Monday, 30 March 2015

Curse words and trickery

When I was 13 my ex-stepfather's son came to live with us from Australia. He was a year or so older than me and to say we didn't get along is putting it nicely. We fought a lot. Both verbally and physically. Turns out he was (figuratively speaking) pulling my pigtails because he liked me. Has that ever actually worked? For anyone except Edward Cullen anyway. Urgh some boys really!

Obviously he didn't speak Danish at first having grown up in Australia. Unfortunately that was no hindrance for him to talk to me because I spoke English too well to pretend I didn't understand him. One day he had me pinned up against the wall, choking me as usual (don't get your knickers in a twist, we were equally horrible to eachother and while he was stronger than me I definitely was more cunning and cruel). And I initiated as much as he did. This time it was him though. I don't remember why or what I'd retorted to make him this angry - but cruelty and spitefulness was my specialty, being too small to rely on brute force.

My mind was racing as to how to get away this time and I suddenly remembered a book I had just read. A rather silly funny book that featured a creature called a Slobbergob. And a plan formed.
"You! You SLOBBERGOB" I yelled and immidiately slapped my hands across my mouth with a horrified look on my face. Eyes huge and scared. "Don't tell your dad I called you that! Please please please" I've never been much of an actor but I even managed to tear up a little.

The Slobbergob

Of course he raced down to tell on me. The only thing better than torturing me himself was having his father do the dirty work. "Kathrine called me slobberglob!", he screamed. His father looked at him, confused and angry to be disturbed. "She called me a slobberglob...", he trailed off beginning to realize he had been tricked.

While his father yelled at him for disturbing him with such utter nonsense I slipped off to return to my santuary at the library to reread the book that got me out of trouble this time.

Of course I was back in trouble when I came home. That his wifes daughter so easily outsmarted his son was bound to be punished. He never laid a hand on me but I wish he had. I think that would have my mother snap and leave him much sooner. But he was a cunning son of a bitch. I think having had an abusive relationship up close and personal and seeing how easily it can break an otherwise strong woman is very scary especially when that woman is your mother. It's bound to change you and how you view the world.

It sorta goes with this story that my stepfather was an ass. He wasn't at first. But once he had his foot in the door, he became an abusive asshole. As bad as it was for me (being the devil's spawn and all as he later called me) it was a houndred times worse for my three younger siblings as he was their actual father. Looong story short: In the end he (and Patrick) left to be Muslims in Turkey full time, he came back (Patrick was shipped back to Australia when he became to hard to control), he tried to get custody of the kids, didn't succeed and left again for Turkey and have had no more contact with my siblings. He did however send letters to me that my mother intercepted. That's were the devil's spawn thing comes from. I didn't read those until much later. I don't know what he expected but I was kinda flattered he thought so highly of me and my evilness.

As far as I know he remarried, fucked that up too and is now alone and hopefully miserable. And I have gone from wanted to beat the crap out of him with a dirty lawn chair myself to just hoping a tiny personal earth quake will shallow him up. I carry grudges with the same ease others carry flowers. The not being able to protect my siblings and my mother from his cruelty and callousness sent me spiraling in depressions and self injuring for years after. Not just him of course. I also had the luxury of being bullied and attacked daily in school, I couldn't even protect myself. My only sanctuary was the library and the woods where I dreamed up countless revenge plans I couldn't carry out because after all I was just a skinny kid who was small for her age. 

There's always more to people than meets the eye, isn't that so?

Thursday, 19 March 2015

I am here because...what?

Today I had my first writer's thing-arrangement-tiny conference with a Norwegian children's book author and (more importantly?) graphic designer, Stian Hole. The publisher (an intern to be precise) sent me a copy of his very first book that was published in Norway 10 years ago and now is to be published for the first time in Denmark. He has however have other books published in Denmark and in English I believe? The Garmann trilogy. Really beautiful books.

The book didn't come with an explanation but I'm not thick. I have a 6 months career as a children's librarian behind me. I wasn't invited because of that. So Instagram it must be as it is the only other thing I really do. I have more or less gradually changed my IG to my librarian identity - but it's still mostly focussed on dresses. I know I probably should pace myself with the bookstagrams.

Monday, 16 March 2015

Hey four-eyes!

I have 20-20 vision. It's always bothered me because glasses are awesome! Everyone in my family has glasses! Except me and my youngest siblings (and my 91 year old grandmother. Apparently I take after her) And they don't want glasses so they're happy. So unfair. Sigh.

Thank goodness there are ways to solve this. Such as Le Vero Girls who wear glasses collection! Boyfriend calls them my super hero glasses. I'm not sure if he's actually trying to be snarky but I love it! :D Super hero glasses <3

Wednesday, 11 March 2015

Cornish Love

British by heart if not by blood is something I've always been (also I really love things covered in batter so I think I qualify quite nicely ;-P ). My father is Polish and Ukranian, was born in Germany, grew up in England and have lived in Denmark for nearly 50 years - the majority of his life. But every summer from I was a wee girl to a couple of years ago I spent every Summer in Reading, England where my nan used to live and/or York where my fathers identical twin lives (I might add I have the strangest accent and speech pattern. I grew speaking British English but read and watched so much American English over the years that now it's just a mess).
Anyway a few years ago I visited Cornwall (more precisely Newquay and a tiny village called Bodmin) for the first time (where my aunt and her family lives - we've never had time to go before - ususally they came to Reading instead). The next year we went my aunt took us sightseeing all over the place and I fell in love. I was born to the wrong sibling - I should have been my Aunt Christines child ;) I love my father, but Denmark over Cornwall - urgh no thank you. We are a tiny flat country that is mostly farmland. I grew up in the largest forest in Denmark (okay okay, next to. I wasn't raised by wolves) and I have a hard time not being surrounded by nature. I manage though as there certainly are a lot more to do in Copenhagen than in the country.

(Have you read An Abundance of Katherines? Well, I need a friend like Hassan to stop me from adding too much information to rather straight forward tales too. Also my least favorite John Green btw. Just couldn't get involved with the characters and while the idea with all the Katherines is amusing it is also too farfetched and makes Colin seem a little creepy. Anyway that wasn't the point at all...)

My point was that I was really excited when Bodkin offered to send me one of their scarfs. They are located in Sidmouth which is...ta daa in Cornwall! Hence my story...

Sunday, 8 March 2015

Dresses and feminism

My mother has always dressed however the hell she wanted to dress. Which of course embarrassed the shit out of her kids. Before I was born it meant being naked a lot, or skimpy shorts with a knittet gold bikini top (mostly in the Summer. I hope). She was a flower child. Much to her parents dismay I'm sure. Growing up it meant long flowing gypsy style skirts, dangling rattling gold jewelry and a huge men's motorbike jacket with more tassels than you could count. Now it's colourful leg warmers, jeans skirts and pink scarfs. So I didn't get this urge to dress up from strangers. But for a long time the only thing I wanted was to fit in and to just have a mother who looked like everyone elses mother (and yes yes, she said one day I'd understand and I'd be happy and yees, she was right blah blah whatever >.< ;) ). I'm not sure my mother considers herself a feminist. She is though. She's raised 5 kids mostly on her own. She's never cared what people thought. She has 4 girls that I'm pretty sure she wants treated as her son is.

Feminism is cool pin - ModernGirlBlitz
Dress - Bernie Dexter
Cardigan - Fever London

Friday, 6 March 2015

Twilight - the sexy vampire saga

I decided to "live-tweet" my comments while reading Twilight. Obviously not all. Then I'd still be on page 10 ;) And it's unedited. 

Here. We. Go.