And that problem would be me. So I decided that I should resuscitate this blog, after having first deserted it for another blog and then given up blogging altogether. To be completely honest, I'd forgotten that this blog ever existed and kind of stumbled upon it by accident. I had a read through some of my old posts and came to the disturbing conclusion that I am myself somewhat disturbed.
I think that I would go as far as to say that I need a good slap in the face. How many times can one person question the same thing? Seriously, get your act together and accept the situation that you're in and make the best of it. Or if you don't like it, do something about it and make a change.
I did make a change, I guess. Not a planned one, I kind of ended up moving to Brussels, by accident more than anything. I didn't move away from Stockholm so much as took a bit of a break from it. Had an amazing five months in Brussels, where I, naturally, continued my criticizing of all things I could think of, but nonetheless enjoyed myself thoroughly. Again I met some amazing people that again I will miss greatly. I don't know why I keep putting myself in this situation. I mean moving temporarily to new places is hardly going to help me settle down.
I wasn't completely sure about the whole moving to Brussels business. Yes it was tempting and awfully exciting to get a chance to work in the European Parliament, but I had also finally started liking my semi-settled down life and I had started feeling at home in Stockholm. But of course I went, how could I not? And I do not regret it for a second, even if I often question what the hell I got out of it, other than alcohol poisoning and a bunch of friends, that in all honesty I really didn't need. When I say didn't need, I mean that if I hadn't met them I wouldn't have known that I liked them and wouldn't be missing them now that I'm back home.
Back home and unemployed AGAIN, may I add. This is where I start questioning my decision just a little. I quit a job to work as a trainee for five months, because it seemed exciting. That is so very mature. The consequence is that I am now, at the age of 27, back to living with my mother while looking for a new job. And what makes matters even more wonderful is that I have managed to make myself over-qualified for the more basic jobs and under-qualified for the more advanced jobs (a consequence of having changed paths too many times in my not so long university/work career). So basically there are no jobs out there for me.
So the lesson learned here is this: Well actually I haven't learned anything. I have learned that I should stop questioning everything, but at the same time I know that I wouldn't have been happy if I hadn't gone, so really that makes no difference. And I still want to move back to London occasionally. And I always want to move to New York, but I won't. And to Barcelona. And perhaps Berlin even though I've never been there. Still the place I'm applying for jobs in is Stockholm. Even though I wouldn't really mind staying here either. Or perhaps I should go back to Brussels?
I think that the only place that I will truly want to move back to is England. I cannot tell you why, because when I lived there god knows I had many things to complain about. Yet I have this dream of a Victorian house, in the outskirts of London, with an English country garden, a milk man that delivers milk to my door, weekend strolls around the many markets of London, pub lunches, pub pints and cheese and onion chips.
I guess I want all that, but at the moment I prefer the comfort of being at home. Not this home, but in Sweden. Because whenever I am abroad I miss Sweden. And no matter how many times I move to new places, the only truth is this: It's always the same. I always have fun, I always make friends easily, but life is the same. It's always the same. I take walks, I see friends, I drink beer, I work. I mean life doesn't change just because the setting does. Generally. So what the hell is the point, then? This I tell myself again and again. And then I forget and start questioning again.
And this is where that good slap in the face would come in handy.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Friday, July 17, 2009
Beauty obsession
I often find myself wondering why so many people are so obsessed with beauty, with perfection. It's something that I find very difficult to fathom. I mean, as I've said before, I too want to look good, but I don't strive for perfection. And even when people do, it's one thing striving for your own perfection, but a whole different story if you admire beautiful people merely because they're beautiful. Surely other qualities must weigh in as well, surely a person cannot be admirable just by looking good?
Being bored at work, I've come across countless blogs about fashion and beauty, some with more self-distance than others. One particular blogger often puts up pictures of women that she finds beautiful, and then goes on and on about how amazing they look and how much she admires them.
I don't even know how to express myself on this matter, but I just don't understand! How is this relevant, who gives a rat's ass and what have these people ever done to improve the world that deserves our admiration?
Looking good when you're rich and famous is not a tough quest. First of all, it's your job to look good. I, too, would spend hours at the gym every day if I didn't also have to spend 8 hours in the office. I, too, would eat healthily all the time if I had someone cook my food for me or all the money in the world to buy the best food possible. I, too, would have glowing hair and skin if I had the time and money to get all the treatments that money can buy. And I, too, could have the trendiest and most eclectic style if I had a stylist, or at least time, energy and money to spend all my time shopping.
Yet, these aren't things that I wish for. Or that's not true, I wish I could have all those things, but I'm not prepared to work for them. They're just not that important to me.
I admire people who work to end world hunger, or those who try to mediate in a conflict between countries. Those who find solutions to combat aids, human trafficking, honor crimes.
I wish I could one day be one of those people. Odds are I won't, I just the wrong field of study, but you never know.
Being bored at work, I've come across countless blogs about fashion and beauty, some with more self-distance than others. One particular blogger often puts up pictures of women that she finds beautiful, and then goes on and on about how amazing they look and how much she admires them.
I don't even know how to express myself on this matter, but I just don't understand! How is this relevant, who gives a rat's ass and what have these people ever done to improve the world that deserves our admiration?
Looking good when you're rich and famous is not a tough quest. First of all, it's your job to look good. I, too, would spend hours at the gym every day if I didn't also have to spend 8 hours in the office. I, too, would eat healthily all the time if I had someone cook my food for me or all the money in the world to buy the best food possible. I, too, would have glowing hair and skin if I had the time and money to get all the treatments that money can buy. And I, too, could have the trendiest and most eclectic style if I had a stylist, or at least time, energy and money to spend all my time shopping.
Yet, these aren't things that I wish for. Or that's not true, I wish I could have all those things, but I'm not prepared to work for them. They're just not that important to me.
I admire people who work to end world hunger, or those who try to mediate in a conflict between countries. Those who find solutions to combat aids, human trafficking, honor crimes.
I wish I could one day be one of those people. Odds are I won't, I just the wrong field of study, but you never know.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Whatever happened to just enjoying life?
I was watching Super fat vs. Super skinny, or whatever the heck that program is called, yesterday. In one part of the program they had a clip from LA, and they talked about how if you’re fat you have to go out outside of the city, because fat people just aren’t accepted as part of the LA population. But what was worse, I thought, was that although being pregnant is ok, carrying some baby weight after the pregnancy is not.
Women put themselves through extreme work-out regimes and diets just to get back into their size zero a few months after giving birth, risking their own health as well as their babies’.
What I don’t understand is this: How can adult women be so obsessed with their looks that they’re prepared to do almost anything to remain slim? Why is it so goddamn important to be that skinny, to look picture perfect?
I understand that most women (and men) want to look as good as they can, but seriously, there must be some kind of limit. I would rather not be obese, but I also have no desire to be a walking skeleton.
I like eating, and frankly, I think that there are much more pressing things to worry about in this world than your weight. Being healthy and active is one thing, spending all your time and energy on trying to look good is a whole different matter.
It’s selfish and quite absurd. And very much the opposite of my motto: true perfection has to be imperfect!
Women put themselves through extreme work-out regimes and diets just to get back into their size zero a few months after giving birth, risking their own health as well as their babies’.
What I don’t understand is this: How can adult women be so obsessed with their looks that they’re prepared to do almost anything to remain slim? Why is it so goddamn important to be that skinny, to look picture perfect?
I understand that most women (and men) want to look as good as they can, but seriously, there must be some kind of limit. I would rather not be obese, but I also have no desire to be a walking skeleton.
I like eating, and frankly, I think that there are much more pressing things to worry about in this world than your weight. Being healthy and active is one thing, spending all your time and energy on trying to look good is a whole different matter.
It’s selfish and quite absurd. And very much the opposite of my motto: true perfection has to be imperfect!
New start
Whatever happened to my love of writing? Whatever happened to my love of commenting on everything, all the time? Did Facebook steal my need to express myself? The status updates allows me to comment on everything I find odd, interesting, funny or disturbing, and hundreds of people can see it at the same time (even if they would probably prefer not to..).
I’ve always been very opinionated, even though I’ve rarely thought that my opinions counted for much. I still don’t, but that shouldn’t stop me from commenting. Through expressing my opinions, I can make sense of them, and the more I write about a certain matter, the more interested I become in it and consequently the more I will read up on it and the more I will learn about it and the better I will be able to write about it.
So, from now on, this blog is first of all going to be updated more frequently, and second of all it’s going to be an opinion blog. I myself find it far more interesting than writing about the boring life that I lead.
I’ve always been very opinionated, even though I’ve rarely thought that my opinions counted for much. I still don’t, but that shouldn’t stop me from commenting. Through expressing my opinions, I can make sense of them, and the more I write about a certain matter, the more interested I become in it and consequently the more I will read up on it and the more I will learn about it and the better I will be able to write about it.
So, from now on, this blog is first of all going to be updated more frequently, and second of all it’s going to be an opinion blog. I myself find it far more interesting than writing about the boring life that I lead.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
the sun has gone to bed and so must iii
So what the hell happened to summer, that's what I want to know. I mean, yeah it's great not waking up swimming in your own sweat, but this endless greyness is starting to get to me. Granted it's only lasted for about two days so far, but two day is a long time when you've gotten used to eternal sunshine. I just kind of thought that that was the way the summer was going to be now, three months of sun, blue sky, bare legs and an effortlessly built up tan, as my skin would absorb the lovely rays of sun by just living life outside.
Guess I was wrong. Guess it's not the first time. Not the first time I'm wrong, not the first time summer's weather lets me down.
But it is crazy how the weather can affect your mood. Although the air is fresher, it's easier to breath, to move, to feel clean, my happy mood quickly deteriorates when those grey clouds come out to cover the sun.
I do like rain, though, I do. Which is completely contradictory, I know, but then again, I never claimed that I wasn't a contradictory person. As a matter of fact, I think that I've said many times that I have quite a contradictive personality. And I like it.
Guess I was wrong. Guess it's not the first time. Not the first time I'm wrong, not the first time summer's weather lets me down.
But it is crazy how the weather can affect your mood. Although the air is fresher, it's easier to breath, to move, to feel clean, my happy mood quickly deteriorates when those grey clouds come out to cover the sun.
I do like rain, though, I do. Which is completely contradictory, I know, but then again, I never claimed that I wasn't a contradictory person. As a matter of fact, I think that I've said many times that I have quite a contradictive personality. And I like it.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
a triple date with england
Finally, after weeks of hoping and worrying that it might not happen, thanks to my wonderful ambassador's inability to plan ahead, I got my tickets to London and off I went last Saturday. With a slight hangover after a girls' night out the day before, I boarded the ryanair flight (and I who swore never to fly with them again...) in Västerås and arrived in London a couple of hours later. For such a short flight it's ok, but never again will I fly with ryanair if I don't really have to. This time I blame the ambassador, had I been able to book my tickets sooner I would have been confortable on a BA flight, that not only would have served me food (well, not the plane itself as we all understand) but also would have taken me to Heathrow's terminal 5, within much closer reach from Fulham, where I stayed with Michelle and Nina.
The week started off with an unexpectedly expensive Thai restaurant by the river in Putney Bridge, just a short walk from my friends' apartment. The food was lovely, but I accidentally ate a chili and consequently almost died as a result. But as I'm apparently alive to tell the tale, I guess it's safe to say that my tendency to exaggerate is making an appearance.
Sunday had a lovely trip to Brighton in store. Brighton was hot and sunny, and I did my best to soak up the sun as I had just arrived from a sun-deprived Stockholm and was in desperate need of some vitamin D. I probably should have gone easy on the sun, though, because despite not actually attempting to sun bathe, I, along with the two others, managed to burn majorly. My forehead, my arms and my neck were all bright red, although perhaps not quite as red as the others. Painful enough, though, but luckily the pain didn't set in until I'd safely returned to London.
Brighton is indeed a lovely city. Just by the beach, which unfortunately is pebbled, but nonetheless a lovely, busy beach with an abundance of bars, restaurants and touristy shops, and an even greater abundance of people. And of course, not to forget, the lovely pier where you can easily spend (or waste, rather..) a few dimes on rides and other attractions.
The cute and quirky lanes, the bohemian yet stylish people, shops and bars all make for a great city with a relaxed, friendly atmosphere. Brighton is definitely a city where I could see myself live some day. Quieter than London, yet only an hour away by train when the shopping addiction needs feeding and the spending pants come on.
London, too, of course, is indeed lovely. Busy as always, insane crowds that I sometimes had to escape for some coffee and a book in one of the parks, yet difficult not to love, and miss. Because I do miss it. But do I want to move back? That I don't know.
What I do know is that I had an amazing time with some of my greatly missed friends. Marina came in from Slovenia, Marina my favorite Marina. Audrey came for a few days. I stayed in Michelle's room on a floor on which I could not lie straight but collapsed into bed late every night anyway so didn't mind too much. Went to visit Manuela in Kingston, we went bowling and good old Annie from AZ came along too, as did Manuela's boyfriend and I kicked all of their asses. Who knew I was that good, I haven't played in 5 years.
Manuela also drove us down to Bournemouth one day, we relaxed at the beach, strolled through te gardens and the city, and most importantly, had beer at O'neill's, the one place I most associate with Bournemouth. No place has given me so many memories, and nowhere else have I had so many encounters with weirdos that still make us all laugh, years afterwards.
I ate fish and chips on the beach in Brighton, pizza slices at Leicester square, a triangle sandwich from M&S and Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast and I drank enough beer to last me a lifetime.
I walked more than I had thought possible, I spent more money than I knew I had, I collected pebbles (that turned out to be shells..) on the beach which caused me some overweight on the plane, and I managed to pack all my new purchases without any major difficulties.
I did the Beatles walk at Abbey road and felt ridiculous and along with some other tourists I was the source of great annoyance for the many cars trying to pass by.
I am quite happy to be back home though. Sad as it was to leave, and as much as I'm going to miss all my friends again, and London too, of course, it feels quite nice to have a proper bed to sleep in, to not live in a suitcase, and to have my own apartment to move around it (closet-like as it may be).
But I will be back, this time hopefully without letting more than a year pass by. London will always be my home, and I will always feel like I'm returning home whenever I go there. Maybe one day it will be my home again, maybe it won't, but it won't really matter because it's true as they say, home is where your heart is. And my heart is definitely in London. But it's also in Sweden, and it's also true as Travis says, home is where the heart is, but my heart had to go. Right now a bigger part of my heart is in Sweden.
At least I think. But I'm known to be torn, and indecisive to add to that. Which is why I've decided not to make any decisions anymore, but to just take things as they come.
The end.
The week started off with an unexpectedly expensive Thai restaurant by the river in Putney Bridge, just a short walk from my friends' apartment. The food was lovely, but I accidentally ate a chili and consequently almost died as a result. But as I'm apparently alive to tell the tale, I guess it's safe to say that my tendency to exaggerate is making an appearance.
Sunday had a lovely trip to Brighton in store. Brighton was hot and sunny, and I did my best to soak up the sun as I had just arrived from a sun-deprived Stockholm and was in desperate need of some vitamin D. I probably should have gone easy on the sun, though, because despite not actually attempting to sun bathe, I, along with the two others, managed to burn majorly. My forehead, my arms and my neck were all bright red, although perhaps not quite as red as the others. Painful enough, though, but luckily the pain didn't set in until I'd safely returned to London.
Brighton is indeed a lovely city. Just by the beach, which unfortunately is pebbled, but nonetheless a lovely, busy beach with an abundance of bars, restaurants and touristy shops, and an even greater abundance of people. And of course, not to forget, the lovely pier where you can easily spend (or waste, rather..) a few dimes on rides and other attractions.
The cute and quirky lanes, the bohemian yet stylish people, shops and bars all make for a great city with a relaxed, friendly atmosphere. Brighton is definitely a city where I could see myself live some day. Quieter than London, yet only an hour away by train when the shopping addiction needs feeding and the spending pants come on.
London, too, of course, is indeed lovely. Busy as always, insane crowds that I sometimes had to escape for some coffee and a book in one of the parks, yet difficult not to love, and miss. Because I do miss it. But do I want to move back? That I don't know.
What I do know is that I had an amazing time with some of my greatly missed friends. Marina came in from Slovenia, Marina my favorite Marina. Audrey came for a few days. I stayed in Michelle's room on a floor on which I could not lie straight but collapsed into bed late every night anyway so didn't mind too much. Went to visit Manuela in Kingston, we went bowling and good old Annie from AZ came along too, as did Manuela's boyfriend and I kicked all of their asses. Who knew I was that good, I haven't played in 5 years.
Manuela also drove us down to Bournemouth one day, we relaxed at the beach, strolled through te gardens and the city, and most importantly, had beer at O'neill's, the one place I most associate with Bournemouth. No place has given me so many memories, and nowhere else have I had so many encounters with weirdos that still make us all laugh, years afterwards.
I ate fish and chips on the beach in Brighton, pizza slices at Leicester square, a triangle sandwich from M&S and Krispy Kreme donuts for breakfast and I drank enough beer to last me a lifetime.
I walked more than I had thought possible, I spent more money than I knew I had, I collected pebbles (that turned out to be shells..) on the beach which caused me some overweight on the plane, and I managed to pack all my new purchases without any major difficulties.
I did the Beatles walk at Abbey road and felt ridiculous and along with some other tourists I was the source of great annoyance for the many cars trying to pass by.
I am quite happy to be back home though. Sad as it was to leave, and as much as I'm going to miss all my friends again, and London too, of course, it feels quite nice to have a proper bed to sleep in, to not live in a suitcase, and to have my own apartment to move around it (closet-like as it may be).
But I will be back, this time hopefully without letting more than a year pass by. London will always be my home, and I will always feel like I'm returning home whenever I go there. Maybe one day it will be my home again, maybe it won't, but it won't really matter because it's true as they say, home is where your heart is. And my heart is definitely in London. But it's also in Sweden, and it's also true as Travis says, home is where the heart is, but my heart had to go. Right now a bigger part of my heart is in Sweden.
At least I think. But I'm known to be torn, and indecisive to add to that. Which is why I've decided not to make any decisions anymore, but to just take things as they come.
The end.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Therapy blogging?
It seems as though I only blog when I’m depressed, or at least feeling a bit down. When I’m dreaming of better days, a different life, more excitement, more things to be proud of. When I’m content with the way my life is going, when I’m busy being fabulous, blogging is definitely not on my top ten list.
I’m finding this rather odd, though. Surely one would be more eager to share the good aspect of one’s life, rather than the dull parts that you really want to escape from? But then blogging for me isn’t about bragging about my über cool and awesome life, about the trendy bars that I go to and how culturally enlightened I’m trying to be. It’s more a form of therapy, of untangling the messy thoughts in my head and trying to make some kind of sense of them.
Right now life is pretty good, though, and I feel no need to analyze and question everything. I’ve sort of landed in some kind of live-in-the-moment feeling, what ever happens happens, life doesn’t always turn out the way you expect, make the best of what you have and yadaya.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know where I’m going to be in October, let alone in a year. It could be here, it could be in London, in Brussels, anywhere. And I don’t care. I’ll be wherever it’s meant for me to be. I’m just enjoying today, trying not to think too much about the future. Just waiting to see what life is going to throw my way.
All I know is that right now I adore Stockholm and its amazing beauty. Summer (or I guess it’s still spring, although today seems to think otherwise) has definitely done wonders to this city.
I feel more and more at home here. Now all I need is a better place to live. Living in a closet kind of gets to you sometimes. Luckily I’m not home that much. But when I am home, I seem to have a strange tendency to always have guests staying over. My apartment definitely is not made for two people. It’s not even big enough for half of me. And it’s definitely not big enough for my clothes. It would make for the perfect walk-in closet though. One can always dream.
I’m finding this rather odd, though. Surely one would be more eager to share the good aspect of one’s life, rather than the dull parts that you really want to escape from? But then blogging for me isn’t about bragging about my über cool and awesome life, about the trendy bars that I go to and how culturally enlightened I’m trying to be. It’s more a form of therapy, of untangling the messy thoughts in my head and trying to make some kind of sense of them.
Right now life is pretty good, though, and I feel no need to analyze and question everything. I’ve sort of landed in some kind of live-in-the-moment feeling, what ever happens happens, life doesn’t always turn out the way you expect, make the best of what you have and yadaya.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t know where I’m going to be in October, let alone in a year. It could be here, it could be in London, in Brussels, anywhere. And I don’t care. I’ll be wherever it’s meant for me to be. I’m just enjoying today, trying not to think too much about the future. Just waiting to see what life is going to throw my way.
All I know is that right now I adore Stockholm and its amazing beauty. Summer (or I guess it’s still spring, although today seems to think otherwise) has definitely done wonders to this city.
I feel more and more at home here. Now all I need is a better place to live. Living in a closet kind of gets to you sometimes. Luckily I’m not home that much. But when I am home, I seem to have a strange tendency to always have guests staying over. My apartment definitely is not made for two people. It’s not even big enough for half of me. And it’s definitely not big enough for my clothes. It would make for the perfect walk-in closet though. One can always dream.
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