"Så kan det gå, snickarjävel."

I am incredibly bored. It might be the lack of air in here, but everything just feels... boring. The weather is amazing and I have plans tonight, but still... boredom. I suppose it could've been worse though. I could've been Jesus on the cross. Imagine hanging there nailed to the cross under a burning sun and a stone cold moon for two days. Ouch. Somehow I wonder if he knew back then that his action would echo for years and years and years. He probably didn't. I bet that all he wanted was to be a carpenter, marry some girl and then pop out a couple of kids, grow old and spend the remains of his days on the porch in a rocking chair. You know, I bet that when the Romans came for him he didn't turn the other cheek. If someone had come for me and told me I'm a liar and then nailed me to a cross there's no way in hell I would've turned the other cheek. So no, I don't think he did that. I think he was kicking and screaming and cursing as they brought out the hammer and the nails. And I think he threatened to hunt them down in his next life. So... bet they didn't see that one coming!

Here in Sweden we celebrate Easter by eating eggs. And opening eggs. An insane amount of eggs. Apparently it means life. "Out comes a live chicken." Yea... let's hope not, for everyone's sake, shall we? We also have a bunch of other stuff like witches and brooms and flowers and dry twigs and feathers. Every family celebrates it differently but we used to have all this stuff when I lived at home. Now, I don't really celebrate it anymore, other than mentioning it here and eating some candy.

So thank you, Monsieur Jèsus, for sacrificing yourself for us so we can be free from work and school and obligations and eat candy and eggs and dress out to witches and bring home dry twigs to decorate with feathers and get a reason to make something special out of an ordinary weekend.

Så kan det gå, snickarjävel = So can it happen, fucking carpenter = That's what happens, fucking carpenter.