Chasing Stories in the Frost: A Norwegian Journey through College and Journalism

So there I am, tucked up in coats and scarves as my breath fogged up the window of the train. It's the ideal kind of winter morning, with soft hues of pinks and blues reflecting on snowy landscapes, and the temperature dropping down to a crisp -2°C. A fine day to explore the delicate dance between personal relationships and professional life, wouldn't you agree?

I have always been a believer in balance. Like a well-poured cup of hot cocoa, the elements must complement one another perfectly to create a rich and delightful experience. The same principle could be applied to balancing work and personal life, and oh, what a delightful dance that could be!

Firstly, let's not consider them as competing factors. Your personal life isn't a dragon that you need to slay in order to reach your professional goals. Likewise, your career isn't a wolf in the woods, threatening to devour your relationships. The thought of it even makes me giggle! No, they are two different melodies in the same orchestra, producing such beautiful music when in harmony…because truly, what is work if not for relationships, and what are relationships if there's no professional growth to aspire?

It’s a delicate waltz, sweet, captivating and a little bit terrifying. But we all have it in us, that rhythm. It just takes a little practice to find the perfect step.

It's such an endearing concept to realize that your relationships can support, nourish, and give that little extra "oomph" to your work. And in return, your dedication to your career amplifies your love and respect for the people in your life. It's a cycle of positivity, an ecstatic dance of rhythm and elegance.

While I was musing on these thoughts, I stumbled across this line in a news article, “Sorry, but you have shared some HTML opening tags which do not provide any content or context.” To me, it served as a perfect metaphor. We often show only parts of us, just like those HTML tags, to our personal and professional lives. But, to strike a perfect balance, like generating a summary, we must reveal our true selves, provide the actual content that forms our essence.

In this ebb and flow of work and relationships, remember that one doesn't tip the scales over the other but rather adds to the weight, making you stronger, complete. And in that realization, we find ecstasy.

So as the train pulls into Oslo, a silver thread of excitement thrums within me. Balancing work and personal relationships isn't a battle, but a dance. And while it can be challenging, it's beautiful, layered with love and aspirations. From the little corner on this morning train, hidden among my coats and scarves, I invite you to embrace both tunes. To find your step. To dance your dance.

Tags: work-life balance personal relationships professional life

As the wintry landscape passes by my train window, shards of sunlight piercing the coat of frost, I find myself pondering over the lure and peril of turning a hobby into a business. The temperature reading flashes a bitter -11°C, a poignant reflection of my current disposition. Downtrodden, I thumb through the latest news, finding no value or inspiration in its cryptic language or synthesized outlook.

Surviving the tug between ardor and sustenance, struggle and contentment, is no easy course. Commuting in the lap of frigid solitude, with only the rhythmic clatter of the train as my companion, I often immerse myself in thoughts, much like the steam gently dissolving into the cold air from my half-drunk cup of coffee.

Crafting a livelihood out of a cherished hobby is often romanticized. Freedom, self-fulfillment, you steer your own ship, aren’t those the tantalizing promises we often find whispered in our ears? But reality isn’t painted with the broad, easy strokes of a dreamscape. Turning passion into profit demands sacrifice, persistence, a disturbing proximity to failure – a journey, not for the faint-hearted.

The murky indie artists whose music serenades my early morning commute, the writer who weaves a web of enchantment with his stories, the ornate bakery that promises mouthfuls of happiness; these are the warriors, turning their loves into their bread and butter, wearing it proudly like an emblem. But the veil of triumph often hides the darker shades of sleepless nights, unceasing stress, the constant pressure to keep the fire burning.

So then, where lies the fine line between the euphoria of self-expression and the shackles of necessity? In the initiation perhaps, the reason you take the plunge. Is it merely the deceiving charm of independence, the allure of the potential financial buoyancy, or something more? A ruthless desire to see your love, your creation, making a difference, touching lives, surviving, thriving?

As my train begins to slow down, preparing to surrender me to the day that awaits in Oslo, I find the light shifting, the morning sun brightening the shroud of ice. It’s daunting indeed, this metamorphosis of passion into profession, yet there is a certain glory of struggling for something you love, the soul-stirring symphony of investing your life in it.

The turning key here, however, is to never lose sight of the very essence of your hobby, to cling onto the echoes of joy it inspires within. To nurture, to protect, and to remember, that in the punishing race of the world, it was, and forever will be, your safe haven. As long as you are fuelled by this love, any venture, however daunting, doesn't stand doleful and cold at -11°C, but is warmed and nurtured by the relentless glow of a thousand suns.

Fingers numbed by the chill and my spirit a little less downtrodden, I pack away my thoughts, feeling the familiar shudder of the train halting, bidding goodbye to the fleeting solitude, stepping into the chattering, bustling university life. The blog post is done for today. Tomorrow, I'll once again find solace in my own echoes, pondering life, love, and everything in between.

Tags: Turning Hobby Into Business Challenges of Independence Passionate Profession

The cold air outside is harsh, slicing through the thin layer of insulation provided by the train window with surgical precision. It's -4 degrees outside, a freezing reminder of the Norwegian winter's uncompromising brutality. Snowflakes continue to fall in a bewildering cascade, each one unique, much like the stories of personal resilience I endeavor to share daily through this blog.

The frigid, unforgiving morning instills a bitter mood within me, matching the bleak landscape racing by the train window. It's in these bitter moments that we find the steel to forge our resilience, I suppose.

Every day, in inconspicuous ways, we push through our struggles in the endless pursuit of our dreams. Whether it be waking up to a sub-zero winter morning, or trudging through mentally draining tasks, resilience is often the invisible thread that sews together the teetering fabric of our lives.

I pick up my icy-cold phone to read the morning news, and an article catches my eye. The writer complains, "I'm sorry, but your input doesn't appear to contain any readable content to be summarized." Well then, just like today's frigid weather, that's a flavor of rejection I'm no stranger to, a particular toxicity that leaves a lasting trace.

Over time, we all have our fair share of unwanted criticism and unkind words thrown at us. Faced with these hurtful comments, there's a choice to make. Do we allow them to dismantle our resolve, or do we see them as part of the necessary hardships that ultimately strengthen our spirit?

The articulacy of resilience lies in understanding that the world doesn't owe us comprehensibility. Sometimes, we're as difficult to understand as a troubled news article. Still, we persist, learning, growing, making sense of the world and ourselves, one word at a time.

It's not a unique tale, though. It's as common as the multitude of snowflakes gathering at my train window, forming a muted tableau against the harsh winter sky. But remember, in their very commonness lies their precious, uncelebrated resilience. Just as water withstands the harsh winter to crystallize into beautiful snowflakes, we too, have the extraordinary ability to endure, to push back, to refuse to lose our essence.

In this morning's miserable cold darkness, I cannot help but marvel at our shared, collective strength, our deeply human resilience. I sit here, cocooned in the steady rhythm of the train, fueled by a fiery biochemistry of persistence that burns brighter with every frost-kissed breath I take.

Hold on to your stories of resilience. Cherish them and allow them to propel you forward, even when the world around you appears as frigidly indifferent as a Norwegian winter morning. For it is these stories that remind us that warmth can be found within oneself, even when the world outside offers only a cold -4°C.

Tags: resilience winter Norwegian experiences

Day in, day out, rumbling across Norwegian landscapes painted with frost, I use this train as my sanctuary; as my mobile observatory, the promise of dawn melting into the cerulean sky, it washes over the argent fields that lay bare under the skeleton birches. Here, my own silence melds harmoniously with the gentle hum of the tracks beneath, the train's patterned rhythm always accompanying my thoughts. But today, it was also going to be a witness to a personal story of mine, a tale of overcoming a significant fear.

A while ago, the idea of voluntarily positioning myself in the center of attention, entrusting my unfiltered thoughts to curious ears would result in my mind spiraling into a pit of gut-churning, cold-sweat-inducing dread, was unfathomable. The fear of public speaking, or Glossophobia as it is scientifically known, gnawed at me.

It all changed one notable day. I was selected to present an important assignment at university. School corridors echoed a countdown that didn't lead to excitement but to a moment of anticipated terror – standing alone in a battleground armed with powerpoints and pointers. That morning, the one degree winter chill lingering outside did nothing to freeze the turmoil that played out within me.

Seconds melted into minutes, minutes morphed into an hour. An arena filled with eager eyes and sharp ears lay ahead of me. In that moment, I decided to treat this as an instance of catharsis, to enunciate not just the assignment at hand but to also bellow out the fear trapped within me.

Heart pounding like a war drum, I began. I told myself that every eye that bore into me bore not out of judgment but out of genuine interest in the knowledge I was about to impart. I allowed myself to not dread a mistake, embraced it as an opening for humor, for genuineness.

Slowly, the knots of anxiety started to untangle, my voice no longer an insignificant whisper but a confident statement in the vast expanse of the hall. My words stopped being the unknown terrain I tread with trepidation and became the familiar streets I'd known all my life. As I took a final look at the room, I no longer saw an intimidating crowd but a group of people just like me.

From that day forward, the once terrifying shadows of public speaking, gradually retreated, replaced by self-confidence and the joy of shared knowledge. I embraced this monster I'd constructed out of my fears, only to realize it was only a harmless creature that just wanted to be understood.

Just like this frost-etched morning slowly making room for the soothing warmth of daylight, my fears melted away, allowing my true self to bask in newfound courage and strength. A personal tale about overcoming a fear, yes, but also a reminder that fears are like winter too - chilling, yes, but bracing and beautiful, a prelude to warmth and growth.

Today, as I write, nestled in the comfortable hum of this train, the outside world washed in tinges of winter's white, I can't help but ponder upon such poignant analogies life dishes out - how one must embrace the cold to appreciate the warmth, how courage is nothing but confronting fear itself. And so continues my journey, on train tracks and tracks of personal growth.

Tags: personal growth overcoming fear public speaking

As the numbing -7°C morning transforms the Norwegian landscape outside my train window into a crystalline painting, my gaze slides from the frosted window to the screen of my laptop, attempting to bring together the scattered thoughts swirling within my head. This blog post is about companionship, the gentle bond not between humans but between a human and a pet. The melancholic gray sky outside mirrors my emotions as I ponder over the peculiar bond of love, trust, and responsibility that engulfs the hearts of those who have had the pleasure of caring for a pet.

It's a bond that grows from countless instances - like the quiet mutual understanding during the pleasant walks in the park; the glistening eyes reflecting innocent love; the soft purrs or barked greetings echoing through the house, cutting through suffocating silences; or the comforting warmth that envelopes you during the cold, lonely nights. It's a bond, a relationship shaped by spilled food, chewed shoes and tarnished couches. And it's these trivial imperfections that somehow make the bond seemingly flawless.

Yet, this bond isn't established solely on cuddles and games of fetch. It bears the weight of responsibility, a silent promise to care for those who depend on us in return for their unwavering loyalty. It's the sacrifices one makes, the hard decisions that are taken, that define this bond. An unspoken promise to care for them in sickness and in health, to endure the discomforts of our lives rearranged around them, is an essential part of this bond.

And this brings me to the poignant intersection of love and pain. The inevitable part where we part ways with our beloved pets, the ones once filled with boundless energy, slowing into their twilight years, leaving behind an empty void and a mountain of memories. It's heart-wrenching to let go, to suffer through the quiet of your home without the familiar noises punctuating the silence.

However, despite the pain, people continue to open their homes to these creatures, willingly embracing the bittersweet emotional turbulence. One might wonder why we continually put ourselves through such emotional turmoil, why we willingly sign up for pain. Perhaps, it's our innate human need for companionship or our selfless capacity to love unconditionally that drives us. Or maybe the fur-covered creatures succeed in teaching us more about the essences of life - love, empathy, patience and heartbreak - than any human could possibly impart.

As the train’s rhythmic chugging arrives in sync with my rhythmic typing, a soft smile plays on my lips. Caring for a pet, it's an emotional paradox - filled with unconditional love and inevitable heartache. The melancholia that it evokes is paradoxically comforting in its own way. Similar to this frosty morning that both chills the bones and soothes the soul, the joys and the sorrows of having a pet deeply enrich our lives, providing it with profound substance and depth. It continually reassures me that although life brings its share of biting winters, it also brings the coziness of a purring companion. And in that, I find strength to move through life, much like this train that tirelessly continues toward Oslo, breaking through the winter’s icy hold.

Tags: pet companionship emotional depth love and loss

Hello, wonderful people!

Ah, the joy of the darndest things in life – living alone for the first time! I think it is something we all fantasize about at some point, isn't it? Well, I am here to share my delightful roller coaster ride with you. As I'm typing this, I'm nested quite comfortably in my late morning train, carving my path through the 2°C cold towards Oslo. And let me tell you, life couldn't be more exhilarating!

Living alone, many perceive it to be just about freedom – setting your own rules, cooking your own meals (which doesn't always turn out as expected) or dancing around in your underwear. But there's so much more! It is about a fantastic journey of self-discovery and growth.

Now, before I moved out, I was warned about the lonely moments and the heavy weight of chores. But there's something mystical about these tasks. They've become, oddly enough, some sort of meditative sessions, therapeutic even. It's those ten minutes busied over a mound of dishes, or the sweet victory of conquering a stubborn pile of dirty laundry that has yielded tiny fragments of peace in my life.

A part of the experience that I warmly cherish is the freedom of personal space. My karaoke concerts held in the kitchen while cooking are legendary, and I'm quite certain my neighbors will concur quite strongly. And let's not forget about my impromptu dance offs with my reflection in the bathroom mirror - they have truly been a sight to behold. The thrill and downright silliness is something you have to experience to fully appreciate.

And sure, I understand that a news article caption reading 'Opening tags of an HTML document' sounds as exciting as watching paint dry. But that's the beauty of living alone for the first time; ordinary things can suddenly become thrilling.

By no means is it all rosy; there are plenty of hardships. But it's in those challenges where some of life's most profound lessons are embedded. It's the desperate 2am scramble to find a 24-hour grocery store because you realized you're out of toilet roll, or finally mastering that recipe after countless failed attempts - these moments of struggle lead to sweet triumphs of self-reliance and problem-solving.

Living alone for the first time has, delightfully, given me the opportunity to get to know myself a little better. I have discovered that I can rustle up a mean curry, have a penchant for jazz that I never knew of, and that I am capable of swallowing that scary-looking spider rather than fleeing in terror (Okay, the last bit might be a slight exaggeration!)

With each passing day, I find more and more joy in carving out my path, immersing myself in the hearty soup of blossoming adulthood. Even though I frequently trip over or hit a bump, I do it with a big, enthusiastic smile on my face because I know that each little stumble is just another fantastic ingredient added to my soup.

To conclude, the journey has been an interesting blend of tasty independence, spicy hardships, and a dash of 'I have no idea what I'm doing ,but let's do it anyway.' And believe me, that's the best dish you'll ever have the pleasure of consuming. I wholeheartedly recommend this unique journey of living alone for the first time to all of you. It's an adventure, one that you won't regret, and, above all, it's deliciously fun. And now, you'll excuse me as the delightful Oslo skyline is coming into sight, promising another day of magnificent adventures in my life. Until our paths cross again!

Yours Forever in Enthusiasm and Adventure.

Tags: Living Alone self-discovery independence

As the train rattles along the tracks, framed by the pale, frozen landscape of an early Norwegian morning, I am filled with a yearning for something warm, something satisfying. The frost-glittered hills and trees, beautiful but stern, make the temperature inside feel nearly as chilly as the 2°C outside. The cold has a way of poking through my coat, breezing down my neck, causing my fingers to tremble slightly as I write this.

Today, my mind has settled upon the idea of nutritional meal planning, perhaps swayed by the news article I stumbled across this morning. As bleary-eyed commuters shuffle into the crowded carriage, I can’t help but reflect on our fraught relationship with food, a subject well ripe for my morning musings.

My heart aches amidst the confusion—a labyrinth of information and misinformation, that paradoxically feels hunger for clarity amidst the feast of knowledge. An avalanche of diets, superfoods, meal prep guides are thundering towards us, promising health, happiness, and possibly, a hint of invincibility maybe?

I can't deny there’s a beauty in the thought, the promise of an optimized diet that delivers vitality, clarity, and energy. The comfort of knowing you're providing your body the right foods, the right nutrients. But the experience is more grueling in reality, frequently requiring stringent adherence, requiring us to consider our food as fuel rather than a source of comfort or joy.

An onslaught of youth-promising buzzwords assaults us at every turn: gluten-free, keto, paleo, vegan, mediterranean. Staring at the multicolored, labyrinthine world of nutrition labels at the supermarket is akin to deciphering a cryptic code.

And I am grieved too, at the stark contrast between this abundance and luxury of choices we have, and the scarcity prevailing elsewhere. Children, families, who scramble for a single, nutritious meal a day. The hollowness of their plates, mirroring the pains gnawing their empty stomachs. How heart-wrenching is this great imbalance!

A wistful sigh liberated from my lungs. Perhaps, in this expansive universe spun from cosmic stardust, we—creatures from the same constructs—deserve a fair share of the burden and bounty. Could we not, at least, be promised a simple, nutritional meal plan that's easily accessible to all, not marred by the pitfalls of privilege and the whims of capitalism?

As the train lurches forward, my thoughts float along. The frost-bitten morning, the overcrowded carriage, all blur into the smoky hues of contemplation. The cold bites, the topic gnaws, and the soul writes its woeful narrative, waiting for the warmth of the sun and the sweetness of solutions yet to come.

Tags: nutrition meal planning food inequality

As I glance out of the train window on this crisp, -2°C Norwegian morning, I can't help but feel invigorated. Chilly winds caress the landscape, whispering tales of remarkable valor and resilience. Today's topic in my train-bound blog series is one that kindles a fire within me - inspirational women in history.

The echoes of time resound with female voices that have tiredlessly fought against the tides of adversity and prejudice. In the annals of history, these voices have emerged as, not just resonant, but irreplaceable. A benevolent queen who led her realm with unerring judgement and grace, an iron-willed politico standing firm on the battleground of public opinion, a pioneering scientist whose discoveries changed the face of medicine forever, an audacious explorer charting untraveled paths; they are as varied as they are impactful.

Every fiber of my being tingles with admiration as I think about the intrepid authors who, generations ago, dared to challenge societal constructs, wielding pens like swords, crafting narratives pivotal in revolutionizing the literary realm. Their evocatively brave writings, contours of their fearlessness and intellect, sparked inspirational trails for scores of aspiring women writers.

On the canvas of creativity, too, brush strokes of ingenious women artists have etched lasting impressions. In an era when holding a brush was a male prerogative, these bold women clandestinely breathed life into their canvases with contrarian perspectives, later traversing unchartered territories as celebrated artists.

And then there are the female warriors of inner resilience who, with their selfless dedication, revolutionized the spaces of caring and healing. Their extraordinary acts, whether on the battlefronts or amidst the destitute's cries, continue to symbolize courage, compassion, and commitment.

Isn't it fitting that these tales fill my heart with such delight? I get to live in an era where I'm freely expressing my thoughts, due in no small part to the women who forged the path for me. My path to journalism has been paved by a lineage of female intellectuals who chose to rise, resist, and report. They are the ones who crafted a legacy that cannot be etched out but can only be carried forward, filled vials of inspiration continually spurring future generations.

The train pulls into Oslo, my nascent dreams of making impacts and telling stories ready to gather more momentum as I step into the citadel of learning; my journey fueled by the legacy left by the stalwarts whose stories have lit up history, illuminating the path for trailblazers yet to come.

Eternal lessons have the women of history taught us; to be unyielding, to be courageous, to be compassionate, to be trailblazers. As I bid goodbye to you today, I leave you with a thought bubble filled with warmth and admiration for these indomitable women. Remember their stories, cherish their journeys, and continue to draw inspiration. For their spirit is invincible, and their legacy lives on, residing in every woman inspiring change today.

Tags: inspirational women history female empowerment

Through frosted windows, a desolate landscape rolls past. The nuances of shadow and light painting the whites and blues of the winter scene with a sad beauty only found in the clarity of Nordic frost. The cold permeates through every layer, as if to seep right into the marrow of one's bones. Chilled, I huddle into the warm embrace of my coat, letting my gaze unfocus. A sense of melancholy hangs heavy within the icy echoes of the morning, a bitter companion to my thoughts, none sadder than those on privilege.

A subtle sigh escapes me as I cradle a lukewarm cup of train coffee between stiff hands, the bitterness akin to the unpalatable truth that privilege is an unseen potent entity, quietly shaping narratives and destinies. On numerous occasions, I've questioned where I would be without it; the cold biting at my fingertips a mocking reminder of my societal insulation against life's unforgiving chill. Every swift swipe of my student card, every sip of this overpriced coffee, they all reek of unspoken privileges.

Just yesterday, I came across an article. An incomplete submission seeking information. A simple line jumping off the screen: “Sorry, but I can't provide the information you're asking for because your text seems to be incomplete or incorrectly formatted." The author, it seemed, was at a disadvantage for not knowing how to present their query. A stark reminder indeed, that privilege often starts where knowledge begins.

The very fact that I am here aboard this train, pursuing journalism at a prestigious university, is a testament to a democratic education system that encourages and fosters growth. I am privileged to have been born into a society that values education, that can afford the luxury of intellectual curiosity.

Acknowledging this does not repress the guilt that constricts my throat, the gnawing feeling that this opportunity, this privilege, was never rightfully mine to begin with. For aren't there thousands out there, their voices silent in the yawning gap of societal indifference, left out in the proverbial cold?

As the train chugs along, cutting through the frosty morass, I reflect on finite spaces and infinite realities. Do we, the privileged few, occupy too much space in the narrative? Is our relative comfort silencing voices that need to be heard?

My journey today, both literal and metaphorical, is a stark reminder to continually question, understand and acknowledge my privilege; to appreciate its shaping influence but also recognize the biases it breeds. A reminder that this train ride, this dwindling cup of coffee, this ability to communicate my thoughts, isn't everyone's reality but a privilege I must never take for granted.

Perhaps that's where we begin to even the imbalance, to un-knit the inequality ingrained in our society. Acknowledging that privilege is not a conscious choice, but a product of an unequal framework. Accepting that the world can and should be a warmer, more equal place. And finally, taking the responsibility to heat it up with action, courageously facing change in this bitter morning chill.

Tags: privilege equality social justice

Well, hello there, brave adventurers of the written word! Bundle yourselves up, for it's a balmy 4°C here outside of Oslo. As frost kisses the windows of my commuting train, I find myself both literally and metaphorically tickled. Oh, how the universe winks at us sometimes!

Today's blog post is, drum roll please, all about maintaining a planner or organizer! Ah yes, those wonderful, miraculous, sometimes maddening contraptions that promise to keep us sinfully well-organized or mercilessly confused. But, fear not, as a commuting journalism student with only the biting Nordski chill and a steaming cup of coffee for company, I've become something of a demystifying wizardess in these matters.

As a starting point, did you know that maintaining a planner is not just about jotting tasks down but see, it’s a dance, a delicate pirouette between chaos and order? The first tip then is to make your planner your dance partner; know each other, love each other, maybe even squabble a touch - it’s all part of the dance!

Now, to the meat and potatoes of this frolicsome advice: categorize! Separate your noble planner into sections by topics or dates, depending on your daily life's rhythm. And use colour: colours that tickle your fancy and even make you giggle a little. Go bold with a flamingo pink or soothing turquoise. Stick to it, and enhance that oh-so-tantalizing dance!

Do take advantage of the S-M-A-R-T method too. Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Time-bound. That's one smart way to glide through the waltz of life. 'Write my thesis' sounds much more daunting than 'Write 500 words for my thesis by Wednesday', doesn't it?

Remember, dear readers, maintaining a planner is not a chore, it's an art form! An art form as surprisingly delightful as discovering that powerbanks (yes, those cute little backup energy sources!) could be so sublime. Oh, I hear a smirk? Let me explain.

Picture this, you're on a train chopping through frosty scenery like a determined arctic reindeer. Your phone battery, that greedy little goblin, is eyeing the red zone ominously. Your heart races; your planner, that ever-faithful companion, is waiting on your phone to be updated with tomorrow's almost forgotten rendezvous. You whip out a powerbank, and alas! The day is saved!

Powerbanks are the unsung heroes of our digitized lives. Not only do they empower us to keep our devices alive to update digital planners on such cold morning train rides, but they also fuel the endless possibilities of technology right at our fingertips.

Does that not tickle you with delight? As a digital nomad, I can hardly contain my gratitude for these handy little saviors. What's simpler and more satisfying than transforming potential calamity into a ticklingly triumphant tale of preparedness?

And as I sign off with my fingers dancing on the keyboard to the rhythm of the rocks beneath the train tracks, I am reminded of an amusing news article I stumbled upon today: 'Sorry, but you've submitted a fragment of HTML code without any content. There's nothing to summarize. Please provide an actual article or webpage.' Even in journalism, clarity and preparedness reign supreme!

An organized mind and an energized device; who knew the path to modern serenity could be lined with planners and powerbanks. Now, doesn't that simply tickle?! Stay warm and organized, my friends, as we keep pirouetting through the frosted adventure that is life.

Tags: Planner Organization power bank time management