...

utvärdering

2008-04-08T14:48:00.000-07:00

Idag har jag skrivit en utvärdering av mitt erasmusutbyte. Det var lite vemodigt att behöva gå igenom allt som hänt. Men jag hade faktiskt ganska mycket hjälp av bloggen, som ju faktiskt kommit att fungera som en dagbok. Jag funderar ganska mycket på att sluta skriva här, det känns inte värt längre. Men ändå så fortsätter jag. Kanske har jag lite behov av att hävda mig.

veckans lista

2008-04-07T14:28:00.000-07:00

veckans lista heter: Det är inte okej!

1. Det är inte okej att inte svara i telefon när folk ringer.
2. Det är inte okej att inte svara på sms.
3. Det är inte okej att verka intresserad och sen inte höra av sig.
4. Der ät inte okej att inte visa lite respekt när folk har öppnat sitt hjärta och varit skitmodiga. (Go Malin!)
nästa veckas blir det kanske: "Det är okej att"...

jag vaknade upp och var randig

2008-03-30T03:47:00.000-07:00

så säg det då!

2008-03-28T08:20:00.000-07:00

Jag gör det som man verkligen inte får göra. Jag sitter och vräker ur mig mina känslor i en mobiltelefon på tunnelbanan. Men jag kan inte låta bli och när Sandra ringer för att de har tagit en paus i inspelningen så forsar allt det jobbiga ut. På sätet mittemot sitter en man, eller kille det beror lite på vart gränsen går, men han är nog 30. Han sneglar lite på mig och skruvar på sig, men jag pladdrar på, sänker inte ens rösten och saken blir inte bättre av att vi åker in i en tunnel och jag blir tvungen att upprepa allt 10 gånger för att samtalet hackar sig fram. Nu kan ingen ha missat vad jag pratar om. 30-åringen i sätet mittemot pillar på sin iPod och efter ett tag så tar han av sig lurarna. Jag är färdig med att älta mina problem och samtalet bryts tvärt när vi återigen åker in i en tunnel. 30-åringen reser på sig strax före vi är framme vid Hornstull och han står lite snett framför mig och sneglar lite bakåt på mig då och då. Jag blir generad för jag inser att han vet lite mer än vad han ska veta om mig. Men han ser snäll ut. Så stannar vagnen och dörrarna öppnas. Han går ut, jag engagerar mig i att skicka ett sms och tittar upp som hastigast. Då ser jag honom gå några steg från vagnen, sen stannar han och vänder sig om tvärt och ser ut att vara på väg tillbaka in i vagnen. Han tittar på mig och öppnar munnen som om han vill säga något, men så stängs dörrarna till vagnen och tåget börjar rulla. Du killen, om du läser det här så vill jag gärna veta vad du tänkte säga. Hade du ett bra råd, eller har du också blivit nobbad? Nästa gång så borde du stanna och säga det du har på hjärtat!

ctrl + z

2008-03-27T07:03:00.000-07:00

Jag har verkligen tagit mod till mig, slår alla siffrorna i telefonnumret och sitter där som på nålar och hör de långa tutande tonerna sakta dö bort en efter en. Inget svar. Tillslut kopplas en metallisk telefonsvararröst in. En kvinna säger att abonnenten jag har sökt kan inte nås för tillfället, men jag får gärna lämna ett meddelande. Tack ska du ha. Mina svettiga fingrar trycker på ”avsluta” knappen, och jag suckar lite av frustration. Men jag har ingen stolthet så en timma senare så provar jag igen. Samma sak igen, efter en evighet kopplas jag till den slentriantrevliga kvinnan som upplyser mig om att jag gärna får lämna ett meddelande efter tonen. Det hörs ett litet pip och helt plötsligt inser jag att jag måste säga något, annars är jag den konstiga tjejen som ringde och var tyst i telefonen. Så jag börjar ett långt osammanhängande babbel. Jag avslutar med att informera om mitt telefonnummer och sen lägger jag på. Min puls är uppe i minst 2000, och en overklig känsla av antiklimax sköljer över mig. Jag inser det inte så ideala i att nu ligger bollen hos honom. Jag överväger för en sekund att skicka ett mail till honom men beslutar snabbt att jag nog håller på att gå lite för långt. Så jag sätter mig ner och stirrar på telefonen som är öronbedövande tyst.

Allt var en lek, men aldrig på låtsas

2008-03-25T09:10:00.000-07:00

Påsken är slut, den kändes kort och ganska händelselös, det närmaste action jag kom var när jag var på påskmiddag och en kompis till en kompis slängde en jättestor bit färsk lax i soporna, för att den inte fick plats i ugnsformen.
- Den där biten hade säkert räckt till fyra-fem portioner, sa jag.
- Ja, men den fick inte plats, så vad skulle jag göra?, sa han.
- Spara den, sa jag.
- Men då blir den äcklig ju, sa han.
- Åh, vad gulligt, tänker du på barnen i Afrika?, sa hans ljuva flickvän. Jag minns att vi fick sy tygpåsar som det stod ”vår miljö får inte dö” på när vi gick i lågstadiet. Men det kanske inte min kompis polare fick, det kanske inte är någon som har berättat för honom att det är ganska dumt att slänga fräsch mat. Ignorant Bliss, sa min andra goda vän och menade det verkligen. Han tycker att det är meningsfullt att jobba för stora företag som Nike för att ha råd att göra sin blip-blop musik. Det gör honom glad och jag orkar inte vara den som hela tiden ska läxa upp folk, så jag håller käft. Vi går en promenad och jag berättar att här gjorde Nobel sina fösta provsprängningar. Eftersom han inte vet vem Nobel är så berättar jag att det är typ snubben som fixade så att vi kan kriga så bra nu.
– Really? Säger han och börjar fotografera.
– Well, we’re so proud of him that every year there’s a great party to his honour, maybe you’ve heard of the Nobelprize? Det finns så många kända snubbar, vi går förbi en staty av Bellman. Jag försöker förklara texten till ”tycker du att graven är för djup”. Det går sådär och när jag fortsätter att berätta om systembolaget tycker han mest att vi verkar ha ett ansträngt förhållande till alkohol. Vad fan ska jag svara på det, det har snöat oavbrutet i en vecka och är -5 grader, jag börjar förstå hur Bellman tänkte. Insiktsfull för att vara snubbe. Jag undrar lite om det kan vara så att feminismen håller på att dö i vår kära huvudstad. När jag var på demo på 8:e mars var det inte ens en fjärdedel så många tjejer där som en demo i Malmö. Det är inte trendigt att vara feminist längre, läste jag sen, tror att det var i DN. Sen hade jag ett långt samtal med en av mina klokaste vänner och han sa en massa vettiga saker om att kvinnor måste börja ta mer plats. Loppan var också klok som vanligt och stod på sig när vi hamnade i diskussionen om varför separatism är så viktigt ibland. I slutändan så tror jag att det handlar om att ta sig själv på allvar. Jag lär mig en massa viktiga saker varje dag. Som att generell bostadspolitiska frågor ligger under Finansdepartementet, men om det handlar om flyktingbostadspolitik så är det Justitiedepartementet man ska vända sig till. Kunskapen visar sig vara ganska överflödig, jag ringer till olika personer hela dagen, men ingen svarar. Känns på något sätt ganska tryggt att veta att politikerna är så upptagna med att göra vad det än nu de gör så att de inte har tid att svara i telefon. Kanske är Stockholmssmekmånaden över, det börjar kännas tungrott. Det som tidigare var spännande har förvandlats till rutin och nyfikenheten är borta. Kanske försvann den när jag på allvar började leta bostad och en av de första sidorna jag kom till berättade att det kan ta upp till 20-25 år i kö innan man får något. Så om ca 22,5 år så kanske jag får bo i Stockholm, till dess, så har jag spanat in en jättestor låda mitt i centrum som verkar stå praktisk taget tom, det sägs att det ska finnas ca 600 rum....

snö

2008-03-21T02:04:00.001-07:00

Det snöar ute, jag tänker att nu, nu är det den sista snön som faller. En timma senare snöar det igen. Allt upprepar sig och rätt vad det är så står han där i farstun med alla sina instrument och jag smälter lite. Fast bara lite. Han får låna en t-shirt för de på flygplatsen i London har slarvat bort hands resväska med alla kläder. Jag ringer runt till alla flygplatser för att försöka hitta hans väska, men ingen vet var den är. Men det måste ju vara svårt att hitta en liten väska i en så stor byggnad. Jag känner mig också grymt liten, som en borttappad resväska som åker tunnelbana fram och tillbaka för någon har glömt att ta med mig av. Så jag sitter kvar. Tunnelbanan åker förbi T-centralen och helt plötsligt kommer ljuset när tåget vågar sig upp ovan mark för ett ögonblick….Slussen…Gamla stan….sen ner igen. Det där var min dagliga fix av dagsljus när jag var sjuk i en månad. Jag kunde längta hela dagen efter att få se Stockholm öppna sig framför mig. Ibland behöver man påminnas om hur vackert det är. Nu har en arkitektgubbe kommit på att det är en jättebra idé att gräva ner även de två hållplatserna. Enligt honom så är de en skamfläck i Stockholm, ”Stockholms fulaste plats” kallade han det. Jag ska köpa en cykel, tunnelbana är ändå så dyr. 700 spänn kostar det i månaden och igår så tappade Tove bort sitt terminskort. På kvällen så kollade vi på en jättesorglig film, fast jag grät inte så mycket, bara såna där snygga Hollywoodtårar som liksom rinner snyggt nerför kinden, men det kom inget snor. Då kände jag mig lite stolt, för Tove grät jättemycket. Efter filmen berättade hon att det sista hennes pappa sa innan han dog var: - Jag kan se stjärnor och planeter. Sen dog han. Jag pratade med Mormor, hon var dramatisk och sa att vi får se om vi ses något mer. Jag gillar inte när hon pratar så, för jag vill inte att hon ska dö. Starka mormor som var chef på fabriken och som kan sticka de bästa tröjorna, men som hatar att laga mat och inte ens kan steka pannkakor. Jag sa att vi nog ses i maj. Om en vecka är det sommartid, då får man ställa om klockan. Tiden snurrar tillbaka och jag blir tvungen att surfa in på youtube för att se om jag kan slösa bort lite mer tid som jag egentligen borde skriva uppsats på. Jag hittar ett videoklipp som är upplagt för 3 dagar sen. Han står på scen och sjunger. Han har min t-shirt på sig. Nu snöar det igen.

vill ha...

2008-03-06T01:18:00.000-08:00

mera hångel!

allt blir bra tillslut..

2008-03-02T12:06:00.000-08:00

...

Nu har jag varit i Lund/Malmö och presenterat mina projekt för förra terminen. Det gick grymt bra, har nog aldrig fått beröm för mina presentationer förut eftersom det mest brukar vara hafsiga sista minuten kladd, men den här gången fick jag höra av Maria och Abelardo att "det märks att du har jobbat mycket grafiskt!". Eh, ja just det...eller, va? Nu ska jag sluta skryta och fortsätta att äta av den fina schweiziska chokladen som kom på posten idag. Och just det ja, jag har klippt mig....

350 kronor

2008-02-27T01:06:00.000-08:00

Nu har jag spenderat 350 kronor på utskrifter till att presentera min aprojekt från Barcelona. Åh vad värt. Nu ska jag gå att köpa ett sånt där fint rör som man kan stoppa de dyra ritningarna i. Imorgon bär det av till Lund 07.20 sitter jag på tåget mot den stora uppgörelsen med terminen i Barcelona.

borstj

2008-02-25T06:09:00.000-08:00

Det här är belöningen för att jag har jobbat snart utan avbrott med mitt projekt i löjligt lång tid. På torsdag ska jag presentera!

2008-02-22T06:24:00.000-08:00

Fan. Jag gillar kaffe. Det dödar min idé om att inte ha några beroenden.

...

2008-02-20T10:05:00.000-08:00

- Hostia guapa, mira!
- A ver...?
- Que divina, verdad?
- Joder tía, es carísima!
- Ai, por favor! Que va!
- Hombre claro!
- Pero qué coño dices! Me voy, tengo muchas cosas que hacer.
- Bueno nena. Yo tambien tengo cosas. Hablarémos.
- Venga va, adéu.

förväntningar

2008-02-20T05:20:00.001-08:00

våren kommer våren kommer!

2008-02-17T11:25:00.000-08:00

Ibland är det fint att bara få lyssna på isen som smälter. I min morgonrutin ingår det att väldigt noga kontrollera solens upp- och nedgång. Idag kan jag konstatera att den går ner 16.45!

Jag ska inte åka till Belgrad längre, det känns mer dumt än någonsin eftersom idag var dagen då Kosovo förklarade sin självständighet och att det känns extra viktigt att åka, men jag kan inte riktigt förklara varför. Så hursomhelst, nu åker jag inte och då får jag lite tid här hemma att bli färdig med mitt Barcelona projekt och så har jag dessutom tid att åka till Malmö och presentera för Abelardo Gonzales. Tur för mig.

Igår var jag kanske på en date, det beror nog lite på hur man ser det. Det var trevligt, vi var grymt kompetenta sociala personer båda två, men det var liksom ingen spänning där, kändes liksom på en gång som en person som man blir bra vän med. Fast jag hade velat bli tillsammans med honom, mest för att få säga att min pojkvän jobbar på Riksbanken. Jag tror att det är lite för tidiga vårkänslor som skenar iväg.

Jag har också lyckats gå ut i Stockholm, det var den sjukaste kvällen. Episkt. Det var fest för en tidning som heter Litkes och som görs av en gammal väns syster. På den här sjukt hypade festen var naturligtvis de totalt samtliga humorlösa designers som är i ropet just nu. Gode gud, de har verkligen ingen själdistans....Men det var lite kul ändå att få vara på studiebesök. Så efter att ha dansat tillsammans med de unga och framgångsrika så gick vi på hemma fest istället och då insåg jag var jag hörde hemma...Men Tove sa i alla fall att jag var .citat. så sjukt läcker.slut citat. Och henne måste man lita på. (annars får man stryk)

PARFOIS LA MODE ME FATIGUE

and then everything just went black

2008-02-13T09:59:00.000-08:00

I know that I made the decision just to write in swedish, it's not that I'm not keeping to my promise, but this is so important that I feel like writing for the wider audience (if anyone is reading...).

I went to meet my mum for a quick coffee today in the central station since she was in Stockholm for the day, and I wasn't in school anyway, still feels like someone is holdning my lungs so tight that I can't breath. So, I'm on my way to see my mum, just to get a hug. (I think it's her enormous brests that make her hugs so much better then all the other hugs in the world.) When I'm walking in the tunnel between the metro and the centralstation I see this young man dressed all in black - combat clothes and the shit- standing in the middle of the passage and he's handing out flyers. After having lived in Malmö, where you never ever see other political views then leftwing I just assumed that he was from some antifascistic movement. But then I realise that he's not alone, there are about 10 of them. One of them is blocking my way and I get a short glance at the paper that he's holding. The word Patriot catches my eye. I ask in a very angry tone: "What the hell is that?" For some reason I avoid looking at him, my eyes are fixed on the text on the flyer, trying to understand the situation. He answers in a kind of happy tone: "Do you want one". A feeling of emptyness gets to me and I just keep walking. One minute later I'm hugging my mother, telling her that I need to go back and talk to them. She get's annoyed and tell me that I don't need to save the world and that it could also be dangerous, a week ago a man was beaten very bad in the central Gothenburg in mid daylight by some skinheads.

Nobody did anything to defend him.

When I've said goodbye to my mum at the train half an hour later I head back for the tunnel, I really want to talk to them. But they're gone. Left on the ground is one of the flyers. I pick it up and read it all the way back home. For a moment I get this apocalyptic feeling. How can this hatred still exist? I want so much to go back and just talk to them, I want to look him in the eyes this time and I want to ask him why he thinks that I don't belong anywhere, that I'm not pureblood and that I don't deserve to live her and that me my sister and my father should be kicked out of Sweden.
The defintion of evilness:>"Every race/people has the right to follow it's own destiny, to develope and create a culture and a society after it's own nature. ..//..We protect our own people and are antagonists to phenomen like massimmigration (foreigner invasion), racemix(genocide), and diversity (culture destruction)."

A tribute to T-banan

2008-02-12T00:45:00.000-08:00

Det finns många saker som avslöjar att jag inte är från Stockholm. Det faktum att jag säger vagnen och inte tuben eller t-banan tillsammans med min fisksäljar -dialekt är förmodligen de mest uppenbara. Men det hindrar mig inte från att vara lite kär i tunnelbaneåkandet. Jag älskar att titta på gamla tanter som ljudar när de läser eller smyg tåflörta med personen som sitter bredvid eller att lyssna på tjejen bredvid som pratar grekiska på det där smattrande sättet som bara språk man inte förstår låter som. Jag tänker på Jens som förlovade sig på Tunnelbanan och alla dramer som har ägt rum här nere under jorden...

Faktum är att jag är så grymt positivt överraskad av mentaliteten här, alla är så hjälpsamma. Tanten (nej, man får inte säga tant till kvinnor i 50-års åldern...men jag är trotsig) på CSN tittar på mig med exakt samma min som min mamma när jag har glömt min självdeklaration. (Ni vet den där "Jag- är- inte- arg,- jag- är- besviken"- looken.) Men hon är ändå trevlig och försöker intala mig att allt kommer att ordna sig. Tanten (ok, hon var nog snarare 45...) på Försäkruingskassan tar sig t.o.m tid att förklara vägen till Skattekontoret och kvinnan på skattekontoret är så jävla glad så jag undrar om hon tog dubbeldos prozac till lunch. Jag lämnar byggnaden med ett stort leende på läpparna. Finns det snälla poliser i den här staden också så finns det fan inget som kan få mig att flytta härifrån.

klippning

2008-02-11T14:54:00.000-08:00

...Jag måste klippa mig, det är panik. Jag vill inte vara ful längre, jag vill klippa mig snygg... jag vill se lite ut som någon som kan förföra 40 åriga lärare på arkitektskolan med de blåaste ögonen i hela världen.
Hur ska jag klippa mig?

- Det är inte tjejen på bilden som skrivit brevet.

(jo, det är det)

vem kan man lita på?

2008-02-11T14:45:00.000-08:00

Det kan man fan undra. Försöker skriva mitt inlägg fast det gör ont i fingret efter blodprovet som togs i lördags när jag var hos den 3:e läkaren på ca en månad...det är mer än vad jag varit på sjukhus i mitt liv tror jag. Ännu en gång fick jag höra att de tidigare läkarna som jag varit hos var stora otalanger och att det "finns så mycket konstiga människor där ute". Kanske inte det man vill höra i jag -lägger -min -hälsa -i -dina -händer- sammanhanget. Men på ren ilska så verkar det nu som om jag äntligen är lite bättre, kanske beror det på att jag är färdig med ett av mina spanien projekt och ha fått betyg från två andra. I morgon ska jag bli uppringd av LTH som ska säga när jag får komma ner till Lund och få godkänt för de andra två så att jag äntligen kan få pengar från CSN. Men tills dess är jag den fattigaste.

fettisdagen

2008-02-05T14:04:00.000-08:00

Stockholm i mitt hjärta

2008-02-05T02:56:00.001-08:00

Det är så grymt lätt att tycka om sthlm. Jag har ju egentligen bara legat i sängen och under de 2 veckor som jag nu har bott här går det ganska snabbt att berätta vad jag sett. men det lilla jag har sett är fan inte dåligt. Jag älskar redan att åka metron på morgonen och att smyglyssna på folks samtal. Eller att bli svettig av att gå uppför en jättebrant backe bara för att kunna stanna upp och titta ner, ut över stockholm.

Folk har varnat mig för att flytta hit, du tror att du flyttar närmare folk, men alla bor så långt ifrån varandra i sthlm, men jag tycker inte det är sant. Visst, avstånden är långa (I malmö cyklar man överallt på 10 minuter...) men om man verkligen vill träffa någon så gör man sig ju besväret. Och eftersom jag har invsterat i månadskort och gillar tunnelbanan så tänker jag börja den nya sthlms trenden. Mer häng!
detta känns som början på något bra.

ha.

2008-02-02T08:19:00.000-08:00

Det finns de där dagarna när det helt plötsligt börjar snöa och allt är så magiskt och tyst och den oranga katten sitter fast i trädet och man helt plötsligt löser ett problem som man suttit med jättelänge.

Idag är en sån dag.

nu kan det inte bli värre

2008-01-30T14:47:00.000-08:00

Det har blivit mitt nya mantra. Och först nu kan jag skratta åt det, det är ett befriande ångestfritt skratt. Har fått ett surrealistiskt brev från Försäkringskassan där de kräver mig på 3000 kr för att jag fått för mycket i bosatdsbidrag i förhållande till min inkomst. En inkomst som är helt baserad på CSN lån men som ändå räknas som inkomst. Detta bostadsbidrag som jag fick samtidigt som jag gick och väntade på min rättegång i Köpenhamn. Tack försäkringskassan, nu verkar det som om ni har hittat min identitet igen. Så lägligt. Min pappa och mamma var på besök idag. Var med om en obehaglig grej när vi skulle gå och köpa pizza i brist på fantasi och i svår hunger. Efter att vi beställt av den lokala pizzabagaren vänder jag mig demonstrativt och går lite avsides...i tron om att min pappa följer efter går jag bort ifrån den svettandes pizzabagern. Men jag blir pinsamt medveten om att min pappa står kvar och pratar med honom. Helt plötsligt går det upp för mig att så kan man också göra, man kan prata med dem. det som följer är ett sjukt gulligt samtal, tänk dig "en blind som leder en blind" det är språkförbistringar och några skratt och nickande/suckande tysta medhållande "ja situationen i libanon är inte så stabil just nu". Det värsta är att det inte är det första teckent på att jag har blivit en akademiker tönt. Häromdagen när vi var i Tensta så råkade jag och en vän ut för att några killar i femton års åldern gick bakom oss och ful sjöng svenska nationalsången med tonårsstämmor. Följt av ett : Fuck sweden. Jag blev sjukt provocerad och frågade hur de kunde vara så säkra på at vi var svennar. -"Ey, vafan det syns lång väg!" In my face liksom. Inne på Willys försöker jag kolla vad den romska kvinnan stoppar i sin varukorg (vi gör ett skolarbete om romska bosättningar): bananer, räkor och fryst bröd. Har jag blivit dum i huvudet?

(ja.)

nu kan det inte bli värre är mitt nya mantra, tillsammans med Lykke Li's Dance dance dance funkar det. http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=45075548

discopills

2008-01-28T03:05:00.000-08:00

När man har lunginflammation måste man äta såna här fina discopiller så blir man frisk. Stockholmsvistelsen började kanske inte riktigt som jag hade tänkt mig, jag skulle ju ha en massa energi och börja på den nya eran i mitt liv, men det slutade med att jag fick lunginflammation istället. Nu har jag varit hemma och "vilat" sedan i lördags eftersom både min mamma och min peruanska läkare hotade med storstryk om jag inte började ta hand om mig lite bättre. På något sätt så är det nog bra att jag fick en ursäkt att vila upp mig, jag hade sjukt mycket sömn och tankar att ta igen. Så nu hoppas jag bara att de här discopillrena ska hjälpa fort som fan så att jag kan komma igång och komma ikapp. Den nya kursen här i sthlm verkar jätteintressant, men också ganska ångestladdad, men säg vilket skolprojekt som inte är det förresten.

welcome

2008-01-22T01:30:00.001-08:00

veckans ord

2008-01-18T01:01:00.001-08:00

missunsamhet

"turn out of lemon"

2008-01-15T01:19:00.000-08:00

http://www.myspace.com/erimakino

Break-point, Break-up, break-through

2008-01-14T01:23:00.001-08:00

The good thing with having nervous breakdown’s, is that you can stay in bed, doing nothing, but yet still be the centre of everybody’s attention. Everything fell apart, like this giant domino game that starts breaking down, piece by piece, by a little breath of air. I finally reached the part when my body said NO. It just gave up.

I’m now recovering, trying to understand what I’m doing at all. And for the first time in years I’m having time to just think. Lying in bed doing nothing else, not having internet access, being far away from school and all the rest, I just lay in bed, and I think. And for the first time in a long while it’s not dark thoughts about “what is the purpose of it all?” it’s more just reflections and trying to go through all the things that happened in the chaos that was the last 6 months. I didn’t have time not even once to pause and think of where I was in the middle of everything. So, breakpoints are good. Reaching the bottom is not so bad after all, it means it will never be any worse that this. The beauty of it is to realise how many people care for you. It makes me realise that caring for other people makes you very vulnerable, love is a fragile thing. When my father called me late yesterday when I had stopped crying and could talk to him, he told me that he already managed to phone all his contacts in Barcelona, and that he had a doctor on standby just in case I’d feel any worse in the next few days. I wonder if I will be able to do the same for him.
What I realise going through this “what-ever-it-is” is that actually a lot of people are feeling bad. I realise an old friend telling me years ago about that she’d been eating this “anti-depressive medicine” just to get through everyday life. And I also remember very fresh the day when I realised that one of my best friends had tried to kill herself several times how fragile it all is, and how easy it is just to give up. But right now, I don’t feel like giving up. I don’t have energy, but I have this idea in my head, the idea that it’s worth wakening up every day. Get up and begin the day. So I think I’ll keep doing that until the day it doesn’t seem worth the trouble.

deadline

2008-01-08T07:43:00.000-08:00

Det gör ont i varje muskel. Mina ben värker av att sitta stilla. Jag går upp, åker till skolan och så jobbar jag hela dagen, med en kort matpaus mitt på dgaen (15 minuter) sen jobbar jag resten av eftermiddagen. Kl 20.00 åker jag hem till farmor och äter middag. Sen tar jag fram datorn igen.

Mitt huvud är så tungt, och min arm värker. försöker lära mig jobba med vänster hand, men det går så jävla långsamt. Bara 12 dagar kvar.

Give me a pig foot and a bottle of gin.

2008-01-07T04:14:00.000-08:00

You know this funny thing, when you’re listening to music and all of a sudden it seems like the people around you are walking almost like dancing, swaying to the rhythm of your song, even though it’s only in your iPod and they can’t hear it. .

Only Billie Holliday can help me out of the black hole I accidentally bumped over when I had to spend 4 hours in transit in Frankfurt. Transit is such an awful word! I used to love it, before, I always seized the opportunity of being on airports around so many people from different countries to act as if I was someone else. I mean think about it, you can pretend you’re just the person you want to be. …But now I stumbled over this black hole, I don’t know who I want to be. Nor do I know who I am. I want to have a whiskey with Billie. She sounds so wise, I think she could teach me a few things. .

And I get this feeling. Like when you’re in big crowds, like on a concert or in a demonstration. I always feel so lonely. There is probably a name for this, some kind of phobia, it’s just so ironic. There are all these people, angry or sad, doesn’t matter, and I just feel like the loneliest person in the world. Like realising that even though there are people around, they can’t fully understand how you feel. And then there are those days when you’re walking and people can’t see you and keep bumping into you. When I got on the plane today it happened twice. First this lady just didn’t move from the aisle when I had to pass, she was standing fixed even though I said sorry/excuse me 1 million times, she just didn’t see me (no, she wasn’t blind). And then I finally get to my seat, and this man sits in the middle while I have the window seat. When I ask him if he can get up so I can go to my seat, he just looks kind of past me, like as if there was only air. After asking him many times he gets up, very slowly as if he was surprised there was really someone there! .

In the bus to the plane I realise why it is I hate business men. It’s very crowded and two busses, the business immediately try to get on the first bus, which will probably leave first. When they can’t they get really angry and shout at the poor bus driver that is only doing his job. And then they get on the other bus, and there spread out over 2 seats so that other people have to stand because the important business man’s jacket needs a seat of it’s own. The same men of course orders at least 2 drinks (1 alcohol!) and then try to pull the “can I get the extra sandwich because I’m so important” trick that mostly works, since everyone realise what a big fuzz it’d be if they couldn’t get it. I want to be a stewardess just to be able to spit in their orange juice before serving it. .

In a few hours I’ll be in Barcelona, in my grandmother’s apartment. I’ll be staying there for 2 weeks, finishing up my very messy semester in Barcelona. For the first time in my life I’m playing with the thought that this time I might not actually make it and I feel very much like just leave it hanging. That would be the first time. If it hadn’t been for the ones who decide whether or not I should get more money for studying (thank you CSN for breathing down my neck) I think I would have quit long time ago. Now there is too much to loose on it. So I keep on doing it, taking small breaks massaging my neck and my shoulder that started hurt like never before. This isn’t what I wanted out of 2008. So I’ll just pretend that it hasn’t started yet, that this is vacuum “no time”, the time for just focusing and finishing up. 2008 will start when I land in Stockholm in exactly 2 weeks. .

So, still in transit, having my break from autocad (maybe I should see a doctor about my arm?) and then I see under the table just next to me, there is something. I bend down, and it’s money. Two bills, they’re from Argentina and probably not worth anything. One is 2 pesos the other on 10. But still it’s cool that they’re there. I’m afraid of picking them up, still having the old experience in fresh memory, but I figure that they’re not worth anything, so if I get robbed, it would only be a small sum. And anyway, I don’t have any plastic cards anymore. .

I just had an idea. I know what I would like to do. I would want to go around and collect stuff, just random things that I find in the street. Like Pippi Långstrumps character “sakletaren”. I imagine all the stories I could build of just imagining others peoples lives. (Or maybe it’s just a very good excuse to try to avoid living my own life and kind of borrowing other peoples stuff and memories.) .

With a gentle whisper, I ask Billie; what do you think? She answers; “What a difference a day makes, 24 little hours”. I lean my shin in my hand and think of it for a while. She is right. “The difference is you.” How come that when you really want that the prince on his white horse to come and rescue you, he just doesn’t come? The magic is gone and I’m on my own, as always. .

Only 1 hour left for the flight now, the area around the gate is getting fuller and fuller. I try to smell the money I found but I don’t think they smell like Argentina, just smell paper. So I put them in my book together with the photographs of the ladies with the dog that I found in the flee market. A collection of random memories, that aren’t mine. .

I’m on the plane no.2 walking down the isle crowded with Spanish people struggling to fit everything on the storage thing. I walk and I walk, I look at the ticket. It says 26A. That’s my seat. And then I come to the end of the plane, the last seat is 24 A. I just laugh. The situation is hilarious. The male steward is also smiling, he actually tries to get me a seat in business class, but fails. So, we just stay chatting in the aisle. He asks where I’m from. I answer, and he laughs and said that I’d be a good stewardess…but then he takes it back, tells me that I should be a pilot instead. “You know a lot of girls are learning to be a pilot’s now, I know a lot of women pilots.” Thank you kind steward guy, you made my day.

death and försäkringskassan

2008-01-03T06:48:00.000-08:00

okej, It's finally 2008, the year when everything will be good again. (If I keep saying it maybe eventually I'll start believing it.) I'm in my sisters room trying to write an essay for my theoretical class, and I realise that I prefer writing in english, so the mix will continue. I woke up this morning after having dreadful nightmares, my parents were killed in a plane accident and then my very good friend also died in some kind of Noah's arc flooding situation. Then my grandma died... I hate the feeling of crying in your sleep and waking up feeling confused because it all felt so real, for a short period I was still not completely convinced it was all a dream.

So many things managed to happen during these two weeks that were supposed to be all about relaxing and gaining new energy to finish what i started in Barcelona, but things doesn't always turn out the way you plan. I feel so tired and the last couple of days my heart started rushing and it hurts from time to time. I accidently told my mother and now she is really worried. The thing is that my mother never worries, so when she does, it makes me scared. I'm sure it's nothing, I just feel so tired. I could sleep until april.

Also I began round two with Försäkringskassan, the swedish official insurance company, that eg make sure that you will be taken care of if you get ill abroad. I had this EU card that was lost when I was robbed. When I called them to get a new one, it turns out that they managed to loose my identity again. So, I don't exist in the swedish system. It's hard to explain, but these things just make me even more tired. Administrative fuck-ups doesn't go with my plan of being happier 2008. But after being very hard towards this incredibly stupid telephone lady, she promised to do "An investigation" on it. So hopefully by the time I'm back in Sweden I'll have my identity back.

Somehow I'm just so fed up with this image of the strong Sara. It's like everyone is relying on me to be able to handle everything, and that I'm tough. I want to scream that I'm not, I feel like being really childish and just lay down and cry or scream at stupid telephone ladies that don't understand that my identity crisis isn't gonna be better when they say that they can't find me in "the system".

2008 will be the year when I stop being "I can fix everything"-Sara. I can't, nobody can.

hejdå

2007-12-27T14:43:00.001-08:00

dåliga vanor

2007-12-18T07:28:00.000-08:00

Jag kan inte hjälpa det, men när jag är ofokuserad och disträ som just nu så är det enda som hjälper att spela guitarr. Jag har därmed lärt mig en ny Björk sång som är väldigt fin...alltså den är fin när björk sjunger, när jag spelar så låter det mer som när lågstadiets musikklass övar inför julframträdandet... Mina fingertoppar värker och skinnet håller på att bli hårt.

nu är det bara 4 dagar kvar till jag åker hem!

när sara gick på date

2007-12-12T00:09:00.000-08:00

Saker man inte vill ska hända på en date:
1. Killen öppnar alla dörrar med dramatiska gester och vägrar gå ut först.
2. Han börjar skryta om hur han vann en nationell arkitekttävling, och höjer på ögonbrynet liksom för att invänta en reaktion...(fortsätt vänta snubben!).
3. Förvandlas till kristemokrat och homofob helt plötslgt när han ska berätta att hans lägenhetskompis är lesbisk. (- Allltås, det är helt sjukt, hon är lesbisk. Ja, jag visste ju inte det innan jag flyttade in!)
4. Försöker filosofiskt förklara för mig att det finns vissa skillnader mellan män och kvinnor och att det är mer naturligt att att män vill ta hand om kvinnorna.
Var är alla normala snubbar? (Snälla säg Stockholm!)

beslut

2007-12-09T17:18:00.001-08:00

1. Jag ska skriva på svenska.
2. Jag hoppar av min projektkurs.
3. Jag ska våga gå på en date imorgon.
4. Jag ska vara glad fram till jul.
5. Jag ska göra minst en rolig sak om dagen.

swedish dinner_part 2

2007-12-09T13:21:00.000-08:00

nightmares and more drama

2007-12-08T10:58:00.000-08:00

woke up at 8.30 this morning after 2 hours of sleep, completely convinced that my face had rearranged. (like the different parts were somehow loose and kept moving around in my face...)It was such a vivid dream and I was too hungover to even start focusing on the real problem, that my nose had changed place with my shin, but was more concerned about how the hell to get my hungover body over to the doctor. I didn't even occur to me that it might have been a dream...Never mix sushi, different types of wine, vodka, and beer. very dangerous mix. Hallucinative. So many things are happening lately that seem to be telling me that I'm making the wrong decision. I didn't give Barcelona a chance. I think that might be true. But I also feel that I had a good portion of bad luck to. Bad luck can push the decisions forward. I'm also wondering why i keep writing on this blog, do I want people to read about it? And the fact that I know that people are, make me being very censored. Which I really don't like. The idea from the start was to put all the details down, to get them out. So, maybe this is promise for 2008. No more censor.

mañana mañana

2007-12-06T01:20:00.001-08:00

It started on friday a week ago. They were gonna come and change our toilet. They said to be here at 09.00 o' clock, they came at 16.00... They didn't do anything just stood there shaking their heads and muttering. Then they left and said: We'll be back tomorrow with the stuff and start at 08.00. Ok.

They came the next day at 08.30 (very impressed that they came at all!) Started working changing both shower and toilet. By lunchtime our house looked as if though it had been bombed. It was dust everywhere in the entire apartment. By five o'clock they say that they're finished for the day. I then ask if there is much left to do. And we then go in to the bathroom and they explain to me that there is still a part missing for the toilet. It's the small piece of pipe that goes between the toilet and the water. So, there is the toilet seat, but you can't flush.

-"So when will you come and fix it?"

-"Well, tomorrow it's sunday and every shop is closd so then we can't buy it...., but we'll come by on monday"

Great, sunday and counting no toilet for to days.

Well, today it's thursday and actually St.Nikolaus and holiday for 4 days, they still haven't called nor have I heard anything. The piece is still missing. I spent a lot of time in school...

everything is normal but nothing is the same

2007-12-04T09:36:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it. I'm 25 years old. It doesn't feel different at all, but now I'm the other side, bye bye youth. Hello adult life. The life where you're supposed to know what you want with you're life, make grown up decisions and don't change your mind every 10th second. (Says the woman who will take 5 minutes to shower in the morning and spend 45 minutes figuring out what to wear...very mature indeed.)

So I look forward to all the challenges, bring on the heavy decisions, bring on the responsiblity. I don't fear gravity, wrinkles or being called madam instead of mademoiselle. Goodbye age crisis. I'm on the other side now.

oh, and Britney, Happy birthday!

bye bye bathroom

2007-12-01T02:19:00.001-08:00

maybe i'm to old for you

2007-11-30T10:25:00.000-08:00

go with the slope

2007-11-29T07:47:00.000-08:00

So there I am just got up from the metro station Diagonal after having the first good critique session ever in the school here in Barcelona. Meeting up with a friend to go and figure out if we can hire a car next weekend.

Anyway, the funny thing about the metro is that when you get up I never know where I am, it's like you've been accidently dropped in a random spot. Zapp! But since Barcelona is built on a slope that is always the key to figure out in what directions to move...up or downhill... Then my phone starts vibrating and i recieve following: "You've been accepted to the school in stockholm, I checked it today and they've just forgot to tell. Airheads!" I start giggling out of pure happieness and the I start walking. Going with the slope.

ups and downs

2007-11-28T10:01:00.000-08:00

Going to class feels pretty much like going to the dentist. You have to do it and you know it's gonna hurt. But if you're a good girl you'll get a present afterwards. Today after presenting Giulia gave me this. Yes I deserved it cause I was up to 4.30 finishing my bloody model!

I will never understand this city, it's like being on a daily rollercoaster, you never know what to expect. But today it showed itself from the best side. this is the view from my room. Maybe it's the lack of sleep tonight and the fact that I wasn't slaughtered in class when we had critique today. I think my teacher actually feels sorry for me becuase I don't know how to draw...(like he wants me to draw...) He's laughing at all the other student's, saying the most horrible things, but at me he's just lookig very sad with the "oh-don't -worry-maybe-you'll-be-a-very-good-secretary-at-a-studio" kind of look.

easy come easy go

2007-11-26T15:20:00.000-08:00

...so the good news is that now i know what to wish for birthday present...a new wallet, since my was stolen today. The bad news is that I had almost 100 euros in it (+ visacard, drivingslicense...etc). You never find 60 euros in the street just like that to keep them, I knew it was too easy...

how do you eat an elephant?

2007-11-25T12:49:00.001-08:00

...piece by piece. Really good friends are those who'll bring you heartshaped lollipops and take you for a walk to see the moon come up from the sea. Make you forget about puffy eyes from crying. It's amazing how wild waves of the ocean can give me calm.

wise as few

2007-11-23T16:28:00.001-08:00

We're fucking dead serious to! Having long and deep discussions. No but seriously, we do! The other day in the metro I confessed to my friend that what I enjoy most for the moment is writing on this silly blog. Her short comment was: "Yeah I guess it's easier to write about your life then to actually go out and live it."

Can I please do both? Can I?

i love you?

2007-11-23T11:35:00.000-08:00

For all of you who don't know spanish, this is the page of the newspaper where you can put ads to find people that you've met randomly. What struck me with it is that it's so different from swedish ones. I always read the contact-ads in Sweden, it's like an obsession. This was the first time I saw the spanish version though. It's so straight forward and different. It says I love you. In the newspaper. Wow.

Next week I'll turn 25 and I have a major age crisis coming up. In the world of erasmus nobody is more then 22 years old. I'm the granny. I feel like a very old soul. And the fact that it feels like I'm wasting my time here doesn't make things any better.

Today has been an ok day though, on of those days where you have a lot of options of things to do and people to be with, but for some reason you just want to go to the cinema. So I did. The movie was very predictable, but nevermind, the company of an old friend was nice. Walking out from the cinema I felt harmonic as I always do after seing a film, like your still hanging on to the world of the movie, not quit able to shake it off, even though the film was totally banal . We start walking through Gracía, one of my favourite areas and there are lot's of people in the street, and there on the street something catches my eye. There on the ground just next to my feet are 60 euros. Just like that. One bill of 50 and one of 10, nicely folded together, but no person whom they seem to belong to. I pick them up ofcourse. Couldn't just leave them there, someone else would surely have picked them up. But somehow I don't feel like I've deserved the money. And I feel sorry for the poor bastard who lost them. Just hoping that it was a rich man that didn't need them anyway.

internet is dead, long live snailmail

2007-11-22T11:42:00.000-08:00

My friend Linus has been saying this thing to me for a long time now. Internet is just a trend, it'll soon go away. I took it as a bad joke, ofcourse internet isn't gonna go away. But then this thing happend. I got mail, real mail. A physical letter with my name on it. Since I moved to Barcelona I've got snail mail 5 times. And every time I almost cry because it is so beautiful. We all know that people don't ever take the time to sit down and write mail on real paper. We simply don't have time, there is global warming going on (what does the paper come from....yeah, it's those nice trees outside the window that might have to risk their life so that I can get the satisfaction of getting snailmail) and then internet and electronical mail is so simple so why should we really send snailmail?

Well for anyone of you who still doesn't know why, please send me your adress and I'll send you a real snailmail. Also to be more nerdy, I have to tell everyone who deson't know that I worked for the swedish state's postal service this summer. I have to say it was a very tough job, and I didn't enjoy every minute of it, but when I think back on it, I have to say it was kind of wonderful. I hated 90% of the post (mostly comercial publicity and gossip magazines) but the the other 10 % was letters, postcards and presents. I loved running up and down the stairs those days when we didn't have any publicity to deliver, just the real mail. I would fantasize about all the love letters and accidently read the postcards from cousins and long distance friends...possibly also squeeze the present boxes to figure out what was in them...

It's just this thing with the physical contact, it's worth so much. People need to get a letter once in a while, or just a postcard. So to end my babbling, I think that Linus might be more right than he actually intends to be. Internet is dead, long live snailmail!

gifts from grandma...it's the thought that count..

2007-11-20T00:47:00.000-08:00

....midnight grafitti experience

2007-11-19T16:29:00.000-08:00

...la belleza es tu cabeza!

exactly 3 months

2007-11-18T16:48:00.001-08:00

This is the day that I've been in Barcelona for exactly 3 months. Nothing exciting happend this weekend, I've mostly been at home, finally enjoying my school project and spending time with my model and autocad...having random breaks to learn a new song on the guitar.

Today I went ot visit my grandmother and on my way to her on the metro I got to think about all the choices you make, every day. All down to the small ones as deciding which stop to get off the metro to the more complicated "should-I-stay-in-barcelona" kind of choices.

All of a sudden I was thinking about a strange encounter on a train, half a year ago. I lived in Malmö but was going to a very nice muesum outside Copenhagen for the day. I was in Malmö, spending time with my lovely Sandra, enjoying the first day of spring where we could use our sunglasses without looking rediculous. So there we were walking, talking, enjoying the sun. I was looking at my watch several times, my new original horse watch...when I suddenly had a phonecall and then looked at the mobile. The time was different from my horse watch, which made me discover for the first time that my watch has it own very moody life. It works when it wants to. I was soo incredibly late. Ran to the train, got on it and discovered I was completely alone.

Sorry, for making the story long, but it's important to get all the details right. So there I was sitting on the train to Copenhagen, the train just leaving Malmö central station, when two men come walking down the aisle of the train towards me. They stop just when they're next to me and the first, rather short and fat man says to me: I think that's my seat". I react as any normal person, I just stare at him. Not laughing. The train is empty and there must be like 100 available seats. I start mumbling something, when i realise that he's just making fun of me, and they both sit down opposite me. Just like that. They start talking, in english and I soon understand that they're Canadian that the taller one is a hockeyplayer for one of the bigger swedish team. We talk for a while and I soon understand their strange behaviour when they say: "It's so cool that you can get alcohol for breakfast in Copenhagen!" So they're on their way back to Copenhagen, where they've actually just come from, just because one of them left the digital camera in the station... We talk as the train cross over the water that makes the border between Denmark and Sweden, and they're actually quite entertaining. Then I ask the other guy what he does. That's when the strange episode starts. Turns out he a millionaire. Actually, milliardare ( cant' spell that) He won the national lottery 2 years ago, a bizarre amount of money (like seven 0's), and since he invested most of the money the're only growing. The guy is so loaded, that for 5 minutes I'm only daydreaming about all the shit you could do with that money. Fuck architecture, think big!

The train stops at Copenhagen airport and he jokes about that we could get off and fly somewhere, he'd pay. "Do you want to go to Cuba?" Then part two of strange episode starts, when I realise how extremely sad the guy actually is, and the fact that he can't meet people for real, because everyone is always interested in his money. I'm still kind of not sure whether he was actually telling the truth or not, but his kind of sad smile, and the fact that he carried around more then 1 000 eurs in his pocket kind of made me believe it ...

Finally we reached copenhagen central station where the surreal canadian guys are getting off and they then offer me to go with them to have lunch: "Come on we can have lobster, or whatever you want...!" I then, more sure then ever decide that it's time to stay on the train, continue with my life, in the real world, with real people and leave this strange episode.

Don't know what I'm trying to say here, am I glad that I'm not rich? No. Am I trying to say that you shouldn't go with men that are offering you money. (Hell yeah!) The bottom line is just that what I realised today is that I'm actually very happy that I have the freedom to choose my life, there are some people that don't have that. And this actually make the whole decision making a bit more beautiful.

Ok, I'll sleep now, waking up in my 4th month in Barcelona.

Good Night

yes Niki you're damn right

2007-11-15T12:31:00.000-08:00

"Life...is never the way one imagines it. It suprises you, it amazes you, and it makes you laugh or cry when you don't expect it."

Niki de Saint Phalle

Today I feel better. A laugh and a hug was all it took. And I told my flatmate that she has to find a new flatmate, I'm moving in december.

the tears don't help

2007-11-14T15:39:00.000-08:00

I feel lost. And the worst thing is that I do feel sorry for myself. Pathetic. School project isn't moving at all and hearing my aunts tired voice on the phone after sending messages to a lot of people that NONE of them answered, it all of a sudden was too much, the tear fountain opened. Some people just have that effect on you. I keep hearing my friends voice in my head after having told her that the only thing I'm looking forward to is writing on this stupid blog, she then said. "Yeah it's easier to live your life writing about your "so called" life, instead of actually living it." So I keep writing about me pretending to have a life and crying because I feel lost, and nobody wants to tell me where to go. I'm completely blank and feel i could just jump on the next train to anywhere if someone just gave me a reason good enough for doing so. But the world is silent. I want it all to make sense again.

mosquitos in november

2007-11-14T00:52:00.000-08:00

There I was in bed trying to sleep after a very long day. My room is very cold (no double glass in the windows and there is a slight breeze coming in from the not so isolated, possibly 100-year-old door in my room.... To further illustrate how cold it is: This morning I tried to read in bed but my hands are so freezing so instead I tried to hold the book with only one hand, warming the other one under the duvet, changing when the upper hand is close to blue...)

So, my feet are slowly getting back to the normal body heat from having touched the icecold stone floor for a split second. i rest my head on the pillow and feel like John Blund is coming anytime... then there is a bbbbbzzzzz. NO!

Can anyone explain to me how the mosquitos are surviving in my room when I'm hardly not!?

i exist

2007-11-13T00:46:00.000-08:00

Just got off the phone with the swedish embassy in Belgrade, Serbia. They phoned me up, on my swedish phone, which I never use, but have lying next to my bed because it works better as an alarm clock then my spanish stoneage phone... very good timing that I was actually at home.

I answer as I normally do in swedish: "Hej det är Sara." Just to hear a female voice asking:- Is this Sara Vall? (- Yes, I just told you, what are you deaf?....wasn't what I answered) I answered very politely, already having the creeping feeling that it was like an official call from someone important. (Yes, I have an obvious problem with authorities...) Then she explains to me that my serbian friend that is coming over new years to Sweden has a ticket that doesn't correspond to the dates I put in the Visa application, and now they have to make sure that it's ok if she stayes a bit longer.

It's hard to put in words the feeling I have after this conversation. I feel like crying or throwing up. Tijana, we're the same age (no actually you're some months older..) and we're both students of architecture. This is just so unfair. The world can not be this fucked up. I can go wherever the fuck I want whenever, probably could forget my passport if it was a journey within the Schengen, and nobody would hold me back. But you have to get permission from me to even get out of your country. The world is mad. I feel ashamed of being a part of this system.

Another really creepy thing about all this is that I got the feeling that she was calling only to make sure I exist. In the visa application I had to make sure i have full responsibility (economical) for my friends stay.

Why the hell aren't we doing anything about this completely fucked up system. I feel very small and cynical. The world is mad.

swedish nationalistic freak out

2007-11-12T03:12:00.000-08:00

ooops. I think I'm really going crazy. Woke up extra early for a excursion to IKEA. No, no furniture in mind, it's the food I was interested in. So when everybody turned right at the entrence, I took a sharp left turn heading directly to the swedish food section. (La tienda sueca!) I was laughing out loud almost all the time, probably looking like a mad person when I with tears in my eyes was stroking a box with ginger biscuits. I accidently spent more money in that store then I usually do in food for 3 weeks. But it was all worth it. Tonight I'm cooking swedish dinner for my favourite peoeple here! Yeah. Heja Sverige.

some people

2007-11-09T11:32:00.000-08:00

...some people just make you feel special. I realised that I love it when people say my name in a sentence... like to emphasize that they're talking to you, nobody else. Since I realised that I'm trying to do it to, probably scaring everyone around me by acting very serious all the time. Now I have to go and change clothes, going ot eat at a very nice restaurant with my parents that are here for the weekend. Autumn is just around the corner. My hands are cold

3 things

2007-11-07T10:26:00.000-08:00

I got this question during my weekend in Paris. Tell me 3 things that you like about Barcelona. I was terrified when I couldn't work it out. Just couldn't come up with even one. But then I came back, spent one entire day in front of the computer, and finally today I got to see the outside of my apartment again. And coming back from school today I have the final piece of the list. Here you go: 1. I love thatBarcelona smell, it stinks and smells beautiful at the same time. I know I'm really cheesy, but it feels more real than Sweden where everything is very clean and fresh. 2. I find it so cool that people are taking time to sit down and have coffee. You don't see anybody walking around with take-away coffee being all stressed. No, people are sitting comfortable down having their "Café con leche" and taking a break. Also very cool to see so many people sitting alone, not minding what people might think. 3. The metro is my second home. I live on the opposite side of town from my school and I love being in this bizarre room together with other people, you never know who you might meet. Random flirting, getting very scared or getting the break and time to think. Also the fact that they don't have the rigid control for going in and out, which makes it really easy to get through without paying. I think this is made deliberately.

focus

2007-11-06T03:45:00.000-08:00

I need to change this behaviour of staying logged on to gmail, just becuase I want someone to answer. I can't focus.

paris je t'aime

2007-11-05T04:49:00.000-08:00

amongst lice

2007-11-01T16:53:00.000-07:00

Paris is very beautiful at night. i found a lovely letter.

frank the man

2007-10-29T12:40:00.000-07:00

My father always says to me whenever I’m sad: “ Sara, life is like a piece of shit, that you need to take a bite of everyday”. It’s funny for many reasons, but most of all it’s funny that he thinks that this is something that will actually cheer me up. What is even furthermore peculiar is that it actually does cheer me up. However, despite of this, rather pessimistic view of life, I have some really good news. I’m beginning to get some insights in the universe of cool women. For many years I thought that there didn’t exist any female role models out there, or that they’re really rare, but it turns out that I must have been looking very poorly. This Friday I accidentally ended up in a lecture with Naomi Klein (the author of “NO LOGO”). She was visiting Barcelona because of the release of her new book the Chock Doctrine. It was 1.5 hours of pure amazement. Read the book! Then to amazement no.2 I received a beautiful email this weekend. It’s from an unknown man, who wrote to me because of the article I wrote in the last edition of the magazine “Arkitekten”. He had googled my name and then took the time to write to me. He wanted to give me this quote: “An expert is a man that has stopped thinking- he already knows.” (Frank Lloyd Wright) I think that poor Frank would have died of shock if he had lived today.

should I laugh or cry

2007-10-20T01:34:00.000-07:00

"Privatpersoner som köper tomter av kommunen ska ges rabatt - om de lovar att bygga sitt hus i svensk och lokal "traditionell stil". "

Swedens biggest nationalist party, Sverige Demokraterna, made an effort to be more visible by writing a new political program (yes, they didn't really have one before!). It's the same old "all-mosques-should-be-torned-down" together with "only-swedish-should-be-spoken-in-the-school" propaganda, but one thing that hit me when I read it was the:

"Private persons that buy land from the authorities should get a discount- if they promise to build their house in swedish local and "traditional style".

Can anybody tell me what the hell "swedish local and traditional style" is? For me it is really ugly grey concrete blocks and some random red houses with white sides, remade as shawarma places. I love that the made the sentence so vague, I mean it's up for your own interpretation! I say let's rebuild Drottningholmsslott (the royal family's residence) to a shawarma dining place. Yeah! I'm already exited to get back to Sweden to see what the hell is going on. Skräckblandadförtjusning.

morning encounter

2007-10-19T00:16:00.000-07:00

This is the first living creature I met this morning, maybe the rendez-vous would have been more pleasent if it hadn't been laying dead in my müsli. But since I'm a very open minded vegetarian, I treated it with a lot of respect, not questioning how in the god's name it ended up there and nor questioning whether it had brought any friends? Just gave it the small talk that this was unacceptable, we can't having dead corps laying around in my food. Then I ate the rest of my plate with yoghurt and müsli.

...

2007-10-16T14:18:00.001-07:00

It is kind of obvious that you have a crush on someone when you start smiling by seing someone who has the same shoes as that person. Can't wipe this stupid smile off my face.

Ma vie en rose

2007-10-15T13:43:00.000-07:00

Still dancing on clouds after the incredible meeting with a professor at my school. Zaida Muxí. What an amazing woman. She answered my email after 20 minutes, giving me her personal mobile number and saying that ofcourse we should meet. I was expecting a strict argentinian lady, but when she opened the door and greeted me with a big smile and a : Sara? and then kissed me on the cheeks (twice ofcourse!) she was just like any woman in her fourties, very relaxed and with very warm eyes that keept very fixed to mine. Good sign. Then we spent 45 minutes in her office talking about both the "Loving Architecture" project and other stuff. And now I'm gonna meet her every thursday for personal tutoring, it still feels like a dream. My other professors refuse to talk to me, and whenever you approach them they say: I really don't have time for you right now (altough they're doing absolutely nothing for the moment), go and talk to the assistents if you need help. Actually imagining kissing my other professors on the cheeks is like funniest picture I had for months...

To say " Don't make yourself more stupid than you are" in spanish is saying "Don't pretend you're swedish".... Can't decide whether this is an advantage, good escape in tricky situations...or if people actually hink that we are stupid. I think I'll start to use this as my advantage from now on.

closer to the Truth

2007-10-12T15:06:00.000-07:00

I think I'm getting closer to realising some really existential stuff. I should probably be out playing with other kids, but I have some really heavy issues to deal with first. I think it has to do with my phone. Or better, my phones, cause I actually have two of them. You see, they are both Nokia, but from different epoques. The one with my swedish number is the newest, and therefore also smaller, and the spanish one is the rather clupmsy very old fashion one that fills 80% of my bag. (Fortunately I don't have so much money so there isn't so much competition about the space.) The thing is that I see them as symbols of me, they're my identity in the shape of two plastic covers! The swedish one is working very well, it's small, handy, cheap and reliable. The spanish one is expensive, always low on battery, unreliable and just to big. It matches perfectly my two sides, my paralell lives. So, my plan is to get a new phone. Since I choose plan C... I thought it might be the logical alternative. To do list: 1. Get new phone 2. Stop having identity crisis 3. Decide whether to stay in BCN or not

plan A

2007-10-10T14:39:00.000-07:00

A good friend of mine told me a very wise thing when I moved to Barcelona. She said: "Sara, you have to focus on your plan A, if you make a plan B then you'll never get your first plan". I thought this sounded truelly clever, although now, I'm getting more and more convinced that plan C actually might be the best plan. Does that make any sense? This weeks most brilliant qoute is from an amazing Skype conversation, wont mention any names. Here brought to you in original language! " Åh så strulade jag till det lite och hade sex med en fjärde kille....sen så köpte jag den här blomman..."

...

2007-10-06T00:59:00.001-07:00

May I introduce you to Angie and Malcolm.

I finally decided to stop being bitter and dissapointed on Barcelona. It's not fair to anybody to have that kind of expectations to live up to. So I stopped being angry, and started smiling instead. And waking up every morning to this little fellow smiling and laughing, who could do anything else.

dramaqueen

2007-10-04T14:44:00.000-07:00

Identitycrisis coming up. You might see my moving to Barcelona as an effort to get to know my other half, the spanish half. I'm a product of this city, I must be attached to it somehow... But my body is having problems adjusting to Barcelona and is screaming to go back to Malmö (or Copenhagen or Gothenburg or wherever home is...)

Today my spanish identity teamed up with the swedish one and it turned out to be a rather killing combination. I completely snapped when the techer of this mornings first class started talking in Catalan. He even had the bad taste of first asking if there was anyone in the class of apr. 20 people who didn't understand Catalan (and ofcourse he asked in catalan). Three people including me raised there hands whereby he looks straight at me, explaining (now in spanish) that he wont speak spanish and that he's not gonna force any of the students to do so. The rest of the lesson was a debate about this text by Rem which I completely missed out that we were supposed to read. But anyway I was to angry to even try to focus on what they were saying. I stormed out of the classroom after the class runnig up to the Erasmus office to try to find out who was actually in charge off this bad joke. It turned out to be a very serious older gentleman. He took my upset talk very serious but just gave me the same explanation I already heard 1 million times before. We're in cataluña, the political issue about whether they should speak in both languages or not is like a hot potatoe, that obvioulsy nobody wants to touch. I tried to ask him why in the goods name they have an international exchange program when they can't provide any international languages (catalan not being considered more ineternational than swedish last time I checked) such as spanish or english.... This question was a bit delecate for him to answer, and I had to leave the office just as frustrated as I entered. The only good thing i got out of it is that now I know that I'm really good in spanish when I get really really angry.

dove shit

2007-10-02T14:02:00.000-07:00

Sitting in the park today, minding my own business drawing todays task when my teacher approaches me and says I should move and sit on another bench to avoid the sunreflection on the paper. (Apperantly it's bad for your eyes.) My teacher, a very intimidating older catalan lady, isn't the kind of person that you argue with, so I move to next bench. Approximately 10 seconds on the new bench passes when something is falling in my head and on my white dress. It's green, it smells bad and it comes from the trea above. Yes, it's dove shit. Quite a lot of it. I don't make a very big deal out of it, I just go to the toilet of the café and wash it off me. Disgusted, but hey- dove shit is supposed to mean good luck, right? I go back to my seat, the others laugh at my wet hair and somehow the atmosphere is a bit more relaxed. Then it happends. As in slow motion or as a slow-rewind the exact thing happends again. Once might be good luck, but twice must either mean that the luck is inverted or that I'm just very stupid to go back to the shit-zone. My inspiration to draw went away, and giving the bird a glance full of hatred muttering the worst swearwords I know in spanish, impressing most of the other Erasmus student, I try to make a dignified sortie, despite the wet hair and dress full of wet stains. The drawing is still there unfinished, full of shit stains.

I was so traumatized I felt it was entitled to eat one chocolate croissant and one entire chocolate bar, 200 g. I blame the dove.

chocolate cravings...

2007-10-01T14:13:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it's due to all the excessive time that I have or of it's the fact that my daily routines are a bit fucked up trying hard to adjust to the spanish mealhours, but I'm hungry all the time. I just realised that I have a sugar addiction, trying for 15 minutes not to eat the chocolate buiscuits on the table next to my bed. But 15 minutes was all I could stand concentrating on not wanting the sweets, then I ate them all with a relaxeness comperable to Gollum. This weekend I went to visit my aunt together with my flatmate, a friend and her 9 month baby. When we came into my aunts house her husband greeted me with a: " Sara! Are you eating enough? You look so much thinner!" Whereby he goes out to the kitchen to fetch chocolate buiscits for me to bring home. Tomorrow I'm starting chocolate-addiction-rehab. Yes, definetly, no more sweets. If I might be cranky and angry, you all now why.

.....

2007-09-26T10:26:00.000-07:00

I definetly think that the world would be a nicer place if people got more real mail. Facebook is artificial shit and I'm sick of it. I want to meet people for real. thanks P

back in business

2007-09-25T16:07:00.000-07:00

Just when I thought that I actually was gonna give up, Barcelona is finally smiling at me. It's one of those shrewed smiles that tells you 1 million things and yet nothing, misterious and at the same time hopeful. With the fresh smell of spraypaint on my hands and the comforting feeling of being physically exhausted I'm going to bed. Goodnight.

top 5

2007-09-12T14:37:00.000-07:00

1. I love listening to swedish radio on the web. The swedish weather/sea report has a soothing effect. 2. Walking to school the first day through a wakening city, still empty from tourists and then taking the metro all across Barcelona is actually kind of magic. 3. Neighbours. I love them, this house is full of warm and loving people ready to give away bikes or just drop by for a chat and some coffee in the kitchen. 4. Finally finding out how the credit system works and realising that I don't have to take all the heavy construction courses but that I can focus on the funny theoretical and practical ones. 5. After 3 weeks in the country that God forgot (at least when it comes to administrative stuff) I've learnt to appreciate to see the beauty of their very complicated system for everything. In a normally functionaling country as eg. Sweden, we make a sport out of making things as un-complicated as possible. Here it's the other way around, the more complicated the more spanish! They go on, until they've created a system they don't even understand themselves. Short illustration: The school of architecture has a café, a very normal café, the same standard as any other cheap school café, nothing fancy. But to be able to buy something you can't just walk up to the counter to order. No, no, no! that'd be the easy way, let's complicate it. Let's put 3 big machines in the entrance just so far from the counter so that you can't see the stuff they're selling and then make the tags on the machine in catalan and so small you, if you'd understand them, anyway wouldn't see what it said. So, to be able to order you have to first walk to the counter, see what you want to get, try to figure out what the name is in catalan (forget about any illustrative signs!) and then walk all the way back to the machine. First put in the correct amount of money, then choose what you want and press for a receipt. Then you go back to the counter with the receipt and eventuelly, when the lazy staff notices you and stop talking to eachother, you 'll be able to get your coffe/drink/food/sweets. No, they couldn't make it more complicated! What can I say, I bow for the queens of complications!

potentially my new bike

2007-09-12T13:46:00.000-07:00

2007-09-10T14:41:00.001-07:00

Oh, I feel so much like go out and paint but I'm a chicken. Although there is graff everywhere I feel like I know I'd get busted again, I really don't feel like examining what spanish jail is like. I'm sure spanish policemen can be tougher than the danish ones are. And that wasn't a pick-nick I tell you. Pets I've met today. Ok so I met some other spanish real people to, but the cat was the only one rubbing itself to my legs so I thought I give it it's very well earned 15 minutes of fame. Here you go cat. And for all of you, eager to know if the Catalan nationalism is still alive, here's the proof for you. As I live on the square which happens to be a very important historical landmark for all the Catalans I'm also in the centre for tomorrows celebrations since september 11th is Catalonias nationalday. Do I have to say that I'm afraid of their nationalistic side. And still this is only the preparations... tomorrow is gonna be 10 times worse. I'm seriously considering going to my grandma's to sleep, when Catalans normally talk I get an headache becasue of their general tonedeaf and always slightly too highpitch vioces. Imagine what their inferno-like fiestas will be like. Just. outside. my.window.

spending time with flatmates

2007-09-10T01:26:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, after spending hours infront of Skype and trying to find flight tickets to Paris, Oscar and I went to Montjuic and the bar La Caseta where my other flatmate, Amelie, works. It was a nice bus trip on serpentine streets up one of Barcelonas sourrounding slopes and when finally there I was amazed with the view. It was industrial romanticism all over the place. Me like! We had a really good time up there although having one or to beers to much on an very empty stomach so when I came back lots of hours later, everything was spinning.

oh, and I almost forgot to mention my surreal night experince, chasing a mosquito around my room for three hours. After showering myself with mosquito spray and cursing the bloodsucking hijo de puta, I finally managed to get some hours of sleep. But it was sleeping with one eye open, be afraid mosquito, be very afraid!

shopaholic shopping the days away

2007-09-08T11:54:00.001-07:00

This is what you do when you get bored, you spend money on things you can't afford. I'm proud of being a citizen of this world where my existence is being confirmed by how I dress. Nothing gives me the same thrill as finding a pair of second hand shoes and the knowledge that nobodyelse is gonna have the exact same pair.

Despite all this strive for being unique, I found myself walking in to H&M today. I suppose it was the combination of boredom and sentimentality that made me put left foot in front in right in a repitious pattern and follow the crowd in to the mecca of "cheap clothing for the masses". But since I already spent all money on silly pants from Wood Wood (hello sentimentality again, why do I only go into shops that are scandinavian?) I didn't buy anything.

spending time with me

2007-09-06T02:53:00.000-07:00

I'm really not good at being alone, but the last two weeks has been good practice, although I've actually haven't been alone so much, it's just the feeling of not being able to call a friend whenever to have a cup of coffee... or the feeling of all of a sudden bump into someone familiar in the street. So guess if I was suprised when I bumped into someone I actually recognise yesterday. It was a Georgian girl, Tina, who was also a tutor for a workshop in Greece, just a month ago. Appearently she's doing her masters in Barcelona, but not in my school. She was together with a friend and the three of us went for coffee and everything was very surreal. But yet so normal. We were mixing english and spanish and I had to bite my lip not to speak in english all the time, it just felt like such a relieve to talk fluently. My spanish is really horrible. I really hate talking slowly. Yesterday I also gave the "hanging -out -with -other-erasmus-students" a second chance. They were all supposed to go to the National Museum of Art, which I wanted to visit anyway. They were gonna meet outside the entrance of the gigantic building, which is on a hill with lots of wide stairs kind of looking like they're flooded out from the building. I felt really small walking up the to the impressive huge building. In the stairs just a couple of metres in front of me were to guys holding folders with UPC big logo on it, the same that we had all gotten the first day at the welcome-thing. They were Mexican students of civil ingenere and seemed very nice. Unfortunately I didn't get into their group, insted I was in this group of 29 italian and french people. Whoever made their clothes seems to have got their fingers stuck to crtl+ C and crtl+V. They looked completey clooned. The guided tour lasted for about 2,5 hours and after that I decided to walk all the way back to town. I ended up crossing big part of the town and it took my about one hour but it was definetly worth it. I feel like I'm getting to know BCN little by little even though it's going veeeery slowly. My sense fo orientation is horribble and these 1 million narrow streets going in circles around themselves isn't helping! Uh, I miss New York, the only city I've ever been able to orientate within.

when death comes around

2007-09-03T13:39:00.000-07:00

so, obviously death had to come around sooner or later. For me it was later. I hadn't been to a funeral, until today. The person who died was my grandmother's brother's wife, Carmen. She was cremated in a very cold room behind a very big glass wall, on the other side, were we, the audience. There was this totally wierd atmosphere of people having kind of empty gazes from time to time, but everytime they passed by me they seemed to forget about that we were at a funeral and that death was all around us. They started talking to me about my education or how much I had grown since last time they saw me giving remarks on my weight and pinching my cheeks. The fact that I was the only one under 50 only draw more attention to me... But in the end I'm very glad I came. It's not that I'm afraid of death, it doesn't scare me as much as it irritates me, not knowing what happends afterwards. Also went to school today for some kind of introduction, but in the end it turned out to be this welcome only fo the erasmus students of UPC, kind of got bored of it and bailed. Thought I'd go to my faculty to see if I finally could get some more info about when things will get kicking. Turned out that like 100 other students had got the same idea...the queue for the erasmus people, was huge. But in the end I was helped by this very nice man who even came running after me when I had left just to tell me this very small detail....I have to admit that it felt so very nice to hear my name out loud as he was shouting ; sara, sara after me. Somehow I think I was more accepted becuase I was very clever to show him my spanish passport. Bienvenido a Barcelona.

The time we went to the market.

2007-09-02T11:15:00.000-07:00

Got up at 06.00 to go to Llafranc up the cost like 2 hours by car from Barcelona. Llafranc turned out to be a very pittoreque village with tons of tourists, and catalans wanting to bathe at the nice beach. My aunt (yes, it's her on the picture in a very dramatic cionversation explaining how she makes her neckleses), her husband and I spent one entire day (from 08.00 to 00.00!) selling stuff (mostly bracelets and neckleses) my aunt made. It was very nice, and as long as I kept my mouth shut I think I could have passed as Catalana! Yes, finally! I think it's got a lot to do with my new haircut. You see it's horrible, and looks a bit less trendy than my last one, so in some very wierd way I somehow fit better in now. Good situation turned bad. Although I still look like I'm 45 years old....uh. So I've finally connected with the locals. Made a new friend yesterday- Alex. He's 5 years old. We spent sometime together competing at the beach who could best escape the waves without getting wet. Since I had apr. 70cm longer legs, I kind of had an advantage... but I have to say I had the best time in a long time. When my aunt- Roser (Oh, I think I have to introduce her soon, she is kind of a key person here...), anyway, when she asked Alex who he liked to sit next to and he told her: "Sara, I want to sit next to sara, I like her best". Then he declared very seriously: "Sara, it doesn't matter that you're not from here and that you don't talk spanish very good, we can be friends anyway. And you know we both have red blood!" Finally someone who is at the same level. Interpret that however you want.

I'm sweating

2007-08-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

I'm sweating so much it's silly. Woke up at 4 yesterday night and was swimming around in my own bodysweat., it's really amazing how much you can produce. I had to go for a walk around the apartment to cool down, and then I slept very very close to my new best friend. The fan. Went to the University today, had to cross the entire city to get there, and wanted to find out when I'll start and when I have to be there, but there was very little answers to get. When it's closed here it's really closed- "Tancat" (closed in catalan) is a very useful word in my newly gained catalan vocabulary. But managed to find my way to the foreign student's office and was helped by one of these stereotype university nerds that probably look the same wherever you go, made me feel kind of warm inside. Good to know that at least some things doesn't change. He was surprisingly informative for being spanish, but in the end he didn't answer the main question, when do the school, start?! The question remain unanswered. And I'm too hot to bother, right now I wouldn't want to go to lectures or do anything that acqiures that i have to think or produce anything. Finally my friend Nina gave me the best solution for my disgust for all the tourist, she thought I could just hide and shoot at them from my window out to the plaza outside infront of the church. Sniper-Sara! Combine work and fun.... No but seriously, i really hope tourist season is soon over! Tomorrow is beach time. The city is to hot.

Flee market

2007-08-26T07:32:00.000-07:00

Entrence.

chaos.

the bread phone!

flat mate no. 1

flat mate no.2 + Emma

300 year old

2007-08-24T01:21:00.000-07:00

The stair. Yes, walk carefully no step is like the next one!

yes, this is our toilet. it might look broken to an amateur, but it's working perfectly, you just have to remember not to pull the metal wire, but the small white plastic tube instead.

metal wire= no

white tube =yes

..and then we have the doors...and I can hear your question: - Is that the door?

The answer is ofcourse: - Yeah, who needs privacy anyway?

2007-08-23T15:23:00.000-07:00

The view from my bedroom at streets is C/Volta dels Tamborets no.4...(yes it's still raining!)

Barcelona fever

2007-08-23T15:05:00.000-07:00

Barcelona is magic but also annoying. Right now she is playing hard to get. But I'm not gonna give up only becuase I've caught a cold and the fact that it's been raining everyday since I came here! These silly tourists keep me awake all night and the churchbells wake me every morning with the familiar sound of Barcelona.