Judgement day

As Christmas is standing outside your door, I decided to have a dream about the apocalypse again. Or rather my mind decided in absence of my normal controlling senses. This time the water level rised and I had to find somewhere else to go, as if the apocalypse where geographic related in any way. Earlier dreams about this phenomenom included smoke, screaming people total darkness, clouds in the sky and rain of blood and sulphur. This time things were a little bit easier going. My greatest quest, by the way, was to save a rabbit from drowning, so it wasn't a nightmare in the sense that the earlier ones. Think it's a good sign, I'm accepting the visits of the apocalypse in my dreams. Kind of, I'm lost anyway... And save me Freud please.

Abraham Lincoln

For some time I thought sideburns where something guys had instead of make-up and same thing with beard. I don't like make-up and never use that crap myself (yet I'm extremely good looking, don't you dare believe anything else!). So sideburns for me, was something from hell, and beard was a disease. Anyhow, I've changed that opinion now. Just wanted you to know.

Stupidity, stupidness?

I have discovered that I am losing vocabulary again. It happens from time to time. Some periods I really know what to say, and what to write (in essays and such). My English is at its best, at least I think it is at its best. No really, it IS! Mind that it does not say anything if it is that good in general. I have recently came out from such a great period, and now I recognize the recession. It is a problem since I feel so empty and I wonder if it is because I have not challenged my brain for some time. I think I am getting more stupid for every day that passes. It is really bad timing since I am inte the middle of an essay that is suppose to be handed in 20th January. I really hope I recover in time...

A taste of hell

Frank lost one of his best friends in an accident two days ago. He was just standing beside the road and as a lorry was passing by, the trailer suddenly came loose and rushed straight against him. The story is as tragic as unbelievable.

For Frank, it's the fourth person he has lost in less than 1 1/2 year. How come that one man has to suffer so much in such a short time? A case of bad luck? A share coincidence? Fate at its worst? Something like that I suppose. Persons loose persons every day, but this feels too much, and I'm furious about bad luck, coincidence and fate, or whatever. One think that tragedy should have the politeness to spread itself.

Hand talk

According to Chris Carter a person who uses hands while talking is not a very talented communicator when it comes to verbal communication. The hands are used to reinforce what is already expressed by speaking. Chris Carter refers to Frank Black in tv series Millennium, and he says that Frank is so sure about himself and confident that there is no need to reinforce what he says. Frank Black is not a sales man, he is not that kind of person.

In order to develop my personality, I have decided to try this. I have to stop talking with my hands! I often find myself using much body language while talking to people, especially when the person I talk to is not a very talkative person himself. I think that if I change that, maybe people will listen. It's a way of getting attention by doing something unusual. It is not obvius why a person tries to receive attention by making as less of his own appearance as possible. That is why I have to do this. Always an attention whore...

You can tell by the look

I saw Ingvar Kamprad yesterday, on tv that is. He inaugurated some sort of countryside shop, or whatever, I don't quite remember anymore. Ingvar Kamprad is a millionaire, and a very fortunate millionaire, since his assets are constantly growing. However, he looks just like anyone, wearing very not-so-fancy-though-quite-convenient-for-a-public-appearance-clothes. He could buy the world, or at least Sweden (which is pretty much of my own world), and you can't tell by the look of him. I think this is intentionally, he makes an effort to look like that. I wonder if it's harder being wealthy trying to look like anyonw, than being average in financial strenght trying to look like someone. I think Ingvar Kamprad has huge issues about looking too fancy and that it is humble (as humble you can get being the founder of IKEA) of him not to bragging about his fortune.

No, I don't feel sorry for him at all.

The childhood trap

Whenever someone talk about what happened to me when I was a child, I am seized by total anxiety. I don't mind people talking about it in absence of my person, but I can't stand hearing it. Still, I had a great childhood, I think... They talk about usual every-day-stuff like when I went to kinder garden and hide away from the other kids to play with the plastic animals by myself. I don't regret anything and I was not treated badly from what I remember, but every time someone talk about it or tell stories from back then I panic. It feels like the walls are closing, like a trapped animal and a really unpleasent and annoying feeling starts to grow in the back of my head. It is so stressful and it is hard to describe the feeling properly, it sort of devoures me... Slowly...

This is so strange. I hope there is some psychological explanation, because I would be happy to hear it. And no, I've never been violated in any way.

Giving up hopes staying sarcastic

I have a distant friend, distant, meaning that he does not live in the same country as I am. He has a sort of alcoholic and smoking related problem which has lead to a heart disease, which will kill him anyday. He knows why he has this heart disease and he knows that quit smoking and drinking will make him escape a certain death. But he doesn't want to. We can go on analyzing why he doesn't, but thats disrespectful. I'm rather wondering why I'm trying to convince him to stop when he doesn't want to, and then in the end, living in all this misery, I fail to do anything else but give up. So now, I'm being sarcastic instead. Going sort of: "Hi!, (if you're still alive)" in my e-mails, which he by the way, only answers occasionally since he goes through periods of depression.

Today I wrote him a letter. I will send it merely by playing detective. If I get it back by the post office, I presume that he is dead.

"I am inclined to think..."

"I should do so!" Sherlock Holmes answers Dr. Watson impatiently. Watson is British in a way that normal people were British during the Victorian period of history in London. Maybe, even a little bit over the top. He is somewhat disturbed by the fact that Holmes is interrupting him in this sardonic manner. I would say he is as happy about the situation as you are discussing with a 4 year (15 year, 30 year and so on...) old who has most recently found out that the expression "Because I want to" is a way underestimated source of argument. Watson admires Holmes above most other... eh... things...? But is also of the opinion that he sometimes repay his loyalty poorly. He gets more and more irritated about the situation. Why is Holmes being so sure about himself all the time? Always interrupting Watson, while Watson himself would never even think of doing the same to Holmes. Watson can not contain himself anymore. His emotions are growing inside of him and he totally explodes in a... "Really, Holmes, you are a little trying at times." (!). The victorian hero...

The joy of exhaustive living

I went up very early this morning and is now completely exhausted. The story goes: I was suppose to do something really exciting today, and therefore I could not fall asleep last night. This exciting thing took place very early this morning. Thus, lots of excitement = can't fall asleep, get up early = even less sleep. Being very tired I perform every task in a very delicate state, perfect for the purpose of revealing your weak features. Everything I don't do very well I can always hide when I've had a good nights sleep. However, being exhausted makes me do everything sloppy. Example: When I make my tea in the morning, maybe I pour a little water on the side of the cup, the left side. Knowing this I try to think of it when I'm not exhausted but perhaps under pressure, and I realise that I have to pour the water a little bit to the right, and tadaaaah! Not only perfection is reached, but also preventive perfection. Point is that I could never have found this out, had I not been exhausted.

Another example is that I think this posting is very interesting, but I will probably be of a different meaning tomorrow morning...

Because she made me do it

My friend has this blog which I think is great, always interesting things to say. I always visit it first thing I do when i get online, but now it was ages ago since it was updated. It brings less joy in my life and makes me very sad. Maybe I should blog myself and don't expect others to do it for me... Well, it's official...

I had a diary once, but I kept thinking it was too personal for anyone to read. My intension was never to let anyone read it, but in case it should be found, it would be very obvius that i was mine. Now, blogging does not involve that problem, hence it brings lots of advantages.