Thinking, That's All

Writing an essay i have no motivation for at all. all afraid inside for the grading. afraid they will scorn and burn and fail me.
once burned, one fear the fire. such is with tok. once scorned, one loses motivation and feel whats the point, they will just give me a lousy grade anyway.
but still im writing, although little idea of what they want. non-comformist, im sure thats not what they want since they're all about the boxes.
when you're in the middle of the woods you regain focus.
theres no tv, no internet, nothing to disrturb you. its all quiet and serene woods. showering on the stone stairs, scooping water from a bucket and letting it trickle down the body, the nakedness, the presence, the wind softly blowing through the trees, the touchyness of the skin...
it's something you have to experience to understand.
and when the hours go and you have so much time. so strange that time seems to be of a different quality here, as compared to the racing clock of the city.

I can't seem to recognize, either side of this modern version or
fading person i was, i tried to memorize dates and times of old
accidents and the failed attempts now, i'm still afraid of those
mistakes i've made. i'm mostly memories, most missed
opportunities, mostly minor tragedies, i'm mostly you and me.
i'm mostly memories, mostly missed opportunities, mostly
abnormalities, i'm mostly you and me, and you and you and
me. i can't seem to recognize, either side of my conversations or
contemplations i've done, i've tried to memorize the truth and
lies, of the facts and fictions and the half truth admissions i've
done. i'm still afraid of those mistakes i've made.
(less than jake)

Good punk rock is so good. there's nothing like it with the timing. drums, riffs, in exactly the right place.

on my own like I've always liked it best. on my own like I've always been. on my own like I'm probably always gonna be.

Evil is easier to be. Easy to hide in darkness and play with shadows, than facing the daylight and being the person you and everyone else deserves.

This is the moment that you know
That you told her that you loved her but you don't.
You touch her skin and then you think
That she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
(death cab for cutie)

how the sun can cascade down your face but not really touch you, not reach.
huxley's dystopia is utopia. At least if you're an Alpha plus. Because of the Soma.
and the easy lifestyle. Have said it before and I say it again:
Alcohol and tobacco is much worse than some drugs. These are everyday intoxicators that are accepted, while there are drugs that do much less harm but give you a much more pleasant trip. and those you only use occasionally. there are drugs that you don't get addicted to, while nicotine slowly poisons your lungs. it's just a matter of perspectives, people have decided that drugs are bad "just because they are". and sure there are really horrible examples. but there are no less horrible examples with alcohol! What's wrong with a little experimenting I say.

memories. are so strange. you hear a song, ONE song, and all the memories and associations come rushing all over you like an apocalyptic tidal wave. Lover I don't have to love. Where's the kid with the chemicals? Feels good, I'll give it a try. My mind went dark. Play tragic. keep touching. Got a hunger and I can't seem to get full.
Such pretty words. Hurt me.

I'll also show you a sweet dream next night...

playing the game now, coldness in my veins again
spinning out of balance with the world, one step ahead or two steps back
never on the same level. never in harmony
the vampire songs in my head and the ice in that gaze
the enclosed prison in a virus-infected body, nose running
and never ending
play the rhymes right or look like a moron
a syllable trapped in honey
does no good on the tongue
watch the iconic pictures as they come to rest, nestling in the irony
derisive laughter and crumpled paper napkins
tick the box for who dies a hundred times a day
or enter the literary quiz and loose
follow the hand and grope for a fellow
take in the violin melody and loose a memory
sometimes good enough isn't good enough
but you will know when it's time to stop
the play and the game and the illusions
i'll also show you a sweet dream next night...
あなた　硝子の眼で
どんな夢を
見られるの？
魅入られるの？
またあたし
こころが裂けて
流れ出る
繕った
隙間に刺さる
記憶たち
the wish carried upon the sunrise clouds
to the land of clichéd waiting
as sugar cubes dissolve in water
it will make the perfect icing
make it pink
and yellow and cutishly purple
with babyblue roses to cover the imperfections
missed a call and missed the meaning
can i help what i fool myself to say
can i help resenting reality
whispers tickling soft nude nape
incomprehensible yet full of warmth
the breath of life
to show you another side
overwhelming white in the kitchen
yet red pierces through in the bedroom
lullabies trickling like rose water sprinkles
or tears soaking the silken bedsheets
kirei ne
the chess pieces moving with intention
like we think we do
the rose petals falling with direction
like we never do
a map laid out for everything in time and place
yet the schedule changes as the tides
as the moon which reveals it's true face only once a month
who is that shadow who walks with the shadowed face?
what are the intentions
of setting up a game plan in accordance with the map?

VK<33kaname-senpai(L)

For mange drommer uden der sker noget

Found a song on vampirefreaks.com that has become my new obsession. With eyes wide shut by blessthefall. A truly amazing band. their lyrics arent brilliant but their music is. the emotion it evokes, the despair and the anger.

when nothing is in it's right place, and the puddle of red on the sink, suspiciously similar to blood, catches your eye as the dramatic sunlight through heavy dark clouds is reflected in it. and you cant think. the slow process sluggish and overwhelming. irrational thoughts and sentimentality the only thing occupying your brain cells. trying to figure out a way to merge the beauty of living in the now with the efficiency of living as a robot, calculating everything, every minute spent in a productive way, working for a goal.
how i lived without you all these years.
takes two to tango.
and i cant do it on my own. im drowning here and you couldnt care less could you. how you used to save me. and now you dont even let me in.
whats the sound of the world outside? the crunching noises. man devouring man. have a little poet.
the satisfaction of satisfying a craving.
i could eat you up.
by the sea.
washing hurting ankles, face down in the sand, sandcolored lashes
lift me up, tied to the others
ties hurt, and not in a pleasant way like bondage.
victorian music, the irony and the darkness
i know im not there to hold you
but we look at the same sky every night
make someone happy
can't live on pills for a lifetime, there comes a point when you have to admit who you really are and make up for the mistakes you made. accept who you are. face the greatest fear of all, that is yourself.
greet us in our dreams tonight
and make someone happy
pages smudged by make-up falling off
the stench and the rot revealed, growing stronger by the minute
the last standing line
something's just about to break

For alting forsvinder rundt om mig, blir til minder
Jeg ville ta din hånd - livet kommer aldrig tilbage

Wake all the children from their slumber,
Before they wonder why their dreams have gone to hell.
Wake all the children from their sleep.
Down the staircase we shall creep,
To the basement of this white picket home.
Let's show them where the bad ones go.
For all they know, for all they know,
Their heroes are still untouchable.
What they don't know, what they don't know.
All the preachers and the ministers
Administer those sinister looks.
They teach from a liars cherub
A pulpit mounted on a child's prayer.
(envy on the coast)

Er graesset gronnere
På den anden side, tag derhen hvis der er noget du vil vide
For mange drommer
Uden der sker noget, og når ikk at hoppe på toget for det er gået
La de andre om at stresse rundt, passer mig selv så jeg kan passe på min kunst
Pakker mine ting og går som en vinder, forsvinder ud af dren inden det for sent
(suspekt)

Psychosocial alice with rainbow veins

We are islands of perception. In every thought and experience, every sensation, insight and fancy, we are alone. Sure, we can pool information about experiences together, but never the experiences themselves. There is mutual empathy, but we just relate to ourselves, we are not actually feeling what that other person is feeling. But for the most part, communication between universes is close to inexistent. The mind inhabits its own space. And these spaces are different from person to person. Compare an ordinary person to a genius or to a madman.
The Doors of Perception.
How a mescalin trip can make you understand so much.
Yes, I can't lie and say I don't want to try it.
Change perspectives.
See yourself as others see you. See others as they see themselves.
Fascinated by a crease in the fabric.
See the world as the artist sees it.
The colours, the textures, the shape.
The connection to everything.
EVen to yourself.
It's a place that doesn't exist anywhere else.
Travelling has always fascsinated me, whether it's in the mind or irl doesn't really matter as long as new insights are brought along.
we move. from one place to the next. in less than 24hrs i will be back where i came from an hour ago. so why didnt i stay there, because i have another place to be at the hours inbetween.
so we move. back and forth. hithero and tithero.
human motion has always fascinated me.
that's another thing.
loosing perception of time and space. or not loosing it really, just realising its irrelevance.
The isness is enough.
so put on that silvermask and swallow your pill.
alice has now come to videoland and she's psychosocial with rainbow veins. and do it inded det er for sent.

At the sound of the battlecry

started out as a quiet...
it'll come back.
at the sound of the battlecry
strike the right note and you might be getting there
there's something green in your eyes
when it's over
can't help myself but to look
back to the beginning
always inside of me
where i belong

lean over to the other side
nothing skinny to dip
the glossy magazine covers
burning on the iris
the smoke watering my eyes
been searching for a place
where everything will be ok

find comfort in the beauty
of stars. of candlelight. of fairytales.
what would be different this time
of betrayal. of emptiness. of death.
they listen but they cannot hear
of loneliness. of drowning. of the end.

why isnt it right. why is it so wrong. why do i think like i do. why do i not lock myself up for some time. away. read walden in the woods
read all night.
the freaking hunger keeps tearing me apart, i dont know what to do when one moment im walking on sunshine singing drunken lullabies and the next moment want to hang myself
whats wrong, what went awry.
why does the midget laugh when he plays soccer? cause the grass tickles his balls.
why cant i sleep? why are my dreams weird?
why cant i stop thinking?

n'as pas peur ma cherie, je veux t'emmener à pays du Faerie.

Everything changes with every hell

Shallowness is hurtful indeed. Why is my gutfeeling a really awful one. Because it is a really awful one.
All clenched and nervous, and non-belonging and hurt and sad and lost. And regretful. But most importantly: defiant.
Why should i suffer in eternity, why do i always keep on blaming myself for things that happened ages ago, my conscience burning my insides to ashes.
it doesn't matter if it's all good, if someone says it's ok, i can smile and pretend it is, but i know i did something wrong, and i will gon on blaming myself forever, no matter what you say.
that is how i repay that which can never be repaid, that is how i can pretend to be healing when really all i do is try to put a band-aid over the chasm.
and that is how no one else will ever understand. never ever. everyone makes mistakes, some make more fatal than others. and everyone deals with it in different ways.
time heals for some. others can never escape the fire. once a blame is put, hey, there doesn't even have to be any putting of blame. i will already have gone through with the futile trial when it comes to that, and i will already have received the death sentence.
but two death sentences make it all so much more painful.
i keep on thrusting the stake through my heart.
i keep on frying my skin on the cross.
i keep on clawing at my pale chest,
trying to reach and rip, tear and crush
i want it to stop, the voices and the squirmy feelings
i want the quiet of dead night
i want a solitary dark grave
where i finally will rest in peace
listening to my music, singing my songs, and writing my words.
party-pooping AngstFest.

it's all so insane how we just keep on smiling
listening to the noises of the city
feeling the bruises of a bruised ego
getting all wrapped up in it
the beauty contest and the popularity race
the insomnia and the bad dreams
the lipstick stains and the crumbled mascara
what are we?

why do i talk about this now? well, because my gutfeeling isn't right. it's a very awful one.
a frightened one. a little kid screaming for comfort. but there is no comfort.
no warm embrace to keep me safe. i guess we all long for that sometimes. someone to keep us safe and give us hope when our own ability to do that is a bit off-duty.
a chocolate egg a day
expensive habits that make life worth living
so much to do these days
but still find minutes to squeeze in the words
someone with so many thoughts
must someday find a way, right?
and not the a-way to nothingness, cause that is already a well-known path

the allure of purity is so far away i cant even see it. no candles will light the way.
and the whispers of the stars wont even help me now, when the boatman doesn't take coins anymore
cause some stupid bastard collected the silver coins, on the eyes of the dead,
and put them in his piggy bank
why would he do such a thing if not possessed by Mannon?
i do not know but some might know the story.
of insanity as it speaks. of children when they laugh. of sunlight on a rank corps.
who would hurt such a playful thing?
poke it with a pointy stick and make it withdraw into the depths of solicity?
im not on the train anymore
i think i jumped off
then again, i say that every time and i fool myself every time
something bad happens and hell happens and solicity happens
and then there's someone. who likes to play
and we play for a while
then something bad happens. and hell happens and solicity happens
and then there's someone...
i do like to play very much.
but im sensing a pattern and i think im not the only one.
a play in re-play, but with different actors.
the stories intertwining and some never coming to an end
but everything changes with every hell
a chord is painfully cut
and things change
and are never the same
because a band aid could never cover a chasm
only in fairytales it could
but sleeping beauty is already awake and when she realised reality was real, she commited suicide by shooting herself in the head
im sorry kids, all stories cant have a happy ending
because that is real reality
there is escape and there is escape
some better than others.
just find the keys and you'll be able to open the doors into the treacherous realm of escape and escape
and spacebar and delete.
but the question marks are everywhere, so be careful.
that's all for tonight kids.
Sweet Dreams.

It's all about the questions

What are you supposed to do when you feel your heart even though you don't want to feel it? When you feel it squirming like some disgusting worm, wriggling. It's there in your chest, having all these feelings, or at least it feels like it's all in the chest, the ache and the... longing. and whatnot. And you just want to rip it out.
Because it just complicates things.

This is officially the last day of the summer break. And I'm dead tired. Will be kinda good going back to school I suppose. don't you think capital I in the middle of sentences look really offensive? i think it does and can't understand for a second why such a silly rule still is hanging on. why not just dump all capital i's. Yes. I was saying. School will probably be ok. Not maths. But the other things.

It's like im in my body but im really not. if you get what i mean. have you ever looked down at your own body and felt estranged, like it didn't really belong to you? like you can do whatever you want with it. trash it, hurt it, see it getting all filled with bruises, feed it bad food, deny it sleep... Or take care of it; long showers, body lotions, manicure, exercise, sleep, healthy food like lots of fruits and vegetables, relaxation... It's so interesting how simple things can get so detached.

Like detached from your life. You're aware you're living it but still not there entirely. Maybe that's just sometimes. But a whole summer break just passed. Like in a second. Does that mean I was not aware of the things I've done? I wasn't there? I have all these memories I keep replaying in my head. They make me smile, and cry, and laugh... It was a good summer. And now, I can't wait for autumn to come; the red and yellow leaves, the crisp air, the mist, the slowly creeping cold, the piercing autumn sunsets, the hard ground, cozy sweaters, hot food like savory stews and crunchy pies, cozy sweaters, wrapping yourself in a blanket with a book and a cup of tea, candlelight, storms, movies...

So many ambitions we carry. So much we MUST do. Like all the vows of a healthier autumn. "As soon as summer is out, I'll start exercising for real". Or the need to always perform. No matter what, we must always accomplish so much, collect merits on our stupid papers. We're not worth anything if we cant show it on paper.
It almost bugs me more than my heart.
But just almost.

Do you realize i never get anywhere with these blogposts? It's just a heap of randomness. Cant remember the last time i had a well-composed post that actually came to a conclusion. Maybe it's because my life lacks conclusions right now. Right now, it's all about the questions. And i think it will be for some time.

We're just lonely hearts looking for melody

Cleaned out a lot today. CleaningFest08 is on bitches. First papers and folders and stuff. Today wardrobe. And mind. Clothes go to recycling, more space, stuff on floor goes in, old boxes emptied and cleared. Check. Mindclutter and broken debris also sweeped a little. By talking to Mom and Anna. Perspectives. by saying something, you might actually understand what it means. By saying something aloud, you might realize what it is you've been saying all along. Silent thoughts are not always gonna do the trick. And maybe your thoughts are really silly, and by saying them to someone else, you'll find out just how silly they are. Tomorrow desk and bed will get it's share.

Copenhagen today was real fun. As soon as you step out from the underground, feel the breeze and smell the air, you know it's not Sweden anymore. You get the outlandish feeling, adventure and exoticness. It's only half an hour away from home, but it's still outlandish.
On the train ride there we contemplated how wonderful airports are. The sense of expectation in the air, heading to new places, new experiences. The tingling and the nervousness, the happy uncertainty of not knowing what's gonna happen next. I love it, just walking around there, breathing in the excitement. Of course it's all the better if you hold a ticket with a destination in your hand. Mine would say Narita/Tokyo.

Didn't buy the perfume. Sadly enough. Walked in there. They have 5 of them left. Yes, I know, I'm obsessed with scents. But this one is really special, although I'm trying to convince myself it's so special I would have grown tired of it immediately. Its rich, mysterious, spicy smell still lingers sur mes poignets... And I dream...

Akimbo. Fairytale store. Never get tired of walking into that heavenly place of fluffy, happy, pink, lace, angels, glitter, candy, candles, cute, butterflies, plushies, toys, mirrors, crystals... It's like walking into the dream of a princess.

Then of course, the obligatory booze stop. Yepp, check. It's legal so HAH! Bacardi lemon. Which two smart girls found out was very nice to mix with ice tea. And some breezers for a sister in need.

The train ride home was HIGHness. Kindereggs, scary wormy chipsy thingys, chocolate MAELK, ice tea, and more kindereggs. I couldn't put my toys together. Seriously, it was really difficult! But managed finally. Some random stuff and some more random stuff. A shark!

Angel is a big fluffy puppy with bad teeth <3

Mom. Talking. A lot. Serious. finally feel like im a grown-up. I take care of her just as much as she takes care of me.
Sometimes you just need those talks. The close ones, where you help eachother out. In this case, me helping her out. You realize you actually have something good to say, that you've experienced quite a lot and that what you say matters. That you can help and be a support. Just venting out everything you need to talk about, and getting a response. Almost forgotten how wonderful it can feel. Both listening and talking. Making her laugh at her own silliness. Family is always the closest. no matter what happens, they will always be. because they love you for who you are, no matter how badly you screw up. and that is worth everything.

how can it be "cosmic" just touching another person, looking into his eyes? im amazed at that. guess ive never felt what its like. being that in love. seems like a real hard time though. im too comfortable with dreaming. guess i'll always be too comfortable in fantasies. they are just so much less harsh than reality. didnt say better, mind, only "less harsh", cause reality can be pretty darn nifty sometimes. if you make it so. woudlnt that make fantasies boring though? cause they're flawless a.k.a perfect? hm, i think too much. trouble sleeping because of the eternal thinking. will you just shut up for a minute thank you. but the more i tell it to shut up, the louder it gets. and im kinda scared about tomorrow. shallowness is hurtful. goodnight.

She found you on MySpace today

the way you can save someone just by being there, in their life. saying hi, or just a simple smile. reaching out. how many doesn't go around alone, waiting to make that connection. but it never happens, you know.

read some old posts. does it even matter? how hard we try to make a difference when we really never do. looking over stuff gives me crazy urges to change. change hair, clothes, way i think, talk, everything. become something else. for a moment. a passing fad. then change into something else. change is what maintain us. what will i be today? feel like hijacking my sister's camera, i definitely need some updated photos for various internet profiles. like facebook and myspace. gosh im so vain.

want to do this amazing gothlol photoshoot. in that weird emo store where they have a sweeny todd chair. and a changing room that looks like a coffin. talked about it before, that i wanna dress up all gothy and go in there and ask if i can take some pictures. such a long time ago.

red lips or pale nude? Some time ago I ventured away from the emo/newrave/harajuku and more into black/white/tailored/Pete Doherty (think gossip girl, white t with black minivest, black skinny jeans, school girl skirts, tailored jacket). today i changed shoes four times. feeling like carrie bradshaw, only my shoes doesn't cost a fortune. cleaning out papers and sorting into folders today. tonight, im cleaning out my closet. discarding clothes that i no longer use.

She found you on MySpace today
Sent a message wondering if you were okey
When she listened to the harmonies
Something behind her heart wanted to keep what´s left of you

She waited for hours and than,
You replied with a short ”this is the end”
No tears were running until
Something behind her heart wanted to kill what´s left of you
Though she´s dreamin of you, and maybe

Mattis and Maia go travelling again
Maybe to another state or maybe to Japan
It might be warmer there, it might be *prettier*,
It might be easier, *definitely* quieter
Somewhere else

(Maia Hirasawa)

When words begin to fail

"And if you are not aware of having a thought, is it legitimate to say that you are thinking?" - PA

"Not only is death the one true arbiter of happiness (Solon's remark), it is the only measurement by which we can judge life itself." - PA

"Drunkenness is never more than a symptom, not an absolute cause" - PA

"When anything can happen - that is the precise moment when words begin to fail" - PA

Paul Auster equals godlike in my eyes. Essay is going ok, a mess, but still, there are words. There's a document. It's on it's way.
New addictions acquired includes ice tea and kindereggs. Random, i guess. it's fun pulling strings.
Evangelion - philosophical perspectives on what humanity is. And who says anime isn't good? I'll kick your ass anytime.
Tents are the coziest thing ever, I've always thought so.
And waterpipe is seriously underestimated. I'm getting one. Help me relax between studying and studying. Man, if I had my own apartment. Incense, waterpipe, candles everywhere, wicca stuff, books, antique rug, indian pillows... just imagine the opium din. or the humble abode of a sherpa. or somewhat like Giles' apartment.
Life. And the turns it takes. Words fail. I'm still amazed at a hundred life times. At memories. Who knows the way? Are memories alive? Isn't it just like reading a book, reliving something? How some scents give you goosebumps, a shiver of pleasure, how a certain kind of music shape your state of mind...

Call me free today, if you see it my way
Time on my side as well as my mind is
It's not with you for sure, no not anymore
I intend to stay away for good

It's just a matter how I define
My state of mind

Today is a good day

Just a scratch on my ego
I get up in the morning
With a good plan tomorrow
I'll be keeping my mind cold
Until the evening
When the hours forget me and
The waiting awaits me
and voices of madness
from my subconscious
singing songs of the sadness
Today is a good day.

(anna ternheim)

good at the ideas, at the concept. creating an idea, a shell, imagining it. seeing the whole of it but not having the effort to complete it. wondering whether there is a job where you just have to hatch ideas, plotlines, creative projects, titles and have visions without having to complete it yourself. ghost writer? art director? something? and how do you become that? contacts, contacts. raining all day, raining on my empty head. looking out the window, trying to form the right words, avoid the brain melt writing an essay creates. trying to out-smart myself, go around the wires, find a way around all the gibberish, something incredible, a breakthrough. out-shine myself. but it's just an illusion, a shimmer in front of the screen, not real. is it ever.

the connection between two people. the eyes. the words. everyone is looking for something. aware of it or not, we are looking. this episode on loneliness really gives me the creeps. how people so desperately search, humiliate themselves. go out, put up this show, the neediness in their eyes. it's terrible. teasing and flirting in all honor, be careful to know what you're after. not everyone plays by the rules.

You could be my garage band king

She belongs to heaven. No medication can cure the lust. So say your prayer for the sickly.

Want to travel. Again. Berlin this fall will probably be the last trip of the year. Must say I’ve had the best year of travels ever. London, Tokyo, Paris. Has truly been amazing. So far, I might even go so far as to say it has been the best year of my life. What I can recall at least. Yeah, it has actually been a pretty damn awesome year this far. Can’t wait for the rest of it. I think it’s the magic of Tokyo. Or maybe getting to know more about myself. Such as working. Which has really given me strength and confidence.

She tried to converse with my eyes. I was glad I walked alone.

Tonight will be good too. Another movienight. Growing quite fond of them, a certain charm in staying up all night watching irrelevant stuff. Not that Buffy is irrelevant, or Evangelion, or Gossip Girl. No, very life-saving and satisfying. And the day after that, there will be a tent. And bacardi breezers. And waterpipe. And people. And booze. And games, mwahahaha.

Save you from your own ways. Talks like a gentleman. Climb this mountain.

I’ve started writing on my essay. Finally. It’s very confusing, and I don’t even know which parts should go where. It’s like putting together a kinderegg toy without the manual. Deadly. But I decided I’ll just write the parts that need to be written, and then maybe later, I’ll be able to piece them together. Wishthinking. But maybe I’ll have the help of K. I’m breaking the Mirror of Erised. Nothing good ever came of wasting away in front of dream images anyway.

You should know everything I say I hate. I’m gonna tell the whole world how you really are.

Worked two days now. And all amazed I suddenly have four days for free. So yeah, movienight, camping, then the day after that I’m prolly going to Copenhagen. Buying a perfume! So amazing it’s still there, have tried it on twice, with more than a years interval. Need it. So different. So mysterious. And yeah the day after that I should probably write on my essay. We’re soon having a “party” at work. With theme. Raggar-tema. Of course it was only after that our boss realised all the girls are gonna look like whores.

If I could find you now, things would get better. Leave this town and run forever.

School soon starting. Weird thing is. I’m almost looking forward to isolating myself and studying my ass off. Almost excited about it. And I will have my Japanese lessons, work out regularly, singing lessons with S, maybe an occasional Mangakai. Geekishness.

These words are all I have so I write them. Falling apart to half time.

Maybe when the room is empty. Maybe when the bottle’s full.

"The Mirror of Erised"-syndrome

I can't sleep. Seems a lot of that is going around lately. Is this a disease?
The skies are forbodingly grey, but no rain is falling. I'm just waiting for it to start, the release of it.
Would be nice to just feel the heavy downpour.
But now the clouds are moving, opening up, a speck of white becoming visible in a far corner.
That was not what I was waiting for.
If it's nice weather tonight, I'll curse the heavens.

I hate waking up early when I know I need my sleep.
I almost like waking up too late, at least then I can feel the satisfaction of my body claiming the sleep it needs.
Why wont my body co-operate at just sleep for as long as it needs, I need more sleep than this!
I can feel my eyes all tired, I can see myself collapsing of tiredness later when I have to go to work.

What is it about that place that makes me so desperately ache with longing?
It’s not just the culture. It’s everything.
So now I’ve looked at TUJ, ICU, Sofia and Waseda. I think I’ll be applying for ICU, seems like a really good uni, plus they had extensive information about the application procedure and the different programs, which I really liked. And they had a special procedure description for those with IB grades, me like, since the other schools don’t seem to know what it is. Sofia I didn’t get a grip on at all, but Waseda seems really good too, although the information was really confusing. TUJ I’ve talked to, but someone said it wasn’t a very good school. Maybe I’ll email Kazu, who’s a history professor, he should know, shouldn’t he?

Sometimes you just wish there was someone like Giles you know. Like a mentor of some sort. Someone older who would know what to do, who would help. My experience of guidance counsellors isn’t that great. I mean, they get paid to sit around and do nothing, give you a few websites that you could just as easily have found yourself.

Hey, I want a smooch-a-thon too! Maybe not in a graveyard, but then again, scary is good.

Talking to strangers really gives you a perspective on who you are. Or how you want others to see you. Talking to strangers make you realise how hard it is to let someone in, to become close.

I’ve been thinking about something I would like to call the “Mirror of Erised”-syndrome. You know when Quirrel looks into the mirror and only sees himself handing over the stone to his master, only someone who wanted to find the stone, but not use it, could get it out of the mirror. Thus, only a self-less person who wouldn’t want the riches or eternal life, would be able to get it. I see myself writing the book, I see myself getting it published, I see myself in my perfect Tokyo apartment, living off the success of my works. But how do I get it done? I don’t know if I have that book inside me. There are so many words, characters and plotlines and stories, but I never put them to paper, and when I do it’s just loose scraps of notes. It’s like my EE, I see myself handing it in to K, I see myself getting it back, marked A. I see the success but I never get it done. I only see myself using the stone, I never get it out of the mirror.
And I feel bad about this. Cause that’s what the bad guys see. The good guy got the stone out, remember?

Enough with the Harry Potter analogy. I want to think about what I’ve done so far this summer. I like to look at every experience as something you can grow and learn from. And there’s definitely been some major learning this summer. Maybe not schoolwise *cough* but many experiences. Maybe I’ve learnt a lot of this before, but it’s revision that makes it stick.

What can I get for 10 dollars (anything you want)

With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head'll collapse when there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
"Where is my mind?"
(M.I.A)

Lack of sleep. I'll prolly sleep all day now, no helpin it. So yeah, say five hours, wont be until six pm i wakey wakey then. goodey it does me. sleepin away like nothin else existed. i tell you what, stayin up all night is baaaad.
so we pulled an allnighter, spent it with hot vampires, lots of ice tea, cashewnuts and ofcourse ben and jerry were V.I.P. No seriously, we watched buffy, angel and then went for some gossip girl. i had even forgot how good that series is. or at least the clothes. don't really like the plot. there's actually only two good things about gossip girl, the clothes, and Chuck Bass.
My computer is hopefully healing now, thanks to magda, the brilliant pc-surgeon. so good news, i wont be needing to buy a new one, which means i can save the money for my oh so expensive university-going...
schoolwork anyone? summer's soon out, anyone else panicking?
oh did i tell you about the shopping-urges? really bad. shouldnt spend money. bad bad . but hey, i bought new hot shoes from bianco, black. and a superhot black dress, Minimarket, on sale but still expensive. just love the dress, love the brand. and lots of sexy lingerie. must say, money is extremely funny. and dangerous. i just got addicted to earning and earning more. been complaining about work, but not anymore, not since ive started to reap the benefits...

With the lights out it’s a little less dangerous

don't try to hide
the mistakes i made this time
but please try and listen
cause i'm breaking my heart tonight
so you can see whats inside
cause wherever you go, well thats where i'll go
i'd do so much ill show but you won't know
so heres a song to show for the things i've blown
but im sorry so... thats the only way that i know

and all ive learned is
what we hate we make, what we hate we make
theres no time for hating but what we hate we make

(the rocket summer)

With the lights out it’s a little less dangerous
Even with a stranger never gets painless
Don’t be afraid (afraid, afraid)

Every time I think I’m gonna change it (think I'm gonna change it, think I'm gonna change it)
It’s driving me (driving me) insane (insane)
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Do you live, do you die, do you bleed
For the fantasy
In your mind, through your eyes, do you see
It’s the fantasy

(30 seconds to mars)

Had a very good weekend I must say. Or well, it's mixed feelings. Friday - g is leaving, airport, feeling time running out, didnt want to go at all. this emptiness. and knowing it will be a long time (secretly already plotting to somehow get hold of tickets to jp so i can go visit). just wont believe it will be a year, cant stand that thought. need too much.
Then copenhagen all day with M, such a perfect day, sushi, shopping, handing out cv's. just perfect. found Bead House! finally. going back there, it's like smycke-heaven. then in the evening, movienight! good movies, good company, good ice cream. i had a really good time. all saturday me and M stayed in watching Buffy. surprise! it was good. and tonight i have work. but oh well. it'll be ok i hope.

Between you and me, you don't have to worry.

Why does he have that scent, he in the seat in front of me? Not fair. play.

"No big deal, it's just a book." Stranger than fiction. The way we live inside ourselves.