New Year!

Best of 08:
- Beginning of the year with Kudds. Coziest ever. And also got a friend for life.
- London – SUM 41 concert, Camden Market, Topshop, walking around, shopping, Sweeney Todd-style clothes, punk-sisters, The Phantom at the Opera, Cornish Pasties, Devon scones, Marks&Spencers, Underground (Mind the gap!), Harrod's, Tea
- Tokyo – the place, the people, the culture, the sense of coming home, karaoke in Shibuya, hanging with G, shopping, Harajuku, clothes, sushi, onsen, parks, Japanese, temples, living in the place of my dreams, technology, anime, milk-tea, traditions, gardens, warm sake
- All the crazy stuff me and Stina always do, waterpipe in the middle of the night, acting like three-year olds (remember playing with mud in the sea? Sitting laughing at a stone for no reason at all?) Decreasing in age with every drink, flirting like mad – killing those poor boys' hearts
- Paris – getting to know a wonderfully amazing person (jerleperle), wine, strange dinners picnic-style, walking around seeing things, French, pastries, randomness, hungover in the Catacombs, the Eiffel Tower, thunderstorm from nowhere
- My birthday. Both the day at Tivoli and the crazy party the day after
- Hultsfred – crazyness, summer heat, drunkness, hilarious moments, endless love everywhere, tents, wild partying, “we'll all stay skinny cuz we just wont eat”, concerts, mosh, hot people, making out, random conversations, stina went religious, cows and “need weed”, cheerios and art on hats, baconöl och balla grannar, I'm Yours and Drunken Lullabies
- Summer job – earning money and feeling good about myself
- Berlin – finally getting to know people better. New friends. Beer.
- Twilight – yes it's like a major thing, after HP and LotR it looked like nothing would ever be as great a smash hit. But this one kinda was.
- Music - musicwise this has been an incredible year. Really developed a refined taste, understanding and depth.

Happy to leave behind:
- Feelings for assholes
- Heart brokenness
- Bad moments like the whole of january and midsummer
- Terrible hangovers
- False friends
- Insecurities (well, a little bit of them)
- Caring about what other people think/say

"If you are bored with life, if you don’t get up every morning with a burning desire to do things — you don’t have enough goals." — Lou Holtz

I have no idea who that person is, but it seems kinda plausible doesn't it. SO. What should happen in 2009:
- Laughter, magic and adventures!
- Impulsive crazy random stuff
- Start working out again. Swimming!
- Go to more concerts and festivals
- Be more positive and actually DO things
- Travel as much as possible
- Work. Earn money.
- Fall in love
- Try at least one kind of psychedelic drug
- Learn how to do smoke rings
- Start writing on a novel
- Cook more, draw more, find outlets for all the creativeness
- Start carrying around hand lotion in my schoolbag
- Oh yeah... almost forgot... get 38 or higher on my EXAMS
- Get in to University (preferably in Japan)

"Having something like this written in your diary is a great way to remind yourself of who you are, who you want to be, & where you want to go. You can refer to it whenever you’re feeling a bit lost. Think of it as a beautiful road-map for the year."

How do you want to look 2009?
- Black, white, classy vs rock chic, belts, band t-shirts
- Slim jeans or tights (thin legs) + oversize cardigans + high heels (think “kurasu” - Rei Kawakubo)
- Preppy. Men's waist-jacket, prep shirt, pointy shoes (English gentleman vs Gossip Girl-ish)
- I thought of getting baggy jeans and trying out hiphop-ish, but I think I'll stick to weird hoodies and the occasional cap.

(This in contrast to my fashion statement the spring 08 when I was headed for nu-rave, scene queen and crunk!).

"Decide to do something in 2009 that terrifies you. Like hip-hop karaoke in front of an audience, telling someone how much you really like them, or sky-diving. Give yourself a deadline & make it happen!"
- I'd love to do anything terrifying. Terrifying is wonderful. Anytime. The adrenalin rush is like nothing else. Bungee jump, sky-dive, diving certificate...

"Come up with some new words to work into your vocabulary next year."
- "Such a papaya moment" (when something went awfully wrong). Something is "rad" - something is beyond cool. Everything funny Stina is going to say! "Bläckvard" - for all party-poopers out there. Generally all Sponge bob terms. "Miau?" - when words fail. "Swoon" - because it's fun. "Chillax" - because it's cool.

It's a little scary going in to a new year because it holds so many uncertainties. I have no idea what is going to happen, but it will be interesting.

Remember that 2009 will be what you make it. Set your intentions now & fall in love with the idea that it will be marvelous!

Ideas and quotes from:
http://www.galadarling.com/

Finding it hard to leave my playstation

Do you like the picture? It is a portrait of Sponge Bob made in paint by my adorable little sister Ester.
Playing final fantasy x all day long, all night long has been a wonderful escape. Until I realised; this is not at all my cup of tea. In fact it's more like a cup of bile, my impatience stops me from going any further. I don't have the mind for strategic fights or long training/levelling sessions. I don't have the patience to run around and fight monsters just so I can get better and better until I have to face a near unbeatable boss. It takes too long time. The only thing I enjoy about the game is the amazing sceneries, places, people, cultures, buildings, ships - the character development and the beautiful film sequences. Whenever it was time for a long film sequences I kept thinking "this is totally worth it". Then, after five Game Overs - not so motivated to continue. The thing is, it's kinda hard to get through without tips and walkthroughs, which make you feel like you are cheating. I would like more "cloister of trials"-like tasks, like mystery-solving. As it is now, I'm giving up somewhere deep in the Macalania woods, way too underlevelled to get through. Yeh, should have thought of levelling earlier, yep. Anyway, I figured I'll just hand it over to Magda - she'll get through for me. Then I can just sit and watch the film sequences and let her do all the dirty work (aka levelling). Nope, gaming is definitely not for me. And thinking that thought, that I'd just hand it over to someone else to solve made me realise something about myself. That's what I do - whenever something gets too hard, or I loose impatience, I just drop it, or hand it over to someone else. It's very very rare that I follow through. Don't know if it's a comfort thing, something written in my stars (Gemini is known for never following though on projects) or just my retardedness. We all have our own kinds of hang-ups (or retardness as I incorrectly call it). The New Year is approaching and tomorrow I'll write a nice little summary of the year. Sort of. As for how I will celebrate the new year, I have no idea. Right now, I just feel like staying here with my family. But I know, if I do that I'll regret not getting shitfaced with my friends instead. Oh well. Today is today. Today is loitering around in pyjamas.

Det vi omfamnar är skuggor och det vi älskar är drömmar
- Doktor Glas

Glozzy magazines [Papaya co...oh!]

I just thought of "success". What it entitles. Having "done something", accomplished something, merits, CV and so on. Since my sisters so conveniently are blocking my access to the playstation and thus my eternal bliss in FFX has become temporarily twarted, i find myself in front of the internetz. I am making a decision today. Goodbye Bilddagboken. I never really liked you anyway. BUT, back to success. Leafing through a glossy magazine, shock-full with rising teen stars and 16-year-old fashion moguls/dj-ing stars/it-club-girls, I couldn't help feeling like a piece of shit. What have I accomplished compared to them? Not-a-thing. While they were busy building an empire, there I sat moping in my corner, an excessive display of teen angst. Yes, I know, one shouldn't compare oneself with others blablabla, but the truth is, we do it even if we're not conscious of it. A constant comparison, a constant battle, which either makes us feel good (if we find ourselves better, sexier, whatever) or worse (if we're not as good as the subject of comparison). Anyway, that kinda obsessive behaviour sucks. We suck. Papaya Coconut. YES. Also, success equals a really busy social life. It does, I swear, in our mitigated brains. Thus, being at home on a friday night, of course one cannot log on to msn because PLAGUE! then other failures would see you online and see that you're a failure too. I am sure this is not a feeling only I am harbouring. I am sure. The fakeness to fit in. Wanting to be different but still keeping up that facade. Because it's much cooler to read or watch a movie with your peers than be online a friday night. Oh mah gahd, gahd forbid. Spit, spat, spun sugar. Hello. Also, today I decided my blog posts don't have to be shit ass long like they usually are, and I also decided I don't HAVE TO sound intelligent in them like I usually try to do. I know I am intelligent, I know I am fine being at home a friday night. I know I'm not a failure. My knowlegde is worth more to me than any fad bee-hive fucking mind.
So, this coming year, it's gonna be all about easing in to myself, feeling at home in my own skin and not be so fucking anxious about what the rest of you fuckers out there are doing because CAREFACE - I couldn't really care less. It's gonna be me, my peculiar mind, my books, my musings, my music, my odd sense of off-fashion, and trying to find a different path to success than the one everyone else is yearning for. Fuck stardom you fuckers.
Now now, attack isn't the best defence, but can you blame anyone who is constantly uncomfortable with herself? Didn't think so.

Merry Xxx-Mas

Ho Ho Ho - Merry Christmas y'all!
Hope you get what you wished for ;)
As for me, y'all know I'm ok with some booze and kinky underwear!
Love you guys!

xxxx

Thinking in a big house

Hello. It's winter but there isn't any snow, how depressing isn't that. Next year, which starts soon, I will start swimming because swimming is slimming and relaxing and even if I hate the wart-infested swimming pools available to us mortals, this is a thought I am unable to eradicate from my mind. I also want to get tanned. I don't know where this thought came from, in the middle of all this vampire-craze and since I'm usually really fond of my pallor, it struck me today that people with a nice golden tan are more appealing. I want to be appealing. It is a simple-minded thought that has gotten me in trouble more than I'd like to think about, but now once it is bouncing around in my head I can't get it out.

Also, set sail for disappointment. Really, people shouldn't expect so much since it only makes people more disappointed. Like, I often expect response from people, and when I don't get it I get really disappointed. Or I expect someone to show that they are better than my first impression of them was. And they don't. Or I expect them to act in a certain way or say something wonderful or give me some attention and it doesn't happen and I become vexed out of my mind. But why the hell do I even fucking care about these people at all? Why waste thought-space on fucktards. New slogan, yes. Why waste thought-space on fucktards.

I read a rhetoric book, or rather a book on rhetorics, the other day. It said that you had to repeat whatever you wanted to make sure the listeners got into their head three times, the golden rule of three. That was interesting. And then I finished a book called "Dead until dark" and it was amusing but not anything brilliant, but the interesting thing was the protagonist. She hoarded thoughts, what people said, and experiences, for, as she said, "later thought processing". So whenever she got bored, she picked out these tidbits and let her mind chew on them like some late afternoon snack. It made me laugh.

Had more pleasant dreams and I don't know why they happen to me here. Maybe I am more calm and at home here in this house. But the interesting thing is not the dreams in themselves, it is the thoughts that follow, the changes in me, in my awake state. Which is slightly disconcerting. The most disconcerting thing about the dreams is how they highlight my loneliness. They are my greates comfort and escape and yet they bring so much sorrow. Maybe I'm exaggerating. Maybe.

Do you know what I always dreamed someone would do? That sometime, when I'm feeling particularly alone and abandoned, some old acquaintance of mine would just walk up to my door, knock and surprise me. Tell me they really missed me and can't we hang out for the day? Heck, I'd love for anyone, randomly, just pay me a visit anytime, knock my door and make me happy.

Folie à Deux - Bell Jar - Hairy Heart

Folie à Deux. Fall Out Boy's new album. Out now. It's cute as punk-rock goes, uplifting and fun. But not original. Some heavier riffs, burning absinthe and electro beats added to the mix would have made it edgier and more interesting. No hits on this album, and honestly I did expect more from the alternatives turned sell-outs. Don't know what it is with people frowning at the sell-out label stapled to their heads but yes, a few people out there might be too blinded by their Fall Out Boy love (like me) and thus accept this a-little-too-bland-for-my-taste album with open arms.

"Folie à deux (roughly, "a madness shared by two") is a rare psychiatric syndrome in which a symptom of psychosis (particularly a paranoid or delusional belief) is transmitted from one individual to another." (Wiki) I love the name of the album though. Psychosis for two, the new à la mode platter at the chicest restaurants. Wink, wink.

The Bell Jar is so ME. It's like reading about myself. Which scares me like hell. The same off-beat thoughts and observations, the sadness, inertia, indecisiveness. Fearing the future. Like I said, it's like a secret voice coming from my own bones. Sylvia Plath committed suicide.
Morbid and confusing like a lunatics dream. And still, that inertia, that apathy is something I experience quite often – the paralyzing fear of the future, the nagging paranoia that people compare your past with your present and future. The insects crawling down your back. Lying in bed, looking at the ceiling, listening to the silence, not feeling a thing – feeling scared because you're not feeling a thing. Reluctantly going out of bed even though everything in your body is working against it. Positioning yourself at the bedside, looking out the window. Endless gray skies. Dullness. Apathy. And something wrenching your guts out because you know it's not healthy to think and feel like that, you know you ought not disappoint the people around you. You know you ought to perform, to have a receipt at the end of the day, showing what you've accomplished. Feeling guilty because you're not capable of accomplishing anything. Or not being enough anyway. Closing in on yourself, the skin clammy. Why. Why wash today when I'll just have to do it again tomorrow. Why eat today when I just have to eat tomorrow again. Why do anything since it all comes to dust in the end.
Poems are dust. People are dust. Dust, dust, dust.
This is the Bell Jar. The bell jar around you, not allowing any fresh air in to your existence. Watching the world move on, develop, watching people talk and live and have fun and feeling like puking on all of it. A disconcerting feeling you're missing out on it all. The morbid thoughts popping up now and then. “Oh that would be a nice way to die”. Standing at the train tracks, listening to the beauty of the song of iron, the whistling and bustling and people walking. Static. Hesitating. Scared. Bailing out. Smiling to oneself while standing there. “I could have done it you know... just don't want to disappoint anyone”.
Fascination with sound and scent. Picking it up. Distinguishing it from the mass of buzzing. Wondering why I noticed it and why it is distracting me and why I am thinking this at all. Go on, be normal, stop being so neurotic.
The future branching out into a fig tree, every swollen fig a possible future. One is university in Japan on scholarship. One is working one year (with God knows what) earning money to go to Japan. One is a one-year language course in Japan, funded by loans. One is staying put, being bored to death and paralyzed about the future, reading and writing. One is death, no more thoughts or worries or disconcerting feelings. One is uncertainty.
All the figs equally possible, some more beckoning than others. Fearing that soon they will all shrivel, turn black and drop dead to the cold ground frozen solid.

When a young person sees an asylum or jail as a safe future, something in society has gone awfully wrong. I just don't know if I can take the competition. The harsh market. Selling yourself like an overpriced object. The Bell Jar. Sylvia Plath. She committed suicide.

The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Wonderful little wizarding stories, making you smile and marvel at the mind of JKR. Kept me busy for an hour. Kept my mind off things. I enjoyed it very much and the first thought after reading it was - this I will read to my children, like others would read Cinderella and the like. My favorite out of the five wizard fairytale was “The Warlock's Hairy Heart”, which was really engaging and interesting: a wizard notices the silliness of all his friends who has fallen in love and vows to never let that happen to himself. Thus he performs Dark magic that cuts out his heart, and he locks it in a coffin. Thinking he now has eternal and undisturbed bliss ahead of him, he lives on alone in his big castle, wealthy and handsome, not mourning the passing of his parents or taking any interest in any woman's courting. One day his pride is damaged when he overhears two servants pitying him, and he decides to take himself a wife, just for show of course. So he starts courting the richest, wisest and most beautiful magical lady available, but she knows something is the matter with him. She gets him to show her his locked up heart and she demands that he put it back where it belongs. The wizard does so, but his heart has grown so forlorn to his own body, it's hairy and shriveled and more like the heart of an animal, that it turns on him. It possesses him and make him rip out the heart of the beautiful lady. She dies, and eventually when he realizes what he has done he rips out his hairy heart and there they both die. Sweeney Todd-style. Dumbledore's personal comments on this is that it is a story that speaks to the darkest depths in all of us – and addresses the least acknowledged temptations of magic: the quest for invulnerability. But to hurt is as human as to breathe. The young warlock regards love as a humiliation, a weakness and a sickness and search out a means to ward this sickness off at all costs. Then he babbles on about how a hairy heart now is a saying about someone particularly cold and callous, and that some relation of his was going to marry but found out in time the wizard in question “had a hairy heart” and decided not to (although it was also argued that the reason for not marrying the wizard in question was that he had been discovered fondling Horklumps, which is nasty pinkish shrooms, don't ask).
Dumbledore has such an original mind. I love it.

Earthquake and numbers

The earthquake was totally awesome, stop whining people! Scary my ass, I just wanna experience it again. Yes, I'm an adrenalin junkie with no soul, been called that numerous times, but hey what a kick! Awesome way to wake up anyway.

Cut my hair on the scariest salon ever. They had no idea what they were doing. Felt sorry for the guy in the chair next to me, he was getting his hair bleached by a total amateur. I swear, it's gonna fall off. It was an experience nonetheless, and as the collector of experiences I am...

Another recent experience was transforming people into scary dolls by make-up. It was kinda exciting, and I just adore the creative process. And I got to spend time with crazy-A, which always is a bunch of fun.

Now for more ethereal matters. Sylvia Plath. When she speaks to me through the pages it's like a secret voice coming from my bones... The bell jar. Hello blissfull reading. Oblivion. Got me thinking. Again.

Why do we all wanna be big rock stars, girls come easy and drugs go cheap, we'll stay skinny cause we just wont eat? Loosing innocence too fast. There's a need to rush out into the grown-up world. Bra's for five-year olds. Why did I rush? Why didn't I save and wait? Why did I take the first chance I could to spoil my innocence? Why pass out from drunkness? Why one-night stands? What was behind all that, what thoughts, fears, insecurities and decisions? What if I never did, who would I be today? Don't get me wrong here, je ne regrette rien. But it's interesting to closer examine thought patterns.

New years eve is approaching. I thought of hosting a party, it would be so cool, but don't have the means right now. So don't know what I will do yet. Maybe if I get FFX for christmas, I'll spend it with Tidus and co. Or maybe I'll ask around, who's going where etc, smoke up and tag along. Like the looser I am.

I made a list for the year that has passed. The year in average numbers. I want my equation to add up, I want to be someone to count on. Here goes:

Fell in love: 0
Cried: 12
Died: 2
Ate at McDonald's: 63
Ate at BK: 72
Chokladfrapino at EH: 21
Hated ToK: infinite
New friends: 3
Good books: 9
Great concerts: 23
Lost cell phones: 1
Crashed computers: 2
Passed out: 1 (HAH!)

The last blog post of the year will sum up good and bad things with the year that passed and boy what a year it's been. Mind-blowing in it's own peculiar way. London, Tokyo, Paris, Berlin, Hultsfred. I count the value of a year by the number of amazing experiences so...

Be running up that hill

Placebo. One of the discoveries I made recently. of course I have heard Placebo songs before, famous ones such as 36 degrees. But it was not until I stumbled upon a Sims 2 clip on youtube with "Cold light of morning" by Placebo that I really opened my eyes to this incredible band. New favourite: "Running up that hill". Yes I've heard that one before as well, but this time it simply blew me away.
Here it is in a Final Fantasy vid:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sx9gSSUHJE
FFX sure looks rad. A game I've been dying to play. On PP2, whenever that comes out in Sweden.

Hypnotizing. Want to learn it. And experience it, see it, try it. Music is hypnotizing to me. Some songs, songs that change your life. Running up that hill is a song that changes your life. Just like Rei Fu's Life is like a boat, and Do you feel by The Rocket Summer. Songs that go right into your heart and change bit by bit how your mind is built up.

Make a deal with God, and ge thim sto swap our places. There is a place I'd like to be right now. And however I seem to plan my way there, it doesn't work out. You wanna feel how it feels? Wanna know that it doesn't hurt me? Wanna hear about the deal I'm making? Running up that hill.

The future lurking around the next corner. Lucia was a saint. She died and went to heaven - let's change the experience. We all die sooner or later, no deal. Soon it is chrishmukkah and what happens then. Then the next year begins. The year I graduate from High School. I am afraid. So afraid.

And what begins today get its end tomorrow. I dreamt a wonderful dream last night. I dreamt I fell in love. He looked conspicuosly much like Johnny the hot surfer from The O.C season 3 (I didn't mind). We went to a luxurious bath house or something like that. Me, unknown girl who was my friend (I didn't notice her much) and him. And it was perfect. I didn't want to wake up but eventually I did.

Anime is another thing that hypnotizes. Make you see clearer, make you feel. Open your eyes. You're walking by your dreams every day. Just stop clenching your fists and get things done instead. How deep the bullet lies. You're tearing yourself apart with every day that passes. Blind to the love that surrounds you, thinking you're alone in the world. It doesn't have to be like that. Open your heart. Start with your eyes. They're unseeing.

If I only could heal you. And everyone else. Everyone who is suffering. It's unnecessary to suffer from things you afflict on yourself. But I can't help, not even the ones I love. Frustrating, maddening, sad. The secret behind all secrets, the lies behind all lies, the world behind the one we're living everyday. There is like a wall, a film, in front of our eyes. And it's not going to change. Will you help yourself today?

We all matter. Be running up that road. Be running up that hill. Be running up that building. If I only could...

Apocalypse Suite

Would you think it a bad idea to write a short essay focused on My Chemical Romance and a Personal statement focused on changing the world? Well, that's what I'm writing... For a uni application. It is so fucking expensive to go to those universities I can only hope I will get some kind of scholarship or massive financial aid. But I mean, if I go to uni here it will cost too, right? My mom went to uni in Sweden and she is still paying off on her loans...

Umbrella Academy: Apocalypse Suite - Gerard Way. Just read the entire Apocalypse Suite and man does it blow you away. Gabriel Bá is a comic god - a genius! His artwork is so beautiful it hurts your eyes! And the storyline, well I didn't expect any less from the incredible lyricist and lead singer of one of the most interesting band in ages... Sometimes hard to keep up, but the fact that not everything is spelled out only makes it so much better - requires some thinking. Comics have always been a huge passion - only, it's been in shadow of much greater passions such as books. I really should pick up drawing again - I loved it so much. And I was good. For a time. Now I've kinda lost all skill and I also get so frustrated with doing seemingly nothing - doesn't make me calm anymore. but comics! obscure, avant-garde comics with cryptic messages, fun twists and inventive un-pretentious plot lines...

Apocalypse Suite. Apocalypse Please. What is it with apocalypses? What is it with blood-spattered pictures and zombie-arms? What is it with ominous bass and elegiac guitars? What is it with that sense of doom? Why does it shake me in my foundations? Every time I hear a futuristic, apocalyptic sound, I tremble and take it right in to my heart.

Val Emmerich - that guy looks like some Panic at the disco heart-break kid. But he has very cute videos for example: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nVfw7q5OkA0
Soothing. Listen to his other songs too. Can't find it anywhere to buy or download, which is too bad because I could really use this song for tomorrow. Always nice with new music on the iPod. And think that I found him on Ugly Betty. Think next episode, he will actually play. Ep7. Definitely PatD-material.

The only one lonely. Only want a connection - no one shares my lack of direction. No one ever bothers to explore the depths. And that makes me sad.

Breaking dawn - the end did come

"Forever and forever and forever" he murmured.
"That sounds exactly right to me."
And then we continued blissfully into this small but perfect piece of our forever.

It's hard to believe it really is over. These books, four books of about 400 pages or more each, have kept me going now for two weeks. Sucking me in to their incredible world. They motivated me and kept me going. Had me laughing and smiling and almost crying (as a general rule, I've only cried twice from a book - ever - first time when Frodo leaves Sam in Two Towers, and second when Sirius dies in HP5). Also hyperventilating. Yes. That was totally Edward's fault. Anyway. These books are good, no, better than good. To my little sister they are definitely what HP was to me. I am so happy that she, through these books, got her eyes opened to reading. That is exactly what children/teenage books have to do - open the eyes of young readers to the world where everything is possible. And the Twilight saga definitely does that. I guess it left me slightly stunned since I'm still sitting her staring out into nothingness. They are all so dream-like in quality that it feels like something I've dreamed myself, they are part of me now. What surprised me was that they also taught me something about human nature. Yes, a book about vampires taught me about human nature. As damaged as I am by English A2 - the strongest theme is still love. Love with capital L. And then imagine if you're a vampire and immortal, and can have the love of your life forever...

Twilight - dreamlike and wonderful - seductive
New Moon - very vivid and painful in a way, strong scenes that stay with you
Eclipse - don't remember bigger parts of this one, it floated by sort of, until the end. which was very annoying at some points... and yes, chapter 20 as well, mmmmm....
Breaking Dawn - fascinating and frustrating and the most provoking in the series. Remember everything. The first part builds up tension. The second made me downright angry, wanted to throw it away screaming with frustration and the third part... well the third part is the end so of course it's compelling and extraordinary.

You will have to read for yourselves to get a feel of the obsession these books have become to so many people. Trust me, I know the impact they have. *magda, host*
Also, it will be very interesting to watch the movie version and I will continue going to premiere nights because the audience on premieres is always the best - absolutely charming. Shrieks and swoons and laughter at exactly the right places, cheers even for the enemies. Haha. I guess you can call it quaint. Sort of.

It is with concern and sorrow I part with these books. I know they will not be a subject for re-read for a long time at least (unlike for some, extremely obsessed persons *magda, host*) since I don't want to disturb the serene, magical picture of them in my head (I always get more analyzing when I re-read). And also because they are so dear to me. Concern because they kept me motivated and calm like nothing else can. I did more schoolwork in these weeks than I've done in a long time, just so I could reward myself with some intense reading, and because they made me calm. It was a perfect escape and now I feel like a nude, exposed, blubbering baby kicked out too early from the warm, comfortable womb. Who knows when I'll find this kind of peace again...

Snowing on the tombs

I have never been in an apple's head. Do apples have heads? No they have seed houses, so technically it's their reproductive organ. Like wombs. What if the wombs say “let's go down” and then half of them say “let's go up” and then they go down. Not on eachother that is. To the ground. We don't know that we aren't apple wombs, do we? We can't know. The world-wide-recognized paradigms are as much a leap of faith as believing in psychic abilities or religious phenomena.

And so it became December. And the little angry kitten didn't even notice. I bet the snow was a plot, an ambush. But a beautiful one. There is something peaceful yet erotic about snow, like the mix between old and new Japan, the traditional values and the modern technology. Subtle, refined, yet so much more telling than anything else. The snow, yes. Watching flakes slowly falling, melting on the ground, People change in the snow. They look different. As if new secrets have been revealed to them.

A work of art that impressed you and affected your outlook on life. No, I won't choose the obvious. I will refrain from letting my emotions get the better part of me. Do I have such a side? A better one? One that can be more than this?

Thoughts. How they stay hidden from others if you don't open your mouth. People can't see them, even if it feels like that sometimes. Like people can see right through me. Some people are harder than others to read, I just hope I belong in that group. I mean, who want to be easy to read? Liquid eyes concealing the truth. It's when you let people go, when you simply can't be bothered with them anymore, that they finally show interest, or respond. Or maybe it's just that you stopped caring, stopped fretting they won't answer this or that. When you forget them. And there they are. Just like that, saying sorry or complimenting or showing interest. It's so interesting, almost like reverse-psychology. It is reverse psychology.

It's been long since I heard from you. And from you. And you. The first hasn't said a word, not yet but I'm hoping if I go on keeping my mouth shut he will eventually come around. Feeling bad about it or something. We'll see. The second, well I really didn't expect that, but it was a pleasant surprise and I hope this has come full circle. Not that you matter much to me anymore, only have value as a memory. And the third, I sort of thought that would come earlier and I guess this is where I am supposed to be sorry. I was kinda a jackass at that time, playing around as I did. But I bet you forgot me as easily as you slipped from my mind after only a week.

It is also weird that I am talking about this here. I guess it gives it context. Or perspective. Or something. I guess the snow does too. Mindful walking, breath by breath, step by step, the body moving, my feet, one in front of the other. The cold, the snow melting in my hair, on my face, on my lips. Hugging a piece of wet snow in my palm, turning it into a small piece of ice, letting it melt and drip through my fingers. The churchyard, in the slowly falling big white flakes, the candles flickering, casting shadows on the tombs. Ancient worlds lost.

Eyes on fire

If I told you I sold my soul, would you believe me?
If I told you I didn't care about anything anymore, would you believe me?
If I said, there are no rules or walls or anything holding me back anymore, would you fear for my life?

An obsession that's growing stronger and stronger, the feeling of letting go f your life. The feeling of slipping from it. And not caring about it. School is a thousand miles away. Here, in this bubble, there is music and there are books. It's a world that I will never have to leave, I just take small bouts of vacation from it when it is absolutely necessary.

Such as school. What is that pile of homework to me? Is it really my future? I know people who didn't give a damn about school, and they did great later on in life. And they are happy. That pile of homework is sure not happiness at least. Because if I could care less than I actually do, there wouldn't be any angst in leaving the pile untouched as I disappear into my bubble. And I wouldn't feel stressed as I'm writing these words, knowing that french grammar is lying there, waiting. Untouched.

An obsession that won't let me go, and I'm giving in far too easy. I enjoy it. The absorption, the fairytale world, the hypnotic images, the words trickling into every corner of my mind. I shudder at the very sound of a non-existent voice and I can't imagine how it got to this. It is hypnotizing beyond belief.

Taking in moments, in concentrated form. If you just pay attention, you realize there is always something going on. As I walked past the meadow, I could hear the horse bite off the grass, the crisp noise as the grassblade broke, the clapping of the horse's teeth as it chewed, the wind on my face, sending that special scent of horse into my nose. As the horse looked up, its nostrils flaring, taking me in, it's eyes, the intelligence behind them, looking into mine. Or walking up a hill, on the pavement, watching the bare branches of a withered cherry tree struggle in the wind, opening my eyes wide, feeling the gentle drizzle of rain in my face, aware of every single muscle working. There's so much we miss when we don't pay attention and nothing makes me more sad. That we should lose our lives in inattentiveness. That we seem unable to live here and now.

Watching. Taking it in. New realizations. Why do I feel like I'm loosing all the time. “I'm loosing it” they use to say – going nuts. Can't really make a claim on loosing “it”, since I'm still a functioning member of society. But when no worth can be found in the endless repetitions I make every day, what is there left to live for? When you hate every habit and break them in every possible way, and the change is still not enough? When you feel unable to save even the smallest thing, unable to make a difference, just living in a haze of self-hatred, what meaning is there to go on living. When the meaning is evasive and lost and you realize your life has been an endless battle of escapism, where do you turn?
When all the rules you hated and tried to break still govern your life, and you start imagining that the shackles only exist in your own twisted mind, and you start hating yourself even more because life is choice and you're not choosing anything, and you want to... All the clichés haunting me, my own personal poltergeist, the fear of failure, the words in my mind, the plans and dreams and thoughts swirling. Why the hell am I not gone yet?

If I told you I see no future, would you get scared?
If I told you, there is no point in hunting whatever you're hunting, be it meaning of life, love, money, fame, recognition, whatever, if I told you that you'll never ever find it, would you cry with despair?
If I told you there are no rules, only the ones we as humanity make up to chain ourselves to misery, would you try to break free?
If I told you there is no way out of your own mind except for death, would you die with me?

Since I'm going to hell anyway

Jesus Christ Superstar. Ola Salo is such an inspiring person. An impulsive decision and 2 ½ hours later, I'm walking out of there with a broad smile, humming, and as I hit the road I can't help skipping and dancing and singing all the way home. Did it raise my mood tremendously or what? If there is any reason to be religious, Ola Salo as Jesus is one of them. He became my savior of the day – saved me from tedious ToK and math portfolio. And made me believe, just almost. His character, his charisma, his incredible charm: he literally lit up that stage. And I thought as I walked out: that is what I want. To be charming, charismatic, to draw people in. “Everything about me invites you in...”

Why bother about the works of yesterday, it will all work out in the end. Whatever grade I receive, that is not a measurement of me, there is so much more. Soul, and laughs and sunshine, reading and making love. Those exams do not mean the end of my life.

Examining the sidewalk, getting lost in a reverie of a fictional character. Of a plot. Of living inside fictional worlds. Looking at the reflection of the streetlights on the damp pavement, thoughts rushing, I could hear them. It was like slush ice, slushing away, speeding up. Future, Edward, love, books, writing, future, fiction, university, exams, grades, ToK, bullshit, angst, pain, Edward, fiction...
Confusing me, holding me in its intense grasp. Fortunately the bus came and interrupted me.

“About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him – and I didn't know how potent that part might be – that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.”

And I am lost, inside a novel. Like I used to as a kid. Reading myself away from reality and never coming down to earth. Reading instead of caring about school, forming my own education. And still managing fine in the education that had been forced upon me, by attentiveness and cleverness. Those are not enough anymore, and I will never get used to it. Will never get used to having to work my ass off for a grade. Stupid grades.

“Since I'm going to hell anyway, why not do it thoroughly”

Reincarnation. Wouldn't that be a nice topic for a knowledge issue. If I now could find a suitable knowledge issue, which it feels like I wont. What is it anyway? How can we know that people don't reincarnate? (vague maybe) So to the more specific case of that little boy – how can we know he wasn't a reincarnation of his grandfather? All evidence points toward it. And since I'm going to hell anyway with this ToK essay – why not do it thoroughly.

“I can't stay away from you anymore”

Yes, it would be nice to fall in love. With someone. Not without. Not alone.
To be intoxicated by a smile.
To have that feeling that your whole well-being depends on that other person. If he's not around, you feel miserable to the bone, and whenever you're with him, you feel at ease, safe and calm and all butterflies-in-the-stomach. An intense gaze, the electricity. Yes, I miss it.
One touch or a word define your mood for the rest of the day.
I used to say I didn't know what love was. I still don't really. But somehow I still miss it.

And so the lion fell in love with the lamb

Are you afraid?

Supermassive Black Hole. Where a star sunk in, there you'll find eternity. The icons of today, it's so strange what constitutes world order. What if the symbols and the history meant nothing, would it all collapse on itself like a dead star? Would we find eternity?

Melting in the dead of night. Nosferatu is actually a really good movie although it feels like a bad nightmare. And it isn't very flattering to vampires. I prefer the Twilight version. No less deadly, but oh so much nicer to look at. "Everything about me draws you in" - me like. "You're like a drug to me - my own personal brand of heroin". "And so the lion fell in love with the lamb".

When the hunt becomes easy, it's no longer fun. When you realize you can have it, you loose interest. Like when I know I can get a guy, it's not fun anymore. Instincts are amazing in that way. And however much some would like to escape it, we're just a bunch of animals.

More often than not lately, nights out have been lame and boring. Where did the crazy partying go? Because if this dry spell is gonna continue, I'd much rather stay home and read. Or watch a movie. Hanging out with my dad, realizing how much fun we have together. My parents aren't my parents, they're my friends. Discussing with my mom if she should break up with her bf or not, watching movies with my dad and laughing our asses off. Love has many shapes.

That emptiness inside, when you see others find happiness, couldn't have phrased it better A darling. Longing for something you can't even imagine, wondering when it's your turn.
Well sitting on a chair watching couples stick their tongues down eachothers throats isn't much fun. Especially not when you're alone and the whole situation sucks anyway. I'm sorry, but I must speak my mind. Or else I suffocate.

Anxiety attacks and angst enveloping this fragile mind frame, storms invisible to the outside world, turning insides out without anyone noticing. Screaming and screaming, stopping from doing harm, and where did I leave the calm. Someone to wrap me in his arms and keep me from the dark, is this unforgivable, listening to clair de lune and crying, despairing and sleeping around. I'm so tired of myself I could order my own death sentence. It's always the same bullshit and whatever I choose I seem incapable of escaping or resolving or whatever.

Feel like I lost myself. I miss that little insecure, quiet, bookish girl who didn't care about anything except her books and her writing. I want her back. She's more me than that loud, exhibitionist fjortis partyanimal. She's deep, quiet, sarcastic. She looks at the world around her and laughs quietly at the foolishness of it. Why want. Why want what you can't have. Why try to catch attention. She doesn't care if she's loved or not. Sure, she dreams of it secretly, but it's nothing seen on the outside. No make-up, no fancy clothes, no vain ideas or coquettish laughs. There is no delusion. I realize now, she's like Bella. And I regret I lost her. Well actually I don't believe she's lost, she just got obnoxiously pushed out of the way. But I promise, I will find her again. I liked being her. Of course, only afterwards I noticed. Give me back my books and my nerdiness.

Stupid little lamb. Not afraid. Only of loosing the lion. If there's a new obsession, it's Twilight. And when I get my hands on that book, don't expect to see me much around.

Lethal silence of the math book

Hi everybody, I'm O and I'm närhetsbenägen. "HI O!"
Guess we're all here to deal with our problems right? Fight to try and find a common cause. And tell ourselves we're not stuck in a Ferris wheel of perpetual sins.

My name is O. that is not my real name. Most importantly, to remember who I'm supposed to be.

Have some H.P. Lovecraft:
Invading a lethal silence of centuries
Exciting the envy of a Doré
Washing the base of a Cyclopean monolith
Grotesque beyond the imagination of a Poe or a Bulwer
Reminiscences of Paradise Lost
An ancient cemetary; so ancient that I trembled at the manifold signs of immemorial years

Rei Kawakubo. Library books. Inspiration. Reading. Tokyo street style.
Finding myself reading everything but the schoolwork. All these works calling out to me and I have to listen, and I take them down from the shelves, and I take them home like secret lovers, hiding them in my bed. And late at night, I take them out and turn the pages, letting the pleasure enfold me. The stories. Beneath my skin.

In the summer heat - as I look back. What will it be next summer? Walking in winter rain, is that depression? Tips you further away. In the coffin where you sleep. Twilight - that fictional love of eternity. suffocating choices lead you to a chasm - will I stay or take a plane? will i work up the money needed or will i take a chance. follow your heart. i don't know where it is. put your heart where your mouth is. where is it? where did O's heart go? rerouted the blood, to my skin instead, stay shallow and hot, there's no need to be pathetic is there. oh, i made another trouble man, oh man, im in trouble again. feel terribly small when my head works to hard. hardly capable of half the damage that i would like to do. Just like me. So who the hell are you?

Am I just another scene from a movie that you've seen a hundred times? Probably. The story is the same, I just personalized the name. Girls make boys cry.
Just like a picture on the wall, among hundreds. What is supposed to come first? And when the focus slips and the picture turns blurry, what will become of it? Embrace me and I'll brave my lost heart for you. No, none of it's true. I wanna be next to you, for my head. The wrong assumptions we make every day, finding truth in the hugs. The truth of it is. There is something I want to be, and I will make my way there. And I will have my future.
without forgetting about the journey

When the lights are dim. when thinking about hungry fingers and heart racing, exchanging body heat in the passenger seat. teen hearts beating faster faster. running short of time. the mask goes off, the make-up is flaking. messy hair caught in a cider spring, holding tight on to a drink. swaying and focusing, hands, lips, synced and working, into the cake, right there on the table in front of all the guests. and the stilettos break, and the dress slides down, revealing half a breast, and there she looks up, her eyes second to the right and straight on til morning. the afterglow of the afterparty. it slips, it slips, and it's gonna fall, on the floor. and it's gonna be a mess, a mess, and nothing can stop it. and there it is, but it isn't. it was just imagination.

I'm reading maths - in a sort of bohemian way. I avoid the book, I wont even open it, I just think about how much I have to do. Then I like disregard it. Then I force myself to do ONE out of the thousand problems I still have left. Then I get bored of it, try to not think of it and walk away. The more I try not thinking about math, the bigger the angst cloud that surrounds me. So I guess, this is the end. I will have to try. Bye for now.

Scottie the Netto dog

I had three interesting experiences on my short respite of essay-writing which consisted of a brisk walk outdoors in the almost-storm and buying alimentary necessities at the local Netto the scottie dog. The first one was on the unsettling steps of Netto, when I ignored, as I always ignore, the homeless bum standing right outside the automatic doors in his shredded rags begging for money. I nervously, because I am always nervous and/or angry when visiting Netto, pushed open the door, walking in, his eyes boring into my back. "Kan du inte ens ta dig tid att svara för bövelen" he shouts after me, me turning jerkily and with scared, trembly voice mumbling "har inga mynt ändå så", then turning again, trying to shake the uncomfortable experience. Walking into the Burka-infected store, I grab a basket and the shopping commences.
Now, the second experience was as I absentmindedly looked down on the floor while standing in the abnormally long queue. There it was, lying on the dirty linoleum floor, half-crushed, its head sticking out under the cheap trainer sole of that obnoxious, fat woman who fought me minutes ago by the ham counter over the last package of Pärsson's skinka. It was the most depressing sight ever, its sticky texture sticking to under her trainer as she shuffled ahead in the slow-moving queue. Finally it dropped off and rolled away 3cm to the right where it was out of reach for cheap trainers. As if possessed, I couldn't take my eyes off it. That sad little purple key-ring whale. Yes. A whale. Purple.
The last experience was when Burka-fest became even more crowded. I was still in the queue (GODDAMMIT!) when a crowd of Burka-women walked through the doors, hastily heading for the baskets. I don't know why, but for some reason I got very agitated and felt the atmosphere (or imagined it) changing to one of a more hostile quality. And then it hit me. I know why some people don't like immigrants. It's because they are scared, scared of the unknown. They feel threatened, their normality is threatened by something abnormal. And I know why conflicts arise, because the immigrants in turn are scared of us, because we and our country is unknown to them. Thus fear versus fear and we act instinctively trying to eliminate the thing that causes the fear. I had never realized that before. In my childish ignorance I indignantly thought "why can't just everyone be buddies and love each other".

Netto is a very depressing place, generally, filled with broken people who lost their dreams and ambitions. Ugly, fat, bulging, smelly, old. Or maybe that's just how I see them. Me: young, aspiring student, hopeful, just spent a day on university information dreaming and planning about my glorious future as a wealthy diplomat and politician who makes a real difference in the world and improve living conditions for people like the homeless. Who do I think I am.

Now dreams are very fragile. They need to be nourished, taken care of, indulged. Caressed. There might be tutorials for other things, but not for taking care of dreams. Il faut les soignent.

Her heart was beating in his bleeding hand, like morse code. She said to herself, "if I reach the bend before the car, he is still alive", "if the train enters the tunnel before I count to seven, he is still alive"... Inspiring movie. About hope.

So there's the combination. Hope and dreams. Reach for your wishes, make them come true.

La musique souvent me prend comme une mer!
Vers ma pâle étoile,
Sous un plafond de brume ou dans un vaste éther,
Je mets à la voile;

La poitrine en avant et les poumons gonflés
Comme de la toile
J'escalade le dos des flots amoncelés
Que la nuit me voile;

Je sens vibrer en moi toutes les passions
D'un vaisseau qui souffre;
Le bon vent, la tempête et ses convulsions

Sur l'immense gouffre
Me bercent. D'autres fois, calme plat, grand miroir
De mon désespoir!

— Charles Baudelaire

An allergic reaction to the universe

To have someone fight for her. That's really all a girl wants in the end..
to have someone who cares for her, listens to her, is there to catch her fall.
I guess its cheezy romance stuff but it works in the end.

too much oc does that to you. spending hours and hours with romance. when i really should have my mind on the books. and my heart elsewhere. just loosing touch. "it was the most sexually charged nose-graze ever in history, it was more like major nose-humping!"

these pointless discussions. these pontless thoughts that lead you around inside a maze. "it's just a phase". is life just a phase. when longing for a dream.

another broken bottle. whose tragedies is it this week. a chance to make a difference. sneaky quick ones. and vanilla shots. right to your brain. lick your lips, it's worth the burning. i long for a concert.

i spend more money than i should. mostly on partying and gifts for friends. i give like i was much richer. and i borrow like a drug addict - although i am not one. and borrow for booze and clothes when i really have money myself, just forgot to bring it. 700 to m. 300 smth to s. and gift for 200 to another one, and a gift of 500 to someone else. can you see why my hard-earned earnings are just dripping away? and traveling! this nuisance of getting from one place to another! and all the other christmas gifts coming up! oh me, oh my. those pieces of paper.

I am dreaming that I am awake. the sinful demands. in a chapel, in a brothel. i got the time, if you got the place. giving other people pleasure saves me. suffocating stress.

And for the last hundred years did anyone care? in the history of man, did anyone care? we fail to go from the specific to the general and back. why would there be so much that we don't want, pain and suffering, if we succeeded. It's Rocket Summer all over. Do you feel. The weight of the world singing sorrow. Or to you it's just not real? Cause we all got our own things. Yeah, we all got our own things. The specific. We focus on our problems here and now. Some don't even try to solve these. They're just holding on. The flame is gone, the fire remains. we are circular beings who just keep on spinning. we face the same problems over and over, but we forget from one occasion to another, so we think it is new when it really isn't. like this blog. this post is what i have written a hundred times, even written about writing this before, and it never ends. it's my mind, doing cartwheels.

and what if they run out of band-aids? and what if they don't know first-aid? what if they aren't able to patch up the unpatchable? the sores that never heal, the wounds that never seal. who can claim to fix what was broken even with out knowledge. if the unpatchable is unable to say where it hurts? what will happen to the unpatchable?

take me to your secret places, the places no one else gets to see. trust becomes my nourishment and my enjoyment. take me to that lonely beach, that special park, that street-corner where the thugs smoke and dream. take me to that stairway, take me to the stars. take me anywhere, i'd be pleased to go.

The Dear Hunter

And there are stars - giving away promises to those who turn their eyes
to the heavens
for comfort

I wont give up the fight. Drive around, make peace with an empty town. We'll feel so alive.
The texts speak for themselves, enjoy.

Messages from broken bottles fall on black sandy beaches
Ink in vain across the page now run from morning dew
Hands which chance upon it lead to eyes which strain to read
Heart which pound from love long overdue
Lips which press together, stifle rhythmic heavy breathes
Oh how she cries from vicarious love from the one he writes about
She must have been so glad for him to throw it out
Further steps lead to yet another broken bottle
Again the words contained have bled the page
Whose tears were these which ran the ink
From who they'd pour to make this streak?

(The Dear Hunter)

Salt in the sky in the sweet summer air while mammoths depart
Abandon dispair with thirsty affairs of the heart
But the chances of escaping my heart are inadaquate, and when all is said and done I'm left with my history

Goodbye, my eyes shed heavy tears
One for every soul still sitting on the fence between pain and arrogance

Ebb to the left flow to the right
The exit's unflawed
The boys on the train
The almighty tongue with prose spilled in vain

Goodbye, my eyes shed heavy tears
One for every soul still sitting on the fence between pain and arrogance

We fall beneath the sea of dreams and fail to breathe until we awaken again

Sing softly sing me to the lake
Sing softly bring me to the lake
Through all of this I've felt just the same
The flame is gone the fire remains

(The Dear Hunter)

Even if there is no answer

"Although it is part of my nature, I cannot understand all that I am. This means, then, that the mind is too narrow to contain itself entirely. But where is that part of it which it does not itself contain? Is it somewhere outside itself and not within it? How, then, can it be part of it, if it is not contained in it?"
(Saint Augustine, retold by Auster)

And even if there is no answer, I have begun to speak.

Umm. Yes. When strawberries and a spiked waterpipe makes life a little more surreal. I mean, if you can't focus, that's fun right? Spending a night doing irrelevant stuff like laughing and such. I read that french book too, and some Strindberg. SO. it wasn't a complete waste, schoolwise.

My nature is never knowing when to stop. the one who gets an eensy bit more wasted than the rest, an eensy bit too high and continues to smoke even after that. even after the little voice saying "that's enuff". Pressuring others to join the madness. I guess. I just have this dream of meeting someone as completely fucked up as me, who doesn't know when to stop either. Because where is the fun in stopping? Even if it continues beyond what is right and good, that other place you enter is such an interesting space. Just because it is forbidden. I believe that forbidden fruit makes it more interesting. That to some extent, the law criminalizes. Too bad I can't explain it in a tok-ish way so that people would actually listen and get impressed by all the great arguments. It makes perfect sense in my head, but can i relay this information to others? Oh, the limits of language.

Understanding the limits of language and art. Such is my extended essay. don't make much sense but hey, i enjoyed writing it. and exploring it. and auster awesomness. you should really read his meta-ficticious works. not that im pressuring you or anything. i really gotta stop doing that, no matter how much i enjoy it.

i wanna kiss you but i better not touch. poison. rediscovering great songs has become one of my favourite passtimes. Anberlin's new album isn't that killer, but their old songs will be in my heart forever. random love. and random moments. took the hand of a preacher man, and we made love in the sun. Oh. hormones are an amazing thing, the rollercoaster they offer. if you let them rule, which i do. one day incredibly låt-mig-va, the next jumping on people, longing for closeness, for touch, and the next normal. well as normal as it gets. think we hang ourselves. too much to that concept of normality. even if chinese food or subway creates an illusion of making sense of the world.

making sense is not easy. can't you see the smoke? And OH did i die in tok class today. "Imagine if everyone in this classroom was high, we would not seek knowledge, we would just sit and enjoy life". Killer argument by Seraj. Loved that. even the teacher couldn't deny how awesome that would be. i suspect she's experimented with recreational stuff in her youth. but shhh don't tell anyone i said that.

have a pressure to be deep and say meaningful stuff. a pressure to perform well in school, be liked and have loads of friends and do fun stuff. when will it end. the end credits and the curtain fall. someone asked what if you die today, well will it make much difference, why can't i be indifferent, why would they cry, and why is it wrong, and why do i think about it, and why and why and what not. wear a halo and it breaks, a sinful end, the fall from babel and the fall of language and man. voice of the voiceless and love of the loveless. the blind can only see with their hands and maybe that's a sight more true than we'll ever know.

so how can we know? why do we want. i am not being wasted. why do i want. the halo is crumbling and the angels falling down on their knees, praying for the godless who didn't ever believe. it's apocalypse now baby, every day in my head. and im beginning to sound like one of the crackwhores down that dar alley you would never walk in your senses. but out of senses? then maybe.

why do i memorize, the theatrical lines, why do i lay out for the world to scrutinize, the tangled webs within. i dont want your recognition, because no one can ever know me anyway, a belief i will hold until someone breaks it. and still to this day, the glass cube remains intact. without a scratch. that was not truthful, maybe a scratch or two. what about the feel good drag, the dreary heaviness of every day life and sensory overload.

cyberpunk lolitas serving tea, excuse me this confusion and the black eyeshadow, but i always dreamed of a sweeny todd world of my own. dance to a fight, and stare all day at the problems that wont go away, what's left to collect but the broken hearts, the lost souls, in your top drawer by the swindling stairs. the piano clinking away like a seesaw massacre and the leaves fading to mud. the fleeting voice of life, all but expelled. no i never believed. maybe in fairies but never in god.

God has always been dead so newsflash on Nietzsche. We must be into the abuse.

Goodnight.

May the force be with you

I wish this was a story I was writing. If it was a story, it would have an ending. Life would be able to go on after the end, pick up where I left. As it is, this is not a story I am writing. And I don't know where I would pick up, was I to end it.

Human weakness is what allows evil and darkness to flourish. Through our human compassion, evil gets a chance to survive. Now, I'm not questioning it, because how else could it be. I'm merely stating, that this is the way of the world. Such it is, in all the stories we read. There is always a moment of weakness, which allows evil to live on. To name my favorite examples, Obi-Wan failing to kill Anakin, and Isildur refusing to let go of the ring when he could have destroyed it once and for all. These were necessary, and it all ended well in the end, but think of what would have happened if these events went in another way. Don't underestimate the power of fiction.

The Jedis inspire me. Their philosophy has followed me ever since I saw the first movie (IV) as a little kid. It has affected me as I grew up, and I remember a time when I really believed that loosing control of your emotions lead to the dark side. Whatever that was. I was so afraid to loose control of my emotions, I couldn't even allow myself to feel. And later on, there was another time when I despised human weakness, weakness in whatever form. I put my body and mind through a hard regiment, to eradicate all weakness, molded my character and my physical body, yearned for perfection, for becoming a master. It lead to a mental disease.

Now I have lost all that can be called character. I escape from myself through various means, I do not live in my body and I despise my weak mind. "Your body is your temple" some say, "so take good care of it". Why is it then that I have such a strong desire for self-destruction? Seeing the glory in thrashing myself. The booze, the drugs, being wild. Eat only junkfood, maximum calories, no greens. No exercising. It is true what I said, I feel like a hippo. And number 5 was not ironic, as some of you hoped.

Otherwordly and eternal make us long for more. Because the universe is infinite and there must be so much more out there. All the people out there, all the possibilities.

Where is the horn and the rider?
Where is the magic?
Will I have to imagine all my life, that there is something more, a secret hidden behind all this? That the plastered facade isn't everything? That soon, the proof of their existence will be revealed?

How we think about ourselves is such an interesting thing. Because often these images don't correspond very well with what everyone else think of us. Sometimes the images correspond to some extent, but mostly not. Having insight into your own character is another interesting thing. Feeling urges you know you shouldn't is another interesting thing. The nature of the human mind is beyond interesting. Would you say you have good insight into your own minds? Can you define yourself, who you are? Can you guess how others see you, and what does that mean to you, does it matter?

We laugh at those with no distance to their self. Those who obviously fail to see their own flaws, or even worse, refuse to see them. But really we should be laughing at ourselves for thinking us so clever. We are not any better are we. Being aware is both a blessing and a curse, what we choose to do with the awareness is another thing. Some strive for change, because they do not like what they see. Others go for the philosophy "i am like this, nothing to do about it, take it or leave" and there are so many other ways to tackle it. Self-image is very interesting indeed.

How many times did i wish i was a mind-reader. Too many. If we think about someone, alot, and wonder if this person thinks just as much about us in turn, why don't we take a chance. Just for the sake of it. Is it over-confident to expect this, to expect that other one to think as much as we do? Or on the other hand, if we take it for granted and act out, we might create a happy ending. Divergence. I will go to bed and dream my lonely dreams now. Sleeping with ghosts. Goodnight,

Another day has passed

Take me somewhere. hold my breath all night. And drink myself to sleep. Think of Every Day. Make up the rules as we go along. because they make it seem so easy. I lsiten to my music, it's everywhere I go...

So are we lost or do we know
Which direction we should go
Sit around and wait for someone to take our hands and lead the way

Cause every day we're getting older
And every day we all get colder
We're sick of waiting for our answers
(lostprophets)

Think of Each Day. There will never be this very same November day ever again. When this month has passed, it will not return until a year has passed. A lot can happen in a year. I might be in a completely different place - both mentally and physically. Think of all the things that happen in a year. In A Year. I might be in Japan, might have felt the touch of a thousand lovers, might have died in an accident, written a song, painted a house, carried a hundred sorrows, made everyone around me hate me, or anything else. The next November around, I might be a totally different person.

And still, I do not cherish this day as my last day like this. It is the last in its sense. We let the days pass as if they were insignificant. As if they didn't mean anything. Why do I want to sleep the days away, why don't I care? Why don't I care my life is passing in front of my eyes and I stand passive watching?

Alot can happen in a year.
Alot can happen from day to day.
Yesterday - Bush was president of the U.S and A. Today - Mr. Obama is the first black president of the U.S and A. History has been written within 24h.

Think of all the things that happen in 24h. A baby born. Life created. Life extinguished. Why do we not realise the importance in the passing of a day?

Can't get these thoughts out of my head. They're everywhere I go. I think about it when I talk to people. I think about it when I smile. I think about it when I walk, sleep, stand dead in the shower.

In the shower. Not aware of the walls no less than 30cm all around me. Surrounded by stability, still a mind collapsing. In the hot drizzle, in the subtropic waterfall, the foaming soap, the touch of skin. There I am. Lost to everything but my thoughts.

Please rhyme away with me.

I was made for heat and passion and strong dramatic feelings. I'm suffocating in these ashes that never will ignite.

This is an unspection. Not seeing anything. Where is the caress when you need it? Freedom to choose our shackles. And the rockstar life. Overdramatic. Cocaine girl. It was all in time. A snuffed candle, a taste of ocean.

Think of Every Day.

Eee trouble

when something that is supposed to work doesn't work, you just don't get frustrated. you cry from frustration.
when someone you thought didn't care actually proove to care, your heart warms up a bit.
when you can't talk to anyone, and find someone to talk to, you feel a connection.
when you just want to bury yourself under a blanket, you do just exactly that.
when everything is boring, grey and dull, you think of how you will surprise your family next weekend.
when you despair about the future, you think of the childish embrace of your little siblings, their unconditional love and trust.
when you think about your failures and your bad character, you think of everyone else's shortcomings.
when autumn inevitably seeps through your mind and dull your senses, you go to sleep. and dream beautiful dreams. and write a poem about autumn depression.
when you just don't wanna face the pile of homework, you go to the telly and watch Ugly Betty. betty is inspiration. "growing as a person is taking responsibility and making the best of all the stupid decisions you made".

im glad i got it all out. and i know we're not those people anymore, but what we have will always be special.

sometimes a strange urge falls upon me. the "withdraw and hide"-symptom. that's when i show up next day in school with my hood up and anti-social loud angry metal in my ears. when i ignore you and sit as far from everyone as possible and draw emo doodles in my notebook instead of taking down the notes from class. that is the "nobody-understands-me"-mood. which im pretty sure not many people do. and im just fucking tired of waiting for someone to do. so next time you ask why i think of giving up, don't bother, you know already.

when i looked into those eyes, an electric shock went through my entire body. it was so real i could almost touch it. it was there and i thought... i thought it was all going to be ok. that it would all work out.

maybe i need a cloud.

you're still up? mhm.

Give me my alcohol

Saturday. I simply love masquerades. Dressing up as someone else, playing a part. I should be in theater, it's so much fun pretending. Prince Charming made out with alot of people, as S said - it was almost like hultsfred all over. the prince didn't mind though, even if he has a hard time remembering some pieces - it's like a scattergraph. Fractions here and there, but at least he behaved. And the brat and those people didn't despise him. So it has been quite a week for reconciliation, but just as Charlotte i have to worry that something bad is going to happen. "Honey, you shit yourself this year, maybe you're done." But you never know do you. Maybe something bad will happen today, or tomorrow.

Thinking back on this very long week i realize all the little bits and pieces add up to a pretty pretty mosaic of experiences. It's people and places, and new faces. Think how much relations give us, think how much we experience just by knowing other people, just by talking to someone else or doing stuff together. How much we learn. Yes, relationships fascinate me. The way we relate to other human beings, the way we function in a society, in a group of friends. We never think about how interesting that is.

Prince Charming did his funny macho walk, danced like a brat, smoked alot and as promised showed off some well-proportioned body parts when swimming in the pool. A spinning bottle. Fuck, those shots really did him in thinking back. All over the place apparently. Well he had a hard time getting it up, until he realized he didn't have one in the first place. That was fun. And also laughing at the ghost in the bathroom. Have such great toilet-moments. "Gooooaaal" and no paper, and uncontrollable laughing etc. Toilets are special.
Cleaning wasn't much fun, oh the stench, oh the sticky floor, but Narnia is really fun to watch early in the morning with hungover people. Especially with Epic movie in the head. And comments about shaved balls. Aslan was shaved yes.
the breakfast rocked - homemade BMT's, too bad we ran out of salami and ham.
Do you think "two baguettes a day" sounds gay?

Did I write about Bond? Can't recall. Anyway. Daniel Craig rocks. but the movie doesn't really. with kudds it does though, just like indiana jones did. See, there we are again - it's a people matter.

read through old posts - gosh im philosophical. the scary thing is, i forget all the things i write about, so i keep writing the same stuff but in different formations etc.
talked to granny on the phone too - which was interesting considering i havent talked to her in half a year or something like that. i just want to cherish the relationship now, when i can, before she's gone and ive felt really really bad for neglecting her. i am probably going up there somepoint. visiting.

bruises. and acting crazy and falling in the pool and stripping. i love the crazy life. somewhat like a bulldozer, there's probably alot damage left in the wake, but look what alcohol does.
it makes things interesting.

Holiday week

So. It has been quite an interesting week. I just have to go over it in my mind to sort things out. Mon - what the fuck did i do this day? Tue - computer hunting + surreal weather + kudds came. Wed - kudds day + crazy party (yes i will talk about that later). Thu - hungover, just eating crap food and bothering people with my randomness. also late night Bond premiere. fri - well the day hasn't progressed very far but i guess i will be shopping with m, then homework and sleeeep since i haven't had a good nights sleep in ages. sat - party. sun - stuff. yes. there it is.

The crazy party. well umm, no names. Just know that I got really high and it was amazingly nice to be high again. i wasn't even angry someone stole half my vodka, because where i was, was a nice place and i didn't need the vodka anyway.
And i talked to this really nice girl who i hope i will talk to more. and that umm people from the class surprised me. and that at one point of the evening, my two closest girl-friends magically disappeared and [dot, dot, dot].

So. Now kudds has left and it's a bit lonely around here. Logging on to msn, hoping a certain person will be online but alas no. Stay tuned.
trying to force myself to deal with the homework pile but i just don't know where to start. how the fuck am i supposed to write a ToK essay?

Anyway. [note all the intelligent linking words in this post] Looking forward to saturday, a little at least, i mean if wednesday was interesting, this could be interesting too. especially if another certain person show up. and also because i can annoy the brats who are going. im gonna watch them get so shitfaced they forget who they are. and laugh. in an evil way.

So. I'm gonna go as Prince Charming, isn't that charming? the guys are gonna take me for a lesbo, but hey, i don't mind since there are no hot guys going anyway. besides, i will strip and swim in the pool, so i think i will make up for my manliness by showing off some well-proportioned body pieces. that sounded like a complete carnage but i hope you guys understand that im not a psycho.

Anyway. I hate ebuddy. and now i can cross out two things on my "wanted" list. cell phone and laptop. because yes i got what i wanted. almost. i mean, it's not a macbook but i'll live. someday, i know i will get a macbook.

So. what else is new in the philosophical jungle? that im not very philosophical today and rather talk about shallow stuff like alcohol, parties, weed, technology, clothes etc. those moments are kinda great, when you slip out of your Mexi-coma and start focusing on shallow stuff instead. life is much easier lived in a shallow manner.

Anyway. i can't stay and chat because i really really need to do my homework now.

Change your default settings

can you be bitter from the sweet?
resent the eaten fruit, the tasted honey?
curse paradise and long for hell?
chaste your body and cry over spillt milk?

can you sing without a voice?
and kiss without lips?
hate the beautiful and love the dark?
can you let yourself let go?

can you rid yourself of vanities?
change your default settings?
starve to death and overindulge?
sleep around and be complete?

can you capture a last chance?
rise up to the challenge?
be the one you want to be?
live in the now and predict the future?

can you doubt but still believe?
and learn how to pick yourself up?
look God in his face and reject him?
can you stand on the highest mountain and fall?

can you ever learn to live life alone?


Om det inte finns kaos runt en ENFP så har en ENFP en tendens att tillhandahålla kaoset. Och det blir inte alltid optimalt
Ett sätt att hålla koncentrationen uppe är att biffa upp beslutsmekanismen. Då gäller en del av de generella NF-råd dom jag gett tidigare: djupinlärning, idealism, insupa kulturer osv. Att du i dagsläget har svårt att hålla koncentrationen beror på att du tar in händelser från omgivningen genom skifta mental kontext hela tiden. Du är helt enkelt understimulerad. Jag tror också att ENFP:er är dömda (eller välsignade) till att bara kunna hålla på med saker de gillar. Vi är helt motivationsdrivna; ingen motivation, inget utfört.

Vad kan då få en ENFP att koncentrera sig?

Erfarenhet. Skaffa erfarenhet. ENFP:er äter information. N:et sammanfattar och inordnar hela tiden, mer information behövs! Bara för att någon annan nisse tycker att besöka Portugal är mäktigt, behöver det inte gälla dej. Besök Portugal och 46 andra länder istället. Gärna samtidigt Droppa sedan det och ta hand om barn med Down's syndrom i Uruguay. Byt till börsmäklare. Utveckla din moral. Gå igenom vad du anser vara rätt och fel, för du kommer i alla fall att försöka pressa in dina reseminnen i en etisk skepnad. ENFP:er tänker i termer om rätt och fel, det är det som är viktigt Träna dig allsidigt i att kunna hantera och leda en grupp, skriva en artikel, planera en trädgård, ge empati utan att gå under och gå sedan vidare. Lär dig slappna av. Lär dig fyra språk. Bli stark så att du kan vara god.

Bejaka din kreativitet.

Edit: Och använd solskyddsfaktor

You are the music in me

This is the last time to get it right...
It's now or never!

Ibland är kräkputtinuttigt helt rätt. Som i helgen. Söta små emokillar som man kan manipulera att kyssa varandra, söta fjortisar som gör staden osäker (blondes in black), McFlurry med Ahlgrens-bilar-smak, söta klänningar, söt alkohol (mint och polkagris), Singstar, gulligull-häst och galopperade. Och sist men inte minst: High School Musical 3. Ja, jag har haft en jävligt underbar helg! Tack vare mina tre favoritfjortisar: Stina, Madde och Antonia.
Bara faktumet att jag skriver på svenska och nämner namn visar hur underbart jag haft det. I never do that usually. Svenska är sanningens språk för mig, och kommer alltid vara det. Säger jag "I love you" betyder det aldrig lika mycket som "Jag älskar dig".

I'm a hardcore person with a softcore inside. But the softcore is a secret, so you guys have to pretend you don't know about it. Those who know me, know I'm a hopeless romantic, and dream as much as anyone about the perfect guy and the perfect ending. Dream all those kräkputtinuttiga dreams all you other hopeless romantics out there do. Like the new high school musical movie. I found myself digging it, and laughing and getting teary-eyed at all the right places, and still I had to fight it. But yes, even though the movie really sucks ass (movie-wise), I absolutely adore it! I'm sorry all you stuck-up film critics out there (who only gave it 1 out of 5 possible), you gotta loosen up sometimes and for once just let yourselves be swept away by the romantic tide. Kräkputtinuttigt eller inte, let yourselves feel the love.

It also got me thinking about "the end". We are in the same position in life as the people in the movie. "high school" is soon over. applying for univeristies, dispersing all over the world. And it got me thinking, I want to hold a speech. I've been thinking about this speech before, it's gonna be just for our class. And in that speech I'm gonna pinpoint highlights and jokes and little perks about each and every person, like "remember that time..." and "in Berlin..." and "ken always says..." etc. And I'm gonna show you guys, just how awesome you are. Even though we haven't been very good as a class, I'm hoping that's changing now that the end is soon coming, and I somewhat feel it is. This speech is gonna be the most sentimental thing ever, and it will make you all cry that we are leaving eachother.

All lights out, the stars will guide us through our darkest times
Belive in yourself and

Live your dreams, life's waiting for you,

Now I realize, I'd give anything I have
to walk a day in my old shoes.
Wondering what my first smoke would be like,
my first fuck, my next fuck up.
{Or} the next band that would change my life
and it changed my life
and it changed my life.
(Bayside)

The tingling feeling is not enough for me. I'm waiting for the ground-shattering love you only find in fiction; the never-ending, the all-consuming. The one you will love until-death-do-us-part, the one when you can feel the universe is made solely for the two of you, when one touch or a single gaze send ripples of energy through your entire being.

Each month turns into a journey. Interaction shaping what I become, opening up or closing down, bad days and good days. All those colours. Watching as the raindrops slide sideways on the window, changing course. You can't tell the raindrops what to be - they are raindrops.

I also finished Eragon, and wrote an inspired piece about an elven lady all alone in the deepest of mystical woods, but didn't have heart to post it. So this post will all be in honour of romance. And I'm glad to say, nowadays my chemical romance is not my only romance. Find happiness in so many places. We just need to realise we do, so we can stop being miserable. Waiting doesn't have to be bad, it can be an adventure too. Like living - the greatest adventure of all.