flying machines

We fly out at 20:24 (thats 8.24pm to some of you). Bit of a ridiculous time but hopefully the airport will be quiet at that point — Boston Airport is usually surprisingly deserted.
I’m already exhausted and ready to be back in my own bed. My mind always gets clouded trying to remember every little thing that needs to be taken care of. I should write lists. My mother tells me to write lists and i think a part of me doesn’t just to be a little bit rebellious. Also, did i mention i’m lazy as a sack of spuds? I really should write lists though, i know it would make travelling so much easier, but knowing me i’ll lose the list that i wrote telling me to remember to write a list before i go.

You see? Adulting is tough, kids. I don’t recommend it.

I will say I’m excited to show Jack more of my Danish life and my home town; visit some forests, castles and pubs.
Im proud to be Scandinavian. So i’m really happy to bring him into that culture. Besides, he’s been trying to learn Danish and i cant wait for him to use the inappropriate words i’ve taught him in front of my grandparents.
Its amazing to witness someone learning a language when you’re fluent in the language they’re learning and the language they speak.

But everything is packed and ready to go. All there is to do is get tickets, and get the bus to the airport. And the adventure begins!

a loose spark

I’ve always put Denmark on an imaginary pedestal. It was my goal when i grew up to move home and stay there forever. I wanted to be like all the other Danish kids. But alas, it was not to be — thankfully. England was not to be either. I thought maybe i could spend the rest of my life there but the older i got the more that sounded like a life sentence of grief. I have a relatively intense love/hate relationship with England, where i lived for 16 years of my somewhat short life. Lots of people have been envious of me living in the UK and growing up there, it had its upsides for sure. Like i had a great education with great teachers (most of whom i am grateful for to this day), i learnt to sail, and i left with some incredible experiences but for the most part living in England was definitely not for me. It was not entirely good to me, and i in turn grew to have a very bleak out look on life which strangely enough i’m very grateful for.

So i guess i can thank England for that too.

“Go back to your own country!”
“We speak english here.”
I remember hearing those words every day of my life for the longest time. As child i was very aware that i was different. The other children were always a little weary of me, some frightened of me and others were mean to me, thats fine but the older i got the more xenophobia i witnessed. I got through that mostly by thinking “this would never happen in Denmark.” When i got a little older i tried moving home to Denmark a few times and each without success.
I thought Denmark was to be my safe haven. My place. My country. My home. However, when i moved there i was met with the same, “go back to England”  “this is denmark — you don’t belong here.”

My poor hoping soul.

“So here you are,
too foreign for home,
too foreign for here.
Never enough for both.”
Disapora Blues

One of the shittiest things i’ve had to face, and it made me a little meaner.

That was when i realised that i didn’t have a home anymore.
Its a hard realisation that a place you dreamed of was never to be, and i think at a young age i already knew it but i pretended along anyways.

What did i have left?
I had freedom.
Freedom to find a new place.
Another life.
A new world.

Don’t fret. The door i wanted opened was locked, but a door i was supposed to walk through blew off its hinges and i rode through guns blazing — like a regular Calamity Jane with a shot almost as good as Annie Oakley, just not as consistent. Yet.

Home to me is where the coyote yells outside my window at 3am, where the June-bugs endlessly piss me off in May and where i get second degree burns from a seat belt. Its where i got married. I never wanted to get married but ya know — its Texas, and Texas boys are seriously dishy. Texas is the first place where i wasn’t chased through town with pitchforks and told to go back to where i came from.

I found my home by being “homeless,” and a lot of people never experience that.
I’m ready to move back to Texas.
And i can’t wait.
I also can’t wait to complain about it, because i know that heat is going to kick my ass and i’m gonna love every minute of it.
(Please don’t quote me on that) 

I learned that i’m more Danish than most. I made like the vikings and travelled around the world; by sea, by roads, on horseback and by plane. And thanks to England i have been blessed with the ability to realise that i can dream, and more importantly that i can and definitely should chase them.
I have both places to thank for who i was.
And Texas to thank for who i am.
And for cowboy boots because they’re comfy as shit.

So darling, don’t cry about closed doors, be open to those that let you in.
Trust me.

the pirate and the desert

I grew up by the sea. When i was young i would sit by the shore and watch the sun dip when the eve began to peak. I’d always wanted to be a sailor, ok ok — a pirate. I wanted to be a pirate (and i am – land or sea a pirate is me!) What a wonderful way to live. On the ocean in a boat, with the sails full making you feel like you’re flying and dreaming at the same time. When i left college i found my life long best friend — who taught me to sail. I wont pussy foot and pretend i was great. I wasn’t i made mistakes, i’ve had boating jobs where there was one or two bad-eggs giving me jib for being slow or having to stop an think for a second — all i was doing was trying to learn. I kept at it. Because i wanted it so badly. I spent hours and hours hunched over charts, tearing my hair out but in the end i got my certificate because my friend was so patient with me. I think i spent 6 months just working on charts. Even to this day i practice my knots, i read and read and read, i write or research — i do what i can to keep the seafaring life a part of me.

When i moved to Texas my heart ached for my little piece of hidden beach in the sky far away in England some place. Thats the trouble with drifting. You find yourself leaving pieces of yourself behind. My sailing life was in England, but my wandering adventurers soul loved Texas, and still does.  When i was a little boy i wanted to be an American Indian riding out on the panhandle and watching the sunsets. I drift from dream to dream as i drift from country to country, or state to state.
Now that i’m temporarily in New England I sail as much as i can (surprisingly its not all that much because i live in the one place in New England that doesn’t have my kind of boating atmosphere). I’ve had a lot of boating jobs, but nothing lasts forever. You can’t really progress or live off a summer job. But i’ve tried it. Its hard not to be able to do everything you love everyday. So when those tough days come and i dream of the wind in my hair, the creaking planks and taught rope snaring… i look at my life and think about to all those places i’ve sailed to, all those drunken nights in random ports somewhere or i flick through my travel pictures to remember what i achieved ( or i dive into a good nautical book).

the pirate and the desert

I’m grateful for my teacher and even more so that he is my best friend even now. I’m thankful, whilst i may not be pursing the dream right now, that i had the chance to learn what i did, when i could and in a time when i needed it.
I’ve been lucky. 

the hardest thing on earth

“The hardest thing on earth is choosing what matters”

The most beautiful truth — choosing what matters. We all had dreams when we were young, and even still nothing has or may ever become of them. I wanted to be a runner and i’m not talking for want of a gold medal or world renown fame in the olympics. No. I’m talking Forest Gump running. My little heart wanted to race as far as my even smaller legs could take me. It didn’t matter where or how: Its just what i wanted. To this day i’m a great runner but due to snapping ankles that dream can never truly “be.” You know what? Thats just fine. That doesn’t mean the dream is gone but Its life. Now I have created a life that has taken me to places i thought i’d never reach, never could dream of or ever dared to think i’d go to. I don’t aspire for a certain career or job. I try to spend every day doing something i enjoy. I work jobs that i dreamed of having as a child. Sometimes i pick up horse shit — its worth every minute as i get lots of cuddles, become more understanding and have horse snot all over me on a constant basis ( what a bonus!) Other days i write and write and write and write etc.. Sometimes i act, other times i’m a photographer. I’m very lucky and everyday i realise that a little more. I’m thankful for what i have and what i do.

This last year or so i’ve really starting pursuing things i want to do in life. A dream is to have a ranch of my own with a couple of horses, maybe sheep or goats and some form of feathery egg laying bird (no rooster because they don’t usually like me). If i’m feeling really crazy, i am, i’d love to have a big old honorary long horn. I’d love to have acres of land that i can ride out on, camp and live free. I’ve been working on farms as much as i can, getting to be around horses again and working on the ground work/care/riding . Meeting some lovely people with the same interest who i can learn from  + who are willing to show me the ropes. I used to be around horses a lot when i was younger but then i got busy with school, theatre, writing and then travelling — so i had to build that part of my life again. Its hard because i have to start over, but i’m glad im clever enough to want to learn it again.

Ultimately I choose life; and living it to the absolute full. I may never be the rider i want to be but i’ll happily spend my days trying to get there, putting in the hours, the money when i have it; at the end i can smile and say i gave it my damnedest. Finding the small things to be happy about in life is easy when you life for yourself. When you try to focus one what truly brings light into your life–thats when you’re rich.  I don’t live to work. I don’t live for social media. This blog is about as active as i get when it comes to computers. If you’ve seen my facebook/instagram you’ll see that its shocking how bad i am at keeping up with it. Truth be told i’d rather be outside. You know. Where we all should be.
I’ll keep drifting from place to place, from job to job and leaving a trace of highly entertained onlookers.

And that is the end of my semi margarita infused blog post.

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Shorty, a very large sweet boy, snoozing in the snow and loving the afternoon sun.
Mac and his icy whiskers
Ruby and i.
Na na na na naa!
My new BearPaw snow boots — incredible! (No, i havent been paid to say that, they really are good !)

“The earth is mostly just a boneyard. But pretty in the sunlight.”

i’ve got a jar of lone star

Everyone has different ways of coping with homesickness. Some people write about it, others embrace it.. but me? I carry a jar of dirt with me, yup — thats right. Texas dirt. Texas is the first place away from Denmark that i’ve ever felt at home or like i could stay there for the rest of my life; as a drifter thats saying a whole lot. I haven’t opened the jar since we left almost three years ago, the ground inside is from our little piece of land on the outskirts of town, the leaf was the first that fell and the empty bullet well thats another story.  My little jar of Lone Star sits by my bedside and comforts me when the days get too long. I think back to that brick house where the coyotes used to gather like fruit flies, where i ended up showering with a lizard and an angry scorpion consistently hid in my boots.

When night fell over Gazebo street our backyard became a fair ground of playing stars dancing for the limelight. We’d stand and watch them roll, shoot and shine for hours whilst the mosquitoes bled us dry. It was worth every minute.
I remember one evening when summer was turning to autumn. We slept with the window open. Around 4.30am i heard a high pitched eerie howl as beautiful as ever it could be. Outside my window was a lone coyote, right outside. I didn’t dare look but i could smell her breathing and i sure as hell could hear her singing. The wind was almost cool and soothing — rare for South East Texas.  In the distance a whole band of coy dogs began to yip and yawh, so my friend of the night disappeared into the brush. I will never forget that early morning, and though i was too freaked out to look through the dark for her, it is one of my fondest memories. I have a soft spot for coyotes and wolves, for farmers and ranchers they’re little devils, but to me they’re like me. Drifting from place to place and part of the pack.
My pack amounts to three, and thats how it should be.
So there on my bedside table is my comforting jar of dirt that wakes a memory or two.

the first of another

” Yesterday’s gone on down the river and you can’t get it back.”
Welcome to the first of another year. I hope you all had a happy new years eve and continue to have a great year.
Do what you love. Laugh. Explore. Be happy. Do nothing once in a while and drink yourself drunk now n’ again. Switch off from social media when the time is right.
Most importantly stop comparing yourself and your life to others.
You’re you and thats just fine.

Happy 1st of January 2018 !
the 1st of another

the dark wood

I shot this while on a walk with my sister  in the woods. When i was planning my trip to the fatherland there were a few things i wanted to  experienced. One – Snow! Two – Christmas Hygge with my family and three – to visit the forest. Im happy to say now that i completed all three and more! As a child i always remembered the forest as being a beautiful magical place where dreams hide in the streams of sunlight and trolls chewing stones hiding out of sight. If it hadn’t been balls cold outside i would have seriously considered going to sleep on the bed of moss nature so kindly provided. The forest provided a peace i haven’t felt in a long time. All turmoil and stress disappeared — helping me realise what i want in life and that i’m doing good on my road to somewhere.
I’m not behind – i’ve always chosen a different road to everyone else because that makes life interesting, and whilst i’ll always feel a little old thats the price i have to pay for the wisdom. I’m kinda ok with that — thats a card i’ve been dealt in life since the beginning.
I moved to Texas (so far from everything i’ve ever known) as a 19 year old, and i’ve gone further since then. I’d be lying if i said i hadn’t been somewhat procrastinating with certain things like my photography and writing, but this year i’ve been slowly turning it around.
My camera goes everywhere with me, as does my moleskin note books and i have myself for company so theres always entertainment readily available.
In all seriousness though, moving around the USA with a man that totally makes waking up every day worth while has changed my life. All i know now is that i have to do what i’m good at and whilst not all of those things will make money — thats ok, they don’t have to.
It’ll make me happy and thats important.
That day being with my sister in the back end of nowhere Denmark, was my epiphany — my realisation that everything, though sometimes terribly hard, will be ok.
Goodbye to a year of utter grief, hardship, old bras and success.
And hello 2018.

I wish you all the best in 2018 — don’t make resolutions, make changes that make you happy. 
You won’t always have a tomorrow. 

the dark wood

its hard to be a nissemand

Happy Christmas !

The duck is eaten, we’ve exhausted the TV with Christmas films/specials and
we’ve burned all our candles to their wicks end.
Now its almost time for bed and i have just enough time to wish you all a very Happy Christmas and wonderful new year.
Hold your families tight and be grateful.

Oh! And be good to your house elf, because it really is hard to be a nissemand.

 ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

ice on the northern peninsula

Theres ice on the northern peninsula, and i got to see it as it froze. I’ve been in Danmark the last few weeks and i was lucky to see the first snow fall the evening i arrived. Travelling home is always full of laughs, family and hygge — not without its added travel stress from the many flights it takes to get there but usually its bearable but not this time. My trip back was horrid — my first flight was delayed by almost two hours which inevitably resulted in me missing my connection in Paris. So instead of flying from Denmark to Paris and then to Boston i had to fly to Paris, to Cincinnati-Ohio and then onwards to Boston with a good 7 hours worth of waiting around in various airports. It essentially took two days to get back to the USA  instead of one. I’m still feeling the after effects. However, i was lucky i was flying at very late/early times on a Wednesday so the airports weren’t terribly busy.

On the up side, I took a walk in the forest last Saturday while the snow was starting to melt. It had been years since i wandered in the forests of the north but i’ve always remembered it as being special, and a little eerie. I kept thinking i’d see a troll hiding behind a big tree or chewing on a rock somewhere, but my mind has always existed in places that often attribute to loneliness in thinking. But theres something very different about Nordic forests. Something that you don’t see or feel anywhere else, and i’m so happy i got to experience it again after so many years of lulling the memory. The hanging branches, sunlight flaring through the trees and the ground bedded in moss — what bliss and just what i needed to end a difficult year.


So while i’m getting back on track and sleeping off my ever draining exhaustion i’ll leave you with a Happy Christmas.

Ice on the northern peninsula