skate while pushing crates for support, to older men and women swirling across the ice with easy elegance.

We could hear the buzz and the outbursts of joyful laughter as we approached the rocky beach. Bonfires were lit to grill hotdogs and to provide some warmth to those getting too cold.

We had a wonderful time. Even though my kids are still learning they enjoyed it a lot! No complains and no sulking, which is rare when failing, they just kept on trying.
After some time my youngest kid felt the pain only untrained legs can feel. Since his older brother wanted to keep on skating, we took his skates off and played on the ice wearing boots.

A woman I know asked if her son could borrow the skates, as she had not bought him skates yet. I told her we were soon to head off home, but she promised to return them on her way home.

The look on her kid’s face, full of expectation, made me agree. It would have felt so totally wrong to deny him the experience, the fun, my own kid had had.
Her son was so eager and full of excitement as I helped him put on the skates, that my heart just burst with good will, pleased I did the right thing for this kid.

A couple of hours later, I was not so pleased anymore. She didn’t return the skates: she sent me a text telling me she had lent the skates on. I called her and asked who had them, and she told me she only knew the woman’s first name and didn’t know where she lived. I guess (hope) she was just captured by the moment of circumstances.
So, long story put short: I had to promise my 6-year old I would buy him new skates the next day. Yes, I did, against better knowledge.

In the first sports store I went to, the staff just snorted and gave a quick laugh when I asked if they had skates. They were sold out early Saturday morning. They even had to call in extra help to get the sales done within reasonable time and keep the queue moving.

In the second sports store I went to, I did find a skate the right size... but only the one. I told the clerk he had only single skates left, no pairs, and they were all different sizes or the same left foot (he was NOT pleased when he found out I was right).

In the third sports store I went to, they only had skates left costing a hole in the ground, and then some. I had no idea how expencive skates can be. Paying $1000,- for a pair of skates was really out of the question, no matter how disappointed my kid would get.

I tried all the sports stores in town, and then I went to all the toystores. No skates were to be found...

I was about to give up, feeling like the worst mum ever, when I suddenly remembered that the really big grocery stores have sports departments.

Time of miracles are not over yet: I found a pair.

When I found them, I thought they were the most beautiful, black leatherboot skates I had ever laid eyes on. I almost cried with relief; not only did I not have to cope with a furious fit of disappointment, I also got to keep my promise.

I hate to disappoint my kids, I like to keep my promises, and it was I who had made the stupid mistake of “giving” the skates to someone I didn’t know too well.

Thing is... even when knowing what I know now, I am not so sure I would say no to lending someone the skates, if asked again.

In Doubts...

Last time I wrote on here, I launched the possebility of me starting to train and work out. Inspired by the prospects of the first online shopping spree of the year, I logged on to a very nice sports’ online store and bought two pairs of insanely super-cool looking running shoes. Can’t wait for them to get here.


Well, in the meantime... while waiting for the shoes to arrive the postal office, I have to admit the enthusiasm is kind of cooling off.

I can’t expedite a shock-treatment in the form of an unexpected jump start, due to the fact I have been told (I am sure I have, honestly) that it can be damaging to feet to run in high heels.

I totally ignore the warning when late for something, but feel my new resolution does not justify the hazard.

So, I wait. I am sure the mere exitement when the shoes arrive will awake my willpower once again, but when you read up on stuff, all kinds of dangerous info sneak in, and shake your determination to the depths of your being.

If I sit in my livingroom watching TV I burn about 56 calories an hour, which means I can watch TV for 5 hours instead of walking fast for half an hour... the choice is really hard.

The point is: just by living I burn calories, so why should I expose myself to agony and shame over my bodily decay, for everyone to see? I have found other changes which may have bigger impact on my waistline....
An example:

Snickers, Mars*

Calories in 100g of Snickers
Calories 511.0 cals
Carbohydrate 54.5g
Protein 9.4g
Fat 28.4g
Fibre 1.2g
Calories in a bar (62.5g) of Snickers: 319.0 cals

So, in order to eat a Snickers chocolate, I would have to sit in class for 5 hours, digging/spading dirt for a full hour or run (fast jogging pace) for half an hour to burn the calories. So, I am thinking: why train, when you can just leave the sugar out?

Calorie counter
http://www.weightlossresources.co.uk/calories/calorie_counter/alcohol.htm?from=menu

Calories burned in 30 minutes
http://www.health.harvard.edu/newsweek/Calories-burned-in-30-minutes-of-leisure-and-routine-activities.htm

Life on the sunny side...

I was so provoked today reading an interview with a celebrity billionaire's wife and at home mum. I could literaly feel exasperation fuming inside, feeling she was patronizing the average mum because we don't do well enough.

She stated that she thinks she sees far too many mums who give up when they get a child. She doesn't think that is healthy. The body requires even more work out as you get older. You just have to get a grip and pull yourself together. She gave an outline of her life as an at home mum to a 9-months old daughter. Highlighting how she maintained herself and her body, and the help she got from help in the house (cleaner), au pair and her own mother.

Maybe I am jealous, maybe I wish I was an at home mum with energy to get up and knit and have a cup of coffee at 5:30am... But I honestly don't think so. It is no secret I moan a lot about how my life sometimes feels like a constant roundabout. I feel stuck in a stress mess which never seems to slow down because new issues always appear on the stage of life. Being dead honest I have to admit I chose my own life: education, work, children, house, friends, lifestyle, values... I lay my own bed and frankly; I think that, in spite of everything, life is quite good.

BUT! There is always a "but". It is abnormal to be fully content, isn't it? There has to be some pebbles to even out the score. To be too happy in life would create a worry thet something must go wrong, and it will happen any time soon... In my mind I am thinking that the easy-life-mum probably have just as many problems to deal with as anyone else, they are just of another nature than mine.

So, if I can reconsider my priorities, shuffle my schedule about a bit, buy a new pair of shoes (I have no training shoes, so that alone is a BIG boost and motivation for what I am going to consider as a lifechange) and really make up my mind to be serious about it: I think I could do this. Don't think I will go over the top and set high goals; I have this notion that if I am to do something it must appear manageable both practically feasible and timewise.

After all: She is right! Mums should set off time time to work out more (or in many cases: to start work out and get some training fitted into their everyday life).

They say training create energy to cope better, and if I get this done my kids should benefit from it.

To not feel guilty for bodily decay, to get in shape and look better are all good reasons, but perhaps not the drive I need to follow it through.

Writing this I started feeling pretty pleased with the new born idea that all the clothes in my wardrobe, which I keep for later when they will fit, some time in the future, perhaps, by miracle, will fit me and look good IF I actually do this.

The best thing, perhaps, about it is that it creates a legal reason to get some time on my own. Noone nagging, noone calling my name, a perfectly acceptable reason to not answering the phone... in short: peace and quiet to clear my mind and sort things out in my head. Time to think things through, and get done with issues I ponder about, but never really get off my mind.

It never came up in the interview, but I think that the best reason to start working out would be to lighten my load, get it off my chest and carry on!!

Bullying...

Lately there has been a lot of focus on bullying, or victimization (which, in my mind, strikes me to be a far better expression) in the medias here in Norway.

Bullying, or to bully someone, is one of these words which for some reason has lost its meaning. I strongly believe that words have signification. That words really mean something and cause values, actions and identity in people.

For some reason we pick some words and wear them out, by using them too often. Every shade of the meaning boils down to the one expression and render them harmless. We take away the scary and threatening dimensions in the words and make them into householdwords, with no specific understanding of the degree of seriousness of its contents.

We are not talking about teasing, picking on, hassling, bugging, pestering, annoying or any other way of occasionally “clash-togethers”. We are talking about when someone is treated abusively or is affected by means of force or threat through expression of intention to inflict evil, injury, or damage. Or, excluding another person with the intent to isolate the subject socially.

I recognize the existence of this behavior. A behavior which I feel is criminal, yet I hesitate to call it that, due to the fact that most ages conduct this misbehavior.

Very young children take part, and I am saddened by thinking they must have learned it from someone. I refuse to think it is part of human nature. Bullying is far too cruel for that.

And yet; what I find really frightening, on my own behalf, is that I do not understand what drives someone to bully anyone, but when it is a fact; I very often understand why a particular person has been picked out to be a victim. It is not anything against the person, or has anything to do with negative relations towards that person, but I see what made that person a suitable target for a bully.

Reading and listening to the heartbreaking stories from victims I suddenly came to think about the numerous students I have had over the years who were brave enough to tell their teachers they had suffered from being bullied.

Often these stories included people who had failed to take action and make it stop, even though they knew... or must have known unless they chose to dismiss it as insignificant or made up.

Knowing what devastating impact bullying has on a person exposed to it, I am glad christmas has not solely been devoted to merry get togethers and fancy laying of tables... and other decorations: It has also been a time to reflect over what to do to become better versions of ourselves.

But... I can’t help from thinking: I know what to do and say to support a victim of bullying, but I honestly do not know what to do or say to make things right.

"You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I'll rise!" — Maya Angelou

(If only that was true for everybody....)


http://theforeigner.no/pages/news/norway-pm-praises-women-bravery-condemns-bullying/