Knowing what you deserve isn’t being ungrateful


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I have noticed a pattern in my behaviour: I tend to settle for things. Things that I’m not crazy about, but which are “just fine”, so I would feel bad if I “spoiled it”.

I labeled this as fear of being ungrateful for many years. And this fear made me lower my standards from “crème de la crème” to just “crème”. Maybe all the way down to expired milk, in some cases. And yes, you shouldn’t always demand the very best of life. Sometimes, you should be happy for what you do get. But you shouldn’t compromise your self-worth to avoid uncomfortable situations either.

It was fear, all right, but not for ungratefulness. It was for standing up for myself. Believing that I also could reach great achievements. Underlining that I was worth something, and that I wouldn’t settle for anything less than what I deserved. I dare to assert that I know I’m not the only one that settles for things. And why? Because it takes a little more time, a little more work to reach beyond what’s “just fine”. And it’s scary sometimes. But think about what could happen if you did stretch a little further. If you went all-in, head first in things, instead of doing them half-hearted. If you truly believed that you could achieve this, and went through with it. If you reached your goal.

Sometimes, you’re deceiving yourself into thinking that something is “just fine”, when in reality it’s something far away from fine. But you’ll feel like it’s “just fine” because, sadly, it’s all you have. But what if you left these low standards for what you deserve behind, and, ignoring how terrifying it all is, aimed for something better for you?

Stop being mediocre, just like some other guy. We have enough of them already. We have too many, actually. What I wish to see, is a decrease in the number of mediocre, “just like anybody else”-people. I want to see these ordinary flower buds blossom into a meadow of resourceful, unique people ready to make a change in the world. That’s what I want to see. People who know their true self-worth, and who has the courage to stand up for what they believe is right, both for themselves, and the others around them. People that doesn’t settle for expired milk. People who dare to speak up and say “I deserve better than this.”, whether it’s a toxic relationship, a lousy job or the way others are treating you in general.
Because you do. You do deserve the best. Just don’t forget that so does everybody else, so don’t treat them otherwise. Stay humble. Try again. Reach higher. If it makes you happy, you’re probably doing it right.

Circus – Late-Night Adventures


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I may be making this a series of texts if I ever experience more nights worth describing to you. In the meantime, you just have to be patient with me. I hope you enjoy reading this little story as much as I enjoyed to write it.

“Let’s sit there, then.” I nodded towards a building entrance, with my eyes fixed on a pair of rose grey stone stairs in front of it. They looked ten times more inviting than the sticky benches we had tried to rest on just a moment ago. She sat down next to me, careful not to spill her overly sweetened chai latte, and rested her elbows on her thighs. I did the same.

Giusy Arrandom Rippa | via Facebook

We sat silent for a moment, taking in our surroundings. The chilly friday night air smelled of beer, fast-food and wet pavement. From our little nook, we watched people as they walked past us. Some stumbling, some dragging their feet just a bit, some walking like they simply were happy to hit the ground each time they took a step (I give the credit to my friend for the last description). We both agreed that watching strangers at this time of day was amusing. For a short period of time, they invited us to see a fraction of their life before disappearing with it down the street. Afterwards, we could continue to unravel the questions of where they were going, who they were with and what they were doing in our minds.
Some took notice of us as they walked by, others were completely oblivious to what we were doing and saying about them. We definitely took notice of many different party-goers.
I remember this girl very clearly: She wore heels higher than what she was able to keep her balance in, giving her this awkward way of moving like she was walking on stilts for the first time. In my opinion, she would have struggled more than enough in flats. But the fun part was that in her attempt to compensate for the unstableness of her short strides, she somehow managed to bend her chunky heels so they were facing inwards towards the rest of the shoe. And no boys, heels are almost never supposed to do that. My mind conjured an image of crooked pillars in a house, barely withholding the weight of it. A drunk house. Let me tell you, the sight of the lady in the crippled shoes was priceless.

vodka funny flask blog

Just making a point here.

So we sat there as queens on slate thrones and enjoyed the fact that we were sober, and they clearly weren’t. It gives you the upper hand, the liberty to bullshit as much as you want to a handful of specially chosen people without them ever realizing that you most likely never went tiger hunting in France. Because of that, our lucidness on a weekend night wasn’t too bothersome.

After a while of philosophizing and commenting the bypassers, a man walks up to us asking for a cigarette. He was in luck: My friend wasn’t supposed to quit smoking entirely until the upcoming Monday, so she could still offer him one. I had noticed him already, standing just a few meters away from us and glancing our way from time to time, although he wasn’t someone who sparked my interest very much: Tall, thin and in his late twenties maybe, I would rather switch my focus to the boys closer to my own age.
He inhaled deeply, and when he exhaled, smoke escaping from the prison it had just been put in, all the way from his lungs and out past his mildly sunken cheeks, small scars and pale lips, he spoke. While pointing to the fast food restaurant located across the one-lane street, he told us he had watched us for a while.
“…and thats when I thought”, he continued, “you’re doing the exact same thing as me!”
Both my friend and I chuckled. “Well, how can you not watch this, right? It’s amusing.” she said, scanning his face thoroughly.
“It is. It’s a circus.” he replied, smiling and looking at us with sharp ice-blue eyes.

And it was, except the clowns were drunk. Hell, even the elephants was (I’ll leave it up to you to figure out who the elephants were supposed to represent, because I have no idea).

We got a dozen good stories from this guy, some dramatic and others so hilarious you can’t even imagine. And to think, all of this completely free, and entirely without alcohol.

I asked “what”, not “who”


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Tell me

What are you exactly

And what am I,



Whether mouse or lion

I’ll just stand here, feet pointed inwards

I refuse to walk through cotton made of air and water

Alone, that is

Tell me

Tell me what I am

or just where your hand is,

If the first is too much to be expected



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Remember. Remember what you’ve done.

The thought whispered

And the deja vu grew in my feet

As I walked

Down this road

This road I was sure I haven’t walked before

No one wants to read the same story twice.

Show them development. Show them you remember.

Unload these decicions from your heart.

Place them in your mind, next to the bitter lessons

And let those lessons be your beacon

tumblr art girl colors drawing galaxy space hair

(…I don’t know)

– Cessel

Just below the surface


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water girl underwater drawing color ocean sea pool woman pencil


I’m finally back with another piece. Don’t act like you haven’t been waiting for it. I know you have. Even though you say otherwise, I know you have.

First things first: She is not dead. I just suck at colouring skin, but I’ll just say that she’s really pale. Maybe sick.

Anyhow, have you ever dived into a pool or something and felt like the surface is miles away?  But then you swim upwards and reach it in a flash, even though you could swear you were almost at the bottom. If you had opened your eyes and looked down, you could have seen how much farther down you could have gone, and how close the surface was.

That’s what this piece is about, metaphorically speaking. Because I’m all deep and stuff (and also puntastic…heh).

– Cessel

I’ve found peace


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I’ve found peace
In little letters that makes words
That turns into stories

When I tire of everything else
When the sounds are too many
When feelings became too intrusive
And when the energy falls short

I always turn back to the words
The ones I control myself
The ones where I am the one to decide what their content should be
And what they should say
And how they should say it
In a world where I otherwise can’t control what does happen, and what refrains from happening
Are the words, the written words, the glue that binds me together
After a day where nothing is how I would choose it to be

But I have chosen it
Most of it, I’ve chosen all by my self
And others have chosen what remains
But most of it, I’ve chosen myself
I can say that I’m satisfied
And I can say that I’m not
Because if I chose wrongly
It’s final
For in that world, nothing can be rewritten or erased altogether

I’ve found peace
In the livingroom
Curled up under a blanket with the cat quietly purring next to me
With a cup of tea, a cup with a gold rim
With my thoughts

I think my life’s too normal to blog about


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I have this weird tendency to postpone my blogging.

It’s mainly because I keep waiting for something glorios and astounding to happen, so I can write about it here. But then I realized that if I do that, I will never blog again. And that’s sad. So, people, I’m sorry but… All you’re going to get is my (kind of) normal life.
I can feel the excitement radiating from you already.

My lack of writing is also because I’m still not feeling very well. Clinically, I no longer have Mono, but the fatigue is still there. And it will continue to be there up to 3 months from now. Makes me want to shoot someone in the foot, but I can’t, because I’m too damn tired to do it! (That could be a good thing, anyway)

Yes, this was me writing about why I’m not writing. Give me coffee, and I’ll swear I’ll write something more entertaining and with less meaning.

girl holding candle dark light
And yes, this is me holding a candle. Guess where I was? VIRGINLAND. I’m dead serious. There’s an island called Virginland (=”Jomfruland” in Norwegian) in Norway. And it’s beautiful.

– Cessel

Art as therapy


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It’s been a while since I showed you guys some of my work, so today, I’m compensating by showing you two large pieces (ooooooooh), and accompanying it with some background info. They were both done with watercolours, along with some acrylic and some pens.

I’m actually not very fond of talking about problems here, just so you know. It took some courage to write this.

I won’t keep you waiting, so here they are:

scream woman art colors colours text angry sad depression feelings“Sparks in all directions”, Spontaneous piece painted one sleepless night this summer. I hardly thought anything about what I was doing, at that point. It was strange, I just blacked out for a few hours, and ended up with this. It describes accurately how I was feeling, in a way that words just can’t.
Notice the black tongue, by the way. It is obviously stripped for any functionality, so the only thing that screams are her eyes. Need I say that eyes are hard to hear, unless you try really hard?

Man rise against scared shocked to the core art if i could paint how i feel grunge red“If I could paint how I feel”, also made a late night, a little later. The writing on the bullseye says: If I could paint how I feel, I’d draw a bullseye on your forehead. Relax, I’m not going to kill anybody. It’s the lyrics from a song, “To the core” by my all-time favorite band Rise Against. I had actually wanted to paint something inspired by that line for a long time, but I was saving it for a time when I desperately needed it. It’s still not finished.

I found great relief in art when I was going through a difficult time a little while back. It was like I shared my feelings with the paper, and it soaked some of it up. It also made me aware of my own feelings in a different way than when you think or talk about them. I got to see them pour out in front of my own eyes.

I was so awfully distant while I was painting, I actually scared myself when I stopped to look at my work. I asked myself whether I had painted this. If this was how I really felt. I think art is my key to the subconscious part of my brain.
Don’t worry, I’m so much better now. I’m drawing happier things.
Please note that I didn’t really mind proportions, shading, etc. etc. on these pieces. I was angry. I painted. Feelings aren’t perfect, and so weren’t these.

If you like art (or even if you don’t!) you should try spontaneous drawing. I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to do it, so you may wish to find your own method. I personally start out by drawing random shapes or just shading a little on the blank paper. Then I draw everything the second I think of it. The funny thing is, I believe there could be a subconscious reason behind every association. Every stroke with your pencil could mean something.
But, you know, if you just end up drawing food, you could just be hungry. If you drew a whale climbing a tree, that is a message from the deepest parts of your brain. A message saying you’re crazy. I’ll show you the tree-climbing whale some other time, by the way.

~ Cessel