dreams

I've been thinking quite a lot lately. Every morning when I wake up it takes about three seconds before my brain starts going into overload-mode. I know what I want. I need to buy groceries. I wanna sleep. I should start inline-skating again. It might seem silly, but it's the fact that all the thoughts come at once and yes, some of them are fairly easy to sort out, but why can't my brain just be numb and filled with cotton for an hour after I've woken up?
A friend massaged my back a while ago and told me that it technically shouldn't hurt when he did it. And it never has before. Sometimes I wonder what it feels like to be stressed out - does it feel like this?

it's raining outside

It's cold in here. As in really really cold. We're talking limd-numbing, annoyingly, fucking cold. And where is here? Here is work. A badly isolated building, to be correct. You get what you pay for - and so far no one has payed for anything.

My course in religion, fundamentalism and terrorism starts today. I'm quite proud of myself - this is the first time in 4 years that I've actually accepted my spot at the university. Of course, it helps that it's a subject I can talk about a lot - even if people don't ask me to. (That happens more often than not.)

My vote didn't make a difference - well, it did, but the party I voted for still didn't get a spot, so I suppose it comes down to me and my Scandia Liberation Front. Ah, that reminds me - I still have to register that... Ah, I'll do it later.

Now, if you excuse me, I have to go run a bit to keep my body from freezing to death.

Headline!

For some reason I tend to get very "into" things. I don't know how it happens and I don't really know why, but I do. Like now for example, when I'm into the voting for the European Parliament. I don't care about politics, but I still get "into" it.

I remember the last time - in 2004. I was 19 and I didn't vote. Not so much because I didn't care, but because I had no idea what it was about and I didn't feel like casting a blanc vote (because, let's face it - I always have an opinion). My boyfriend at the time went for a blanc and he kept telling me off because "voting is a privilege and think of all the people who doesn't have the right to vote" and so on and so forth. I still didn't vote though, and I still think I made the correct decision.

Today - about five years later and boyfriendless - I voted. And it felt good. I'm still all excited about it and I know that even though I don't want to care, I'm going to stay up and watch the vote-count, because now, I know that my vote can make a difference in the long run.

Nothing's impossible.

We watched Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels today and it made me think. You know all those gangster and mafia bosses? They're always really small or really old and still everyone are scared as hell of them? Why is that? How did they get their reputations? "Oh, I 'eard o' 'im! Chopped'em up good, 'e did! Tha's why they call 'im 'Chris the Chopper'." Did they really chop people up? No, of course they didn't. They were just smart enough to hire people dumber than themselves to do the dirty work for them. They get the reputation, the dumbasses get paid and the poor sucker gets killed.

A friend told me yesterday that sometimes when he speaks to me he thinks that I'd actually be scary when I'm mad, but then he just remembers how "tiny" I am and realises that I would never be scary. I think he has a point. I won't ever be scary, which leads me back to my plan about being terrifying. It will never work out, but the B-plan about respect might. So now my plan is to find two big guys much much dumber than me and have them do the dirty work for me. I'll of course be need a new name aswell - I could go with "A", I suppose, and let everyone think I'm a man. Or I'll just add something and make my whole appearance strangely creepy. Imagine a tiny woman, who doesn't look very frightening, smiling a friendly smile at you. Then imagine that the big boys behind her obeys her every word and you owe her money or whatever. Hrm, I should go out hunting...

Lightsaber says 'whooom'.

One of our neighbours graduated yesterday. She turns 19 this year. I was there when she was born and I can still remember that little girl. When her parents went away on holiday they always trusted me and her sister and when she was old enough to go out we took care of the downfalls.
My general opinion about graduation here is that it doesn't matter because you can fail every subject and still graduate, but I was so proud of her yesterday, and I feel so sorry for her now when she'll realise what life is really about.

Traditional graduation in Sweden starts with a champagne breakfast in the morning (class-wise), then a photoshoot and then the running of from the school.
Me and my friends just ignored our classmates and did one of our own - for a person who didn't drink (much) and didn't care it really was a great breakfast.
Once the breakfast was finished I got home, changed my clothes into a new-bought t-shirt, a very old skirt, new shoes and a cardigan I stole from my sister. My mom told me "oh, that won't look good - are you sure you wanna wear that?" and then told me "Oh, that's really nice!" once I put it on. Mothers.
I headed back to school after that wearing my incredibly ugly hat (a white peaked cap) and realised I knew an insane amount of people - I only speak with one of them today on a rather regular basis.

All this happened five years ago. I must've had a very funny life since, because that time really has flown right past.

Congratulations and celebrations!

A friend of mine has his birthday today. (That means there's five months until mine.) Last year I sent him an sms and congratulating him. This year I could do that in person. I really underestimate how much that means.

I turn 25 this year. Every time I realise that I keep thinking about the things I don't have, but this year I can actually think about the things I do have. Like my apartment, my job and my friends. And this year I've finally realised what it is I want to do and where I want to live. It only took me 24½ years quite exactly. Now it'll take me about 24½ years more to make it into a reality, but oh well.

We planned a big birthday party. One where you invite all your family and friends and just mingle. There won't be one. Shame really, I did look forward to it, but now I'll just go abroad again and celebrate this new-found independance. After all - I do deserve a good birthday present and I know that if I give myself a trip somewhere it'll be incredibly appreciated. Maybe not for the people who want to celebrate me, but for me who can get away from all the birthday-fuss.

"If everything else fucks up - I'll still have my chocolate penis."

My plane was delayed. By about half an hour, so it's not like when I went to England the first time and had to circulate over the airport for two hours. Still, getting delayed meant I missed my planned connection and had to take another travelling route. I'm not going to tell you how that went - but I got to where I was suppose to be in the end, and then I'd only been on the road for about seven hours, so I suppose it could be worse.

The weekend itself was an amazingly funny one. Great people without inhibitions and great people with inhibitions they think they have but really don't. I'd say more, but I'm still recovering from the madness. Can't wait to do it again though - I really can't.

Things I've learnt this weekend:

• Norweigan Airlines doesn't make the top list.
• If you are out in the sun - USE PROTECTION! Or just face the consequenses of crayfish and pain.
• An airmatress made for two isn't really suitable for three.