Showing posts with label ambitions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ambitions. Show all posts

Monday, June 06, 2016

Mrs Egeland Confesses: I'd Make A Lousy Fifties Housewife

Yes, readers it's true. I've come to accepted that I would have made an absolute pigs-ear of being a good housewife in the 1950's.

As much as I would love to live the lifestyle others have so bravely and dedicatedly taken on, living to as far as possible to the standards and social norms of that era I do not. As much as I admire the ways of life, the traditional stay at home wife role, the domestic goddess who always looked her best and kept her husband happy, in an age of patience and good manners, in a simpler time, I have come to accept that had I been born, had my personality been as it is today, I would have made a horrible housewife.

I am at heart an artist, a creative who will quite happily sit and paint rather than wash the floor. I can easily get zoned- out whilst writing or drawing and completely ignore the war zone of dirty dishes in the sink and the hoovering left undone.

A Woman Of My Era

 
I like my home to be tidy and clean, as do we all, but so long as there are plates to eat off and clothes to wear I can and will leave the chores until later to do something more enjoyable, more creative. I have more self-will than self-control and as much as I dream of the day when I will be able to stay on top of my laundry, ironing, cleaning schedule in a zen-like state, with perfectly coiffured hair, and manicured nails I know that in reality, that day, is far off and quite possibly will never arrive.

I am, it has to be said, a woman of my era. I work part-time, I find entertainment online and via my iPhone, I like using my free time to pamper myself and indulge in my passions. I am not as organized as I could be, not always on top of my chores, I expect my husband to do half of them, I don't bake as much as I'd like, although I cook daily, and as much as my little heart yearns for the pastimes of past times I find my knitting is always half done and my sewing is always waiting to be finished. Even this blog has, as you will have noticed, fallen by the wayside.

Without the modern conveniences of a dishwasher, a tumble dryer and a washing machine would I have to spend more time washing dishes and doing my laundry? No doubt I would, and that would require my spending more of my free time doing those things, but I doubt that it would make me more organized. Because at my core I am a creative, go-with-the-flow, spontaneous sprite who revels in writing fantasy novels and painting pictures of Vespas whilst listening to big band music and RPG soundtracks.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Mrs Egeland Is Inspired

But unfortunately not to write a blog post.

9960_women-fantasy-art-elves-artwork-sakimichan-1920x1080-wallpaper_2560x1600You see I am a writer, an unpublished author and my novel is waiting to be published via Amazon e-books. You can read the “blurb” on the “Mrs Egeland’s Other Projects” page which you will find on the right.

I am so devoted to my characters that I had decided that I would write at least two more novels, one about the characters parents and another about the characters 1o years on. Except that getting my novel published has taken such a lot out of me, with drafts and the simple pressures of getting things done, that there has been no time or basically any inspiration to write.

I think as well that by deciding to write two more novels about the same set of people, or at least the same setting has stifled my inspiration.

Not so long ago I met a young woman, a sprite of creative spark, she’s a graphic artist who writes her own graphic novels. She’s young and full of vigour, she has her own style and generally a wonderful person. She is the sister-in-law of my friend, one of my best friends, a woman who has raw talent, seemingly unlimited patience and four beautiful children. This friend and her husband live in beautiful Kvinnherad, which is quite a distance from the city of Bergen and thankfully my husband and her husband are good friends. So we occasionally take a weekend and go visit, and that’s when this little sprite shows me all her drawings.

This time, on my way home, I tried to picture my little sprite as one of my characters, and I was inspired. Suddenly I could see her, her hair streaming out behind her, her arms outstretched with a piercing light shining behind her. I don’t know what this character is, or who, or even if she’s going to be in one of the books, but I know that she needs a story. She can’t just inhabit my mind, even if she is based on my friend, she must live in fiction.

As I said, I’m inspired, but not really to write blog posts.

I hope that I will soon be able to tell you where you can acquire my first novel, so that you can all read it and tell me what you think. I’d love to know, its nothing like this blog! However its the facets of a personality that makes it interesting. Creativity comes in all shapes and sizes, domestic and otherwise.

Until next time

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Davita

Friday, November 16, 2007

Watching him sleep

Hey folks, I haven't been around in while, but here I am. This is the first time in a long time I've been in a "normal" relationship, i.e. one where I live in the same country/same town as my significant other. I put normal in speech marks because these days long distance and internet relationships are relatively accepted as a normal way to date/court/be with some one and I'm covering my ass. Anyway back to what I was going to write about, which is, "watching him sleep", which I find myself doing a lot. We've yet to move in together, don't ask about that one I don't even fully understand it, but mostly at weekends I watch him sleep, huddled under his duvet. It's like looking at the child I hope to have with him, there's a certain amount of passionate possesion I feel when I watch his sleeping and occasionally frowning features, his roughly messy brown hair and his slightly round aquiline nose... (believe me I realise I'm contraditing myself on the nose thing)... He's a hulk of a man, wide protective shoulders and his towering height, something I appreciate since I'm no dolly, measuring in at 183 cm, I'm lucky enough to find a man taller than I am. Ask most tall women about whether height matters in a man, and she'll probably tell you "No!" but then if she had to pick between a man taller than her and one smaller, chances are she'll take the tall guy. Anyway, getting back to my subject, he's taller and wider than me, which is... in my humble opinion... the way it should be and yet when he's curled up under the blanket his cheeks pink with warmth, the delicate brown eyelashes lying on his cheek below a maternal, possessive creature crawls out of the bowels of my psyche and all I want to do is stroke his soft brown hair and make sure he has enough blankets. I've experienced this sensation in the past, with others I've loved, and I've come to the conclusion often enough that it's my nature to be this way with the men I love. I am a maternal creature in the depths of my soul and I was created to be both mother and partner. I used to be filled with ambitions, ambitions to travel, become a published author, to be a free-spirit, but at the tender age of 25 I'm devoid of ambition, excluding that of settling down and growing roots. I'm at my most content when I'm caring for someone I love, be that cooking, cleaning, ironing shirt or fixing holes in socks. I am pathetically a 1950's woman in the 21st century, something which when I analyse I realise I'm glad for, since I readily take for granted the freeness and emancipation that comes with womanhood in 2oo7 but perhaps may not have been so readily given in 1957. So I return with fondness to the sight of my love, cuddled up in a nordic duvet, asleep, dreams filling his head and feel the sensations of the growing maternal creature inside my bosom.