Writer's Block

It's day three of this whole daily blog thing, I am starting to realize that it is a much harder task than I anticipated, when I first started off this journey. I am on day three and I have a writer's block. I don't have anything to say today really. I could talk about the weather, but that's what I did yesterday, I can tell you a little bit about myself, but that's what I did the day before. So, what more is there to say?

A lot, I would think. I just don't know where to begin or what to start with. I could write pages upon pages about all the ideas I have buzzing in my brain right now. Ranging anywhere from homemade home decor I've seen tutorials for online, to maybe starting an online store selling craft supplies like fabric and ribbon and buttons, to the dress, sweatshirt and baby dress I am working on simultaneously. That's another thing I tend to do, more than one thing at a time, I usually prefer to keep a list of things to do, so I can check them off as I get done, and so I know there is always a next project, wether that be at home or at work, I like to keep busy and have something to do.

Always hoping I won't drown in the process.

I am addicted to sunshine.

Actually most people are. I think that's a fair statement to make. Today the sun was out and my mood couldn't have been better. By stride was a little more bouncy, I may have whistled once or twice and the words 'skippe-li-doo' come to mind almost instinctively. But have you ever noticed how on rainy days people are more willing to bite back at you than hold the door open? I believe we are so addicted to the sun, that whenever it doesn't come out, we start acting like addicts in rehab. We only care about ourselves and our needs. Egotistical, selfish, self centered.

How about turning the rainy days in to sunny days? Go the extra mile for one another. Because it IS raining let's hold the door for a stranger, send them a smile, let them cut in front of you in the bathroom line. Who cares? (If you happen to be pregnant and have some one inside of you constantly kicking your bladder, you are excused.)

Less ME. More everyone else.

The very first of may.

I will be writing a blog entry for everyday of May. One might call this a daily blog, that's how I will refer to it. So why a daily blog? Well, I received a challenge, and I accepted it. A good friend of mine who is a talented writer, committed to do this and invited me to join him, and I thought to myself, 'Why not?'. This will be an interesting project, process and learning experience. I like to write, I do. But it's not something I have consistently spent a lot of time doing, and never as a daily thing. So this shall be very interesting to see what happens. I will make no promises as to the subjects I'll be writing about. This will have to be determined by my mood or what I have experienced that day. Maybe it will be affected by the music I have been listening to that day, because I do in fact listen to music every day. But mostly I think it will be a place for me to rearrange my thoughts and maybe make some sense of what is all happening in there, my head that is. I also refuse to commit myself to writing a specific length every day, maybe some days all it will be is a line or two. Others might turn into short stories. As you can tell there are no rules. I like it better that way.

So, yes. Today will only be an introduction I think. Maybe over the course of the next 31 days I will have my life figured out, wouldn't that be grand? I won't get my hopes up though, since this is what I have been trying to do the past 6 months without success.

My name is Camilla. I am 24 years old. When I turned 23 I had a quarter-life crisis. I have a little bit of gray in my hair. I live with my parents for the time being. I have no idea where I want to go, or what I want to do, but I am doing what I can to figure that out. I am single. A middle child, one older and one younger sister. Born and raised in Denmark right outside of the capital, Copenhagen, but I also consider several places in the US my home. Because home is where the heart is, right? I sew, crochet, knit, paint, glue, repair, bike, rearrange my room, laugh, smile and cry.

This is me. It's who I am, it's what I do. Most of the time anyway.

Life as is...

I work. That is what I do right now. That is what I am good at. That is what I know how to do. I don't have to face difficult life altering decisions when I am at work. I don't have to worry about what to wear, I have a uniform. I don't have to worry about my looks, all my colleagues are female. I don't have to feel personally responsible if I can't help people because something is out of stock.

But the truth is, I do. I do worry about the important decisions in life. I do worry about which jeans or what skirt I put on. I do worry about my hair and make up. And I do feel a personal defeat when I am unable to help out a customer.

Why? Well, I take pride in being good at what I do. I find my identity in being good at my job, being kind, looking pretty etc. Maybe that doesn't correspond well with what God tells us about identity and self worth. But this is, never the less, most certainly true for my life.

I listen. I listen to music. A LOT. I listen to birds and cars and other things on days when I can't find my headphones. This happens on a regular basis. I listen to music when I'm happy or when I'm sad. When it's a long trip and when it's short. Sometimes I listen to music on my break. Like right now. Maybe I do it to drown out my thoughts. Maybe to shut out the world. But mostly I think, I do it because I love music. It's therapy for the soul. And I love it. A LOT...

This is the end of my life as I know it...

It has been 6 months, almost to the date, since the last time I posted anything on here. I think that means it is time for an update.

So where has life brought me? Let us spend some time backtracking. Right now, I am sitting in the living room of my friends' apartment, waiting for the grocery store across the street to open. It is 8.48 am and the store opens at 9 am. I have a feeling that I won't finish writing this 'til after the shopping is done, though. But for now, let us just assume that as this is being written it is in fact 8.48 am. I am up way earlier on my day off than I have been in weeks. Why, you ask? Well, I spend the night at my other friends' apartment, because I don't have my own. I live with my parents. Yes, I am 24 years old, and I live with my parents. What's that? Oh yes, I do want to find my own place, and I have, more than once actually. This is the 3rd or 4th time I have moved back in with my parents, honestly I have lost track.

I am not sure what I want in life or where I want to go, or who I want to go there with. I know I have some fantastic people in my life, that I love to pieces, and without them, I don't know what I would do.

But I am a little frustrated with life. Why is it so hard to figure it out? And why is it, that whenever you have the hardest time finding your place in this world, it seems like everyone else has it all figured out. Degrees, careers, spouses, a place to live etc.

But then I stop and ask myself, well... is that really all there is to this life? Is that what it is all about? Do we absolutely HAVE to know where we are going and what we want to do with this one life that we are given, to be succeeding at living? You tell me, I don't know these things...

Shopping break.

Okay, I'm back.

As I was walking the short distance to the grocery store (it is literally a 2 minute walk from you leave the apartment 'til you enter the store) I was thinking about what I want more of in my life, or what I want to do more of. It's fairly simple actually. Three things. Photography, blogging and God. That is it. I am going to make a promise, to myself and to you reading this (if there is in fact anyone who reads this...?) I will take more photos. I will blog more. And I WILL spend more time with God. To get to know him better and get a closer relationship, and then hopefully, at some point in my life, I will be able to tell what God's plans for me are.

And just to emphasize that this change is really happening, here is a photo I took when I came back...

He is jealous for me

...loves like a hurricane, I am tree bending beneath the weight of his love and mercy, when all of a sudden I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory, and I realize just how beautiful you are and how great your affections are for me.

Oh...

How he loves us

We are his portion and he is our prize, drawn to redemption by the grace in his eyes, if his grace is an ocean we're all sinking.

And Heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss, and my heart turns violently inside of my chest, and I don't have time to maintain these regrets, when I think about the way....

He loves us!

Getting Older

I am 23 years old, and I have a patch of gray.

By patch I really mean more like 6-8 strands of gray hair all located within the same area, approximately the size of a lifesaver mint. Which really isn't a big percentage of all the hair I have on my head. I don't know the exact amount, you would have to ask God about the answer for that one (read through Psalms, you'll see what I mean).

When I first found out that I had a gray hair, I tweezed it. I was 21 and terrified. Who starts graying at 21? Well, apparently I do. When I found the second gray hair, I tweezed that one too. And the next one. And the next one. Then I talked to my mom about it (who by the way is pretty gray herself) and I told her that I had been using tweezers to get rid of them, her response? Well it went a little something like this,

Don't pluck them, you'll go bald.

Thank you?

I think that was the response I came up with.

Obviously, my mom meant that if I kept plucking away, there would come a day when I would actually be bald, because ALL my hairs had turned gray and I had just been plucking away. Let's just stop right there, before the mental images of bald me get to disturbing.

So today, about 2 years and 10-15 gray strands of hair later, I have come to the conclusion that I don't actually mind the few grays I still have. So what if I'm only 23, and have a patch of gray? Doesn't that just give me character?

I wise woman (my sister) once said the following,

Don't think of them as your grays, but as your wisdom.

And I think I'm gonna go with her on that one. Why would I want to get down on my self for getting older? It's inevitable. I can't actually stop myself from aging, and I don't really think I want to either. As I get older, I learn so many new things about life. As I get older, I discover that getting older really isn't that bad. And as I get older, I realize that it's okay to be different, even if that means going gray at the age of 23.