Sometimes I listen to songs that used to make me sad (or at least emotional), just to test if they still make me sad. Strange? Bad idea? Yes, yes. But its an interesting way to stay awake when its 3am and a half finished paper is staring you in the face and all your good ideas puttered out half an hour ago.
Here's the list, in no particular order:
SONG (ARTIST) ---> MADE ME SAD?
1. I'm Sorry (Feist) ---> No. Ha! Not a chance, Feist. You're spent girl.
2. Float On (Modest Mouse) ---> Yes, kind of.
3. King of Carrot Flowers Part 1 (Neutral Milk Hotel) ---> Yes.
4. Fresh Feeling (Eels) ---> Emotional yes, but more hopeful than sad. So I guess the answer is No.
5. Kanske Ar Jag Kar I Dig (Jens Lekman) ---> Yes...
...I am realizing as I do this that the entertainment I'm getting from writing this down prevents me from really being sad... so the data is no longer accurate, but I would love to add to this list in the future. One last one!
6. Coupla Easy Things (Bishop Allen) ---> "I need someone to sing me to sleep" Uh, yes? But I'm not really playing anymore.
Actually number 5 and 6 were kind of cheating because they have been making me sad this last week. You should pick songs that epitomized your sadness months or years ago and see if those suckers still make you sad.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Short Story
"Bad day, this day" remarked the young man with the newspaper under his arm, as he slowly surveyed the cakes and sandwiches under their glass covers
"Yes, I know. I spotted a limpet this morning. Actually just around the corner here," replied the man behind the counter.
"Yes, yes of course. Just coffee please," said the young man, now concentrating completely on a sign reading "caution: alcohol consumption during pregnancy may cause birth defects". Limpets can cause any number of things, thought the young man.
Of all days, he thought. He poured the cream carefully, not too much not too little. This coffee would not be good, it never was, but that is not the most important of all things. He must drink it while he reads the paper. He must read the paper as well, for how could a man like himself walk around in a dream like a poet or one who is in love? No, it is best to know what is going on, even if the news is always depressing and the writing shoddy or superficial.
Abruptly, the young man let the newspaper drop to the table, got up, and walked back over to the counter. "I've forgot," he began quietly, "is the refill included?"
"First one is free, after that fifty cents will do. There are people who would come here in the morning and take up space all day without buying anything else after that first cup. Not you of course," finished the shop owner with a wink entirely becoming to his friendly, bearded face and simple red plaid shirt.
"Hmmph." Santa Claus, thought the young man. Looks just like Santa Claus, but hair's not white. He was not an unfriendly person, this young man. Not in the least. The shop keeper seems to understand this, and continues his business completely nonplussed by the young man's response.
Picking up the newspaper again, he opened it to some page in the middle and began reading. "Abortion Issue Plagues Health Care Bill. Passions heat up as the Senate begins to discuss language limiting women's access to abortion in the proposed health care bill..." Yes, and senators beating each other with canes! exclaimed the young man excitably, but also with somber darkness. No one heard him, as he mostly thought and spoke within the privacy of his own mind. This issue, like many others to the young man, was frustrating to the point of hilarity, which is precisely what made reading the newspaper so difficult, even on a good day.
He set the paper down for the second time, somewhat hesitantly. It just wouldn't do to go on reading this paper today. Maybe tomorrow. There's always tomorrow, new news, new paper, new cup of coffee. New me? "Ha!" chuckled the young man, this time out loud but attracting no attention from the other cafe patrons. Compared to the bitter dark feeling evoked by the newspaper article, this laughter was simple and spontaneous. "Hmmm," thought the young man, "Me change? No, not really. I am me, aren't I? I'm can't become you, for example," he continued, glancing over to the back corner where another, slightly younger man sat engrossed in a book, reaching up to adjust his think black lenses from time to time, and tapping his converse clad left foot unceasingly. "Nor could I become you," this time looking in the opposite direction towards two people looking so deeply into each others' eyes they apparently could see nothing else. "Especially not you, for how could I be two people at once? That's ridiculous!" This thought continued to amuse him, and so he smiled and said it again quietly under his breath, "ridiculous."
Well, this has been a bad day. Broken hearts and all that. He directed his thoughts towards the scraggly plant growing beside his right arm on the window sill, but not because he thought the plant could hear him exactly. He was not insane, this young man. It was difficult to tell what kind of plant it was. Of course one could with an average knowledge of flowering plants, but this plant was not in flower, and what fun is it to recognize a petunia from a daisy or a rose when you just might be wrong and it's really a thistle? You never know with flowers. But of course no one plants thistles in flower pots, and they are quite recognizable without blossoms in any case.
"She.... hmm. She just doesn't love me," came the thought, haltingly, cautiously. The young man picked up his spoon and began dumping spoon fulls of lukewarm coffee onto his napkin. "She doesn't love me at all," the thought continued, this time with more conviction.
"I must go home," thought the man anxiously. "The coffee has become cold."
And with that, he pushed back his chair, put on his coat and scarf, and walked purposefully out the door. No one looked up as he left, but several minutes later the shopkeeper came by and picked up the half full glass and the forgotten newspaper. Returning to the counter, the man began to read, and continued until he had read the horiscope, the comics, and the weather, thinking only that perhaps tomorrow he would need to salt the sidewalk in front of the shop, "with all these damn false-alarm predictions for snow," he mused. But it would be bad for the limpet either way.
"Yes, I know. I spotted a limpet this morning. Actually just around the corner here," replied the man behind the counter.
"Yes, yes of course. Just coffee please," said the young man, now concentrating completely on a sign reading "caution: alcohol consumption during pregnancy may cause birth defects". Limpets can cause any number of things, thought the young man.
Of all days, he thought. He poured the cream carefully, not too much not too little. This coffee would not be good, it never was, but that is not the most important of all things. He must drink it while he reads the paper. He must read the paper as well, for how could a man like himself walk around in a dream like a poet or one who is in love? No, it is best to know what is going on, even if the news is always depressing and the writing shoddy or superficial.
Abruptly, the young man let the newspaper drop to the table, got up, and walked back over to the counter. "I've forgot," he began quietly, "is the refill included?"
"First one is free, after that fifty cents will do. There are people who would come here in the morning and take up space all day without buying anything else after that first cup. Not you of course," finished the shop owner with a wink entirely becoming to his friendly, bearded face and simple red plaid shirt.
"Hmmph." Santa Claus, thought the young man. Looks just like Santa Claus, but hair's not white. He was not an unfriendly person, this young man. Not in the least. The shop keeper seems to understand this, and continues his business completely nonplussed by the young man's response.
Picking up the newspaper again, he opened it to some page in the middle and began reading. "Abortion Issue Plagues Health Care Bill. Passions heat up as the Senate begins to discuss language limiting women's access to abortion in the proposed health care bill..." Yes, and senators beating each other with canes! exclaimed the young man excitably, but also with somber darkness. No one heard him, as he mostly thought and spoke within the privacy of his own mind. This issue, like many others to the young man, was frustrating to the point of hilarity, which is precisely what made reading the newspaper so difficult, even on a good day.
He set the paper down for the second time, somewhat hesitantly. It just wouldn't do to go on reading this paper today. Maybe tomorrow. There's always tomorrow, new news, new paper, new cup of coffee. New me? "Ha!" chuckled the young man, this time out loud but attracting no attention from the other cafe patrons. Compared to the bitter dark feeling evoked by the newspaper article, this laughter was simple and spontaneous. "Hmmm," thought the young man, "Me change? No, not really. I am me, aren't I? I'm can't become you, for example," he continued, glancing over to the back corner where another, slightly younger man sat engrossed in a book, reaching up to adjust his think black lenses from time to time, and tapping his converse clad left foot unceasingly. "Nor could I become you," this time looking in the opposite direction towards two people looking so deeply into each others' eyes they apparently could see nothing else. "Especially not you, for how could I be two people at once? That's ridiculous!" This thought continued to amuse him, and so he smiled and said it again quietly under his breath, "ridiculous."
Well, this has been a bad day. Broken hearts and all that. He directed his thoughts towards the scraggly plant growing beside his right arm on the window sill, but not because he thought the plant could hear him exactly. He was not insane, this young man. It was difficult to tell what kind of plant it was. Of course one could with an average knowledge of flowering plants, but this plant was not in flower, and what fun is it to recognize a petunia from a daisy or a rose when you just might be wrong and it's really a thistle? You never know with flowers. But of course no one plants thistles in flower pots, and they are quite recognizable without blossoms in any case.
"She.... hmm. She just doesn't love me," came the thought, haltingly, cautiously. The young man picked up his spoon and began dumping spoon fulls of lukewarm coffee onto his napkin. "She doesn't love me at all," the thought continued, this time with more conviction.
"I must go home," thought the man anxiously. "The coffee has become cold."
And with that, he pushed back his chair, put on his coat and scarf, and walked purposefully out the door. No one looked up as he left, but several minutes later the shopkeeper came by and picked up the half full glass and the forgotten newspaper. Returning to the counter, the man began to read, and continued until he had read the horiscope, the comics, and the weather, thinking only that perhaps tomorrow he would need to salt the sidewalk in front of the shop, "with all these damn false-alarm predictions for snow," he mused. But it would be bad for the limpet either way.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
The Story of Brita and Her Ineffectual New Deodorant
One gray fall day in Stockholm, Brita went to her dresser only to discover that the waterlily and freshmint scent Dove deodorant purchased at Target almost four months ago was on its last legs. Which is to say, it wouldn't be long before its time in this world was over. Naturally, it would have to be replaced, but with what? Everyone knows the old adage, Never Step in the Same River Twice, but only slightly less well known is Never Purchase the Same Flavor of Deodorant Twice. Life is too short. And the river keeps moving so its impossible. So Brita did what any well-meaning but somewhat clueless young lady in her position would have done and headed straight down to T-Centralen and the Åhléns department store to purchase some deodorant/anti-perspirant. What she should have realized is that department stores may be easy to locate but do not care so many health products and the ones they do carry are expensive, but that story is for another time. Instantly a deodorant claiming Cloudberry Jasmine Scent caught her attention. Delicious! she thought, and made her way to the cashier. "That will be 10 dollars in your home currancy" was the cashier's reply. Ouch! thought Brita, But there's no turning back now. She brought the Cloudberry Jasmine 24h Anti-Perspirant with no alcohol made with Eco-Cert. Cotton Oil back home and gave it a whirl. Wow what a fantastic smelling little deoderant! was her response. It was only later, about 1 hour to be exact, that she realized what kind of a friend she had in her new deodorant. Yes, in only a matter of an hour, this fickle little Cloudberry Jasmine 24h Anti-Perspirant had completely ceased to work or nay, even exist.
Alas! Betrayed! Deoderant, when you said to me that you were 100% Natural Fragrance of Sweden, I thought that I could trust you. I thought we would be a team, you and I. And now? Now I don't know what to think. I still put you on every day, hoping that this day will be different. But how long do you expect me to wait around like this? I have things I want to accomplish in my life, and for me to be able to do this, I need to be secure in knowing I can do them without my armpits getting damp.
So that was the story of Brita and Her New Deodorant. It's really kind of a little bit sad. But most true stories are.
Alas! Betrayed! Deoderant, when you said to me that you were 100% Natural Fragrance of Sweden, I thought that I could trust you. I thought we would be a team, you and I. And now? Now I don't know what to think. I still put you on every day, hoping that this day will be different. But how long do you expect me to wait around like this? I have things I want to accomplish in my life, and for me to be able to do this, I need to be secure in knowing I can do them without my armpits getting damp.
So that was the story of Brita and Her New Deodorant. It's really kind of a little bit sad. But most true stories are.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Where have all the slugs gone?
It has been a long time since I have seen one of these around. It's not something you miss at first, but then later you realize how disappointed you are when you eye a stick suspiciously, carefully stepping around it only to realize that it was not a slug. So yes, I do miss avoiding slugs on the sidewalk. I had a good weekend, thanks for asking. But I ate way too much after attending both an all-you-can-eat jazz brunch at the club called Mosebacke and a dinner party at Anna Cassel's host family's house. That was one of the best dinner parties I have EVER been to. The only thing better than being invited into somebody's home to share food with them and all of their friends is being requested to do so in costume. So I still think the March 16th Halloween party of 2007 hosted by myself, Anna Smith and Toni Yost was an excellent party, because there were costumes involved. But I really had a lovely cozy time Saturday night, and after stuffing myself with food and wine and coffee and cookies, I danced my pants off to Johnny Cash and that Jitterbug song and who knows what else.
Despite having such a good time over this weekend, I am approaching this week with a certain amount of foreboding. I feel unprepared and disorganized, and also tired from all of the excitement of Friday and Saturday. (Friday I went back to the medieval bar in the old town with Anna Cassel and her visiting friend to drink Mead)
This week I need to start writing or at least researching for my final paper for "Women in Swedish Society and Culture", I need to really study some Swedish so that I know my verbs and all that stuff we covered before the midterm, and I need to make a list of the things I still would like to do while I'm in Stockholm. I can't believe it's getting that late in the semester, but we only have 3 or 4 more weekends left. Also, I need to figure out WHEN Thanksgiving is so I can make some cornbread. I made curried squash soup for dinner Friday, but I could make that again too. What else is an absolute Thanksgiving essential, excluding turkey? I would like to make that caramelized onion, apple, and sausage dish that we usually make at home. Pumpkin filling is hard to come by, otherwise I would make some pumpkin cupcakes in my new heart-shaped cupcake pan (!!!! fun!!!!!!). I guess pecan pie is good too.
What are all of you who read this blog of mine doing for Thanksgiving? What are you thinking about eating?
I suppose its time for bed. I have to get up in 5 hours :( Goodnight!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Bananafish are not real - but I forget this from time to time
Before I write about my short foray into another part of Sweden, I will just rant for a minute or two about the things that are irritating me at the moment. Perhaps in list form?
1. Darkness. It's dark at 4pm, and then I feel like going home. I never noticed how much beauty light adds to any situation until now.
2. The "how do you like it here" question. Absolutely everyone I meet wants a Sweden-USA comparison/analysis, which is fun to talk about the first 50 times, but now, not so much.
3. The "aren't you going home for break?!" question. One of the other study abroad students today told me very seriously that I should really consider going home, because I will be getting lonely by that time. I told her that if I could I would, but she seemed to think I was just being stubborn, trying to hold out in Europe to show how tough I am :D This ties into my earlier and ongoing frustration at people who treat you like a spoil-sport if you can't spend money as freely as they do. Its not that I don't enjoy doing spontaneous, impractical things, and its not that I don't like sharing, and its definitely not that I want to hoard my money. I wish that people would be a little more sensitive about this, but they just sort of don't understand.
Ooookey. I think that is enough ranting for the moment.
I really enjoyed my trip to Falun, Sundborn, Mora and Uppsala. It was nice to just go with just a basic idea of where I would stay and what I would do, because it gave me the opportunity to realize that I can improvise and survive all by myself in a strange place. Also, I had 4 balls of yarn and an idea for a scarf, which is just such a good way to venture out into the world. "Here I come world! And I've got for balls of yarn!" This is really the only way to travel.
I think the best part of the trip was by far on Wednesday night and Thursday during the day when I was in Falun and Sundborn, where Carl Larsson's house is. I love Carl Larsson's house. I would definitely live there, and the walls are covered with Karin Larsson's weavings, Carl's paintings, and cute little sayings here and there like "Tell you what: Be good and happy!". The only other person on the tour was an economic anthropologist from New Mexico who at first alarmed me by the size of the fur poofs on her gloves (never trust a lady with fur poofs! I thought) but she was very funny and interesting and we had a fika together back in Falun. The "Central Cafe" in Falun was another great part of the trip. I really liked the guy that ran the shop; he was dressed in red plaid, and whistled along to the radio all afternoon, and in general was just incredibly good humored and friendly. We talked about Swedish music, and he invited me to come listen to a folk music festival in Falun on Saturday, but unfortunately I had a ticket back to Stockholm. Wednesday night when I first arrived in Falun I went to a local pub and met two guys there and had a good time talking to them for a long time. Then I went back to my hostel which was an old jail, and went to sleep behind iron-barred windows. Ha ha! Funny! I almost forgot it was a prison until I read the cleaning instructions, which referred to the room as a "cell".
The biggest crisis of the trip was probably my first night in Mora (Thursday night) where I met a really nice cat outside my hostel. We played for a long time, and then I went inside to presumably go to sleep but the cat came around to my window and meowed and beat on the window with its little kitty paws and generally made itself seem totally desperate and sad!!! I can't stand that sort of thing!!! Plus it was snowing. I REALLY wanted to let the cat inside but I felt like I would be betraying the trust of the nice lady who own the hostel who was giving me access to a nice kitchen, laundry room and sauna. It was a big dilemma, and the thought of the cat out in the cold made me so anxious I couldn't sleep. Also I had had 5 cups of coffee that day.
Also in Mora I decided to give myself a nice warm lunch rather than continue to eat my fruit and hard bread. It was good, but they did something to the potatoes, like put them through a grinder, that made them look like rice which confused me for a long while. I ordered curry with banana fish, and was surprised to find a plate full of bananas and fish and not a banana fish. At this point I realized that banana fish is the very sad fish in a J.D. Salinger story called "A Perfect Day for Bananafish"
"Miss Carpenter. Please. I know my business," the young man said. "You just keep your eyes open for any bananafish. This is a perfect day for bananafish."
1. Darkness. It's dark at 4pm, and then I feel like going home. I never noticed how much beauty light adds to any situation until now.
2. The "how do you like it here" question. Absolutely everyone I meet wants a Sweden-USA comparison/analysis, which is fun to talk about the first 50 times, but now, not so much.
3. The "aren't you going home for break?!" question. One of the other study abroad students today told me very seriously that I should really consider going home, because I will be getting lonely by that time. I told her that if I could I would, but she seemed to think I was just being stubborn, trying to hold out in Europe to show how tough I am :D This ties into my earlier and ongoing frustration at people who treat you like a spoil-sport if you can't spend money as freely as they do. Its not that I don't enjoy doing spontaneous, impractical things, and its not that I don't like sharing, and its definitely not that I want to hoard my money. I wish that people would be a little more sensitive about this, but they just sort of don't understand.
Ooookey. I think that is enough ranting for the moment.
I really enjoyed my trip to Falun, Sundborn, Mora and Uppsala. It was nice to just go with just a basic idea of where I would stay and what I would do, because it gave me the opportunity to realize that I can improvise and survive all by myself in a strange place. Also, I had 4 balls of yarn and an idea for a scarf, which is just such a good way to venture out into the world. "Here I come world! And I've got for balls of yarn!" This is really the only way to travel.
I think the best part of the trip was by far on Wednesday night and Thursday during the day when I was in Falun and Sundborn, where Carl Larsson's house is. I love Carl Larsson's house. I would definitely live there, and the walls are covered with Karin Larsson's weavings, Carl's paintings, and cute little sayings here and there like "Tell you what: Be good and happy!". The only other person on the tour was an economic anthropologist from New Mexico who at first alarmed me by the size of the fur poofs on her gloves (never trust a lady with fur poofs! I thought) but she was very funny and interesting and we had a fika together back in Falun. The "Central Cafe" in Falun was another great part of the trip. I really liked the guy that ran the shop; he was dressed in red plaid, and whistled along to the radio all afternoon, and in general was just incredibly good humored and friendly. We talked about Swedish music, and he invited me to come listen to a folk music festival in Falun on Saturday, but unfortunately I had a ticket back to Stockholm. Wednesday night when I first arrived in Falun I went to a local pub and met two guys there and had a good time talking to them for a long time. Then I went back to my hostel which was an old jail, and went to sleep behind iron-barred windows. Ha ha! Funny! I almost forgot it was a prison until I read the cleaning instructions, which referred to the room as a "cell".
The biggest crisis of the trip was probably my first night in Mora (Thursday night) where I met a really nice cat outside my hostel. We played for a long time, and then I went inside to presumably go to sleep but the cat came around to my window and meowed and beat on the window with its little kitty paws and generally made itself seem totally desperate and sad!!! I can't stand that sort of thing!!! Plus it was snowing. I REALLY wanted to let the cat inside but I felt like I would be betraying the trust of the nice lady who own the hostel who was giving me access to a nice kitchen, laundry room and sauna. It was a big dilemma, and the thought of the cat out in the cold made me so anxious I couldn't sleep. Also I had had 5 cups of coffee that day.
Also in Mora I decided to give myself a nice warm lunch rather than continue to eat my fruit and hard bread. It was good, but they did something to the potatoes, like put them through a grinder, that made them look like rice which confused me for a long while. I ordered curry with banana fish, and was surprised to find a plate full of bananas and fish and not a banana fish. At this point I realized that banana fish is the very sad fish in a J.D. Salinger story called "A Perfect Day for Bananafish"
"Miss Carpenter. Please. I know my business," the young man said. "You just keep your eyes open for any bananafish. This is a perfect day for bananafish."
"I don't see any," Sybil said.
"That's understandable. Their habits are very peculiar." He kept pushing the float. The water was not quite up to his chest. "They lead a very tragic life," he said. "You know what they do, Sybil?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they swim into a hole where there's a lot of bananas. They're very ordinary-looking fish when they swim in. But once they get in, they behave like pigs. Why, I've known some bananafish to swim into a banana hole and eat as many as seventy-eight bananas." He edged the float and its passenger a foot closer to the horizon. "Naturally, after that they're so fat they can't get out of the hole again. Can't fit through the door."
"Not too far out," Sybil said. "What happens to them?"
"What happens to who?"
"The bananafish."
"Oh, you mean after they eat so many bananas they can't get out of the banana hole?"
"Yes," said Sybil.
"Well, I hate to tell you, Sybil. They die."
"Why?" asked Sybil.
"Well, they get banana fever. It's a terrible disease."
Here are pictures from Wednesday night and Thursday morning in Falun.
I will post a new post in like 5 minutes with the rest of the pictures :)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Dalarna, my darling
I have officially made travel plans (bought tickets, made pasta, packed clothes) for tomorrow to go to the Dalarna region to go to these two places: Sundborn (via Falun) where Carl Larsson's house is, and Mora where artist Anders Zorn has a museum and house as well. Wish me luck! This trip is so much more expensive than I wish it was :( but I guess that's what you get for traveling alone. And sleeping indoors. But I will maybe save some money by eating only coffee and bread :) :) :) This is my hope at least. I know my host dad thinks its funny that I am bringing all my food with me, but food is really expensive!!! I think tomorrow morning before I leave I will bake the squash I bought a few weeks ago :S and salt and butter it and eat it for dinner on Thursday... or lunch Friday? I don't know. It's kind of heavy.
Anyways, bon voyage to me, and see you again Saturday if all goes well.
P.S. Mom told me not to eat squash for three days in a row for the reason that it will make me unhappy- I think she's right! Also I just realized that eating out in Stockholm is probably a lot more expensive than in Dalarna, so I just might be eating real lunch after all.
P.P.S. WHERE IS JON GARREY WHEN I NEED HIM!? Dear Jon, your travel planning skills are excellent. I just wanted to tell you so. You would have had this trip figured out WEEKS ago. Instead, tomorrow morning I am calling the place I hope to sleep tomorrow to see if they have any rooms :P
Anyways, bon voyage to me, and see you again Saturday if all goes well.
P.S. Mom told me not to eat squash for three days in a row for the reason that it will make me unhappy- I think she's right! Also I just realized that eating out in Stockholm is probably a lot more expensive than in Dalarna, so I just might be eating real lunch after all.
P.P.S. WHERE IS JON GARREY WHEN I NEED HIM!? Dear Jon, your travel planning skills are excellent. I just wanted to tell you so. You would have had this trip figured out WEEKS ago. Instead, tomorrow morning I am calling the place I hope to sleep tomorrow to see if they have any rooms :P
The Slow and Painful Death of McAfee
My anti virus software must be running out? or something. Because it has been jumping up every two minutes all up in arms about how it can't run a virus scan. I'm kind of irritated but also worried because I don't really know what it is doing. Do I need McAfee? Can I get something for free that does the same thing that won't start freaking out when its at the end of its prescription? Ugh.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Fall Break Number 2
Ok. Here's the deal. I have decided to write more posts more often instead of not writing for a whole week and disappointing everyone who actually reads this. But the trade-off is this: my posts will be less interesting. Do you think I just sit around here doing interesting things all day? Most days I do some homework and check my email and eat dinner and take the subway. But some days, for example, I take a boat to Latvia. Or see an old man dressed in 3 different kinds of plaid on the subway (shirt, pants, socks - sorry I forgot to write about this) or I make soup or plan how to take over the world.
So in this boring post, I will speculate on what I might do tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.
I feel kind of inflexible, so tomorrow morning if I manage to wake up I should go to the pool and swim. It's good to swim before lunch, because then you are hungry enough to know what you want to eat for lunch. I hate not knowing what to eat, so this is a good idea.
Also tomorrow, perhaps I will buy some pants. The pants I own now are as follows: one pair baggy brown plaid pants, one pair new jeans that are a little too short :(, one pair nice black dress pants, one pair gray corduroy pants meant to be rolled up to knees, one pair dress brown pants, one pair black jeans with repaired rip but every time I wear them they fall down, and one pair of really old jeans that ripped when I tried to protect Tonton from an incoming attacking large dog. Actually this sounds like a lot of pants. But the ripped pants and the saggy pants and short pants are my only jeans. And everybody knows that jeans and pants are not quite the same thing. I am not sure if I can buy pants in Sweden, because ALL Swedish people have skinnier legs than I do, and why would they make pants for a population of large-legged people that doesn't exist?
Tomorrow I may also buy a train, bus or plane ticket to Malmö. It is difficult for me to make up my mind.
Oh! That reminds me; if I do buy a train, bus or plane ticket I must also buy some yarn and borrow some needles and call Mom to ask for the lace pattern I used to make her black scarf, because what else would be as much fun as knitting when I'm on a train for 5 hours? The answer is ping pong, but that is not an option as far as I know. Not when you buy tickets on standby.
So the day after tomorrow is still undecided. I may be wandering around Malmö completely lost, or I may be sleeping my break away right here in Stockholm.
WE SHALL SEE...
So in this boring post, I will speculate on what I might do tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow.
I feel kind of inflexible, so tomorrow morning if I manage to wake up I should go to the pool and swim. It's good to swim before lunch, because then you are hungry enough to know what you want to eat for lunch. I hate not knowing what to eat, so this is a good idea.
Also tomorrow, perhaps I will buy some pants. The pants I own now are as follows: one pair baggy brown plaid pants, one pair new jeans that are a little too short :(, one pair nice black dress pants, one pair gray corduroy pants meant to be rolled up to knees, one pair dress brown pants, one pair black jeans with repaired rip but every time I wear them they fall down, and one pair of really old jeans that ripped when I tried to protect Tonton from an incoming attacking large dog. Actually this sounds like a lot of pants. But the ripped pants and the saggy pants and short pants are my only jeans. And everybody knows that jeans and pants are not quite the same thing. I am not sure if I can buy pants in Sweden, because ALL Swedish people have skinnier legs than I do, and why would they make pants for a population of large-legged people that doesn't exist?
Tomorrow I may also buy a train, bus or plane ticket to Malmö. It is difficult for me to make up my mind.
Oh! That reminds me; if I do buy a train, bus or plane ticket I must also buy some yarn and borrow some needles and call Mom to ask for the lace pattern I used to make her black scarf, because what else would be as much fun as knitting when I'm on a train for 5 hours? The answer is ping pong, but that is not an option as far as I know. Not when you buy tickets on standby.
So the day after tomorrow is still undecided. I may be wandering around Malmö completely lost, or I may be sleeping my break away right here in Stockholm.
WE SHALL SEE...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Farewell J.A. !!!
I am dedicating a post to J.A. because last night's Halloween party at Gula Villan was the last I will see of him before he leaves Stockholm to go back to his folkhighschool, and I will miss him! I like J.A. because he is a very cool guy, and because he taught me this song:
"whoah, whoah, vi har sluta nian!"
This is probably spelled wrong, but it the song means: "whoah, whoah we have quit the ninth grade!" J.A. explained that this is the song that 9th grades sing when they graduate from that part of their schooling, but its fun to sing it now because everyone in the room has finished the 9th grade a long time ago.
J.A. also taught me to say calm hockey pucks in Swedish, but I forgot how :( Too bad he's leaving!
You can use it to mean "Hey, what's up?" "I'm chill." or "CALM HOCKEY PUCKS!"
More about J.A. He used to have a lot of hair, and then he cut it off.
Actually I like all three of the people in this picture. But J.A. is the one that's leaving, so I am writing about him.
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