Why do I have a cut in my left indexfinger?

one thousand and one yellow daffodils

I feel dead. Broken. Empty. And full of hate.

I hate my job. I hate my work-hours. I hate that I want to keep it. I hate that I might get fired. I hate that I don't have an education. I hate that I want an education. I hate my parents. I hate this apartment. I hate this city. I hate my life. I hate feeling like a whore. I hate the guy who made me feel this way. I hate having feelings for a man. I hate men. I hate women. I hate people. I hate myself. I hate having anxiety attacks. I hate being dead. I hate being broken. I hate being empty. I hate the fact that I can't sleep. I hate that I want more. I hate that I can't be happy here. I just hate, hate, hate...

No wonder people get bored with me...

disaster

I feel rebellious today. I feel like breaking windows, destroying cars and telling old people that they suck. So I flat-ironed my hair. That's what I do when I feel rebellious. Change my hair... And not even permanent because I'm too scared for that. The only change of haircolour I do is if I spray it with some silly colour from a can - washable of course. I am a sad rebel.

My 100th entry was about sex - why am I not surprised?

Birthday celebrations tonight - salsadancing baby! Do you have any idea what my biggest problem about tonight is? I can't decide which socks I want. There was a time when this wasn't an issue - when the socks were just socks; there to be a little silly and cover the feet. Why oh why did I make my socks a part of my outfit?

My neighbours love me. Our relationship goes far beyond the normal - they play music for me in the middle of the night and I go up there and tell them how much they mean to me. They play RnB-music for me in the afternoon - I play highlights from the Eurovision history for them. I have to say I feel a bit sad now though... Their music isn't high enough for me to hear anymore...
"You actually listen to that?"
"You'd be surprised if you knew the truth..."
If you ever need a lifeline for a question about Eurovision - call me and I'll save you.

"American action - it's a default 3."

I wonder what it takes for a person to become a prostitute. A whore. What it takes to push someone over that edge and have sex for money. Some say it's just sex, others say it's something personal and I understand them both. It's just an animal instinct meant for reproduction and, in our case, pleasure, but to have it with people you don't know and get paid? To not know where you will end up and if you'll make it out alive?

I suppose it depends on where and how you grow up. I know that I will never be able to have sex with someone that I don't know - it's just too intimate for me. (Then again - I don't touch people unless I bump into them.) That doesn't mean that I haven't thought about it - prostitution would be easy money and I wouldn't be the one committing a crime. You see, here in Sweden it's illegal to buy sexual services, but not to sell.
They say that prostitution is the oldest job in the world and I know that a lot of countries down south have brothels. I had a friend once who said that he believed that brothels kept rapists from the streets because then they had someone to go to get their sexdrive satisfied. I asked him if he was serious and he was. I think he saw the brothel-prostitutes as just that; whores. Worth less than you an me. A whore can't get raped - she wants it - why else would she be there?

I suppose I shouldn't condemn these countries - we've had brothels here too - and I suppose that my friend did have some sort of valid point in his mind, but a rape is a rape. If it's in a back alley or a hotel suite - it'll still be a rape. Whether it's a man or a woman, it'll still be a rape. Whether there's payment involved or not, it'll still be a rape.
Yes, I've thought about it myself because it really would be easy, tax-free money, but no, I don't like the thought of getting raped.

We saw Die Hard today. A cavalcade in early 90's-fashion. Did you know that Bruce Willis puts on a different coloured shirt somewhere after the first 30 minutes of the movie? He's hot, old Brucie and yes, the movie was quite entertaining - very much above the average. I think I'll give it four plants out of five. I'm just not that into bang-bang.

I am incredibly zoomed out. I haven't been this distant in years - damn, I've missed it!

Death is nothing but a new beginning.

In my hood

There's a boy

Making girls breathless

Serving tea down on 39th street

And today

Even though

It may seem hopeless

I’ll go down on my stumbling feet

And ask him out - oh yeah

And if tonight

Turns into this "perfect tonight"

Then have a little mercy on my soul

And if the moon

Just lights up his devilish smile

It's gonna take a lot of manners to stop me from this:

Steal his precious first-date kiss

I'm so ashamed

I am weak

What a big failure

Couldn't speak, couldn't feel my own tongue

I’m such a fool

What can I say?

But today - trust me!

I will do a little better this time

And ask him out again

And if tonight

Turns into this "perfect tonight"

Then have a little mercy on my soul

And if the moon

Just lights up his devilish smile

It's gonna take a lot of manners to stop me from this:

Steal his precious first can-only-give-it-to-someone-special kiss

And if tonight

Turns into this “perfect tonight”

Then have a little mercy on my soul

And if the moon

Just lights up his devilish smile

It's gonna take a lot of manners to stop me from this:

Steal his precious first-date kiss

In my hood

There's a boy

Making girls breathless

I got asked out once. It was my third year of high school and I was having lunch with my friends in the school cafeteria when one of the guys from one of the international science-classes approached and asked me out. Me, him and a bunch of other people from his class had played cards together (we did that so much back then) since we started high school, but the two of us had actually never really spoken to each.
He surprised me so much that I had to think it over. And I did. And I never got back to him. Girls are nasty when they're 18.

I don't think I've ever asked someone out - I've asked for numbers, but not an actual date. The thought of "no, but thanks for asking" scares me. I have some... problems with taking "no" for an answer and I wonder how much courage that poor boy had to summon to ask me out.

I might loose my job. I might not. I might find out today, I might not. I might move abroad if I loose it. I might not.

I don't like my job all the time. I don't like this apartment all the time. I don't like living in this country all the time. But I don't want to loose my job. I don't want to have to sell my apartment and move back to my parents. I don't want to have to take a job as a telemarketer wondering if people would like to change their telephone company and get a free phone. I don't want to take a student loan to be able to cover the loan and mortage and bills I have now.

But I will.

If I loose my job I'll apply for that loan and a 2-year program in hotel management. I have no hopes of ever finishing it, but I'd rather try that than move back home to my parents.

unnecessarily useless

1. I own two wrist-watches, but always forget to use them. The only other watches I have are the ones in my mobile phone and on my computers.
2. I like wearing skirts in the winter - it's warmer than jeans however weird that may sound.
3. I have a dream of opening a hotel and every now and then I yell out because I see the perfect building.
4. I don't believe people who say they've seen a ghost even though I belong to them.
5. The first time I realised boys were more than just boys was when I stood at a beach in Spain in the summer of 2000. It was great!
6. I'm terrible at easy math, but quite good with third-degree equations (x3).
7. I have a very good memory for numbers and almost never speed-dial.
8. I have four different pairs of flip-flops - all in different colours, of course. (Only bought one pair though.)
9. I hate pantyhoses with a passion.
10. It was more than ten years ago that I had meat on my breakfast sandwhich.
11. When I was 18 I tried out to join the army. I declined the position I was offered, but at least I tried.
12. I think going to the loo is one of the best things I can do.
13. Since I moved away from home my eating habits turn more and more towards fish than meat. I think it's lazyness - I don't know how to cook meat properly.
14. I don't like to talk on the phone and my mobile phone calls are always very short - when I talk I always have the phone on the left side of my head (I'm right-handed).
15. I've always been a very proportional person (a.k.a. "skinny") and every family gathering my relatives asked me if I had an eating disorder. When I said no they asked my family if I was telling the truth. I don't speak to my relatives today.
16. I don't like birthdays, but praise myself in being very good at finding the "perfect present".
17. I've only had one boyfriend, he bored me after the third date, the relationship lasted three months and we didn't have sex.
18. My family has a history of heart attacks, cancer, alcoholism and recently we found out that my mother's cousin has Alzheimer's. My grand-mother died from a heart attack at the age of 53 and so did my mother's older brother. One of her younger brothers died at the age of 44 for the same reason. I used to be terrified that my mother would pass the same way. (She's 60 today.)
19. I've been able to play poker since I was about five years old. (Not said I do it very well though.)
20. I don't like having my picture taken and always do very silly faces or smile very very big when it happens.
21. I was born with my ass first and had a major surgery when I was three. I haven't been to the hospital since then other than to accompany or speak to someone.
22. I dislike the police. Very very much.
23. I've never held a lighted cigarette.
24. I can't walk in high heeled-shoes - that doesn't stop me from buying them though.
25. I'm good at making polite conversations - I usually just don't care enough about the other person to bother and I don't like other people.

Something's wrong - got a feeling that I don't belong...

I was afraid of the dark when I was a kid. My dad used to check under the bed for me since my imagination always ran wild. Once I was assured that no, there was nothing under my bed tonight either I could sleep.
When I was about 14 I wasn't afraid of the possible creatures under my bed anymore. I was afraid of the images that haunted me when I tried to sleep. Puberty, emotions and the history lessons about the Second World War made me fear myself. I started reading much much more than I had before. Books have always been very dear to me, but they became an addiction. Not having anything to read made me annoyed. Not to mention that my brain would haunt me. It sounds kinda stupid - haunted by your own brain. Mentally broken by your thoughts. Destroyed by images you make up.

This was ten years ago and I have come a long way since then, but when it comes to addiction... I still have it. Since I started playing World of Warcraft it's more or less resting, but once in a while I stumble upon something that just pushes away everything and takes me in. I'm there now. The lorestories about Warcraft (the computergame that World of Warcraft is based upon) is breathtaking. It combines the history of the game I love so much with myth and it's so well-written that I want to cry out in joy. This book made me realise why I love World of Warcraft so much - I started for the fantasy, I stay for the lore and the myths.

I had forgotten how good it feels to disappear into a book. Not having to deal with thoughts, issues, people or problems - just the book.

You're so free, that's what everybody's telling me...

I've had a few mental orgasms in my days. You know the kind that just makes your brain go into "overload-mode" and you can't really breathe. Yes, of course I'm aware of the fact that normal orgasms does that to the brain aswell, but the first ones are just that - mental.

The first time was when I entered Waterstone's at Piccadilly in London. Five floors with books... I still get trouble breathing just by thinking about it. (It's not as impressive when I enter it now, but it's still a cool sight.)
The second time was December 25th 2005 - the first time ever that I saw The Phantom of the Opera. Having loved the musical since I was old enough to rummage through my parents' records and never living close enough to a theatre which shows it - the possibility of seeing it at the cinema was too good to pass up. I'm not sure if you've seen it - but when they start playing the music, that mighty amazing introduction, I cried. Wow.
In January 2006 I saw it again. This time for real - in London's West End. I was a bit disappointed that time - the female lead had a quite nasal voice. Still... The Phantom of the Opera.
Yesterday I saw it again in Copenhagen. This time it was in Danish and I thought I was going to be bothered by it, but I really wasn't. I understood it much better than I thought, and of course, having heard the music probably more than 1000 times all the songs were sung in English in my head anyway. I didn't cry when the intro came this time, but I had goosebumps all over my body. That was a clear mental orgasm.

I think there are three ways of looking at things; pessimist, optimist and fate.
The pessimist thinks that everything is gonna get fucked anyway so she doesn't really bother.
The optimist thinks that everything will turn out for the best no matter what so she doesn't really bother.
The one who believes in fate thinks that no matter what she does she'll end up where she is suppose to end up so she doesn't really bother.
Somehow I think I'm all of these at the moment.

"Dress as ugly as you can!" was the order for tonight's birthdayparty. Somehow all my ugly clothes vanished when I moved... The most ugly ones I have now are jeans with paint-stains and a big t-shirt and that really seems boring for a party. Gah, maybe I'll just go for a horrible 80's-look with a big ribbon in my hair, legwarmers, tights and a t-shirt in some hideous neon colour. My god, I hate the 80's.

Patented nano-technological brush.

This is what Nivea says about their new mascara. Seriously. I live so far from this world it really scares me sometimes.

cotton candy

Every now and then I think about becoming a stewardess. Not because I like flying or people, but because I absolutely love airports. Whenever this thought comes up I nicely tell myself what the stewardesses have to go through. (Mostly my talk involves long days in high heels and make-up - just that is enough to make me wanna do something completely different.) Just take a look at these rules that the Gulf Air has for theirs:

• All stewardesses must be between 20 and 30 years old.
• They have to be taller than 158 centimetres and their weight must be proportional to their length.
• During the education the ones who are considered "too fat" will be forced to loose weight.
• The weight is written into the contract to ensure that it will be possible to fire anyone who gains weight.
• The stewardesses are not allowed to have either children or partners while they work at the company.
• The company decides which haircolour the stewardesses shall have.
• You're not allowed to work at Gulf Air if you have visible birth marks or scars on your body.
• Before each flight the stewardesses are inspected. The one who doesn't live up to the rules for the looks will have to stay on the ground without salary.
• When the education is finished the employees are forced to work for at least a year.
• The one who wants to quit earlier will have to pay Gulf Air 10 000 dollars.

Imagine me, standing there for inspection and then being told that I'm too fat or that I have too little make-up on.
No, for the sake of the free world it's probably better than I'm not a stewardess. I think the last thing we need is one more mentally unstable woman on a revenge killing-spree.

The Phantom of the Opera in Copenhagen with my mother tonight. In Danish. WOO!

glassbowl

I'm gonna end up buying Watchmen, I just know it. It's been in my head all day and I just can't stop thinking about it. (And no, it's not about Jeffrey Dean Morgan or Dr. Manhattan's penis, believe it or not.) Just like V for Vendetta, which I still really don't like that much.
This means that everyone else was right about the movie and I was wrong. I'm actually dying a bit inside now.

sugarpills

An afternoon with insanity and nerdiness is wonderful. I'd forgotten how much I love it. To top it off with a movie at the cinema is really nice.

I've seen a lot of bad movies over the years. You know, the kind that just makes your mind drift until you don't really know what you're watching anymore. I've also seen a lot of movies because one of the leading roles were hot. Yes, I am that shallow and yes, it is almost always worth it. Not with Alfie though - no matter how hot Jude Law is, that movie will never be any good. (I've seen it twice and I have no idea how it ends.)
Watchmen. Superheroes going down. One really hot lead. To make a long story short: that was two hours and 45 minutes that I will never ever get back.
It's probably me though. I probably don't understand the wonderful deep in a movie like this. Me, who get happy just by seeing the sun shine. Sure, it had its' moments, but what I mostly thought was "yes it's ending! No, it isn't..."
I suppose I'm too naïve for this kind of movie. Or maybe I'll love it when I'm bitter. Or maybe I just can't take masked people seriously - let alone a tiger with horns (on the head). Or maybe I was just too tired to be able to grasp it and it will be better the second time, because I know, that no matter how much I dislike it, there will be a second time. Unfortunately there always is.

Objectify!

You know that woman the construction workers whistle at? Deep down inside she usually likes the attention.
You know that teenager who buys groceries and hears that she has "great jugs"? Deep down inside she usually wishes she didn't have breasts.
You know that male clerk in the shop? The girls who visits the shop more than usual are actually sexually harassing him.

When it is sexual harassment and when is it okay? When a man presses his penis against a woman then it's a clear sexual harassment (usually), everyone agrees with that. If a woman presses her breasts against a man then it's a clear sexual harassment too (usually), but men don't tend to press charges.
When a 60-year old man tells a 25-year old woman that she looks good then he's got a case of the old-man's-sickness and he's disgusting.
When a 60-year old woman tells a 25-year old man that he looks good then he usually just smiles and doesn't care.
Women want the same things men have - rights to vote, work, drive a car, study and so on and of course they should have it all. Everyone is equal.
Then again... Women don't want to be objectified. They don't want to be seen as "a great ass" or "gorgeous breasts". This insight doesn't stop them from objectifying men in the same way. That clerk in the shop? Wonderful smile. The construction worker? Great biceps. The delivery guy? Oh, what an ass!
Since when are women higher and better than men?

People like to gossip. Good gossip or bad gossip doesn't really matter, but they love doing it. H2 and I thought about this and came up with the idea to brighten the world of others at work. We figured that starting a rumour that we have something going on would be easy. Especially since we kept messing around last week and had a real gossip on the other side (other department - same workspace) and a real dreamteam this week with a horrible gossip (as a fill-in for H1) and her friend who hates me.
In true "being in love"-style I've dropped the sloppy t-shirts and sweatpants and worn proper clothing. (Getting into a pair of jeans you wanna cut up to be able to enter at 5:40am is not a very nice way to start the morning.) Of course we've also been a bit closer and sneaky and spoken very loudly about going to the movies together (were we of course failed to mention that we're going with H1 aswell).
Nothing has happened so far. We've been doing this a whole week and NOTHING. We have the three worst gossips and nothing. Well, at least nothing that we've heard of so far...

zoom

When I don't sleep I can actually feel when my body starts to wear itself down. The intestines stop working, the brain can't make a proper connection between word and meaning and I have to remind myself that breathing is a good thing. I have to stop working shifts. I have to go abroad and live in a wooden house in the bush and grow my own vegetables and just be there. Of course I won't do that. I'm not going to sell my apartment and just move to another country "because I feel like it". I'm not going to quit my job and search for something else "because I'm slightly bored". I am, however, going to start courses to get a degree. What the degree will be in isn't really clear to me yet, but at least I'll have a piece of paper that tells people "yes, she studied at the university and she knows things she will never use".
I have no idea how it's going to turn out or if I'll even finish, but at least it's a step on the way. A step towards something different and yet so well-known. I loved school so much - I wonder if I still do that. If i get in I'll let you know.

hot chocolate

Does money turn people on?
Not me. There's no money in the world who'd make me go into the hay with Bill Gates or Hugh Hefner. None-in-the-world. Ever.

The art of moving on.

I'm a dweller. I live in the past - not only my past, but centuries ago. I'm fully convinced that my life would be better if I didn't have any electronic equipment - although, it's quite funny how that insight comes when said electronic equipment decides to fail me.
To live in a wooden cabin in the woods with dirt floor and no running water is a dream for me. Several days to the nearest village, having to get my own food, no phones or computers or refridgerators... Then again, being me, I'd probably only last a day and make myself insane when night comes because I'd be sure I'd hear something outside. It'd probably be like The Blair Witch Project except that I'd be the witch and I'd be completely insane.

I love the idea about how everything makes me stronger. Every experience, thought and mistake adds something new to me. Of course, the problem with this is that I add things, but don't move away from the old mistakes. I can dwell over things that happened ten years ago (no wonder I have mental problems), which is a bit of a setback for my belief in fate.
I watched Royal Tenenbaums today and I realised something. The last time I saw it was when it was new - which was about six years ago - and then I got bored very fast and didn't see the whole movie. Now I think it's brilliant. If I would want my old life back, that'd mean that I wouldn't understand this movie and I'm fairly sure that if I would meet the version of myself from 2003 we wouldn't be able to understand each other. I think I've moved on. The thoughts are still there. The "what if?" is still there, but it doesn't feel like I'm living in the past. It feels pretty good.

Then let it be war upon you both!

Something woke me today. I don't really know what it was but I had the sun shining into my apartment and my neighbours playing really loud and bad music. Being the wonderful and understanding person that I am I decided that maybe I should just ignore them and enjoy some music of my own. God, I love musicals. Loud. I also love to stand on my balcony in the sunlight and just breathe. That love kinda dies a bit when I find a cigarettebutt there. I hate smokers. With passion.

There's something missing and I don't know what it is. It's a bit annoying.

home

I miss my old life.

the trick is to keep breathing

Why does it always end up with me feeling like I'm dying?