I messed up in the laundry today. I always do. First I lost the key to the drying room and then there was an angry note on it that said that it should have been emptied an hour ago: I had booked the wrong one. Luckily I found the key with the help of a friend. Angry neighbours freak me out though. I don’t get the thing with neighbours. Living next to and on top of and underneath people but never communicating with them, except through notes on drying room doors. It’s weird and a bit sad.

Had a nice talk with a lady by the seal pond this morning though. She thought it looked creepy that the seals were lying motionless at the bottom of the pond. I calmed her by assuring that they were just sleeping.

The older you get, the more of the things you pictured happening in your mind will happen.

Houses will be sold and people you never got to know will die. Possibilities will slip away. Maybe the possibility of reconicilliation, or of knowing the person you came from slightly better.

I had a note with the adress on it but no one lives there anymore and I keep thinking of how much his dog (whom I never met) must long for him, not knowing about death and how it means that people are gone forever.

Lilac leaf

This morning I was back under the poppies, sat down in the same chair that I sat in until the library closed last night.
I have this lump in my stomach and I haven’t been able to sleep. It’s like I know it’s in me, but when I need it I suddenly can’t bring it out. (Deadlines always used to work on me.) I had an unexpected visitor yesterday, a friend arriving straight from abroad to sit at my kitchen table drinking tea and talking about things like death and relationships and mucking out shit from a barn in England. It was great.

highpoint of Today: hanging out with little Sara. She rocks.

favourite word of today: syrenbuskblad

half hearted poppies going crazy

My view today: lavender blue and golden wallpaper; a hundred year old poppies going crazy.

My lunch today: Half hearted. (Half defrosted fallafell with ketchup and mexican salsa in a small plastic box. Soy chocolate milk and lime water in a bottle of Loka from the day before yesterday.)

Woke up feeling like I partied all night long and then forgot about it. (Or as if I’d been sleeping in a tent.) Aching body, moody mind.

Phoned a man I need to interview for an article, to remind him. He spoke to me like I was a little school girl, just like the last time. “Didn’t I reply to your email? Oh poor you. But now you get to practice what it is like to be a real journalist, when you have to chase people.”

(And the first time: “Tell your supervisor that I think you should be more precise.”)

Oh poor me. Woke up on the wrong side and still have to be nice on the phone.

(Isn’t there a short story about a woman who disapperars and hides behind a wall paper? I think it is called: The wallpaper.)

No time really but...

...just wanted to show you the view from my permanent spot lately: my computer, other people's thoughts in my words, my kitchen, my kitchen table, the plants I am nurturing into being.

Highpoint: when I thought I was nearly done and onto something great

Lowpoint: when I started making soup and drawing a picture in photoshop and then it was 9:15 and I wasn't done and the great slipped away

Mission: Get onto the great and get done...after having some tomato soup...oh well.

Oh...

..and anyone who wants to can from now on leave comments. Not that I am expecting anyone to, I am simply putting out there that there is a new possibility.

They have names

So I found out that the pigs have names. They are called: måla, sötnos och vovven. (paint, sweetie and doggy)

lowpoint: being indecisive. not writing. pms. my mum having a bad toothache.

highpoint: being accompanied by selma on the balcony. having a new thing for my beans to climb on.

mission: get up at eight. walk fast. meet supervisor. write more that ever. then dance.

The freakiest dream

Ok, so I had the freakiest dream, and woke up in a sweat:

Me and my friend Paulina are biking through a forest, happy and chatting, when first I and then she falls into a lake. We laugh but it's kinda cold and soon we realise that it's quite hard to get out...we try to reach over the edge and get a grip but the road is slippy and there is a deer standing there. I don't really care about it, it just happens to be where I need to get out, but the deer get's cross and starts walking towards us, then it jumps into the lake and attacks us. We start swimming and it follows us and kicks us with it's front legs. I am trying to protect my myself with a red tennis racket but it is really no use.

Any ideas as to what this means?

Integrity and pride, and things sprouting

I feel a sudden need for integrity and so I find it hard to write.

Today is the first of may, the day of the workers. And so I stay at home, working.
Took a walk early this morning through a street I didnt know, found a hammock to slowly swing in for a while, letting the sun (sifiting through a tenderly green birch tree) play on my eyelids. Then through the graveyard, it was still as always, full of the history of life.
The pigs greeted me loudly as I walked past, and didnt care to hide their disapointment when I didnt bring food. One of them even threw itself on the ground right by the fence, pretending it was weak with hunger. I knew better. Pigs are always hungry. (as am I)

Highpoints of Lately: when I pondered on my bookshelf and my eye was caught by two books my friend has written and I felt a sudden pride rise up inside me: My friend has her name on the spines of two books!

All the things sprouting on the balcony: spinach, rocket sallad, carrot, onion, beetroot and radishes. And on the window sill: cress, sweet pea, rose bean, sweet basil and lemon grass, thyme, tomatoes, sun flowers and things I forgot what they are.

Mission: Stay inside and do my work all day (all week), then have a pick nick, maybe by the sea.