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I've done nothing today. Not one thing. Unless you count studying and doing the dishes. And you know what? I'm more mentally exhausted than I've been in a very long time and it sucks. It sucks a lot and I can't even write a decent entry about it.

My neighbours have been playing music all day. Literally ALL day.
If I have enough money to make it 'til the end of the year, I'll be lucky.
My motivation for studying at the university is completely gone.

And you know what? I'm gonna get myself a planeticket to Holland. Because I fucking well deserve it! I deserve to get away, to be somewhere else and most of all, I deserve to find that little piece of sanity lodged deep in my brain.

Is m'ainm...?

I have an exam in business economics on Tuesday. I don't know mathematics, but I'm fairly sure I'll pass anyway. Here comes my problem - if I do something I want to be able to excel in it. I want to be the best. Going to an exam and know that I'll pass, but not be the best is... hard. I know that it's a bit stupid really, since all that matters in the end is that I pass, but still...

Anyway, the last time I studied business economics I screwed up so much with the exercises that I decided to make all my screwups into reality.
The time has come to revive my old company, AB Crashlandning. Since this is a none-Swedish zone for me to express my writing (yes, I'm very well aware of the fact that the word "blog" is shorter, but I think it's an ugly word), I have decided to rename it to Crashlandning Corporation. I've also decided to bring everyone a short resumé - since it's been three and a half years since the last time we heard anything at all.
Crashlanding Corporation is an airline company with corrupted personnel, bad service and money problems. The pilot likes women. Preferably several. At the same time. One of the stewardesses have problems with an addiction to narcotics. Our mechanics prefer to put nails on the seats to annoy the passengers. The co-pilot is stuck somewhere in the middle of a primitive prison in a djungle in Africa and I'm too busy trying to avoid calls from a suitguy from the FBI. Basically we only have one sane person and that's our other stewardess...
And that's about it.

War of the Worlds is not a great movie. It's like watching The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen with a bit more action and annoying sounds and yet again I find myself not caring.

"With Max Power you strap on and feel the g:s!"

I actually made proper dinner today, put on the Devil Wears Prada and just enjoyed my life. While watching the movie I remembered before and after I got my interest in colours and forms. (I simply refuse to write "interest in fashion".) January 2006, after a trip to London. That's when it all changed. (Well, not really in that dramatic way - but you get the point.) From having wanted functional clothes I now wanted clothes that were more fashionesque. Then it just went downhill for some reason. If I buy a pair of shoes now I see a whole outfit to wear them with - they're just shoes for god's sake! You put them on to go to places. My mind has gone insane. Anyway, to get to the point - because I did have a point for once. I can't understand the people who mindlessly follows the trends. I can't understand the people who wear latex leggings and oversized shirts with a big belt at the mid-section. I can't understand people who voluntarily wear the fashion of the 1980's. The 80's ended for a reason. Deal with it. Don't revive it. Spare the world.

Mmm... applejuice...

This afternoon I called my sister to tell her that she has to cancel any plans she has for tomorrow. I didn't reach her, but I did get one of those "this number doesn't exist"-voices in my ear. So I tried again. Same thing. I thought her phone was just being weird so I didn't think any more about it, and then I tried again this evening. Same thing. So I called my parents and guess what? Apprently my sister has changed her number. I feel so loved. Thanks for telling me. NO PRESENT FOR YOU!'

I have a great idea for a book. Wanna hear? Fine, I'll tell you anyway. Murder in the corridors of power. A security guard finds a man murdered - stabbed in the chest - and as a last dying message the man writes on the floor in his own blood. (Stop me if this sounds familiar.) The murder unwraps secret organisations and something even the pope himself (!) wants to keep hidden forever.
Okay, this is complete dèja-vu - I'm so sure I've seen this somewhere... (See the movie by the way, don't read the book. Or well - read it if you don't really care and just want a good story.)

Apparently there was a robbery this morning up north. (This is what I miss because I don't read the news.) The robbers flew down onto the roof of a cash depot, went in through the roof into a room without any form of alarms, grabbed a few bills, went out to the helicopter and left. Insider? Naaa... (http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/europe/09/23/stockholm.helicopter.heist/index.html)

fading

I have one lesson this week. One. It's mandatory. And I'm fairly sure I'll learn something. And I think I'm gonna skip it. Simply because I don't feel all that well.

I've only been more disappointed in myself once before.

Peanutbutter-jelly with a baseball bat!

My throat hurts. And my lungs hurt. And my stomache kinda hurts aswell. On the good side I'm in the last stage of my cold (that's coughing in case you wondered) and I think I just spit porridge on my laptop. Wonderful.

It's my sister's birthday next week. She's turning 23. I haven't bought her anything (usually I plan her present in detail). Or well, last year I called her; "I don't know what to get you - wanna go shop clothes?" "Wooo!". But the year before that we went to London. I think. Or was that the year before that? Maybe we did it both times. Oh right, we did. Anyway, the point is - a birthday is what you make of it. So this year I've gotten her nothing and will just kidnap her and have dinner with her and my parents I think. At my parents. (That way I don't have to go to a restaurant and wait for my food that some angry person has spit in anyway.)

Last week my mother asked me what I want for my birthday. I tell her the same thing every year "don't buy me a gift - I don't want anything" and I still end up getting stuff I don't need and didn't ask for. This year I joked with her though and said "I'd love a planeticket to the Netherlands", the next thing I knew was my sister calling "so I heard you wanted to go to Holland".
I hate birthdays.

Puff the Magic Dragon

Justice comes to the one who's patient. I can be patient. I can be very very patient. '

There's a joint on my balcony.

You know, I see myself as a very nice and tolerant person. I believe in fate and I honestly believe in the good of every person. I'm completely convinced that good things happen to good people. So why on earth is my neighbour making my life a living hell? Why does he play loud music and party every night? Why doesn't the board kick him out? What did I do to deserve this?

And the next time he has a party and I call the police I'll have a joint of his on my balcony.

Yes, justice comes to the one who's patient...

clouds

Good evening, London.

Allow me first to apologise...

I do, like many of you, appreciate the comforts of the everyday routine, the security of the familiar, the tranquility of repetition.

I enjoy them as much as any bloke.

But in the spirit of commemoration whereby important events in the past, usually associated with someone's death or the end of some awful, bloody struggle are celebrated with a nice holiday I thought we could mark this November the 5th, a date that is, sadly, no longer remembered by taking time out of our daily lives to sit down and have a little chat.

There are, of course, those who do not want us to speak.

Even now, orders are being shouted into telephones and men with guns will soon be on their way.

Why?

Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation words will always retain their power.

Words offer the means to meaning and, for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth.

And the truth is... there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there?

Cruelty and injustice,

intolerance and oppression.

And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting submission.

How did this happen?

Who's to blame?

Certainly there are those who are more responsible than others. And they will be held accountable. But again, truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty you need only look into a mirror.

I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease.

There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense.

Fear got the best of you.

And in your panic, you turned to the now High Chancellor Adam Sutler.

He promised you order, he promised you peace and all he demanded in return was your silent, obedient consent.

Last night, I sought to end that silence.

Last night, I destroyed the Old Bailey to remind this country of what it has forgotten.

More than 400 years ago a great citizen wished to imbed the 5th of November forever in our memory. Hos hope was to remind the world that fairness,

justice and freedom are more than words.

They are perspectives.

So if you've seen nothing, if the crimes of this government remain unknown to you, then I would suggest that you allow the 5th of November to pass unmarked.

But if you see what I see, if you feel as I feel, and if you would seek as I seek, then I ask you to stand beside me one year from tonight outside the gates of parliament.

And together, we shall give them a 5th of November that shall never, ever be forgot.

/V in "V for Vendetta"

I can't help but wondering if this is the way we're going...

No co-operation. No co-operation at all!

Sweden is a funny country. I know I've said it before, but it really is. Now we have one of our citizens locked up in a Pakistani prison because he has connections to a certain organisation. (Guess which...) He is, of course, innocent and to make this whole situation even more fun - he's been to Cuba on vacation for three years and got back to Sweden a few years ago. Apparently he did a round-the-world-trip which started in Sweden, then went to Afghanistan and then to Cuba. One can't help but wondering what's so good about these parts of the world to make you want to come back. Maybe it's just me (it usually is), but if I was going abroad I might make it another country than one on a specific list. (You all know the one I'm talking about.) That is... if I still wanted to claim that I'm innocent...

Wait for insanity...

I don't remember his face. I have forgotten what his touch felt like. I'm beginning to forget his voice...
But I still know his name. I can't forget the name of his girlfriend and lately I'm remembering how I felt when he called me and told me that he had gotten a puppy. A tip - never tell someone you have deep feelings for that you and your partner is getting a puppy because all they hear is "we're getting a baby". Of course - don't fall for someone if you have a partner.

Lately I seem to dream of dogs. Yesterday is was my own that I still miss so much and today it was a dog I've never met, although it was a labrador nonetheless. I suppose it means that I'm missing something in my life. Like a doggie...

My neighbour owes someone money. He was very frustrated about this yesterday - and so was the guy who wanted his money. I felt like being part of a movie and I'm totally cheering on the money-guy. Anyone who hurts my neighbour is a friend of mine.

Feeding time!

Sometimes I wonder what I actually do when I sleep, because when I woke up just now I felt my intestines falling into place. Maybe it was just gravity telling them that "you'd better get down here!" - I wouldn't put that as impossible. Of course that would mean that my bed is a no-gravity-zone, but I'm fairly sure that I don't float in the air when I lie down on it so I don't think that's it either. I'll get back to you on this.

Motivation...

Annas head on a Monday morning:
You have to get up.
I don't want to.
Get up!
I can skip this - it's just an introduction.
Yeah, but you never know what you'll miss if you don't go.
But it takes me two hours travelling to get there and then two hours to get home. The intro itself is just two hours. I can skip that.
True, but you might miss something. It's business economics and an intro to "business games".
What the fuck is "business games"?
You won't know that unless you go now, will you? Besides, you got Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday off.
Fine!

I hate students and I hate Swedish people. Now I have a reason to hate myself double! Hooray!

access

My mom gave me some writing-pads a while ago. (Is the word "writing-pad"? You know a bunch of paper gathered together somehow. Ah, nevermind.) I brought one of them with me to my first lecture and when I looked through it I saw some of my dad's handwriting. From when he was in Poland on some work-related thing. In 1993. I can't really say I care much for what it says, but I like the thought about me using the same papers as he did 16 years ago. In a sick, twisted way of course.

Would you like to leave a message?

Do you know what makes a tour to the train station in the morning rush more fun? Technical difficulties! In this case it means that all the arrivals and departures weren't shown on the info-screens. Sure, it was announced in the speakers when a train arrived or left, but by a woman who tried to swallow the microphone. I hardly heard it and I aeel sorry for everyone who have a hard time understanding Swedish. To make all this even more fun, this train station is the last Swedish connection to the continent so there are loads of trains coming and going and now they're rebuilding it! I just have to laugh. So much chaos.

We've had "technical difficulties" at the Paintworld aswell, but that mostly means that it's a human behind it being clumsy. One can't help but wonder...

Sacre Bleu!

I've noticed a few things now that I've started studying again. Universities should have a minimum-age. People shouldn't be allowed to study if they've just finished high school. They are clueless about what the working world is really about. Of course they wouldn't agree with me, because when you're 19 you know everything, right?
Maybe I sound like a know-it-all, but that's just because I KNOW-IT-ALL. I studied at the university straight after high school and even though it was fun, I didn't know anything about the "real world" so to speak. I lived with my parents and didn't pay anything really, I didn't have to work and I still had the student-view on things.

Now I live on my own, I pay my bills, I have a mortgage and I just want to get my degree so I can start for real. It's different, time-consuming and so interesting a part of me wish I'd done it years ago. The other part knows how important my work-life is and how much it'll help me in whatever I do from now on.

19-year old girls are tiny. I wonder if I looked like that when I was 19 aswell. I probably did. They have no hips to speak of, but for some reason they have breasts that are out of this world. The voice inside my head yelled 'SILICON' and it was a bit hard to ignore it. No, I didn't ask, sorry to disappoint you.

What I really dislike about this program is that I'll have to do group-work. I hate working with others, and yes, I'm very well aware of the way this sounds, but it's one thing to work with someone at an actual company and something completely different to team up with a few people, write a report and then turn it in for grading. What I also dislike is having 2 hours of travelling-time, one-way, to meet said people for said group-work. Most people don't know how you write a proper report and some people only want their way and some people just never have an opinion. Yes, I want thing my way, but that doesn't mean I can't compromise. Besides, the real test shouldn't be whether or not I can write a good report together with others, but if I can actually do a proper job on my own.

Okay, so this sounds all wrong - I just hate group-works! There.

Fuck this, I'm getting cake.