my first day at the barn — from last week ** video**

It’s Thursday. A regular Thursday, or perhaps not so regular. As you’ve probably noticed I’ve really been driven to start filming as I go through days and experiences and life troubles. I always felt that the filming was pointless, because it’ll never look as good or as magic as other people’s videos. And then a few days ago I caught myself in the mirror.
My conversation went something like this:
“Bitch what you doing?”
“Uhm, poopin’?”
“Nah, I mean with your damn life. You got two cameras in a bag, and you want to use ‘em, yet you don’t because you know someone will always be better? You know what a writer and clever as you are – you are a damn fool.”
“Could we talk about this perhaps at a time where I ain’t in dire need of wiping my ass?”
“It’s the only time you look at yourself in the mirror kid, Look at yourself and do what you want. Quit beating around and making excuses.”
“Alright.”
“And open the damn window. Smells like somebody died.”

To begin with the filming was to show family at home that I am here, and that I’m not as far away as it feels. Now it’s becoming a creative out let. When I can’t write. I’ll film. When I can’t Act. I’ll film. And I’ll feel Jack smiling at me whilst I sit and edit on the floor in front of our little space heater. Just like he smiles when I sit playing my bass or slide guitar.
Already I feel this filming is taking me to new places and proficiencies. My biggest regret is that I didn’t start it in Texas, when every day was Basil and I talking about everything, talk a foreign walk in dead heat – when things were truly tough but the days were free and beautiful. One thing though, Jack and I are as in love as we’ll ever be, even if we’re missing a piece. A piece that’ll be missing till we one day die too. That’s fine.

As you know I started at this new horse rescue last week, and it all happened like it was meant to be. Everything has been awesome. I’ve been free to film and take pictures. Then today I get a long text message asking me if I would film for them and vlog and help and become a part of something purposeful, something that really means something to me and obviously to me. I about fly down the stairs at work screaming with sheer excitement. That’s something I’d never dared to dream of. How amazing. I truly am so happy right now, today. Tomorrow I might struggle a little again, but that’s how living is. It’s hard, brutal and little drops of hope keep us from dehydration.

Unfortunately due to getting messed up by my job and then other monetary stupidities popping up I’ve had to bail on the farrier class, the one thing I was so desperately looking forward to. One of the main reasons for I came to Wyoming. I haven’t had the heart to email them yet to let them know I’m too damn fucked and too damn poor right now to take the class. Mostly because I don’t want to face it. We often ignore things we can’t bring ourselves to admit. We’re all guilty kids running around lying. I’m very guilty of it and I do it a lot. However, this horse rescue might have my back here. One of the girls, Sarah, has offered to show me what she knows and mentioned knowing someone who is a bare foot trimmer that might need an assistant. You know those people you meet and you just click and things seem good and right? Well I’ve only had that twice or thrice in my life. Jack. Patrick. And my first best friend Jamie Riley — wherever he may be now.

Anyway I’m so over whelmed and humbled. This weekend I’ll actually be taking a trip with the folks at the rescue to Denver, which will be a totally new experience for me. I’ve never been to a horse expo before, but I can’t think of anyone better to go with. Like some hermit crab I actually asked “if I go – I’ll be able to stay with you guys right?” 
That’s how un-used to people I am these days. How unfamiliar I’ve become with how things work. It’s a little pathetic, but I mention it because this is what it’s like moving to new countries. You don’t know what will ridicule you or embarrass you. Jack is the safety blanket I’m very reluctant to let go of incase I get lost. He’s also the one telling me, “You need to go.”
So damn it. This weekend I’m going to Denver… with what people call friends. I cannot wait. I filmed my first day at the barn which was last Saturday. You can find the video below.


Last night I went to start working on an adoption video for sweet Annie, I think we’ll have to do a little more work on the filming because it was crowded and the barn started to look like a giant fart cloud. Sarah also helped me lunge Annie some, which was amazing. I hadn’t done that in 15 years almost and there I was doing it. But my dumb ass was too self-conscious to film it even though my camera was right there.
But next time I will, and you’ll see how happy this country living does me. I might be a western imposter, god love it.

valentine’s day full of broken roses ** new video **

The title might give you a wee misconception about some bad valentine’s day. That’s not the truth. I don’t much believe in the holidays, especially those that don’t give me a day off from work. ‘Cause that ain’t a damn holiday – then it’s just some sad money grabbing attempt at making people feel lonely, feel set apart and dead inside or make ’em feel like they need to prove they love that cheating bastard on the sofa. Pointless.
Every day is a gift if you got the right fish in the tank, that’s all I’m saying.

Anyway, as I said, that’s not really strictly what this post is about. I’ve strongly been considering getting rid of this blog and my other social media profiles. Not because I don’t enjoy them – I enjoy my blog and I enjoy making videos on YouTube, hell I even like Instagram on occasion. However, it starts to make everything feel pressured. Make life look good, make that angle pretty and taught and for heaven’s sake stop me looking like some old failure in a cape. I think we all become guilty of feeling like our feeds have to look a particular way, shape or form – it has to paint us as these perfect beings without a moment’s thought for broken convictions. And as someone more broken than most – I find that hard to look at, knowing how false it is. People copying one another and only doing certain things to see if their following picks up. It’s damn sad.

Truly I don’t know why I have a blog at all. I’m unfriendly, occasionally guilty of being unfeeling toward others and I’m an incredibly private person. The strange part is – that I like blogging. Why they hell do I like it, do you suppose? The free flow of words that won’t make it into books but have still been said – that’s what I like. For those of you who follow me on Instagram you’ll have noticed and read my stories. I cut the ties to the folks who follow me in hopes of follows back, the accounts that were simply there for numbers sake and so forth. I deleted the negative unreal posts from my feed. The numbers don’t matter, which i knew already, but now the constat itch is gone. Now my feed is of all those good souls sharing the important small moments of their life and being honest when times are hard, when times are sad and when that little glimmer of hope comes to them as if from nowhere. That’s what it’s for. Not all that competition bullshit.

Oh hell, it’s Valentine’s Day. So let’s move on!
Today Jack and I will be getting tattoos. We originally had no plans for Valentine’s Day — not any that were different from any other day. Have dinner together, talk about our day, laugh and comfort each other. Finish the night with Disney films, Miami vice or a good swashbuckling film about pirates and ships. However, we went to get tattoos a few weeks ago – our artist was swamped with appointments and we wanted a few adjustments to our ideas, and so she asked us if we wanted to come back on Valentine’s Day and get them done – so just like that we have plans for today.

And here is a video from our little Valentines day date!

 

right now

Right now my website is down again unfortunately. Im not sure what to do about it but with any luck by the time i finish this post it’ll be running.
I’ve spent most of my day so far cooking breakfast and washing our clothes. We took a quick ride to walmart to get some medicine as Jack and i are already sick after being home for 5 days. Can you believe it? I caught something from work because someone doesn’t know how to keep their coughs to themselves — the first week back at work drug out like a son of a bitch, and i’m already dreading Monday. The week was tough. It almost made it feel like my time in Denmark never happened. But as my mum says .. it did happen. And i’m thankful for it.

Sometimes going home is bittersweet. It turns me through loops and confuses me; the whole ordeal of leaving and saying goodbye to my loved ones takes a good 10 years off me every time, and by that logic i should be dead last week. Now that my parents have a homestead there, it was different. It was like “living” in Denmark rather than just having a holiday, and i preferred it that way.  If i were a money deep author i’d live half/half in Denmark & Texas, but alas i’m not. I’m incredibly close to finishing my novel, and i mean very close. I write mostly at work and obviously i’m consistently interrupted so i lose concentration. When i get home in the evenings i’m so mentally exhausted that if i had to bare my soul on the page i’d simply slip away and give in. Theres only so much i can take at once. As you well know, i’m not built for captivity. In an office i’m a wasted resource and i often find myself misplaced, but one must pay for the privilege of living well; and i will never look down my nose at that. Actors and authors must pay their way with jobs no one wants — and as i happen to be both i’m twice as punished.

(insert rant here for good measure)
Unfortunately, much to my great regret, i had to cancel my class that was going to start on the 27th of January. I did everything within my power to make it work and jumped through every hoop thrown at me by the university. I got stressed out with the people i had to deal with as very little information was available and for the longest time they didn’t even know how to sign me up for said class. I was told to contact a hundred different people, each other passing me off to someone else who had no idea how to wash themselves let alone how to help me utilise my benefits.  I asked what was required of me through admissions in October — and they were still making up new rules as of this week. I was so tired of running around for them and knowing they still would fuck something else up, that i simply cashed it in. I went to get shots just to be able to be a student (I work at the university so this really made NO sense), i put in all my paperwork and everything. Then this week i received a bill for the first month of the class for $1000. And i about lost my fucking rag. Literally.
“Hell fucking no.”
And i contacted anyone i could about it. “Oh those are hidden fees for the class. You have to pay iff your class is more than 6 credit hours.”
The class i chose was merely 4. Almost the entire experience was retarded. I kept on with it because i desperately wanted to give myself the class as a gift, but at that the cost of the stress and whatever else? Fuck that shit. Not to mention the class is supposed to be free for employees. Needless to say — universities still aren’t for me. Jesus christ. Blasphemy and what not.
I hate that it seems like i complain a lot lately but i don’t see the point in painting life to be some flower with full petals, when it simply isn’t. Going to university was NEVER the right decision for me; i would feel very very trapped. I only took this class because it would be 5 months of my life and it was in a subject i felt passionately about and always wanted to try, but for some reason this university doesn’t function very well — i hate to say it but truly.
So i went ahead and tried to cancel my class, only to find out a new hold had been put on my account so i couldn’t access it. Apparently i hadn’t had my Immunisations yet. But i had them sorted out in November and i provided proof of my other ones from England & Denmark… i went into the student health office specifically (they originally messed up my payment and charged me $85 instead $5 dollars which i eventually got back) and they had zero record of me having ever been there. I mean.. At this point you couldn’t make this shit up. Not to mention i had this issue once already, which led me to go and get the shots done in the first place and they took the hold off in December.

But fear not — its not all gone to shit. Yet. I immediately signed up for the Farrier School that same day. I’m just waiting to hear back from them whether or not i get in; fingers crossed. I believe it will take a few weeks to hear back. That is the one thing i truly care about and is very important to me; if it goes well and i like it well enough, i plan to attend a full 8 week class in Texas when i save up the money. Though if i don’t get in — so be it. Then i suppose its not meant to be and i’ll stick to the acting, writing and whatever the hell else it is i do.
Today i started working out again and i feel so much better afterwards, that and writing is the best and most effective therapy to date.
My spirit is not broken and all is not lost. The future comes whether we ask her to or not. Thank goodness for that.
I hope you have a happy weekend.

Country house
The house in Denmark
People by a lake
My mum showing us around the grounds, and thats there is the dude sitting his coffee by the lake and abiding.
Wilting flowers
Danish mornings are the most promising
Prettiest Kitty
My cat Daisy contemplating whether to talk to me or not since i’ve been gone so long. My parents called her Izabella in the beginning because she wouldn’t share food and acted like a feline version of me. This never changed. While i was there it was constantly “Bel — nej Daisy!” “Daisy?” “øh, jeg hedder altså Izabella men ok.”
handsome cat
My sweet Charlie. I truly love my cats and though they live happily with my parents, a day doesn’t go by where i don’t miss them terribly. They are the most wonderful creatures. If i could have them and Basil with me for the rest of my life; why i’d be so lucky.

cowhand classic at the chuckwagon


It was a cold morning as I remember it. The snow outside had settled but the wind was a brutal son of a bitch, carrying ice and desert snow along the highway in heavy waves. Wrecks began to build along Interstate-80 between Cheyenne and Laramie as they so often do when the weather has gone all to hell. Happy Jack Road was a winding column of black ice, with no one upon it as happy as the road itself. Thanksgiving passed with the regular hitches and full bellies. The Cornish hens tasted phenomenal and I’ve never had a bad thing to say about garlic butter biscuits.
 The Sunday before returning to work was a sad day as it so often is. No more late sleeping, back to the bump and grind to someone else’s lousy rhythm in an office high in the sky. That’s the day I’m telling you about.

When I pulled myself outta bed I stretched lazily, trying to unbuckle the sodding nerve trapped somewhere in my neck between my shoulder and my metal ear. I didn’t prosper in my attempt, the infernal thing is plaguing me still. Jack had started the coffee pot as soon as he roused and the smell, though I don’t drink the stuff, was welcoming. He usually always gets up before me. I’m lazy as a retired bloodhound truth be known and weekends are for sleeping. We sat for a while in front of the tv while I tried to catch up on my knitting projects and Jack nursed his Arbuckle’s. It was probably King of the Hill we were watching or some form of Disney Imagineering documentary. Regular old pair of boots we are, and antisocial.

The night before we’d discussed trying to grab breakfast at the Chuckwagon, a local mom and pop place on the outskirts of town with peculiar working hours, to which we struggle to abide. Several times we’ve endeavored to go for lunch or dinner only to find it closed before seeing hide or hair of 2pm in the afternoon. However, it being the Lord’s Day to laugh, it was open around 7am ready for the church rush. Thus we ventured into the snow and got the car out of the garage, hungry as London paupers.
It’s a great place for a writer camp with a cup of coffee, if they drink it, or an unsweet ice tea in my case; to write the next bestseller about some fella with a hitch in his step and an ugly wife that feeds the cows in her birthday suit during the dead of winter. The place has character and a cozy little ambience about it. I wish it was open more often and that I had the freedom to go and write at a favorite table as a first name basis regular, however, unless I become a full time paid writer within the next few months I don’t see it happening. Never say never and never say die… unless you put it in a poem.

I ordered the cowhand classic breakfast with scrambled eggs, a griddle loved pancake and seasoned hash browns with a tall iced tea full of ice. Now the bacon was almost a little too sweet for me personally but it’s tough to compare to the Jalapeno bacon I cook at home. The eggs and the pancake were nevertheless on point. We sat at our table talking about buffalo Bill and what errands we needed to run that day – I probably mentioned Calamity Jane too as I’m apt to do. We got excited about our upcoming travels and a potential get away to Deadwood in the spring. About us were good o’l boys reminiscing about girls they loved and hardworking sons moving into the family business, they hovered over their coffee mugs like gummy vultures trying to chew a tough steak. I half expected Craig Johnson to walk on in and sit by the window. He didn’t.

A few authors say that if you wait for conditions to be prime before you write, you’ll never say a word. I guess I’m the lonesome exception. I truly struggle to write at home unless I am alone. I can write for 8 hours a day at work and feel accomplished and know I’ve done well. Whereas if I stay home, not only do I have distractions and things I feel must get done, but it’s harder to get into the mindset. At work I write to drown out the everyday office scenario but I need to buck up. I have to set aside a little time each week to force myself to also write at home whether I’m with Jack or not. After all that’ll be where I write my other novels if ever one sells. Having said that, as long as something is written I shan’t complain.

I hope December finds you well my friends.
Be HAPPY.
Be Great.
Create.

Your keeper, 
Bella.