Happy Birthday

I can't help my self but to send some unexpected (digital) cupcakes to Julie. I don't think I would still have been blogging hadn't she invited me over to Blog Camp 2.0 and the gorgeous blue room. Here's to you sweetie.

Food for Parties

 

I'm over at domestic sensualist blogging about my fabulous fish soup ...

Warm Light

... and warm company a Selsø slot.

What a lovely little Blog Camp it was. Wine, food, photography and we didn't even make it into the blue room. Julochka really knows how to put up a guest. And to let her rest after a hectic week at COP 15.

 

One Hundred

The Sony Building in Berlin

I've posted 100 posts on this blog. Crazy. It seems only weeks ago that my sis suggested I should join the blogosphere. Days ago that I got addicted to posting.  Minutes ago since I went to lovely lovely Blog Camp.

Being a blogger has given me so much:

• Writing for someone but me
• Taking more pictures
• Taking better pictures
• Meeting great blogging peeps
• Making friends for life
• Being inspired by other blogs with funny, interesting, deep thoughts
• Made me much more technically adept
• And it has given me loads and loads of inspiration

And I'm sure it will give me much much more. Thank you all for reading. I'll keep you posted.

Love, 


A.
xxx

Kristinas picture

Got a great surprise in the mail today. I won a picture in Kristinas Celebration Giveaway. So fun to get snail mail with stamps and all. Even beautiful Swedish flower stamps. My pictures don't do it justice so have a look at the original here.

Thank You

So I've been wanting to say thank you. I've been turning up on blog rolls, and I'm so flattered. I've been hoping to, but when it happens it feels unreal.

When I noticed myself on Mr London Street (my blog crush at the mo), I really felt unworthy. But then again not.

Wow. I'm practically a blogging virgin, and here I'm being read, and referred to by all these wonderful people in the blogosphere.

THANK YOU!

Thank you Juloshka for putting me on your roll, and including me in the wonders of Blog Camp. (Thank you Spud, Jelica and Kristina for attending)

Thank you Molly, Ju, Marinik, Prosalosa and Urbaniche for putting me on your rolls.

I feel honoured. Blessed. Privleged. Touched.

I feel real.

Sign Posts: Copenhagen

Julochkas Housescapes

Julochkas house. Seen through Miss Buckles eyes. Details. Red and turquoise. Clinton family. Eyeballs. Stones. And a Canon. You read it. Canon.

Sign Posts

I reckon (and hope) those of you who have followed my blog will have noticed my love for signs. And taaa daa. This marks the start of a series of posts with pics of signs. Mostly because I've got a whole lot of pictures of signs from my pictastic weekend with the blog campers. These are from Sweden. I love Swedish, as it feels like play language to me. Much to Kristinas amusement.

Seeing the Light

I did see the light. In Lund.

Between the rainclouds.
Through a window.
A prayer burning in the cathedral.
Glowing chandelliers.

I also saw new friendships being lighted. In Lund.

The excitement building up. And already that evening we were on fire.

I'm still hot.

Feeling Dispersed

Feeling a little like the fruit strewn around in this picture. All dispersed. I have to gather myself. Digest the pictures. And tell you all about Blog Camp.

It was great, by the way.

Seasonal Changes

So I've been thinking and writing a lot lately.

As a journalist in a local paper I have to be versitile. Writing in the same little town that you were raised in also poses some interesting situations. Like a source being one of you best friends mothers (not too hard to get around). Or knowing someone involved in a crime you're covering.

Anyone who has lived in a small town knows about this. Knowing both the good and bad things about someone, but still having to relate to them in one way or another.

I've noticed that the closer I get to a source I know, the less critical I get. It's natural. Most of the time I can get someone else to cover for me when it gets too close. I have not gotten into trouble, yet...

I've also been thinking about being a public person. I'm used to being recognised. I'm used to people I don't know having opinions about me. I hope they treat me with the same courtesy that I treat them. I'm not so sure. All that I can rely on are the good ones.

Lately I have been writing a bit about identity. I've always thought that being the only person im my country with my name has made me vounerable. Apparently not. When it comes to identity theft at least. Having a unique name means you don't blend, and so I'm not interesting to potential theifs. The drawbacks of having a unique name were pretty clear to me when, after a particularliy grusomme story, my previous editor in chief wanted to know if he should tell the police to drive by my house a few times that weekend. I declined.

It's tough when it gets personal.

When I got a call from a businessmans wife wanting to know why I wanted to hurt her husband it felt like a punch in the gut. Fortunately I managed to communicate with her in spite of wanting to pretend to be someone else. I'm very used to confronting sources, and also being confronted myself. But that's easy when I'm the professional journalist. Harder when I'm only me.

It might be the season slowly morfing into darker evenings and rusty colours. But I find myself thinking about where my life is now, where I want it to go, and how I will get there.The last year, for various reasons, has been like a changing season in my life. Me morfing from one person to another.

And.

Plonk.

Right when I needed it.

This amazing oppertunity crosses my path.

And it makes itself hard to miss.

So suddely I'm off to Denmark for the weekend. Most of the people around me think it's the most crazy thing I've done since I coloured my hair blue.

But I'm so sure. It is so right. Meeting kindred souls in the world is not as easy as one thinks (although I'm exceptionally lucky to have met quite a few in my relatively short lifespan).

Four people ready to get to know me.

Not the journalist, or childhood friend, or mum, or girlfriend, or collegue, or public person, or any of the other roles...

But me.

Only me.

And I'm sure I'll find friends for life.