Suddenly, I miss childhood.
A vivid sensation of the smell of an aquarium and the cold stingy glass pressed against my nose flooded my brain. I remember the blurred and murky water behind the thick glass, the overhead lamp making the fat-bellied gold fishes visible, and the uneaten pellets aimlessly floating atop. I was one with the fishes and the plastic seeweeds (at least pretending to be). These were childhood memories I never even thought had hung around in the depths of what was tucked and forgotten. Now I am remembering every detail like a light that has been switched on.
I had those silly imaginations where I shrunk and dove into the aquarium. I wanted to swim into its slimy, algae-riddled water, and throw myself onto its bed of pebbles and watch it explode in midwater and fall back down slow-mo until I am all buried in it. I was in love with the ocean in whatever form it took. I have wanted to become a Mermaid since then—a silly dream that lingered as far as I can remember. I wanted to live in the ocean where there is absolutely no boundaries. Its depth and vastness used to haunt me as a child, but as much as its mystery gave me chills down my spine, I wanted to surrender to its perils or maybe the absence thereof in its tranquility. To be a mermaid was a ludicrous dream, yet I held onto it as if it was the only thing that ever mattered in this life. I still feel that same throbbing LUST when I see the ocean, so much that I have convinced myself that I was indeed a mermaid from a life before this.
Now as I write this little note down, I am actually at work. Graveyard shift causes survival hormones to send jolts of electricity to my brain, hence the flood of thoughts. Or maybe this is my way of wasting the hours til I am bound home and, finally call it a day. Because now I realized that this is REALITY. There’s no such thing as magically turning into a mermaid and returning home to friends and family who reside in the abyss off the Marianas Trench. There is only me now worrying about every minute where one thing could go culpably wrong and praying that everything will be alright. Someone is under my care and supervision, and this is now my job. I’m not exactly charmed about it but it isn’t grim as well. Undaunted despite of this not being my comfort zone, but what scares me actually draws me close even more.
Everything that I chose to be now is downright the opposite of the magical creature I wanted to be. Life is as real as a knife slitting through my skin. Don’t get me wrong. I am where I wanted to be. It takes an intestinal fortitude to face life realistically, they say. Because at the end of the day, no other sh-t can pay the bills than what you earn for a living. Being a magical creature cannot buy you a bottle of Ginger shampoo from the most rip-off french cosmetic shop. And definitely, the ocean is not a livable niche for a two-legged woman like me.
But does this mean everyone of us should stop dreaming and let reality bore us to death? Not with me. I have made an ingenious map of my behavioral pattern… relating my surrealistic ideals as a child to my adulthood ambitions. Maybe just like my young self, I am drawn into unliveable niches in life. I find an ocean with zero chance of survival so luring that I like swimming through its perils. Maybe being safe and comfortable, doesn’t make me feel safe and comfortable. I feel like I know nothing about my new role. In fact, I am terrified. In fact, mortified. But just like the young version of me who wished to become a mermaid and pretended to be one, I lived through life with that redundant thought and it became my reality. Maybe this play pretend, this repetitive make-believe that I have the guts to make it through unliveable niches eventually becomes the palpable truth.
I have packed my bags and left a place that was my home for 27 years. I am lost in translation in Scandinavia. I have the faintest idea how life is gonna be from hereon.
But I am a mermaid. And I can f*ckin do this.
At the end of the day, I just want someone to walk me home, clench my hands in his warm pockets, and never let them go.
That even if we have nothing exciting to say, that even if it gets repetitively mundane… he knows that we can’t last a day without each other.
Flowers and chocolates are not obligatory.
You know, just someone who’d love me honestly and completely. Who’d look beyond my flaws.
Someone who’d stick around hrough my shitty-ness and hormonally imbalanced days. Not necessarily forever but forever is allowed in my vocabulary.
Til then, I’m gonna curl up here and feel queasy about that corny little blog I just impulsively wrote… like an armadillo.
Among all things, I think pizza is an indulgence. Today, I had my second chance at eating at Pepe’s Pizza here in Oslo which I somehow never felt guilty for. The past few days have been a marathon of multigrain cereals, multigrain crackers, and multigrain shit everything. I ate away all the stress and sadness and somehow relived what once was an enthusiastic version of myself. I enjoyed our shrimp pizza with garlic sauce and found a piece of heaven on earth with the 1 ½ slices I devoured, indeed. Thank you for the treat, Ate Hesa. On our first month of salary, I swear I’m gonna do just the same for you. AND AGAIN, at Pepe’s Pizza where we could also ogle the cute waiters? Just kidding.
Lovin’ my new bag so much. I just had to snatch it off the H&M rack.
Mai Quel smiling at whoever he was talking to. Lovebug I suppose?
Three hungry people at Karl Johan’s Gate.
Oh you one dirty bastard, you! I just wanna eat you all up.
Our favorite hvitløk saus (meaning garlic sauce) of all time!
Ta med! = Take out! There are so many uttryker (expressions) I gotta get used to.
Meanwhile at Aker Brygge, there’s another branch I really think has also an eye-catchig interior.
Im coming back again for another indulgence. :) Fo sho.
Starting my life here is like starting from null. But I am excited about meeting new faces, learning the language, embracing the culture, doing my A-game in my new job, and building friendships. It gets harder before it gets better they say… but I am built for this. I know I can make it through in my new home, Oslo. This is where I start discovering Europe… and the rest of the world. Motivations, motivations! The man upstairs will always be there to love and guide. :) I owe this to Him.
Pictures are from Karl Johans’ Gate, Brugata, and the Norwegian Royal Palace.