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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...