fantastical

Every year I whine about things.

1. Birthdays and birthdaypresents.
2. How overrated Christmas is.
3. Idiotic people.
4. The Nobel Prize in literature.

Today it's about the Nobel Peace Prize - I find it more fun to complain about that since I didn't know Hertha Müller existed before yesterday anyway and have no intention what so ever to read her books. Had there been even a slight chance before I can assure you that it's completely gone now.
President Obama got the Nobel Peace Prize this year. People seem to think that this is a bad thing. Apparently his efforts to end war and shut down that Cuban resort aren't appreciated. I don't agree. I think this is wonderful! What? Oh, no, I meant for myself. If Obama can get the Peace Prize, then so can I. I don't start any wars, I'm not (that) prejudice and I water my plants properly to save the earth.

Tomorrow I'm gonna play rockband with H&H and pretend that we're hotshots that everyone wanna see. I have the pleasure of singing and I can assure that it's quite funny for everyone. You see... I can't sing. I hear tunes and I can play the piano, but I can't sing. Not that I let that stand in my way though - I still do a pretty good job - but sometimes I wonder if it's my skill with imitations that does the trick for me. Oh well...

quitter

There's a program on TV here now called "Locked Up". The plot is rather simple; a bunch of teens with a history of violence gets locked up in a prison to see what it's really about. Former convicts, now honest people, serve as role-models inside the prison.

I know that this is edited for TV, but this has to be the best show I've seen in a very long time. It makes me think about how I'd react if I had a child who acted the way these teenagers act. If my son called me "bitch" or "whore" I would sit down with him and have a very long, and very nice, conversation. If my son would smoke in front of me, I would search his room to find all his cigarettes and then I would make sure he smokes them all in a very short period of time. If my son ever layed a hand on me I am fairly sure I would make him wish he hadn't.

If my son thought that "respect" is something that you earn via violence and weapons, I would show him the difference and I would make absolutely sure that he understood it.

Mock me now...

Lately all I do is whine about how much I hate my neighbour. I complain so much that people turn their attention elsewhere when I start talking. I don't blame them for that. I don't blame them for having more fun things to do than hear a monologue from me again. I blame myself for not having anything else in my brain. I blame myself for thinking that not being able to remember what silence sounds like is a bad thing. I blame myself for not calling the police when it becomes too much for me, and I blamed myself when my best friend told me that she was sick of telling everyone about the reason to why I'm so boring these days. Travelling four hours every time I want to go to the university is exhausting, yes, but that's not the problem. Travelling has never been a problem for me. Travelling when you haven't slept properly is hard, yes, but that's not the problem either. Leaving an apartment when you're dead tired isn't very motivating, but coming home to a place that's supposed to be your home, that's supposed to feel comforting and safe, where you're supposed to feel relaxed and you don't feel any of it... Entering the front door and become so tensed that you get a headache. Waking up in the morning because someone above you is having a conversation. Having trouble reading because someone you share a wall with wants to hear music.

I've lived here for about a year and a half. A lot of my boxes are still unpacked. I don't have any curtains up. There are still holes from the last tenant in my kitchen and my hallway.
I feel more at home back at my parents, in the house which feels tinier than it did when I lived there. With that people I couldn't wait to get away from.

It's funny. When I sit and write here now I'm actually crying and when I look around I see my furniture and stuff - I don't really see the apartment.

I think it's time to move.

Love more!

• I love potatoes.
• I love mushrooms.
• I love meat.
• I love it when I don't have to cook it myself.

• I love a bright day.
• I love sunlight.
• I love myself.

Feels like a pretty darn good day!

withered rose

My motivation is completely gone. All I have at the moment is my will. Thank god I have a strong will. I'm gonna get through this, I'm gonna move and I'm gonna be able to open my hotel. Because I want to. Because I can.
It will take three years of deep-breathing, panicking and travelling, but I'm gonna do it. And if I can do it, then so can you.

Nothing takes the past away like the future.

Final Destination 3D is a very special movie. I'd put among the "blood and gore" rather than "thriller" or even "scary". It didn't have much of an original plot and several times I thought I was gonna throw up.
The 3D-thing was quite cool though - much better than those ugly red/green-glasses you had in front of the TV in the 1990's - but very, very hard on the eyes.

Ah... it's "otter"...

This is what I think about on the morning train:
One of my closest friends turns 23 today! I haven't said "congratulations" and we practically never speak anymore, but I still count her as a friend - we grew up together and were neighbours for more than 20 years.
It's quite funny that of all the people I spent every day and weekend with in high school, only one reamins my friend today.

In the morning there really isn't anything that can beat the sound of English with a really thick Swedish accent (google any Nobel Prize-award ceremony and you'll understand what I mean). I don't mean to mock these people because I know why they speak like that. (The vocal chords can't form the correct sound after a certain age; this is why adult immigrants always have an accent if they learn a new language whereas children don't.)

You know, I realised something on the bus this morning, and I'd like for you to let me finish before you start telling me that I'm a complete moron.
We like to argue for the fact that "everyone is equal". Everyone should have the same rights, no matter of age, gender, religious beliefs and so on and so forth.
When reading the newspaper I came across a few rows about a boat that had capsized. Some of the passengers died and among the dead were women and children.
I get it, I really do. Children are the future and women can carry life, right? I get it. I suppose that's also why they want "women and children" to get spots in the lifeboats before the men. Let's be honest - an article that said "boat tipped and 18 passengers died - 4 of them male" wouldn't really capture the attention. So how can we claim that everyone is equal?

Middaythoughts:
This lecture is so incredibly dull - nothing new, nothing new...

Afternoonthoughts:
Awww... chickens! They're so cute!