Whistles and Warnings

Watched my brother's hockey game today. I like hockey. There's something distinctly manly about it that other sports (specifically soccer) lack. ^^ Even as I say so I keep sitting there crossing my fingers hoping no one will provoke someone else into starting a fight; it somehow ruins that perfect manliness. Hm, and I guess handball is manly too.

Just at the end of the game some idiot dude (my father chose to call him "ADHD-case", but I shall keep that as a quote only to preserve this blog's political correctness...) decided that crosschecking my brother in the back while he held the puck would be a good idea. Then he decided that continuing to crosscheck him sixteen times, moving him forcibly from the area of the goal all the way until my brother fell and hit his head in the rink side was another great idea. I cannot describe the roars of protest from the stands and bench, but even as it was painfully obvious (even the other team's supporters were yelling) it took five minutes of arguing before the guy was shown off the ice. I seldom see my father angry anymore, and I've never seen him, y'know, rightfully angry. I got to see a little glimpse of what would happen if someone purposefully hurt me or my brother for real. That's also manly. My brother, on the other hand, was probably the calmest person in the hall. He didn't get hurt either. Just stood up and went to his spot on the bench from which he watched the ensuing chaos as the judges tried to sort out who to punish, since several of his teammates had decided revenge was on the menu. I must respect that.

Watching hockey on this level, compared to Elitserien or NHL is fun in another way. For one you get to see drop dead serious eighteen-year-olds acting all tough only to stumble over their own feet and go headfirst into the ice, and then remarkably stand up as if nothing happened and continue to chase the puck. You also get to see goalkeepers who, when they think no one's looking, push their own goal out of place to get an end to the other teams offense. And then, after the whistle's blown, take a look over their shoulder and bump it back into place. No one saw that, right? Or when two players collide in a mess of arms and legs and skates, get untangled and skate away, only to discover when they try to play that their sticks mysteriously have changed size... and color.

Gotta love warning tags. I found this text on the back of a children's book from McDonald's (it measures about 25x15 cm): Keep out of reach for children under 36 months since small parts may pose choking hazards. Which part of that made sense?

This Is Not The Weirdest I Have Posted Here

How big is the dick of a sibirian tiger?

Girl in Red

I'm on a roll!

See, I realized...

That's not boobs; This is boobs!


I make no promises, seeing as that is a guarantee for failure, but if you want to request something do it now. Because apparently I'm stuck on boobs. And also, I seem to be in a drawing-frenzy.


The wolf-tattoo and crest are shamelessly stolen. I make no claim whatsoever on the design. And to be fair, the letters are from something called "the Theban alphabet".

Girl in Green

Hi!
I got a sudden urge to draw boobs. So here, enjoy!
(I know the background is kinda slobbish, but whateves, it didn't have boobs.)

Also... I accidentally discovered something awsome when channel-zapping: serious, cute, non-joking, non-provoking gayness in a Swedish-produces drama series directed at the large crowd. I'm impressed.

Randomness Presents: The Name makes The Game

You can always find connections where you look for them. There are no coincidences.

Been lots of twists and turns in the story of The Name, but it has finally been concluded. My name would today be written "Da Yeon" and means, roughly, "very compassionate". Huh.

Doing quizzes is the perfect way to waste time. I dunno why I'm so fascinated, but it's fun.

The romantic type, those with turquoise hearts are the kind of people who wish their life would read like a romance novel. They love to be the one rescued by their mate--or alternately, the rescuer. They are also the kind to be socially cruel to those who wrong them, destroy ing the person's life for the pain caused to them. Those with turquoise hearts are faithful, but dislike boredom, and will leave if interest is lacking.


It's also darn impossible to get Korean music. I started out trying to find somewhere to buy it legally, like, say, iTunes. Do not work. Then I went illegal and pissed and tried to download it. Do not work. It's as if the only source is, like, YouTube and imeem. Idiots. -_- Dammit.

Talking just to hear my voice

I've colored my hair, finally! Not even close to as radically as I meant from the beginning, because hairdressers are cowards, but it's something, and I like it. I've also spent a ridiculous amount of time on learning how to get stuff from my PC to my PSP, it's simple enough, I just made it stupidly complicated by not reading the instructions, which I otherwise always yell at people to do. I sternly believe in instructions. Who was it that worked with writing instruction books for electronics? I have a vague memory of that someone I know did... ?

Honestly I don't have anything to say today. I just wanted to update the blog anyway. So...

Things I would talk to you about if you were here:
Financial crisis.
Front page designs.
One-tracked cultures.
Professional dancers.
Short term memory.
Sleep schedule.
Travel conference.
Ireland.
Battery time.
Automated costumer service.

Things I wouldn't talk to you about if you were here:
Things lost.
Travel plans.
Obsessions.
Cherished distance.
Getting lost in the beat.
Charisma.
Bodily frailty.
Passions of the future.

I haden't written a word for three weeks. Two nights ago I wrote two and a half pages by hand, around three at night, then I couldn't keep my eyes open. The urge struck. I've had that itch since then, but I don't sit down and write. Why?

Finland

My interest for knowledge would, if possible to express in physical form, probably look something like the model of time-space that a funny guy in a hood carries around in the DC universe. I can't find any pattern in what I'm interested in. I like parts of history, mathematics, psychology, philosophy, biology, sociopolitics, computer science... yeah, but on the other hand I really hate other areas within the same fields.

What brings about this poinless confession? I sought distraction from a very long time on a train, and found a book on the Soviet invasion of Finland. I'd really like to learn strategics and warfare; real large-scale combat, and I've already studied the Finnish Civil War and have a better overview of WWII than the first, so I thought, why not look intellectual on the train.

Well, the Finnish fought most of that invasion in the scale numbers of roughly 1:10, had severe lack of ammunition most of the time, and equipment that barely passed as cool in WWI. They did however have the wheather on their side, if by that I mean that Finnish people survive -38C and Soviets do not. Specifically since the Soviets for some reason forgot to bring proper coats, even if this was in the middle of December and Global Warming was still hiding in the bushes. They also forgot that most of Finland consists of forests and lakes, which implies that bringing dozens of heavy tanks that completely destroy the small roads and make retreat utterly impossible might not be the best idea. As if that wasn't enough, they also decided that one officer should have no say in where the other officer was, resulting in that they often blocked said small roads for each other with said tanks. Left was for the Finnish army to ski in, hide behind the trees and grant frozen, starving and locked down Russians warming gifts in the form of bullets and morlotov coctails.

Said should be that Soviet learned the lesson for the next war, handing Hitler and his nazis about the same treatment when that time came. Which was only fair, since Hitler swore in his non-agression pact with Stalin to not sell Finland weapons, but then used the ships he sent to fuel Stalin's submarines to ship weapons to Sweden. As if he had no idea what Sweden would do with them.

All the political bullshitting confused me, since I hadn't read such in-depth stuff about WWII before. But I think I have the general pictue: Finland is awesome.

The Tiger's Cave

So...

Pull myself up
Take the step
Move about in the big wide world and
open my eyes until the dry air make them hurt.

And...

Dive into the pond
Stick my head into the tiger's mouth
It doesn't matter if I answer the question right because
its fangs were made of foam.

It's strange, but...

No matter how much I drink
Or if I put a bucketfull by my bed
Only the humid breath of the tiger soothed my eyes and it was
warm from the heat of its lungs.

Feel Good

The one thing that makes everything feel better no matter what:

Laughter.

So, from now on, whenever I'm feeling down, I'll go YouTubing for Korean boybands and Asian gameshows. An irresistable combination.

He's called Ghoul, don't ever call him Nate

Hey!
It's been a lot of seriousness lately, and I think we all need a break. This was meant to just be a character sketch to begin with, so I tried a lot of new techniques that I thought of or picked up from here and there. To begin with I drew the sketch on real paper, scanned it and then drew the outlines again on top of the old ones, because I have yet to figure out how to make scanned imagines good outlines. Gave me the chance to correct some flaws on the original sketch too. Next came the flats. I only heard of flats recently, which should tell you how nooby I am at digital coloring. Google it, or better yet YouTube it, if you don't know what it is. The most genious thing since... I dunno, the start of digital coloring? Made everything insanely much easier and faster, which is why I felt I had time and interest left to make a real background with.

I feel pretty good about myself right now :P But more than anything, I have fallen in love with my tree. That tree, right behind him on that hill. Isn't it the prettiest thing you've ever seen?

An Answer

I feel that my answer on Nightflyer's comment on the previous post became too long to be a comment. I imagined that someone would think what she thought about what I wrote, but decided to post it as it was to let whatever come come. Because when you ask the question, you'll get your answer. Because this is what I wanted to say:

I understand what you want to say, and I agree, mostly. But that everyone can make their own happiness doesn't mean we shouldn't try to make it easier on everyone. It doesn't mean we should ignore shit people throw at us, "turn the other cheek". Even if fact is that life deals you cards under the table, you don't just sit down and take it. You stand up and shout. Because whether or not it helps you, whether or not it helps the ones who come after you, it makes you feel better. It gives you the special word for "pride" or "honor", self-respect, that Asia uses, that we here in Sweden have replaced with "lagom".

That I am adopted is an issue in itself. One I will, and am, dealing with. What's done is done. The question whether international adoption should or should not be performed, however, is a completely different issue and on a different level.

What I dealt with the first post was basically my own feelings and the beginning of me connecting to where I am from; because it is true that where I am from does have significance in the choice of where I will go tomorrow. I am also very aware of that I am the one who have cut myself off from my heritage.

The previous post, however, is aimed more at the later issue, an attempt to bring the question into the light. Adoption has always been seen as a good thing, right? I question that. I propose that it might even be bad, and I'm not the only one. I do that counting all information I know at this point, logically, and that my own feelings agree is only another fact that supports this theory. I am a part of my own test-group. Not scientifically viable, but in real life a rather commonly practiced form. I want people to think about whether what Korea practices is adoption or a dandied form of selling humans.

Listening to someone feeling sorry for themselves is quite annoying. I know I do my own bit of whining, but for your information quite a lot of it is venting and/or the author side of me going haywire because strong emotion is the best food for words and letters. I'd say my flaw is to blame stupidity and systems created by stuidity for all my problems instead of dealing with myself, but I do not feel sorry for myself. I have chosen my path; I could have made it easier, but I will not. Neither would I change the fact of my adoption if I could. I never said I'd rather have stayed where I was; I have no idea how life would have been or who I would have been; quite frankly I have never thought about it. Can't change the past. No point in thinking about whether I would want to.

I know you know me better than most. Do you think I would take an opinion because "everyone says so"?

The land of opportunities

I'll actually continue a bit on the last subject, because I've been thinking a lot about it since I wrote. I've read a lot of stuff, Korean language, history, culture - and viewpoints about adoption coming from both Korea and Sweden. It gives me a growing feeling of that I've unknowlingly chosen to ignore a large part of my life.

Here's some facts that can't be denied:
Many adopted Koreans return to live in Korea when they're adults. Many of those never feel at home there either.
Suicide is considerably much more common in people adopted into another etnicity than their born one.
Korea still gives up thousands of children for adoption even as their economy is now well above the average line. Adoption within the borders are very uncommon. They make millions off foreign adoptions every year.
Korean culture still carries the remnants of a time where an unmarried woman could not have a child. Most children up for adoption come from single mothers.
Sweden adopts many more children from Asian countries than others, like Africa.

There is a strong feeling of sitting between chairs, so to speak. For some reason I'm not yet at the point of being angry, or even accusing, of Korea. Maybe because I've recently read about how rough the road has been for her. But she gives many opportunities. I'm slightly less inclined to give Sweden the nice treatment. Have anyone ever informed parents or the people working with adoption about the skyrocketing suicide rates, about the feeling of sitting between chairs? Sure, it's better than leaving children starving on the streets. But kids in Korea are hardly starving on the streets anymore.

I met the other Korean girl I talked about. We just had a night on town, and as if fate intervened we ran into a group of Korean tourists. They were exalted about every little thing we had to say, though the hardly spoke english. Apparantly I have the same name as a famous Korean singer. They asked who we were, where we were from. My friend knew the Korean word for adopted. All the women of the group said "aaaahhh," and tilted their heads. I got the distict feeling they felt sorry for us.

Maybe they should.

Korean

I've been watching the Olympics. No, I won't ramble about sports and stuff. What I will ramble about is nationality and identity. See, these laste six or eight months I've been feeling myself changing a lot on a certain point. Confidence. And within that lies the fact that I've changed attitude to myself being Korean.

Before I've always ignored it. Seriously. As a child I avoided mirrors. When people pointed it out or asked questions I just turned my head off and answered blank statements that I'd learned from listening to mom. I kept myself completely, utterly neutral to the fact and held it at arm's length. It didn't exactly damage me. No one ever made me do it. I just chose to not handle it at all. (Being made easier by the fact that I've been lucky enough to never have encounteder racism.)

This christmas I met an old man who had been everywhere and met everyone and had had four wives. He was always blunt to the point of rudeness. As soon as he saw me he started talking about that I should go to Korea and find my biological parents. I got angry, actually, but he just kept talking about how nice Korea was and how beautiful the women were and how they all spoke english so I wouldn't have a problem speaking to them. (Not true, as I've found out, the english that is.)

But it got my head going, and the more I thought, the more I felt... maybe. Maybe I should. Another guy at school, also unafraid of speaking his mind, had a theory that the bond between mother and child the first few weeks or months are very important, life-defining. I asked him face to face if he thought being adopted disrupted that and he said yes. People around got uncomfortable, but the oddity that struck me when he said it, was that I agreed.

And this week put two more nails in the coffin, so to speak. For one I watched the Olympics, and the nationalism is always as strongest in sports. I got to see more Korean people than I have in my entire life, and somehow as I saw them, something clicked into place. Just the way they looked and moved. This is my people too. And then I talked to another adopted Korean who have found her family and spoken to them over the phone. They don't speak english, but they talk to her anyway, for some reason. And I felt, as I listened to her story, that it could be me.

It is biologically in our blood, isn't it. The feeling when we stand side by side with someone who shares our genes and our faces and look into the mirror, seeing the ghosts of two of ourselves. And people who have lived with that their entire lives, do you understand it? What you get? I didn't. Not until now, when I'm starting to wonder;

Can you ever replace family?

Speaking of the devil

We live in a world we can't control. We pretend. When we were wandering nomads or poor farmers we had no control over the weather. But we pretended, through religion and witchery, through study and lies. Now we face the fact that even the things we ourselves created we cannot control, just as little as parents can control the personality and skills, and future, of their children. We can nudge, we can force, we can pretend. And with science and religion, through psychology and systems we pretend.

We live in a world of constant psychological warfare. Political, religious, philosophical and scientific propaganda. Commercials. Papparazzi, eggshells, even blogs. We nudge, we force, and we pretend to control other people's pretenses. And to some extent, we succeed. But what do we succeed with, really? We bring out weaknessess, the flaws of human nature, into the light and we exploit them. But we are all only human.

Someone I pretend to know said something along the lines of that a weakness is only a weakness if you allow it to be. Doesn't that mean that by exploring and exploiting human weakness, our nature, we weaken ourselves, every singe one of us.

No?

[Insert Approptiate Label]

I saw Batman Gotham Knight, not a bad thing. Like the Animatrix, but Batman. Well, the torrent-comments were filled with people yapping about being fooled to think it was The Dark Knight (awsome movie too, btw) because of the name. It seems it's incredibly hard to tell the word Gotham apart from the word Dark. One of them said "well, it wasn't labeled [Animated]" to excuse his apparent inability to read. (Especially since like a dozen people above him in the comments had already complained and said it was animated.)

Well, well, fine. Internet is crawling with idiots. But then I saw this on another well-known torrent site, and man...


No wonder they put labels like "Do not microwave" on cellphones.

Randomness Presents: One Plus One Is Two

Here's an interesting discussion I had: Types of couples. Which one do you want to be?

The Cute Couple - Bouncy, snuggly and happy are the trademarks of this couple. They fight, but only until one of them starts singing the Bumbibear intro. Probably the couple with largest survival chances. Unless someone kills them for being too cute.

The Clingy Couple - What, that's two people, not one? Really? And they don't die if you separate it... I mean them?

The Frustrating Couple - If you let this friend fall in love you won't see him/her again for the next two weeks, and you'll be happy if he even considers speaking to you and not his partner when the three of you are in the same room. Want to talk to either alone? Forget it.

The Practical Couple - No, hey, we just like the same things and don't drive each other nuts, and the sex isn't too awful, so, you know... we just thought, what the hell. Sadly, this one has pretty high survival chances too.

The Weird Couple - Imagine the two people in the world you think would fit worst together. Now make them lovers. They're defying the laws of nature and you can't stop thinking about it.

The Heartwarming Couple - You know, those two that seem to fit each other perfectly, always keeping an eye out for each other in small, heartwarming ways, making sure everyone else are jealous. Makes you wonder; are they really this perfect all the time?

The Token Couple - For some reason they think their partner is the perfect accessory to carry around. When it's one-sided it's sad, when both play the same game it's just hellishly annoying. And making out in public is just a small part of their reportoire.


Hm... can't come up with any more right now.

Poetry or Rambling? You decide.

This is our lives:

Dividing ourselves between everything there ever was and everything that will be. Chopping our flesh into little pieces and sprinkling it over the drooling jaws of the hungry crowds, knowing it will never be enough. Choosing one child out of ten born from the womb of our blood and feed it knowing the other nine will die. And knowing that whether we feel the pain of their deaths or not they will come back to haunt us until our minds are obliterated and absorbed by the one child that did not die, the one that will survive us and carry our failiures on into the future, the one that will carry even more dust than we have gathered. Ever since the first strike of lightning that gave life to that which was dead we have carried the dust and pain and blood of the nine children.

There comes short moments where nothing of this matters. Moments where our minds are released from our forms and poured into another's. A form where our presence is only drifting and our responsabilities slim, one that will carry his own dust while we borrow his existance in the world and peer out through his eyes, hiding, amazed at how beautiful living can be when looked at from the outside.

This is roleplaying. This is movies, music, books and art. This is games and sports and for some people work. This is murdering and stealing. This is sex, and this is love.

And according to most people, perhaps even me, this is what kills us.

To the tunes of my inner music

Silence in the Nighttime

Let's stay up,
love
Until dawn creeps over your face
Let's stay up,
love
Til I can't seem to think straight
I don't have much to offer you, but I
won't pretend
Let's stay up,
love...

Let's stay up,
love
Til the cold forces us together
Let's stay up,
love
Pretend night will last forever
I won't ask much of you, but I
like to pretend
Let's stay up,
love
Time and time again.

And what the shadows reveal of your face,
my friend
Is more than either of us could take.
All the possibilities of heartbreak and pain,
my friend
Is more than enough for me to
pretend.

Let's stay up,
friend
Until dawn creeps over your face
Let's stay up,
friend,
Til I can't seem to think straight
I 've so much to offer you, but I
will pretend
So let's stay up,
friend
Again and again.

Why we have pets:

From a webcomic called xkcd which I encourage anyone to read who:

• finds math at least remotedly enjoying
• have patience with that not every strip is hilarious
• find bizarre nerdiness more fun than implying that women are somehow lesser beings
• believe in cats, hats and your mom (and your sister)
  

Right, didn't have time this morning, but I just want to point the attention towards the update panel. Finally Kirya is underway after a stupid pause during which I've been doing many things but none of them producing any tangible results. Otherwise there's some stuff going on in my private life, some of them sad, so I'm not sure I'll be blogging quite as regularly for a while. Not that it matters.

I'll probably be holed up here writing, though, to the satsifaction of my peers, since emotional periods mean more dedication to my work. Stay tuned, have fun. I'll see you around.

You Are What You Wear

Time moves fast now when summer vacation is here.

I've been trying to get Spore Creature Creator up and running. As far as I know right now, there is absolutely no reason why it refuses to work. The support I've gotten so far has consisted of "have you updated the latest drivers for your graphics card" which feels like an insult in the scale of a slap to the face, since I've been spending a lot of time now looking up specifics for my video- and soundcards and updating BIOS for my motherboard, restarting my computer something like 16 times. Argh. If they don't answer my mail in another 24 hours, I'll consider myself spit upon, and they'll have hell to come.

For now I'm sketching on all kinds of outfits, trying to figure out how you make an outfit for a guy that oozes goodness and kindness without making him look like a wimp. And how to make a woman a dress that looks cool, but not priestly, yet not as if she was a porn star, and should be imaginably possible to fight in. Checks and balances, it seems. A little boyish here, a little coolness there. A little bare skin here, a little layers there. Puh.

Tomorrow I'm going for a weekend of off-time, roleplaying, deep philosophical discussions and sillyness. Can't wait.

Update at the End of Things

Hope all of you had a good time Thursday-Friday celebrating your new freedom. For some it won't last long, for others longer than they wished.

My brother finished 9th grade. Dunno when all this growing up happened, I sure wasn't there to see it. But it's only fair, I guess. When I turned 20 was the first birthday I actually felt a difference; it felt like I was an adult now, like I was only pretending before. Bro had his first taste of it now, I think, realizing things like that the future is a scary place, that progress is both good and bad, and that just when you start to really get to know people it's time to break up. I think he'll be okay. And he looked smashing in new jeans and a striped shirt. Been ages since I saw him in a shirt.

As for me, I won't have a job this summer. I can only pray I get into school, because I have no second choice. Otherwise my life will be pretty empty, and I can't take sitting by the sidelines another year. It already feels like the world, and the people in it, is moving along without me. This summer, however, will be pretty full anyway. I have some projects I want to finish up before getting busy with important things. Stuff like two novels and a few short stories to polish off, some drawings and illustrations, losing those three kilos I gained this winter, doing Math C unofficially just for the heck of it since I have the book, and so on. And I need to make some time for friends too. I dunno what everyone fill their summers with, but this is good enough for me.

Oh, and for those with free time and a computer; play The Witcher. Wonderful rpg, without the silly "good or evil" choices, but with choices that actually make a difference without being too obvious. I've torn my hair more than once wondering who to assume is the bad guy. And combat can be everything from a pushover to a real challenge, since there are three difficulty levels to choose from.

Tan carefully, buddies!

*playing around with an imaginary stage+microphone*

It may have gone unnoticed, or rather it should have gone unnoticed since I've done absolutely nothing to make anyone notice, but I actually have music to a few texts myself. I don't trust my musical ear, and I don't know any instrument well enough to be able to write it down properly, but it's all stored in my head. No complicated tunes, I assure you. Just a natural effect of me meddling with writings, poems, worlds, languages and mystics. Creating own races with own languages and cultures aren't half as hard as making a half-assed song, but since their culture includes music... you get the point.

This piece, as such, has a tune. Things I write for music tends to have a different rhythm than other poetry, and is less rigid in rhymes as such. Neither is it finished, this is the ending of it. But songs, more than poems, need to come spontaneously and of themselves. As soon as I intellectualise them, they flat-out insta-wise very much die. Anyway, I like it sooo much. I guess I can't really convey why, because you can't hear the music in my head, or the Nickleback-ish rough voice singing it, but bah. Have some imagination. ^_-

What I would give

I would give the world for you
I would kill a thousand men
I would turn out all the stars
and I would light them up again
I would give my life for you

But there is no God
or the Devil would collect
my heart

Hope

I am going to lose you.

All has been said, all has been done
I believed in that you would stay this time
it hurts so much because
I believed in that you would stay this time.

But I am going to lose you
I am going to lose you
I. Am going. To lose. You.

I did all I could do
Nothing I do matters
I gave you time. You used it.
But now?

It is within you
Death is within you
death is within You
And the only way to pluck it out
is to cut up your chest
and break your ribs apart
and tear out your heart

Death is in your heart
and it's eating its way out

I will remember you.
I will always remember you.
And every time I will stand
before the choice to reach for something
that can be lost
I will remember you.

Oh Father who are in Heaven.
Holy is thy name.
Be thy will, as in Heaven
so on Earth.

And we pray.

IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Oh, and just so you guys know I won't be available on cellphone again until Friday the 6th of June. So if you want something, easiest way to get hold of me is to drop a comment in the blog or mail me. Cuz I'm still at school. But soon no more. ^^

Carnege

Forgot to tell about the Tattoo Expo (but Nightflyer filled you in a little, I guess?). Fun. So many ideas, so little time. And so little space! I don't want to cover my entire body in tattoos. =P But I came to think of that if could be a good way to hide my skin-thing. I could totally imagine tattooing the entire left arm, shoulder to wrist, which would cover it up. I thought about piercing my ear, finally (two holes in the right ear, don't want in both) but didn't feel like it right then. I will definitively get a tattoo eventually, but I'll need to pile up some gold first; my treasury is in a sad state.

The evening ended with Iron Man, a most superb movie, though his lovidoviness with Pepper irritated me. Can Hollywood produce one single movie without having to add love to the story? The old "the hero gets the girl", and the old "hero saves girl" really pulled a lot from my final opinion of it.

The Expo all in all resulted in two things: web addresses and phonenumbers to very good artists in case I, in the future, would have the cash to go get a tattoo by a real skilled artist. And this:


This is Carnege. He's a psychopathic alien-infested bad guy in Spider-Man. (Everybody say: "Hello Carnege!")

I saw a photo of him being tattooed to some guy's arm (this exact picture) and I thought... he could make a real good tattoo. I love tattoos that look as if the image is a part of the body, either a pattern following natural lines or something crawling out from underneath the skin. Carnege's loopy symbiot would be perfect for it, while maintaining my nerd-factor. I think it could get really good. ^^ Only problem is to get someone to sketch the final image out; I can't really do this symbiot-thing very well.

I have candy, chips, and a new game. Cheerios!

Existential Writier's Blabberings

Recording of day-to-day mood antics: Kirya sucks. I need to read it through. I need to change loads, I know that before even having read it through. There are loads of stuff that doesn't work. It doesn't say what I want it to say. My characters have no personality. I ruined Obon. What the hell is this latest chapter, what the hell am I trying to do with Shemhazai... why do I always twist and turn the reality in the same damned shape? Why do I make angels the bad guys? That doesn't surve the purpose. Bad writing. And what am I trying to do with Crow anyway? I just changed his personality from the other writing at will. Bad writing.

My other me thinks this is bullshit, but she's a little tired today. I thought it would be interesting simply for my own sake to write this pointless existential blabbering down just to show myself how ridiculus it is. Blogs aren't exactly diaries but... good for me, in a way, to make it "public". Makes it harder to ignore.

Anyways, this was selfish, thanks for listening. ^^

By writing these lines

By writing these lines
do I separate myself from you?
By old clichés of feelings
and old expressions about darkness
have I shown myself any different
from any of you?
If we all share darkness
If we all whisper instead of speak
If we all are the same
why would I do this?

One artist in every village
One joker in every castle
One plagued teenager in every home
Two would destroy them
Nonetheless
Their loneliness was never chosen

Only by seeing the bigger picture
can you see that what is good
is less than what is bad
Only by doing this
can you change it
But seeing it
changes you

When we see beyond
we scorn those who have not yet seen
but did we understand those who scorned us
before we saw?

The blind cannot understand sight
The deaf cannot comprehend sound
Thus you
cannot see or hear me
until your mind has grown eyes and ears
No blame on you
All blame on you
And no one I can shout at

Anger
Rage
Like a silent
Beat
In my chest
Like a shadow of a sixth sense
Once known, now forgotten
Ghost pain from a stolen limb

Fists
Teeth
And only my
Eyes
Can still howl
Like the beast starved to silence in its cage
Once howled in the night
Blood dripping from satisfied jaws

Its fangs
Like razor sharp snowflakes
A handful sprinkled in the wind
It has starved
for many nights now

Knowledge 2

More things I'd like to do, in the name of subjective knowledge:

* Smash a window (or any glass) with the little hammers designated that purpose found in busses.
* Meet my grandparents back in the time before they were grandparents.
* Learn a part in a real play (or part thereof) written by someone else and in a serious manner, but not necessarily for performing in public.
* Learn to ride a horse.
* Work real charity shit, like in Africa or something.

In other news: back from Uppsala. Sorry you guys I didn't get a chance to talk to you more seriously, which I would have wanted, things went kind of fast and I was really tired. Hospitals tend to drain energy as if I was a zombie with a barrage of regen cast onto me - and they stacked.

All the Wiser

Hockeywise: Damn. But it was Canada. What else was there to believe.

Partywise: Ball at school yesterday. Had whiskey for the first time. (Equally disgusting as all other alcohol. Kinda' hard to motivate myself to drink when it tastes like date expired cold medicin.)

Otherwise: I'm reading the first issues of X-Men. Laughing at the cheesyness. Smiling at the cuteness. Being amused by the obvious connections to the politics at the time.

Personalitywise: I did make some interesting realizations from talking too much after the ball. For one that it's people's concern that make me hide in a corner when I'm all down for the count. If I could just be ignored, invisible, I mean completely gone and unnoticed, then I think it wouldn't be a problem. I get this voice inside whining about "what do people think about you when you do this", knowing how much people misunderstand me, and everyone. So if I knew no one thought anything about me, then I'd be fine.
Look at the world's most reknown dramas. They all build on misunderstandings and slight mistakes. Remembering this, I think you can understand why I'd rather hide in a corner. The small things just overwhelm me by numbers. On a regular day I manage to ignore this. On a bad day, not so well.

Suggestion for the Book Circle ^^

I have too many thoughts in my head right now.

I finished "Flyga Drake" today by Khaled Hosseini (I don't know what it's called in English). Horrible book to read, I was on the verge of crying 75% of the time and two times I seriously considered putting it down and never picking it up again because it hurt too much. But it opened my eyes a lot to the complexity of the conflict in Afghanistan and to my own prejudices, besides being a great book about being a human, about loving, losing and letting down. (It's also made into a movie now, but I seriously doubt it could carry through into a movie very well. People say it's good but very, very different from the book.) It's not political, which I appreciate. Only human, and very emotional. I got a headache every time I read in it. But it was probably worth it, though the end wasn't as well written as the beginning and mid-section.

I have also been to a small introduction to the education I'm applying for this fall. It really sounds like the perfect "me". They said I needed: math (check), english (check), computer familiarity (check), 3D thinking (check), creativity (check), and interest in technology and machinery (check, though no schooling). I'll be alternatively sitting and standing, very good for my leg. I'll learn business planning and presentations, sorely needed. Teaching takes place about three days a week in a classroom and the rest homework or over the internet. Male-dominated workplace. The teacher we met seemed like the perfect kind of man; confident, straight-forward, kind.
It's too good. I'm scared out of my freaking mind. Especially of getting my hopes up. Maybe also of settling in too well here. Do I want to live the rest of my life around here? I used to not understand people who would. But I'm growing into it. This is my home. No matter what I think of it, it's difficult for me to leave it.

Yeah. Too many thoughts. Reading the book made all these old thoughts wake up. I used to want to become a psychiatrist. Don't think I could manage it, neither the long time of school or the mental pressure. But that has always been the thing closest to my mind in the subject of "making the world a better place". Taking care of orphans or abused homeless animals.

I didn't want to have children because I was afraid I wouldn't like the kid. But maybe that's part of it. How could I ever know whether I would like him/her or whether I would make a good parent? How does anyone know? Maybe I want a child after all. In any case, passing on my genes might make the world a slightly better place. Yes, I am that full of myself.

Russia - Sweden 3-2

Five *fucking* seconds. Five! We dominated the damned game. Sad, pissed, stupid Ovechkin = happy Swedes. It was a physical game, we played with four backs, forwards having to come down playing defense, but did the best game so far. Had a few fights (I keep squealing at them to stop but in the end some fighting belongs to hockey. Even I have to admit that. That is, in part, what makes it superior to, for example, silly football.) and did a few goals. And did I say I hate Ovechkin? This was totally unfair. Being interested in sports, any sport, is like falling in love. If you don't get invested, you don't get hurt. But not being invested is boring. Alright, next game I'll excuse anyone for not watching. It's at 02:00 in the morning. Bleagh.

I really miss skating. I don't know why I don't skate more often. It's the closest one can come to flying. To slide across the ice, feel the speed, the force, the momentum, the friction. Actually it's as if my body enjoys the sheer physics of it, the balance, everything. I can think of few physical activites that beats it. If any.

Denmark-Sweden 1-8

Hi. I will assume you are all watching the Hockey World Championship, and cheering for our boys. The only excuses for not watching it I will accept are:

You have IB exams.
Finding a TV would be accompanied by mortal danger.
You are blind. (But then you should at least keep track of the results on radio.)
You are not Swedish. (In which case you, obviously, cheer for another team.)

If you're not interested in the sport itself, why not come over and watch me yell at the tv?

Mr. Cat

Made some half-assed attempt at new coloring which proved too time-consuming to actually be worth it. This didn't get at all like I imagined. In another world where I wasn't lazy as hell, I'd learn how to make it look like his knives were glowing. =P But I think it tured out better than the pencil original, which is cool. Coloring realistic skin and eyes are hard! So screw that, I'll stick to the more cartoonish style from now on.

And dudes, what happened to "yes, ms, of course we'll vote on your poems, we just forgot, let me tell my girlfriend and we'll get right on it"? Huh?

"Only Spartan women can give birth to real men!"

My view of honor has been seriously fucked up by all comics and books I've read throughout my childhood, so I must say that watching 300 was an enormous experience. I wish I'd had the sense to watch it on cinema, but I had been gruesomely misinformed that it was just a long splasher movie of too much blood, like a prolonged version of the mad crusade-slaughter in Kingdom of Heaven. That is, I believe, the part I like the least in KoH, so I avoided 300 and was idiotic enough to ignore the fact that several of my best liked friends and webcomics continuously kept yelling "This Is Sparta!" at all odd times.

I now stand corrected. I watched it approximately five minutes ago, and my fingers are itching to press the play button again. Just to illustrate how good I thought it was, I can honestly say that I was not once distracted by the disturbingly many (300, I believe^^) half naked and very muscular men in cool looking mantles and helmets soaked in sweat and blood standing around with flexing muscles being zoomed in on every other second. Now that I think of it, I do believe I should press the play button again and pay a little more attention to that fact. Excuse me for a few hours or so.

Oh, and I also watched Stardust. It's like a fairytale (for some reason I'd gotten it into my head that it was Science Fiction, so boy was I in for a surprise). Very cute. Right. Bye.

Waaah, I just noticed, it says 21 downloads of About Love on my hosting page. 21? Scary! My inner paranoid Modesty Blaise requires me to have everyone observe my Copyright claims! Hahahahaha.... yeah.

Knowledge

I was going to wait you guys out until you voted on poems, but my patience isn't as great as some people think. ^^ So here's another contribution to the wide world of random information.

Things I'd want to test myself with but don't think I can/want/will arrange:

* Kill, skin, slaughter and cook my own food. A cow maybe. Or a rabbit. Fish don't count.
* Have to deal with a seriously mentally ill person.
* Tame a wild animal.
* Walk along the river here from home to K-stad. Preferably without telling anyone, before or after.
* Be in a real fight. Yes, I know I can't fight, that's not a factor.
* Be really drunk. No, I haven't been, I'm cheap and afraid of the maybes.
* Watch a human die.

There are probably more, can't think of any right now. Since most of my readers are the people they are, I think you'll understand what I mean with this. Experience. True knowledge.

But a few of these I really hope I will arrange in my lifetime.

MRI, Bus, Rik's, Creativity, Kristin and Uppsala.

I went to K-stad this Thursday. (More MRI, I love them. I mean, radioactive stuff in my bloodstream, being basically cargo-lifted into an enormous machine with one tiny entry and lie there in that tight white tunnel with one blue line to stare at and absolutely forbidden to make the smallest move, barely allowed to breathe for half an hour, while the monstermachine thunders and clonks like a spaceship repair around you. No, really. You think I'm sarcastic, but I'm not.) I sat on the bus and a hundred thoughts passed through my head at amazing speed. Buses are the most perfect place to think, thoughts just fly away like the passing forest, nothing else to distract but enough stimuli to make your head start off.

I thought a lot about the wonderful and rewarding conversations I, or we rather, had while at Rik's. I make myself wonder why I ever thought the world would be a better place without people. The correct solution is: the world would be a much better place with the right people. I know I can't express myself very well in speech, and maybe not well enough for some of you in written word either, but talking like we did is really giving me so much. Which is why, I guess, I always walk around on clouds for a day or so and then crash with all the right gravitational values doing a fair d20+10 bashing and have to crawl up from my body-shaped pit with claws and teeth. Why does the word "leave" have to exist? I think I'm going to start seeing it as "breaks" instead, between visiting.

Anyway, I'm out of the pit now, and today for the first time in months I really feel like writing. We'll see if anything actually comes out of it, but either way, it's a big confidence boost that I even had the urge. Lately creativity has been limited to school and SketchChallenge. So sad. Okay, I wrote all this in one streak as it came to mind, so let me go back and divide it into paragraphs so it's actually readable =P

There. ^^ Oh, and we got some extra time (I got, not you Phaze) for the Antologi. So if you haven't already, do like Kristin and put down a vote on the previous post for which poems you think should make it. I still have the final word, and once there I'll probably choose completely different than what you ask, but I still want to know. (I'm actually not really sure whether I'm joking, lying or being serious right now.)

Oh, btw, I'm going to Uppsala from the 5th to maybe 7th or 8th to the great big nice friendly not at all striking hospital. Probably. Unless they really are striking a strike. Mom will be with me and I dunno how it's gonna be and afterwards I'll be exhausted, so even if I should, I probably won't have the energy to visit you guys, unless they won't have anything for me to do any of the afternoons, because then I might be able to dump mom and pop by to show off my awesome and cool hospital identification bracelet. Anyway, we can probably talk about this is you guys have time and feel like it. Hey, you might even be able to pop by the hospital and see the nice and surprisingly white room! =P Yeah...

Allrighty-o. C'ya.

Help wanted!

Okej, skrivprojekten var uppvärmning. Nu ska Antologin sammanställas och jag ska välja ut texter för den, och det är liksom den som kommer "publiceras" eller iaf få en större läsarkrets än min lilla mängd nära och kära. Vilket betyder; beslutsångest! Jag har bestämt att ha med Mellanstadietexten från skrivprojekt 2, fast den är überpersonlig, eller kanske just därför. Men utöver det tänkte jag ha två el fler dikter från skrivprojekt 1 och det är där det skär sig. Vilka? Jag slits mellan kvalité och känsla!

So... help? Suggestions? Quick!

In the Head of Iceye 01

On selves...
Is the only solution to not being depressed to think shiny bright thoughts? Is the only escape from turning into Eyore to transform yourself into the princess in Enchanted? To erase a part of yourself to be able to survive? We do that. Some guy cut off his own arm with an swiss army knife to survive. Just the same, we can cut off parts of our mental selves. But just as every last cell within me screams of raging protests if I hold a blade close to my skin, regardless if it's sharpened, the mere thought of cutting off a part of myself... Is this bravery or folly?

On memories...
I just watched an episode of House where a man thought the woman he was in love with was engaged to his brother and the emotions were so strong he had heartattacks whenever she came near. He decided to let the doctors remove his memories - everything from birth to present - to get rid of the memory of her, and he refused to tell her the truth. It's tv, I know. Still. How? If there is a soul my soul would still be me if my memories were gone. If behavior is programmed in the DNA, I would still be me if my memories were gone. I believe in both these. And sometimes I think I should forget some things and get on with my life. But to forget, to lose control, to let go, is the most frightening thing I can think of.

On love...
Is love the feeling of being able to give your life for someone? Then I've been in love. Is love the feeling of being prepared to share the rest of your life with someone? Then I've been in love. I've been in love if love is to want to kill, maim and destroy whoever hurts the person. If love is to be jealous of all attention given to someone else. If love is to stop and be amazed at how beautiful someone is even though you've seen him/her a hundred times before. If love is to have pain shoot through your body at the thought of losing this person to anyone or anything. If love is selfless, comfortable, protective, possessive, admiring and painful - if love is the ability to project, deflect, deny and doubt - then I have been in love. I am in love. Am I not?
Love is not beginning, nor end. It is a part of the cycle like everything else. What matters most to me? What are my true intentions?

Advice

Atkins - it works. But take it easy. It's for losing weight, not for living on forever.
And non-Atkins-dieting people, don't eat too much of their tasty fat food. You'll get stomach ache.

Read between the lines of a cereal box: the best way to get away from anxiety for bikini season is not to get comfortable with your body but to eat our cereal and get skinny.
(Note the bikini season. Not swimsuit, not bathing-trunks, but bikini.)

Existentialism - the reason people think it's depressing is because it's realistic.

I'm a mess-y miss-y

Hi. As another pointless, interesting post, and as a continuation on the subject of hairy men, I will mention the conflict between ideals and selves.

We all have some sort of ideal in our heads, right? This is how I'd want to be-ideals. Or this is perfect-ideals. We're quite aware of which parts are possible to achieve and which are not and to which lenghts we're ready to go to get it (like, would you do plastic surgery or agree to be brainwashed?) and those are personal too. I'm thinking something along the lines of: you can think a piece of clothing looks really good and is really beautiful but you'd never wear it yourself. (I'm writing "you" when in fact I mean "I" but you know that already.) You can admire a trait in someone else but not want it for yourself. I'm talking a lot about appearance here but that's because that's how this came to mind for me.

So it's about striking a balance, isn't it? I want to say the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself but I'd be lying. You also have to like the person other people see when they look at you because that is also you. Identity isn't just yours, it belongs to everyone. So.

As for me, I'm often surprised at how well people can understand me, sometimes, because most of the time it feels like I'm running around doing random stuff, wearing random stuff, thinking it's smart because it shows people who I am but I fail. I guess that means I don't fail. But then I'm pissed because I'm so predictable.
It's a mess, isn't it. ^^

Wasting time 101: Tip 44 - pricehunt

I'm supposed to be working.
But I calculated prices on burnable DVDs from Clas Ohlson instead.

You can get them a lot cheaper elsewhere. Like, from 0,4 kr/GB (but then it's only 8x speed). And that wasn't the point. ^^

Yesterday was my brithday (sounds like a poem title)

Hi! Yesterday was my birthday. I got seven glass plates for my seven glass cups and a glass bowl. I also got my ring (in a way). I left my medicine at school so I'm looking forward to heavy headache tonight. My cat refuses to sleep in my lap. I've had half an egg, two shrimps and an inch of a Mars-bar for breakfast. I have to choose between finishing my school project on time or visit my very, very, very ill grandmother. I'm actually starting to think my little brother is a decent person. I also have promised to help him study for his test in physics. My father + Atkins' diet = less weight, more obsession, no improvement of mood. The weather sucks over here.

With the sheer amount of posts I produce, you didn't really think every one was going to be intelligent, did you?

review

Our teacher in religion, who also is a priest and with a doctorate in teology, said we should see it if we wanted and then we could talk about it in class. We haven't had class yet, so I might bring this up again later, but I wanted to talk about it now anyway. Firstly, something within me didn't like this movie. It wasn't the violence, the religiousness, the Mel Gibson, I can't put my finger on what. But aside from this instinctive reaction, there was a lot to like and hate.

As a means for learning, it's bliming. The character of Satan (played by a woman for all intents and purposes) wanders around in the different scenes, seen by no one but Jesus, eternally present. The part of Christianity that Gibson belongs to believes that, simply put, Jesus was the bait with which Satan was defeated. Satan thought that he was winning, driving people to kill the son of God, but when Jesus was dead Satan realized he had lost, that because Jesus died for the sins of mankind he would never have much power over them again. This is illustrated beautifully in the movie. There is also the theory of the angry god, the god that must take all his rage out on his son to be able to forgive mankind, thus Jesus inhuman suffering. I would assume Gibson believes this also, otherwise how would he justify the sheer amount of violence. Then there is the belief in the strong connection between Jesus and Maria, that the holy mother would have shared some supernatural bond with him, a belief especially nurtured in the Catholic church. The portrayal of Judas is also interesting, with his regret and eventual madness, as opposed to the other theory of Jesus having his betray him to bring about the passion and his release from his human body.

Artistically, it's rather well thought out. The set is beautiful, costumes feel natural. Some things feel exaggerated, such as weather effects and a lot of slow-motion shots. And for some reason I'm bothered by the fact that Jesus is so handsome. It makes me think of animal rights and the fact that some people only think we should save the cute animals and forget the rest. Anyway. The movie begins in the garden where Jesus is betrayed by Judas, where we also see Satan for the first time, and "necessary information" is then given as flashbacks along the way. There is a specifially fantastic sequence when Jesus is standing on the hill where they will nail him to the cross. The screen cuts to when Jesus was having dinner with his apprentices, where a small package is carried to the table, and the cloth wrapping thrown aside to reveal the bread. In the next moment you see the soldiers tear the clothes off Jesus' body.

Some have complained about the fact that they speak Arameic, the language that Jesus was supposed to have spoken. I thought it was a detail that greatly added to the realism, which is needed, since the reasonable part of my mind whines about some things that feel wrong, such as how could Jesus possible carry the damned cross when the other guy who comes in, who hasn't had the skin whipped from his body, can hardly walk with it. Then there is clear antisemitism here and there. Rivalery between Christianity and Judism may be unavoidable, but if Gibson want people to take him seriously, he may need to take them seriously. I doubt Jesus said anything about jews being bad.

As for the violence, I can't help but wonder how possible it is, how much a real human being could take. And also whether it is a part of the legend that Jesus could take much more than anyone else. Wasn't he supposed to be human also? The only part I couldn't bear to watch was when they actually nailed him to the cross. More the sound than the imagery, I imagine.

All in all, worth watching if you're interested in the religious aspects, and I believe more to be seen as symbolic than litteral, even if Gibson probably wouldn't agree.

Lumberjacks

I've heard a lot about guys and hairy legs lately. It appears this may be used to prove that men are as oppressed by gender stereotypes as women: those I've spoken to here are torn between hairy legs being a) less attractive, yet b) more manly. To the extent of some guy shaving his legs and being called gay by random people out on town. I thought being manly was about being attractive, but then again, the image of Canadian lumberjacks appear in my mind to remind me that is not so. I seem to remember having friends from all three categories; shaving, not shaving, and having nervous breakdown over wheather to shave. I guess that goes for both genders too. And then comes the complicated question; if you do shave, where do you stop? Can you shave legs but not arms? Back of the hand? Neck? Torso? Does the tiny innocent strands below your bellybutton prove an offence to humankind? Oh the problems the modern day human faces!

Names

I love poking around with names. Names I choose in my stories are always chosen for a reason; either that the sound of it fits the character, or the meaning, or both. I don't really like parents naming their children and not knowing or caring what it means; there is power in names, at least my inner witch tells me so.

Here're some names I found that I'd scribbled here and there, for many different reasons:

Winona - Eldest daughter
Sahar - Moon
Samson - Sun
Aleda - Small and winged
Kanja - Waterborn
Logan - Little hollow
Aya - Morning light
Joash - Fire of god
Aurora - Dawn
Kevin - Handsome
Cassius - Empty
Jace - Beautiful
Rufus - Red hair
Ariel - Lion of God
Amaranth - Immortal

And, irresistably, the names of friends. Tell me if I forgot someone! Alphabetically:

Anna - Grace; Favor
Alexander - Defender of men (I'll assume that is "men" as in "humans")
Anton - Worthy of praise (though reliable sources claim the meaning of the name is unknown)
Björn - (for non-Swedish speaking or complete idiots:) Bear
Danica - Morning star
Daniel - God is my judge
David - Beloved
Eva - To breathe/To live
Gisela - Hostage, pledge (why would anyone name their daughter "hostage"?)
Isabelle - My god is an oath (???)
Joakim - Established by god
Joel - Yahweh is god (which pretty much means "god is god"... yeah... o_O)
Kennet - Born of fire
Kristin - Follower of Christ/Christbearer
Linda - (unsure, varies from Beautiful to Dragon... -_-')
Love (form of Ludwig) - Famous warrior
Madelen - From Magdala (Magdala being a city, its name meaning "Tower")
Rikard - Power(ful)
Sara - Lady/Princess
Sofia - Wisdom
Therese - Harvest(er)
Viktor - (wanna guess, anyone? ^_-)

For those who have read "About Love", let me illustrate why I chose the names:

Asha - Hope (in Indian. In japanese, it means Born in the Morning)
Adrian - Dark, Rich
Stephanos - Crown
Tempest - Stormy
Terrance - because the meaning is unknown
Lancelot - Servant
Daniel - God is my judge (as mentioned above)
Neander - New man

Funny fact: In old Korean costums it says you should name your child something ugly, like "little pig", so that the demons won't get jealous and hurt her/him. This has no relation to my own name, I assure you, since my parents were reasonably modern.

To divert you from this, let me tell those who don't know that my screenname, Iceye, is the clever combination of "ice" and "eye" and thus you may sense the meaning, as well as the correct pronounciation. In game, though, I tend to go under Breakable, or LucidFortes. The latter of which is an anagram, indeed, of our lately much too little mentioned handsome blonde.

Points and wild horses

Just came back from Uppsala. Great weekend. My mood curve went up 100 points, then dropped 150 when the time came to leave. When I'm around these people, I'm in this bubble and I don't need anyone else. That's why I don't want to move there, because I think it's healthy to meet other people too, and it's scary to be so caught up. =P Then I thought, what the hell, you don't need anyone's acknowledgment to feel good, girl! Not even these guys, no matter how great they are. I didn't think I'd be so easily manipulated, but my mood curve took another flash-jump up 65 points. So now I'm pretty much back to normal. Especially since I've actually done my homework.

I don't know why I keep coming back to what feels like the same subject, but - another analogy since they're my thing: my mind is a horse, and I haven't tamed and trained it properly, but it's so beautiful in the wild that I'm reluctant to do so even if that would increase the effectiveness. Make sense?

I think reading The Game is helping my confidence. Weird. But appreciated.

Ever get the feeling that you don't belong in your own family? You're not alone.

I made one of those realizations today that I imagine makes the difference between kids and grownups (that sounded really cheesy, but I'll keep it). I've been criticizing my parents pretty hard for the way they've treated my sickly little most-beautiful-in-the-world... ehrm, I mean my cat. Mostly the way they've been talking about him, like he's over and out already. But it's just their way of dealing. Mom almost started crying today talking about him. Just watching him getting worse has been wearing on all of us, especially coupled with grandma's condition (which is all too alike). Some things I know without really knowing it, know what I mean? I know it intellectually, but I don't understand it. Well, today I better understood that I've been the one pretending I'm the only one who loves him, when we only feel it different ways. I've been missing the most part, away at school. They've been dealing with it day-by-day.

My family and I are still very different, and I still can't stand them too long periods at a time (but who can I stand too long periods at a time?), and often it feels like I'm the only one fighting to adapt so we can coexist, but they are my family. For better and worse.

Weekend summup =P

Well, I was down to K-stad this weekend, and it was nice. Been a long time since I roleplayed last. Though where we ended, it felt like I was caught between following the personality of my character and mess things up, or play nice. I've never been in that kind of situation before; I've always managed to find some viewpoint from which the character would want to do what he has to do, but not this time. Interesting.

Monday was a red calendar day, which I totally forgot, meaning I went to catch the bus at 1400 but realized there were none until 1700. Argh. So I went shopping and came back with A) the book The Game which will be incredibly interesting, I expect, and B) the game Bully which will be equally interesting but in a different way. Both bought from the perspective of psychology.

Now I'm going looking for silver rings, since my parents wanted to buy me something real and lasting for my birthday and no electronics count. How is it women's rings always look like cinderella would if transmuted into jewelry? Translation: I'm going to look for men's rings. Which are too big. I feel a slight ironic reference to something called story of my life. -_-'

Overwhelming moment: when you run into the guy you barely know the name of, but just dreamed you had the most amazing sex in the world with.

He looks like Matthew McConaughey gene-modified to my tastes. (That was one hard name to spell having only heard it before!) I believe I have mentioned him before. And the little I know about his personality I like, which can't be said about too many good-looking young men.

And he has a girlfriend. Which can be said about all too many of them.

Click to enlarge

Betters and Losers

What we know is boring. What I mean is: the grass is always greener on the other side. The whole point of the other side, is that it is where you're not. There's a whole sience about this: You don't miss the cow till the barn's empty, You always want what you can't have.
Meaning: we're all jealous.

We're all home-blind. What do all these dutch people see in Sweden? It's just forest. And what is it with germans and elks? They're big and ugly and get high on our apples (Not the germans, the elks). And yet, to my experience, the strongest jealousy is when we find someone we think are better on a subject we find ourselves good at. For my part, that means thinking someone else has written something that is better than what I can do. And my evil stepsister, my envy incarnate, dances around in my head.

But remember: this is what I tell myself.
1) People may like what you do even if they don't say anything. I do that often, like something but never come around to tell the person in question. Bad me. And it's often hard to explain why or determine what you like. (But don't let that excuse those people who constantly just call everything "good" and "nice".)
2) Jealousy is good. Jealousy fires me up, makes me want to do my best, prove myself. It teaches me things (just recently I stood corrected on the subject of using too many "," It took me a week to come to peace with that the critizism was true, but I came out a better writer).
3) Jealousy is bad. Don't let it conquer you so that you're never ever satisfied. If you're never satisified, you'll never finish, and you'll never get anything done. Find a way to put a limit where something is good, or why not perfect? Overworked works are just as bad as underworked.
4) "Better" is relative. Usually people are good at different things, and that is true even in very small subjects. Maybe I'm a hobby artist while someone else, like Björn, is more serious. Maybe I'm an author while someone else, like Rik, is a better poet. (See what I did there?) You can even take it further; maybe I'm better at writing psychological drama while someone else is better at psychological horror.
5) At the final cut, you shouldn't be the one grading yourself against others. Let others, complete outsiders, do that. And if you still lose, be a good loser. Then at least you're good at something.

Anyone got any better tips? ^_-

the Sleeper

sixtyfive dozen reasons for walking away
yet this single one force me to stay
to go on regardless the reasons
to live on in rules that aren't mine
to sleepwalk so that my emotions
go on and leave me behind

need you more than words can say
sixtyfive dozen times every day
to be there in calm and storm
to know that I am not weak
to see the truth I live within
for sleepers cannot speak

sixtyfive dozen reasons to break
for I have never been awake
and I admit that fear gets the better
and I continue to make the same mistake
and my strength is also my weakness
for this single reason is more than I can take

This I Share

This Is All held a real surprise for anyone who's read all the other books in the Dance-seqence. Wow. And I dunno why I started crying either, it wasn't such a big deal. Not like the overwhelmings of Dance on my Grave or The Toll Brigde. Maybe because everything is so perfect. Not happy shiny perfect, but right. I want to write like this, not copying his style, but the impact it makes on... reality? Me. There are things I don't like about how and what he writes sometimes. But then comes these moments, like watching your lover as the sunlight creeps over their sleeping face, and then... no wham, no lighbulb of revelation, but... suddenly everything is just... everything is forgiven. Everything just is.

If you have no idea what I'm talking about here, go to a library, borrow any book by Aidan Chambers, read... and be ashamed that you hadn't already.

And I haven't actually watched a lover as sunlight creeps over their face. =P But I don't know if you'd understand what I'm trying to say, if I'd said like watching your cat close his eyes and tuck his nose under his paw, or like throwing a glance over your shoulder and seeing those blonde spikes and angel wings next to you, or like watching eight huge, dirty machines spit newspapers on a production line surrounded by deafening thundering, because these feelings are special, and what makes us feel them is individual. Weird, isn't it? Because they're so grand, I'm sad sometimes that I can't share them.

Well... that's what I'm trying to do now and here, I guess.

A series of reminders to the world:

SketchChallenge-people, get down and give me twenty right now you lazy sons-of-*******.
Bored people, please peer at The Island, of course only for your own salvation.
Partypeople, if you have any more smart ideas, like, I dunno, renting leather string for me, tell me.
The manufacturers of a certain Corepad item, go fuck yourself, then get your job done.
Ninjas, don't play Sid Meier's Pirates! five hours straight unless you have Hulk-wrists immune to pain. But do play it, it's nice.
Gamers, check out the Zero Punctuation game reviews. I guess it's better if you know the games he talks about. But regardless, come on, he's Brittish.
And everyone else, please return those hundred bucks you borrowed. Yes, all of you. What? Don't remember?

Someone in my family have managed to mention a certain location beginning with the letter S at least once a day this entire vacation. And my parents keep saying we've spent too much time and money on trying to cure the cat already. I don't like them very much right now. If this is his time, fine. But if he's going to die because they're not helping, then I'll be damned. I'm about to put up the ultimatum that if they don't do everything in their power to help him, I'm not coming home any more weekends. But that may be crossing a line, I don't know. I'm tired of trying to argue with them. They just don't want him to have something they can cure, because then they have to make the effort.

I have nightmares about copyright lawsuits. Putting works (especially writings) up like this feels so freaky, even if, I mean, the internet is huge, who would actually steal my stuff, of all things? But it's a little like leaving the door to the toilet unlocked with a sign that says "busy". Most people would have common sense. Some don't, and then you're defenseless.

Sneakpeak!

The current SketchChallenge comes down today. The challenge went as follows: "Draw a man and a woman in identical uniforms, and make sure we can tell which is which." Once I'd done one nice picture, this other idea popped up and I had to draw that too. I dunno what the rules are about several pictures, but I guess it's just to choose one, or things would get out of hand. So I will post the first, serious one there, and here is the other version:

Talk about discrimination... making men stupid.

New political proposal: men should have extra money when staying home with children.
Reasons: 1) to have more men stay home, and 2) to fill the difference between how much money they lose if the man (high pay) stays home instead of the woman (low pay).
Arguments: better with carrots than whips, meaning it's better to make it more desirable to have men stay home than to force men and woman to stay home equally much.

Idiocy: why do men have to be "tempted" to stay home? Can't they figure themselves? Should they have a piece of chocolate every time they're good boys and do their dishes too? Should they be electrocuted every time they choose the picture of the car rather than the doll? Get the pay equal to begin with, then start blabbering about this shit, if the problem even remains then.

excuses

This week is vacation. Sunday I was desperate for things to do, but today I'm starting to realize that one week won't be enough, all attributed to different points of view. For one, I want to restore all (or at least some) of my savefiles. My memorycard was stolen again and for good a month or so ago. Considering that there's about 800+ hours put down in ~15 games, I think it might take a lifetime to do it all again. Well, since I'm on stupid computers the week out, I won't be around online much.

I also found an old game called Princess Maker 2. It's silly, but very fun. I mean, it wasn't released in the English-speaking world for being sexist, but whatever. For those of us who don't enforce game-logic in the real world (aside from trying to push Ctrl-z all the time, or looking for a *continue* button) it's fun to see what happens. You care for your daughter from ten to eighteen and try to prepare her for a good life. Apparently it has about 70 different endings; I've gotten two so far. This is probably as close to mother instincts as I ever got =P. It gulps down time as if it was a teenager drinking alcohol, though.

Now I'm going to town to fix my glasses. I didn't break them! They just... broke.

Size Matters

Wednesday we went to K-stad to the office of VF (the local newspaper) with school and got to see some about how and where they work. The journalism info itself was lukewarm, but then we got to watch the presses. About eight or so giant machines printing all the pages of the paper at the same time, sending them to a machine in the middle that put them together and folded it, spitting out completed papers on a production line. They sounded like an airplane trapped inside a too small hangar, and there was this smell, like chemicals. They were blue, but loads of oily tubes and stuff stuck out everywhere and in places someone had patched them up with parts of newspapers, probably to stop leaks or something. And I watched these monsterous freaks of nature, and I really, really, really wanted to work with them. When I called mom, she said, of course working on a newspaper would be perfect for you. But I think she misunderstood.

Pink Power Ranger

Here's something for you to elaborate on: tell me one of your most significant memories from middle school (I guess for Swedes that translates to 4-6th grade, approximately).

Loosely connected to my previous post: we had a woman here talking about - and if I translate literally it gets funny - "Power and Sex". Obviously we were talking about feminism and equality. She had a slow start, but then she had some interesting things to say, and the discussion afterwards was reasonably fun. Seeing the difference between "sex" and "gender" seems more and more necessary.

Anyway, she pointed out that we tend to contrast men and women against each other as though everything one is, the other is not. Weird. We do the same with light and darkness, and everything else we decided to divide in no less or more than two: attribute them with qualities they do not inherently possess. Like Rik said, we define things by what we think they're not, instead of what they are. Much like science then, right? To know if swans are only white, we do not test their whiteness: we look for swans of other colors. And now it's like we discovered there are sixtyfive nuances of "white". Bet Jesus didn't see that one coming.

Tell me something;

Who am I?

The question of whether I am a man or a woman confounds me; are there only two possible standards? Must I cathegorize myself in one of these? Does who I love and don't love make a difference, do I have to put these labels on myself in order to come to peace with myself? In the final choice, I have simply pointed to my born body to avoid making a decision. Nature made me woman. But does that mean I am a woman? Would changing my body make me a man, any more than I am woman now?

Am I the sum of my actions? The total of my projects? The thoughts in my head? Am I who I think I am, or who you think I am, or is there a universal constant somewhere? Identity has as many variations as there are humans. I know who I am, I can feel the essence of my creature, but does that really make a difference? For the rest of me, thoughts, actions, body, appearance, behavior, clothes, the color of my eyes, it must all contribute to who I am, right? Having a female body doesn't make me a woman, any more than being able to write makes me a writer. But does being a woman mean I have a female body, and being a writer mean I can write? That man can be born in the "wrong" body seems the be generally acnowledged through transexuals. That there are wonderfun writers out there who never got the education to put it to use, I have no doubt. Are these the only options? Is there only "right" and "wrong"? Is this what being a "human" is about? What if I don't want either?

Does this mean every single point of my character is individual and isolated? No man is an island. Cause and effect. They cannot be unconnected and unaffected. This means that being a woman in a female body makes me different than being woman in a male body. This means every single point of my character stands in delicate balance to every other; that variations are endless, that analysis is impossible. Everything about everyone is a sliding scale with a million points of reference and genres and cathegories are useless and despicable.

Following all this comes the knowledge that: knowing what I am will change who I am.

Therefore: Tell me who I am.

Seems I disappeared there for a little while. Well, I've felt for a while now I've just been rambling about whatever and not really contributing to anything but making myself silly, so I was waiting for inspiration to stike, but we all already know it never just "strikes". To my excuse, I've been ill as well as having a bad two last weeks, so there. I've read through some old stuff to remind myself what I'm doing, and as usual most of it isn't half as good as I pretend it is, but the other half I daresay I can live with. That is, though, the half I already posted, so expect nothing new for a while. The problem with being a novel writer, as opposed to short stories, poems or other, is that it may take a year or two for a book to form and finish. I have at least three projects in the air that I like, but have no illusions about finishing within the nearest months. But maybe it's worth the wait, I dunno. That said, I shall retreat back into my corner and continue pretend I'm a functional human being, and hopefully jot down a few words while I'm there anyway. As for everyone else, I wish I could be a better friend, but I guess we all do. There're a lot of things we all do.

Twirks

Speaking of stupid fascinating impulses, I just had the strongest one to seduce my teacher. If God had given me a little more shrewdness, the Devil would've had a lot more fun.

On a different, yet the same, note:
It's a lot easier to do something for someone else than for yourself, at least if it's something you don't want to do. I thought about my fear of failing at school (caused, make no mistake, by my own character in combination with the unforgiving IB) and of how I could be made to make an effort - how to motivate me so to speak. I think the most important is a teacher I personally respect, not just professionally, but also like as a person. This attraction I've told you about before, this obsession with people and beauty (not just conventional beauty; I use the word in lack of others to point to that specific something some people have) may play a large role here. But once again, my observations about how to create a pefrect surrounding for my living and learning is thwarted by reality; I have no control over what teacher I get. Just like I'll never get that house in Gibraltar with all of my friends inside.

Hey, I suddenly remember, the only teacher I really respected in primary school was this young woman with curly brown hair who I was totally crushing on and who played football on weekends. Can't remember her name, but I remember her. I loved her voice.

Please go over to Rik's blog. This must be why I have friends. So that my insanity doesn't show too much, but is still allowed freedom and happiness. It may signale my weirdness that I am suddenly ever so much more proud of that we are friends. And since our "gang" lacks in "gay" (or does bisexual count as gay?) and needs to be statistically and politically correct, please apply for membership before the end of April, you get the first year's member's fee for free!

Vlei

I just finished the book I had to read for school: Doris Lessing's The Grass is Singing. It's a fascinating book, partly because of what it portrays and what it says. It's the story of a human fate in Southafrica, I can't set a clear date since I have no sense of years and dates, but it's written 1950 and they talk about a war. The main character Mary is a rather naive girl, a prisoner of her childhood, carefree as long as the environment is carefree. Once it is no longer, it becomes a book that digs deep into her life and mind. It also shows a clear and bitter view of the relationship between black and white in the country, between what was right and wrong to the people of then and there. It looks into silent rules of society, subconscious mindsets that spreads or excludes without people ever really thinking about it. Simply the way white farmers must think to treat the black natives the way they did; and to protect the world they have built, they must continue to think so, without any alternatives. And in that kind of world, when one of the "superior" community finally falls so far down that the line between black and white comes down strictly to color, bad things happen, even if no one takes action simply because of it; it follows the rules of group behavior.

Speaking of the book rather than the content, I like the way Lessing has left a lot to the reader. There are times when she explains down to tiniest detail why someone would do as they do, but even in these exquisite explanations, she delivers some extra information in the form of interpretation. We are left to fill in the blanks ourselves, most of the time subconsciously. It gives a deeper understanding of psychology, as close to practice as theory could get. All in all, it is a good, interesting, and entertaining book, though oddly not as captivating as the other adjectives would suggest, perhaps because it covers the concept of "why" rather than try to keep the suspense, since the book, litterally, begins with the end. Either way, it is worth its time.

On a completely different subject: The Gray, my cat, is currently wearing headphones.

Working my stuff

I made a DeviantArt account today and added some stuff to it, just for fun. I'm not really up to managing more than this blog, so I'll just use it as a playground. I mean, it's too big; it's impossible to be seen. I posted two texts there, and after doing that I realized that neither of them are posted here. So just to be fair and square I'm posting one of them here too. The other is connected to Kirya, and I'm not sure I want people who read Kirya to read this yet, so it'll stay in hiding. But this other one, Killer, I like it a lot.

Continuing with controversity:

I'm thinking soon I'll be confident enough to let you guys onto my real NC-17 works; the dark side of my writing, so to speak. You guys do know I write shounen-ai for fun, right? Otherwise I don't know where you've been. (This has no connection to Killer, straight male fans, no danger of boys kissing there!) And I put (almost) as much effort into making it good as I do all other writing; I hate that badly written slashficition crap! So stay tuned!

Get a grip!

Why can't we all get along? The conflicts of the Middle-East, the hatred in certain religious groups, bullying and gang wars, it seems far away from most of us. We look at these people who kill for what we deem as nothing. Then remember; there must be someone in your life that you don't like. Be it a work partner, a relative, a neighbor, maybe the friend of a friend, or the wife of an uncle. Think of that person. Think of all the things that person has done to you that you deem unjust and mean, all those little things that really are nothing, but amount to Mars's enormous 27 km. Most often it's about respect; the problem with that is that there are no physical proof, most people will say; what do you have against her/him really, and you'll be forced to say "I don't know" or maybe "he acts like a three year old" or "she's just doing that to hurt me" and everyone around will be forced to choose side blindly.

Now imagine spending your entire life side by side with that person, and tell me, why can't we all get along?

Is the only solution to stay away from that person? To separate yourself from him/her? What if you have friends in common? Will they have to choose? Will you have to leave people you love behind, to be able to... what? Live in peace? Preserve your self-respect?

Now listen closely; I don't think that's true. Throughout conflicts in my life, people have always hit their limits when it comes to some things and some people. And they will, ultimately, say it's someone else's fault. Sometimes it is. Regardless, I have never never had to leave anyone for anyone else's sake. I have never had such problems with people. The biggest problem I have with people seem to be either that they don't like me, or that my friends can't get along with each other. I can see the psychological reasons behind actions, I can read people like open books. But just because I know it doesn't mean I understand. Communication is the best tool, but when used the wrong way it may do more damage than help. I still think it's better to talk about something when you find it a problem, to a limit where nothing more can be done. And be honest! There's no point in talking if you're going to lie in the end. I'm not saying you can't wrap it up in silk, that's often better than just running people over. But also, don't forget to listen. Communication means the words go both ways!

So listen, friends and foes:

Why can't we all just get along?

Being Absent-Minded

I had something interesting and profound to say, seriously, but I have forgotten it.

The lack of posting is due to being home over the weekend. Going home thursday and staying all the way through sunday was quite an overdose, actually. Unless my edgyness was caused by the generous amounts of chemicals introduced in the form of chocolate and liqorice, it seems I can't handle being with my family for very long anymore. I thought I'd test the hypothesis by not eating any candy of other snacks next weekend (a good practice of discipline and faith too). If it's still a problem, I may have to rethink my plans of studying from home next year. It may still work if I get my driver's licence and live above the garage, but it will take serious self-discipline if I'm to practice driving. Driving is boring. My mind tends to wander.

Going to K-stad tomorrow. Bringing home friends from there. I'm going to flunk my philosophy test because of it, so they better entertain me. =P