Happy S.A.D. 2016

This is still relevant. Oh so relevant.

Twist and SHOUT!

This is going to one of those boring posts where I just vent for an unreasonable length of text. Just a warning. You can now proceed if you wish.

I'm at a place in my life where I'm twisting and turning everything around me in order to try and reevaluate which of these things are worth spending my time on and which I need to drop. There are so many things moving around my mind and general existence that are making me confused and uncomfortable that a good old cleanup might be of good use. To be honest, it's been put on hold for way too long.
Of course not all things are negative; I finally have my own place. It's still a feeling I'm getting used to and I am still fighting to furnish this new home of mine, preferably without completely murdering my bank account in the process. But I've no spare money to spend on anything else. For the love of the Gods, I'm still in love with the thought of having my own refridgerator so not having the money to fill it up with all kinds of food is rather... anticlimactic. Having a place of my own means I can stop postpone the rest of my life because I don't have an HQ where I can collect energy and recuperate.

My hair is growing longer as planned and right now it's some sort of popsicle green colour. It's good. But I'm running out of hair dye and am uncertain whether I should stay green or go back to trusty brown.

I've lost over 20lb since last summer but have no idea how I've done it. Despite being aware of having lost weight I haven't realised yet that I've gotten smaller so I've had to spend some time with my sewing machine and most of the clothes I bought during my London vacation but were too lazy to try on before buying (because "I know my size" and hate looking at myself in changing room mirrors). Add to that a whole bunch of old clothes I just can't imagine getting rid of simply because they're too big for me. I've actually had to dig out clothes I wore in high school. It's all a bit surreal. But modifying clothes inspired me and now I'm itching to dive into remodelling my medieval dresses. You know, the dresses I haven't moved from storage yet...

But I also need a kitchen table. So much of my life circles around food, being a hobbit and all, I'm embarrassed of not even own a table to serve it on. For myself. My future as a crazy old cat lady (sans cats for now) is starting to look imminent.

Double standards

I can't wear my septum piercing visible at work, or rather, I refuse to because of the comments I've recieved when I do. I have a variety of collegues with different very distinct appearances. Among them I have two male collegues who stand out from the rest; one has a huge, well-groomed beard and tattoos covering most of his right arm and the other has a snakebite piercing. There are occasional comments on the tattoos, some admiration for the beard and (surprisingly) next to no comments at all about the snakebite piercing. My green hair on the other hand... countless, every day, every hour (99.99% positive). When I wore my septum jewellery our customers would look less at my face, they would make weird discreetly offensive jokes, ask why I would do that to myself, talk about how hideous facial piercings are and so on ad nauseum (I even noticed how som customers would choose to decline my help in favour of one of my collegues or choose another checkout than mine if they could).
So naturally, I found myself asking why that was and then it hit me; I'm a woman. I am still seen as public property. It's seen as completely acceptable to comment on my looks at any time (hint: it's not). I also work in a shop. Which only works to exacerbate the situation. I'm supposed to be this comely and appeasing creature and while the green hair can be considered cute and quirky, the septum piercing is still considered improper to most. Put them together and all I am is a rebellious, untoward girl who've lost her way and need to be told so.

Happy S.A.D. 2015

I really loathe Valentine's Day. I loathe it with every single bone in my body - all 206 of them in fact. Even when I wasn't single I held no greater love for this commercial stunt meant to sell you even more shit you don't need to prove your supposed love for other human beings.

It puts unwanted pressure on everyone.

• Single people feel useless because they're not in a romantic relationship which is apparently something you should strive to be in order to be complete as a human being.
• People in relationships feel useless because they can never be romantic enough to fulfill some sort of unattainable picture of romance sold to you by media whose single goal is for you to consume and feel incomplete (rinse and repeat).

And lets not even mention money and alcohol. Because nothing says 'I love you' like alcoholic beverages, right? To get in the right mood, eh?! *cringe*

Shit like flowers, chocolate and cuddly toys are expensive, especially over Valentine's. So what are you supposed to do when you're short on money? I have so many questions. (Like, who'd actually want a bouquet of flowers? Flowers wither and die within days and I wouldn't want them to represent my love. Can I just have breakfast in bed instead? Not just on Valentine's but a little now and then? I love food. Food tastes good and gives energy, a much better representation of what love should be. I tend to feed my friends, loved ones and guests to prove how much I like them.)

It would seem I just can't wrap my head around Valentine's Day. I don't see why Valentine's would have to be different from any other day in a romantic relationship - love is something that should be ever present, should it not? And don't say that I can't understand it simply because I'm single (because that's only part true!).

• If you need alcohol to be romantic with your partner/s - get new partner/s.
• If you need your partner/s to buy you expensive shit for a fake holiday - seems like high time get your relationship goals checked.

But hey, don't mind me. I'm just a regular old cynic.

WHAT

Writing an essay with only two days until deadline. This is EXACTLY what it feels like.



Because Bernard Black is always relevant.

Go fish

So the hard disk drive of my expensive brand new computer crashed two days ago and I can't help but feel cheated out of my money (that was much more than a months worth of salary, fuck you very much). The computer company can expect a furious phone call tomorrow and demands for a new component to no additional cost. If they start giving me lip I will  break them. And then show up on their door step in all my fierce splendor.

All jokes aside though, at the moment I'm just grateful that I was wise enough to buy a laptop at about the same time but from another company or I would have lost my mind completely. It's good to have a backup, or so I've heard.
However, now I'm left with the laptop on which I have nothing but Spotify and school work which will of course force me to face reality and those pesky responsibilities.
Which is why I'm writing here, naturally.
I would never procrastinate. Hah. Never. Not my style.
Hmm, I wonder where I put that Johannes Cabal novel I wanted to get to reading...

Not so amused about uni

First day back at uni and I'm not the least bit enthusiastic about my schedule. It's packed full of... things... and stuff I'll have to do. I don't approve. I want to continue reading Harry Potter and maybe have that seventh cup of lovely tea. What I don't want is to read another word about how to write my bachelor thesis accompanied only by a fifth mug of coffee. Which, by the way, will make sure that I can't sleep for another 12 hours.

My feels

Yes.
You guessed it right; I'm not in the best of moods and will probably continue being a complete and utter wanker for a few more days (weeks if we’re unlucky) if nothing entirely awesome happens. We all go through these episodes of hating everything and everyone now and again and for me it includes isolating myself and watching a lot of Black Books. That is unless I'm spewing profanities at people because I’m forced to crawl out of my dungeon for lets say... work... or school.
I thought that moving into a bigger city would turn my life around and everything would be nice and shiny. I got myself a job and liked it for about three days until my colleagues started whispering behind my back. As a geek I’ve always liked school but instantly had issues with my classmates when I got back to university about two weeks ago. The uniformity of the group is astounding and if I’m the most peculiar there is, something’s gone wrong because I’m really not that peculiar.
Well, now I am.
To top all that off I’ve had to reevaluate what I think people want from me; whether it’s physical or intellectual. It can’t be described as pretty.
I’m shook-up and disappointed.

A word of caution should be given to anyone who wants to give me advice on dealing with this world-suck - please, don’t bother as it'll only exacerbate things. Don't tell me what to do. For your own good.
You want to make things better? I like drinking tea and eating cake. I have this ridiculously huge appreciation for nerds – preferably Whovians, Potterheads, Sherlockians, SuperWhoLockians, Browncoats and Star Wars nerds or anyone who can quote at least three things Dylan Moran has ever said. I’m generally inclined to like people who care about me, not because I should entertain them when they’re bored but because of genuine affection.
But maybe that’s just me.

Offended? You better watch this.

Processing...

Not a whole lot of things going on here is there? I’ll rage and rant one day and for the next week there’s nothing but radio silence.
I can tell you that I have a The Hutt’s Little School of Movie Genres coming along nicely but it’ll take me a few more days. It’s been too long. Instead there's been a big bag of nasty schoolwork in the way of anything that's the least bit amusing. Eugh.

Haters make me go librarian-poo

I’m sorry for my absence but there’s been… stuff. OK, I admit. I really don’t have any excuses to line up for You and I really don’t have to. I’m angry with the world.

 - My life is going nowhere fast.
 - I think I’m definitely slipping in school.
 - My back is still killing me.
 - And the latest topic with the Swedes on Facebook is hairy armpits. No joke. A woman was caught on screen a week ago in the audience of the biggest and most popular music competition of our country with unshaved armpits. A young man thought that this seemed like an excellent time to troll this woman and tell Facebook what a disgusting human being she was for not shaving off that hair. The whole thing spiralled out of control so he removed the picture but by then about 2000 people had already “liked” the post in which he explained to everyone about how revolted he was by her. OK, we get it. He doesn’t like women with hairy armpits. But you don’t see me walking over to him and beating his fucking face in with a baseball bat because I find him revolting. You don’t even see me writing it on Facebook. Why? It’s not my place to do so. Just like it’s not his place to tell anyone what to do with their own bodies. He’s not even fit to be on the same planet as women. Two days later I read in a newspaper about how a guy thinks Swedish women are boring since they only wear black. What business is that of his? Why do certain men make it their mission to make women feel like shit however much we try? One of men’s privileges in life is to look at us women because we’re beautiful, every motherfucking one of us, and men don’t dictate what we wear or don’t wear or what we shave or don’t shave. Every one of those choices are ours and ours alone.
The internet’s anonymous ways of trolling are truly getting on my tits.

Oh, yeah. For all you people out there who doesn't read the Discworld series: "Librarian-poo" means "apeshit". Because the librarian is an ape.

Happy S.A.D. everyone!

Valentine's Day is that sort of fabricated holiday that makes me really furious (what holiday isn’t fabricated though?). It doesn’t have all that much to do with me being single because Valentine’s made me sick when even back when I was together with someone. It’s the whole idea of commercializing love and putting a value on it. Love is an all around the year thing and is not to be bought. Making it pink doesn’t make it any better - as if pink wasn’t horrible to begin with.
Valentine’s Day began being celebrated in the 13th century but was actually established at the end of the 5th century and by the Middle Ages it became fashionable. It wasn’t until the 19th century that we began giving each other cards. By now it’s more about chocolates, dinners, flowers, teddy bears and all sorts of things – the pricier the stuff the better it would seem. Call me a stick in the mud if you will, but I think that’s bullshit. When did handwritten cards or letters that actually means something go out of fashion? I don’t want a card that’s been given to hundreds of other people! That’s not love. That’s laziness and a huge lack of imagination.
Now that I’m single Valentine’s makes me more than a little bit bitter. I do realize that I’m like hundreds of thousands of other singles out there with all this pent up anger dribbling out bit by bit in a blog post that only a selected few will have the energy to get through but I can’t help it. I’m not even going to try and stop myself. I can’t stand all the hypocrisy surrounding the concept of love. But mostly, I'm bitter because there's no reason to feel bad about being single. Being one half of a couple does not mean you're complete.
I am not a cynic.

Happy Singles Awareness Day!

Diversity Training with Jane Elliott - Angry Eye

There's racism everywhere at any time against anyone non-white. This video was kind of an eye-opener as to just how much one doesn’t notice when not exposed to it. I knew it was bad but seriously... one never thinks of one’s own privileges.
This woman working against racism, this amazing Jane Elliott, is nasty and crude but how else are you to force people to see what’s going on around them on a daily basis.

This morning

OK, sat down this morning to eat breakfast. A pretty normal thing, I’d say.
Turned on the TV just to see what was showing. "Doctors", OK, will do.
Subject? "SlutWalks". I didn't know what that was and was eager to educate myself.
The panel spoke for a total of three minutes before I had to turn the TV off and throw the rest of my breakfast away. Not so much because of the "sluts" (they're awesome) but because of the "why" the sluts do the walks and why the panel brought them up and where the discussion was going. SlutWalks are a reaction to what a police officer stated about female rape victims. To him, the fact that girls/young women/women/people are raped is their own fault – because he thinks they dress like sluts.

To then hear a woman (in a VERY short dress at that) say that the officer had a point and defend him made me embarrassed to be human. Not only did she do that, but she argued further on behalf of her opinion. “It’s playing with fire” she said about dressing in certain ways, all in her American nasal voice that sounded like she’s just about to pull out all evidence of her privileged and protected background out of her white ass (she also said “I don’t understand why anyone would want to dress sluttishly...” which made her sound even more air-headed as it's up to every and each one of us what we wear). It’s because of women like her that girls are told that “boys will be boys” when they get raped. Sexuality is not an unstoppable force of nature! Girls and women should be able to wear whatever they feel beautiful in, even if it’s made out of string and barely covers the entries to her body, a “no” is still a “no”.
Stop teaching girls that they should be afraid of rapists, tell boys not to rape.

The love-life

This describes my love-life. In case you're interested.

It makes me a little... bitter. And a little... tense.

The Hutt on: Commuting

I’m a commuter. I’m commuting to get to school. Bus. Tram. And back again. Takes about two hours one way. It’s cheaper than driving myself and I can sleep while on the road. And I don’t like rush hour traffic whether I’m on a bus or driving myself either way so...
Lately though, my fellow commuters have been bizarrely irritating. I’m OK with people who dress funny or act strange, I’m even OK with people listening to loud music which just happens to seep through their in-ear headphones because after all I can always block that out in one way or another. What bothers me are those around me that can’t keep track of their own body odours; women who bathe in vomitory perfumes or men who could do with that bath. Three weeks ago! Because I don’t keep a gasmask with me at all times. I don’t expect to be bombarded with somebody else’s personal stink. The way I see it it’s a common courtesy to not make the people around you want to vomit but then there’s always some arsehole with a differing opinion. They can keep that to themselves thank you very much.

Note to self: GET GASMASK.

Or I could just snap and go medieval on their asses with a cricket bat. It doesn't really matter to me.

Bitter much?

"Don't make me laugh... bitterly. Fran will fail, you'll toil your life away, and I'll die alone, upside down on the floor of a pub toilet."

- Bernard Black, Black Books, The Entertainer

Fail

Det är när en stirrar ut på frosten som en inser hur svinkallt det blivit. Fram med vinterkapporna alltså. Trots att de är världsbäst så vill jag inte att det ska vara så kallt att jag måste använda dem. Dilemma. I-landsproblem.  Jag har i alla fall vinterkappa (om en nu tvångsmässigt måste se något positivt i det hela).

Jag som inte ens har pengar i större utsträckning har bara under det här veckoslutet gjort en och annan secondhand och lågprisbutik regionen över osäkra. En vintageklänning där, en handväska där, ett par klackar… Det är vackert och inte så dyrt men att plötsligt få spelet och anstränga budgeten med ett par nya glasögonen var kanske onödigt för någon som får pengar från CSN (som för övrigt äntligen fattat vinken och gett mig pengar 6 veckor in på terminen, by divine intervention). Mais, je ne regrette rien.

Halloweenkostymen är fortfarande inte närmare färdigställning. Mest för att det måste finnas en grundidé om den ska färdigställas, så by default så har jag inget klart än. 2 veckor kvar till den första maskeraden tillägnad Halloween. Jag hade en idé men sen kom jag på att alkoholhaltiga drycker och svärd aldrig är en bra kombo. Moving on, alltså…

Dessutom kan jag skriva in ännu en rook till rullorna. Jag stod ändå ut i 6 veckor (4 veckor mer än förra gången) men sen jag tog ur läkningssmycket har jag inte bara slutat att vara konstant yr och trött utan också slutat vara smått illamående den mesta av tiden.
Konstaterande: inga fler broskpiercingar för den här nörden.

Fail.

What he said

As from 1PM today I have 24 hours to write an essay for school. Not a long one. Two pages at most. But it's political theories and my brain is about to trickle out my ears. Head implosion is imminent. I've had about five cups of coffee since I started writing.

I heard someone say something about it getting easier after a beer or two but I'm not completely convinced. I suspect where it'll end. This remembering that I'm the one that quoted Mr. Spock in an essay in Belfast. That, too, was done after a full night of coffee.

It's one of those days

Alltså, jag kan vara en av de klumpigaste människorna i västsverige just idag. Det började med att jag åter igen gick emot en av DVD-brännarna i datorn när släden fortfarande var ute. Som om jag inte gjort det misstaget tidigare - tur att jag hade en extra brännare liggande. Sen rymde en häst som jag fick jaga och snubbla efter - i och för sig var det inte mitt fel att han var av åsikten att gräset är grönare på andra sidan staketet men jag räknar med det i listan ändå. Sen krossade jag hälften av svampen i min ryggsäck under svampjakten - krossad sandsopp ser rätt underhållande ut. Sen skar jag mig i tummen. Sen spillde jag ut kvällsmaten över halva bordet. Sen hällde jag ut vatten på tangentbordet. Ooopsie! Ibland är en lite mer irriterad på sig själv än vanligt. Men ja, jag har plockat ännu mer svamp. Den steker nu. Det luktar mossig skog och höst i mitt kök.
På plussidan ligger det faktum att jag äntligen sett Alfred Hitchcock's Rear Window och North by Northwest. Jag rekommenderar båda filmerna väldigt varmt.

Besiktigar bilen imorgon så jag håller hårt i alla tummar jag har.
Planerar också att bjuda arbetskamraterna på jobbet jag precis lämnar till fördel för skolan på lite hembakat.
Blir det Jönköping sen? Ja, jo, mycket möjligt. Om nu biljävfeln passerar.

Da essay

I’ve been butting heads with my essay for a very long time now. It’s the one thing standing between me and my University degree in Politics but I just can’t seem to get it together.



That’s exactly why I identify with Dennis (the hilarious Simon Pegg) in Run Fatboy, Run right now. It’s an amazing movie and I must have seen it a dozen times (mostly because of Irish genius comedian Dylan Moran).
I, like Dennis, need to get past that wall.