Wicked and Wild

There's a candle in my window. It's purple and one of those long, slim models that you have in a candlestick. (That's such a weird word - not as bad as "candle-snuffer" but still. Yes, I have to do that - it'll swim my head otherwise.) I've had that candle since I graduated from high school and it's standing in a glass vase with some stones. Here comes the funny part because since it's me, of course there's a funny part. It's bent. Yes, bent. Not broken. Bent. It follows the sun, you see. Like a flower which twists itself to get sunlight, so does my candle. I think it's a bit funny. (If you've ever wondered how a tiny green thing can break through asphalt or concrete - that's why. The tiny green thing wants the sun.)

You know, my plants look awfully sad right now. I figured it might not be enough water so I felt the earth and it's quite alright. Then I figured it was the lack of sun so I put got my blinds up, but they still look sad. So I did the only sensible thing. I googled. Between you and me, I think it's the heat that's getting to them. Of course, I'm still not completely sure about the sun-thing so at the moment my miniature palm-tree is standing in the opening to my balcony and getting tanned. You know, when I lived at home and thought about my apartment I saw a lot of wood and lots of greenery. Wooden blinds, screens, details and big green plants. It's a bit sad how far from that my apartment is. Sure, I have the wooden details in my bookshelves and my coffee table, but I have three green plants. Or well, two green and one flower. In case you're interested I think it's a peperomia, which apparently is latin and means "pepper like - it's a bunch of leaves really in a fancy pot. I like it - mainly because it's lasted since 2008 and because I got it as a moving-in-present from my best friend's mother. It means a lot to me. Then there's the palmtree. That's something I bought all for myself and I love it. Palmtrees remind me of Spain and I've always wanted one (palmtree that is - not a country). I think it's a yuccapalm or something. And then there's the flower. It's an orchid with the very easy name of "phalaenopsis". (You know, sometimes I wonder how the English-speaking world pronouce some words...) The miracle with this flower is that it's still alive and has been for quite some time now. I'm surprised. I used to kill cacti when I lived at home. (Yes, you can do that. You just give them so much water that they can't be cocky no more.) The note on how to take care of the orchid is still there and I decided to have a look at it.

"Plenty of light, no direct sunlight." Check

"Keep soil moist. May be allowed to dry out slightly." Check

"Remove surplus seepage water." Uhm...

"Add a little plant food once a month." Ehm...

"Room temperature." Well, my room is 30 degrees now so check.

"For decoration only. Do not consume." Right...

Maybe I just shouldn't be around plants. I don't remove surplus water and I don't give them food. If I can survive weeks on liquid then so can they, damnit! Uhm, by the way, do you think it's smart to have the orchid standing on the sub-woofer? There's sort of a water-mark on it now...

Hrm, I checked some care instructions (wow, English just gets weirder and weirder even though I guess that expression makes sense) and they seem strange. So I'm just gonna do what I do whenever I have a doubt about anything. I'll call my mother. When it comes to plants she's like Alice in the Carebear-wonderland. She can get anything to grow. Then again, I guess that's what happens when you have a deal with the Devil. Oh, I didn't tell you that? It's a rather long story. I'll tell you over a drink later.

the world burns apart

Do you remember that cream I got yesterday? The one I have to drip in my eye? You know, sometimes it's hard to remember that I actually am 25 years old. You see, I never was any good with dripping stuff in my eyes. When I was 13 I did an allergy test at the hospital and of course, being me, I was allergic to pretty much anything. "Do you have problems with any food?" "Uhm, no". I never told them about how I can't eat too many oranges. Or how my mouth starts to itch if I have too many almonds or hazeulnuts. Anyway, they tested me by dripping 15 drops of various, hrm, I suppose substances will have to do, on one of my arms. On the other I got 17 drops. Then they punctured my skin to see if I was allergic. Wow. I was allergic. And fuck, it itched like hell. It was a bit funny because the doctor saw that I was allergic to, among a million other things, dogs and we said we had a dog at home (or something - can't remember the exact start). So then he went "well, you have to get rid of the dog". He actually said that. To a 13-year old girl and her mother. So I went "I'm not getting rid of my dog - I'd rather move out of the house then". Some people should so not work with other people. I mean, seriously! Of course, when I got home, the first thing I did was hugging my dog like crazy. (No, I never was any good at listening to people I consider idiots really.) I got off track here... Oh right - so I got three different medicines. One thing - very much like an astma-inhaler - to shove up my nose and inhale. Yes, you read correctly. Then pills and then eye-drops when I found that my eyes got itchy. Eye-drops. I don't think I ever used them, I think I just took the itching. You get used to that after a while. You see - my skin has a habit of going really dry and itch so I have tried a million different creams and shit for it. Some eye-itch I can take!

Yesterday though I had to tell myself, literally, that "you can pay your own bills, cook your own food, you have a job - now you pull yourself together and drip one drop of this cream in your eye so you can get rid of the sty, damnit". I had to say that. I didn't feel mature at that point, but I felt so proud when I'd done it. So hooray for me! I can manage to drip stuff in my eye to get rid of stuff I don't want! (Yea, sometimes I'm not sure I'm older than 13 really...)

Anno 2006

"Why does Saigon never sleep at night?/.../Why does nothing here make sense?"
Why does your singing voice suck so much compared to everyone else's? I guess life just isn't fair, my friend.

You know, I'm gonna give you a tip. Sleeping for six hours when you got a doctor's appointment in the morning is not the brightest thing in the world. I almost had to support myself with the wall this morning because I was swaying due to being so tired. Don't get me wrong - it was still worth it, but it's just not one of the brightest things I've ever done.

So why a doctor's appointment? Well, you see it's a rather long story. At the end of February I had an eye-infection. At least that's what I think it was - my eye was red and itchy and hard to open. It went away and for some reason there was a sty left. I didn't really think much of it to be honest, I figured it'd just go away. Yea, you get the point right? It didn't. So I got a doctor's appointment to check it out and ta-da. So now I have some eye-cream-thingie and I'm supposed to drip a drop (lol that sounds funny) twice a day for seven to ten days. Side-effect can be itching. Yes, of course it can. It's hard not to itch. Good thing I'm the Queen of No-Itch. (No, not Norwich - no itch.) Anyway, hopefully it will go away and I will once again be the Snowhite of this world. "Mirror, mirror on the wall... Who's the most beautiful girl of them all?" You know, I have no idea if it goes like that - I always watched it in Swedish, but it rhymes so I guess it's alright. (Oh, and it's me by the way. Since I'm the evil Queen of No-Itch and all.)

I just realised that I got a skirt and a t-shirt on that I bought in 2006. I'm not sure if I should be happy or horrified, but I think that I'll just take the practical route and be happy that I can save money on clothes.

cocoon

"How much lab time have you got?

I disected a frog once...?"

I've never disected a frog. I've done cow's eye, crayfish and rat, but never a frog. I remember in ninth grade when I did the cow's eye. At first me and my best friend at the time were absolutely horrified. I mean - it was an eye and we were 15. Then we started to look at it - cut it in two and check the nerves and stuff. After a while it wasn't an eye anymore, it was just something we were cutting to check into.

The crayfish was fun. I remember disecting it and going "mine's got no brain" - yea yea, go on, it's a very easy joke at my expense. I was 16 at the time and the more gruesome stuff I found in that crayfish the more I wanted to eat it. The smell was wonderful. (Yes, I know how it sounds.) I remember a lot of people being disgusted by it, but to me it was heaven.

The rat... oh the rat. At first we called it "Junior", then "Rattie" and then we named her "Jeanette". You know, because it was a she. Jeanette was the name of our teacher in Swedish. When our biology teacher past us he went "I'm afraid to ask what the name would be if it was a male". "It would've been 'Pär' [pair] - but with an 'ä' instead of an 'e'." His name was "Per". For some reason he didn't believe us. About the ä-thing. We kicked ass at the dissection though and do you have any idea how hard it is to cut of a rat's tail? It's really hard! Oh, and sadly we broke the poor rat's arm. She was long dead though, but it felt a bit bad. Poor rat.

I will never be able to become a doctor, but I know that I would easily be able to cut into people. Okay, that sounded so less freaky in my head so I'm not sure if I should continue. Ah, fuck it. I can turn it off, you know. It's not a poor rat anymore, it was an object. Something interesting. Something dead. Yea, I'm just gonna stop here because I sound like a psycho-killer. Have a nice day!

...---...

I'm out of toothpaste. It annoys the hell out of me and I know that it's not harder than going down to the shop and getting a new tube, but it's such a stupid thing to run out of. It's like ketchup - you buy it so rarely that once it's gone it's basically the end of the world. I guess I should be grateful though because if this is the end of the world, then it's a pretty good world.

Apparently the computer isn't suppose to beep when you start it up. I really didn't know that. I figured that it did when it processed stuff. My co-worker told me yesterday that "no, if a computer beeps it means that there's something wrong" and he has a point. I mean, my laptop reboots itself if I turn it off and don't remove the cord and the battery. So he printed a list of different beeps for me and the reason for them. My beep was one long and three short - apparently that means that my video card is fucked. You know, that I can live with because it really would explain so much. It's not really what I need at the moment financially, but it's good to know what's wrong. That reminds me - I really should start up my stationary computer and listen to the beep there aswell. I'll do it after I've gotten that darn toothpaste. And bread. How come I'm out of everything all of a sudden?! I guess I should be happy that I at least have ketchup.

Palmtrees

My left wrist hurts. I don't know why, sometimes when I wake up it just hurts. There's no reason for it - I haven't fallen horribly on it or anything like that. Although sometimes I find myself wishing I could say something like "yes, it happened in the war - it's made of wood" or "every time the weather gets bad I get this horrible ache", but no. It justs hurts every now and then for no reason what so ever. You know, between you and me, sometimes I really wish I had one of those stories and a really awesome scar to prove it. I know it's a bit stupid of me, but you see - when I was a kid and went to school we used to compare the... hrm, well I suppose scar will have to do... the scar from the tuberculosis vaccination you get as a kid here. Some people had blue marks, some people had insane marks and I can't see mine now even if I'm looking for it. I might be able to see it if I look in the mirror, but right now I can't. I do have a scar though. One amazing war-story-scar. I was fighting wild tigers in the Madagascarian jungle when I suddenly found myself attacked by poachers! I fought them until they drew their last breaths - slayed them with their own machetes, but at a terrible price. My legs were cut open and bleeding horribly, and I limped for days, thinking that I was drawing my last breaths. Then all of a sudden I found a hermit's cabin and managed to pull up enough strength to knock on the door. The hermit took me in, tended my wounds and made me drink armadillo-blood. (In case you wonder it tastes a bit like lettuce.) I had to stay with him for many weeks until I was strong enough to start my long journey home.

Yea... and on a complete sidenote - the scar I have is when I dropped a bowl in my kitchen. I was playing World of Warcraft with some friends and we were talking over skype and then I got hungry. So I went out into my kitchen to make some noodles and then when said noodles were finished I went out to get a bowl for them. This is the same cupboard I got my hand stuck in last week, by the way. I hadn't secured it enough, I think, so for some reason I dropped the bowl and it got cut in two pieces at the kitchen sink. One of those pieces cut my right thigh and my friends heard me screaming. The cut was rather nasty - at least half a centimeter wide and probably as deep and about one and a half centimeter long. One of my friends lived right across the street so he threw some desinfection and band-aids up on my balcony. This was in 2008 and I saw Batman: The Dark Knight at the cinema that night. All the time scared as hell that the band-aid wouldn't be enough and the blood would gush out again.

Outside the dawn is breaking

The first English teacher I had in high school was probably one of the best English teachers I have ever had. I didn't learn all that much in that first year except the difference of "was" and "were", but his way of teaching was very fun. We all got a paper with stuff we had to do to get a certain grade - like "read a book and write a review", "lead a discussion" and stuff like that. I really enjoyed it. Of course, I was the only one who got the highest grade so... (Yes, I am really proud about that - to be honest, this is the first time I'm thinking about it in probably five years.)
There was one discussion I was very proud of and that was being pro-abortion. I was supposed to be against it, but my friend who was in the "pro"-group couldn't handle the arguments the audience threw at her so we switched. Between you and me, sitting in front of the rest of the class and answering the question "so what about if a child gets raped" with "well, I know every little girl wants a baby - I know I did when I was a child" is probably one of the sickest things I have ever done in my life. I didn't mean a word of it, (something I proved three years later with our last project) but it was fun to discuss it. It was fun to get impossible arguments thrown at you and try to turn them. I remember that "my team" won the discussion in the end, but I honestly have no idea how, haha.

Another thing we did was telling people about the ten commandments. I went to a school with a lot of people from other cultures and in that class I think we were four or five people with a Swedish background, so not a whole lot of them actually knew them. Of course... our ten commandments didn't really work as the ones in the Bible do... Some of them I can't remember, but I'll give you a similar idea of what they were.

1. I am the Lord your God and you shall have no other gods before me = worship whatever you want whenever you want
2. You shalt not make for yourself an idol = signed picture anyone?
3. Thou shalt not make wrongful use of the name of your God = You're allowed to curse as much as you want
4. Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy = Use the Sunday as your hang-over day
5. Honor your father and mother [in Swedish this goes "honor your father and your mother and it may do you well and you may long live in the same country] = Ignore your parents and you'll live long and prosper in any country you want
6. You shall not murder = You shall only murder if you can get away with it
7. You shall not steal = You shall not steal more than you can carry with you
8. You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour [in Swedish "witness" is "vittnesbörd" and very close to "wheat-bread", "vetebröd"] = You shall not put false wheat bread in your neighbour's purse
9. You shall not covet your neighbour's wife = You shall not have sexual intercourse with anyone you've known less than two hours
10. You shall not covet anything that belongs to your neighbour = You're not supposed to screw your neighbour, his wife or anything else, but if you have to - make sure you've known the person longer than two hours.

It really was a lot of fun and some times I find myself missing it. Then I realise that I was 16 and went to school and then all of a sudden I don't miss it that much anymore.

My apartment looks like shit. And it smells like vomit. Why does this always happen to me? I haven't even thrown up since last year! And I most certainly didn't throw up outside my loo!