Making sense of life through philosophy, stories, neurodivergence, & queerness
As I am preparing my rope with reverence, I am wondering what Odin was thinking during the nine days that he was hanging from the tree of life, how he filled his mind with pride of his humbleness.
What a jerk! That is what all gods have in common, I suppose.
‘Happy 100th birthday sweetie. How do you feel to be joining us in the middle-aged community?’
‘Hey Sis. Thank you...? OK, I guess.’
‘Do you accept guest?’
‘Did you pay your privacy-tax today?’
(I wrote that story about 20 years ago. Soon I am turning 40 and I thought it's a good time to return to my-ancient-history, so I translated it from the original Greek to share it with you, my only-English-speaking dear future historian and contemporary reader.)
Let me tell you
the story of how a mouse can make you homeless.
Back in 2015 I was living in Thanet with my 14-month-old baby and my 6-year-old daughter. I was also hosting my mother and my sister with her son. So, my kids and I were sleeping in the living room on a mattress on the floor. One night, while I was breastfeeding, I heard a squeaky noise and I saw it staring at me. I jumped up, with the baby still hanging from my breasts, and started googling ‘how to get rid of a mouse.’ Apparently, the options are quite limited and ineffective, with a crawling baby who puts everything in his mouth.
Some of you know that I moved to the UK with my daughter from Greece back in 2014 and my son was born here in Kent the same year. I think the journey of an immigrant really starts in a way after arriving to a new country. I love the UK. I love the rich culture and history. I love the nature and the people. Yet sometimes I feel like an outsider and it's hard to know if I'm being discriminated because I'm an immigrant or because I'm autistic. I am wearing a sunflower lanyard because I stutter when I talk with strangers and at the supermarket tills, I felt people were looking at me wondering if I can even speak English.