My birthday - breakfast forever!

So yeah, took some time away from creating stuff to celebrate that I have survived for 28 years! Yeah I know..amazing. 

In true wierd-style I became the Red Queen (finally got to wear my red cape!) and invited Alice and the Cheshire Cat to a sugar and alcohol filled pre-birthday party in the garden. Kind of like this:

Just to make it clear, if I was in wonderland..I would definitely be the red queen. She is my favourite! And I suppose it's not for nothing that my husband said he would love to live in my world...but I would most likely become the new Stalin...

Anyway!

My birthday was just one long morning with cake in bed with my crown on... And roses. Lots and lots of red roses..! Thank you for that.

So have I learned anything so far..? well....

1. I never actually take breaks from creating. Not really.

2. The older you get the more you understand your parents..mostly because you become increasingly like them!

3. face creams don't work. none of them.

4. It's more important to be happy and kind than to be right.

5. Genealogy is fucking awesome!

There. Hope you all enjoy ageing as much as I do :)

Finding ones place.

Some days ago I had a strange conversation with someone I barely know. It was strange partly because I'm always surprises me how surprised British people are when I say that this is a country with a very strong class system...but it was also strange because I accidental revealed something obvious but, to me, quite shameful. I have a love/hate relationship with the class system. I know it isn't good, not in an objective way..and I do not believe in the separation of people or property before people...at all. But as if by accident..I fell in exactly where I had always wanted to be. Like a puzzle piece that had never fitted. I secretly love that I was lucky..in the puzzle of the British class system I am the lucky one. And for a little while..that is kind of nice.

But for a long long time I've been simulating that in my dollhouses, I think. That feeling of calm excitement when environment and person just fits perfectly together. They do say you always want what you can not have..maybe I just wanted to belong all this time. Maybe. Definitely.

So now that my latest (and awsomest) house is all finished I'm letting my dolls have a peek! It was the child that first suggested it but I must say..I quite like moving them around the house! It's like they are checking it out...

I have two of my main dolls finished since 2 last night...a little boy almost finished. One of them I just made like I like it so that will have to be me...then comes a sister. A mixture of my real sister and my soulsister I would say... And soon to be finished a little Lus.

To be continued...

It's all of us.

If you are currently reading this in a room with more than 5 women you are statistically likely to be in the presence of a rape victim. And since the popular belief that "evil" comes to us from outer space is highly unlikely I can't help but wonder... If you are in a room with more then 5 men..how likely are you to be in the presence of a rapist? And why is there no statistics on that?

Airing my house

I have sort of decided to try to hold on to my inspiration and finish my 1640's house. The past week I've actually finished quite a lot of it! No more people so far but the attic is now finished on the inside and the rest is getting there.. 

 

That's my slide show! 

It's mostly just some small stuff and the outside that needs fixing..and the people 

I have finally decided who is to live there. The older I get the clearer it gets that family was always the most important thing...maybe not in the traditional sense, but still! So I am putting a family in there. In a way it will be a different version of my own family.. Then of course I have my house-man and all the other random people I'll be putting in there. Haven't decided on who they will be yet, but I'm sure it will come to me!

One thing is for sure though: someone will be a witch.

Girly midnight rants.

I suppose it should be called "womanly midnight rants" because I cringe every time a grown woman is referred to as a girl. But anyway, here it goes:

I've been having a hard time lately. They do just seem to follow each other sometimes, but this one has been particularly hard. And that's Why I Need Feminism. I'm sure you have all seen the pictures by now; female holding sign being "already strong" and declaring why she needs no hairy, angry feminists fighting for her! 

 Well  I do need it!

But I felt like one of those girls the other day. It was late and I walked down to the shop and on the way I met a friend of mine so I took out my headphones from my ears. We talked and walked. He went one way and I went the other. Got my juice. As I walked on I realized I no longer had music in my ears. And the fear that came over me was..unexpected! I could see people looking at me. I say people but I mean men..every single one of them stronger then me who consider me just barely human. And if anyone comes up and talks to me I will pretend to like it moderately so I can slip away. People have tough me all my life that my body is not mine to decide over. My will is barely worth considering. And I haven't even gotten to the rape part yet! 

I have called my self a high risk rape-victim both seriously and as a joke many times because I know that my refusal to be afraid is provoking and because I am not doing it out of ignorance but because I hate the teeny tiny living space I have been dealt in life. And I hate it when guys think they are nice and say I'm not like other girls. I am exactly like all the other girls and there is nothing wrong with that! We all want some fucking living space without being harassed or corrected or slut-shamed or raped or murdered or told to like "nice guys" or told how to look, be ,live, like, feel, behave, talk! Is that too much to ask without a condescending hand on the thigh?

So I put my headphones back in my ears and turn up my Guns n Roses. But I walk straight home because that night is no different then any other...and I had become like all the other girls. Compliant. 

That day passed and I will probably never stop refusing to fear my world, but it made me think of those ones with the signs. In a way..needing feminism is like turning off the music in your ears. Without the distractions it's fucking terrifying. 

But I do need feminism.

Not because I'm weak or can't open jars. I need it because it gave me the strength not to fear when I needed it the most. To know that I'm not alone..and to not be that girl that is so different. Alienated amongst men. I need it because it gives me hope.

And if all those "women against feminism" people don't need it then good for you! but don't deprive the needy because you have all you need.

Ps. There are no "nice guys". Bubble burst. 

And I bet women are more human then men because we have to deal with your stupid ass shit when you're too lazy to think for your self.

My little ones.

This is a 3 part story..

Firstly, I finished my house man. After many attempts, here he is! The first person living in my 1640's world.

It took me a while to figure him out...it's my first one and I didn't want to make it to difficult but also not go for the stereotypical image of the time (cavalier-style) since it's not going to fit in with the rest if I do.. 

So I mixed and matched a little! Shirt and coat of an older style (more common with roundheads) with a feathery hat and awesome boots (like the cavaliers). The trousers are just what trousers looked like back then. And sword. Must have a sword. Other then that it's fairly simple.The beard was one I'd made much earlier so now he has kind of a careless look, but I like that. Very happy with my little man actually. I will call him Matthew. Like the apostle. 

Then I have my other little one that is quite different!

Once upon a time I knew no English. My greatest victory was to get to sit in the big rocking chair. Once upon a time I stood barefoot in a field of strawberries and heard the wind blow trough a thousand birch leafs with a newborn cat in my arms..and since I clearly grew up 100 years ago I got to hear some odd stories. These stories are creeping back into my life now after 20 years in the back of my mind (thanks partly to Väsen)

This might become one of many, we'll see.

My favourite was always the story about the woods keeper (skogsrå). She is a beautiful nature-like girl with a hollow back like a rotten tree that guards the forest and tricks men to their deaths. Somehow I find that appealing. The thought behind it is that the forest is not ours to use as we please but we have to be respectful or things will go badly...  So this is my own Skogsrå in a jar.

I definitely think we have lost some very useful fear when we lost the supernatural.

 

And lastly, my own little one.

 In my fascination for Swedish folklore I also made my Lus some Tomte skor (elf slippers..ish). Tomtar, according to the stories are little people that live under your floors and keep your house nice but can easily get angry and fuck up your stuff! There might be some more tomte-like things following...maybe. (But this is really the creepiest thing I've seen this week!)

Now...I think it's time I return to England again.

Morning rambles

Today I was walking trough town with my friend and I told her that moving to England felt like stepping back in time...she told me that she's always wondered how Scandinavia can be so modern and I thought to my self - 'It's because we're not a backwards looking post-imperial place with a deep love for class and capitalism!'. I didn't say that...obviously...I'm in England now, and whatever some people might say, we do acclimatize quickly here.

But anyway, this all made me think of that sense of belonging and identity that I have always found so hard. 

I have been a foreigner all my life..I have moved 15 times..I am obviously a child of divorce...I have no name of my own, now nationality of my own, no language of my own, no family of my own. No belonging. Everything I have has been made along the way.

So when my baby asks me if he's English..I say yes. Because it's hard to give someone an identity when you have non of your own. And THAT is beauty of England (that and the trees!). Everyone is foreign so we can all be British.

Now, the motivational quote for that day:

=D