froekensocker

this is were I will be going
I promise. I will change blogs. I will write the other stuff I wanted to write. there is a note in our kitchen that tells us what we will do on which day. this is what's keeping me out of the internet and my head in piles of paper.

sometimes I love my friends simply for the things they reply to stories I tell.
my friend s. is a rather new one, but we are already very, very close. so I told her about the girl I like/ am in love with and her toothbrush. how she took that damn thing with her (which my other friend t, and me, interpreted as something like "there is someone else". which is stupid. doesn't prove a thing.)
her reaction?
"that's great! she's a great person! she takes her toothbrush with her when she leaves the house that means she cares about her oral hygiene and when she sleeps over at someones place she always has a toothbrush and it means that she likes to clean her teeth."

uhm. simple as that. I love that girl.

I understand them now, those books in sweden teaching youg women how not to suffer from a burn-out at thirty, we understand it. it's one of the main reasons why I don't want to start working right away after my studies. I want to travel and feel free, because I know myself. I know my working self and it can be horrible.
last term of 4-5 year studies, a teaching job and a university job. both with a whole lot of responsibility. if I don't work, the children learn nothing. if I don't work, the journal won't ever get published.
If I don't, if I don't, the world will stop turning.

I want someone to tell me that the world won't stop turning, someone to stroke the shortest part of my hair in the neck where it's both soft and rough.

we've made a plan for our weeks. a schedule for working, reading, studying, grocery shopping and meeting friends.

we will make it through this winter.

this is a week of firsts.
and I feel like life is rushing by me, again.
before this term began, I said to my friend t. "let's not have a life together!" and she thought I would "break up" with her. that was not was I was aiming at.
but we took oh so many classes at university, she even more than me, plus I have two sorta-part-time jobs, we have our friends and other things to organzie and classes outside of university and goddamn appartments we have to take care of and we need to buy our own food.

we've made a habit out of meeting on tuesday nights, to watch football and drink beer. at this point, I am usually in my spaghatta-nadle-mode, which means that nothing serious should be expected from me.
I come home from university about 18.30 in the evening, after 90 minutes of discussions about philosophical definitions of art and such things. I really do behave like a child.

so, this week:

- for the first time, someone picked me up from the airport with A HANDMADE SIGN that read "welcome home, m." initially she wanted to come as a business woman with a business sign that read "Mrs. Mxxxx Xxxxxx", and the name of the company: "cucumber salad"
- I flirted with the woman who outed me in sign language class. Ok, maybe it wasn't the first time. But it was the first time that I wanted and had to and did and felt better afterwards. because she looked right back into my eyes. and when my hand went through my hair, hers would, too.
- I went to Lucia choir practice. after years and years of waiting, I will finally have sparkly silver lametta in my hair and round my waist and oh, this is a frickin' life goal for me. I will admit it. when I unpack my presents on christmas eve, and there are ribbons around them, these ribbons magically still make their way into my hair. somehow. everytime. for the rest of the night.
- I played, as in activally acted, in a postmodern drama. no, not on a stage or anything, it was in a class. but I thought I had taken on a reading part. like, read this and that aloud, what does the class think about it? it always takes such a long time to find people who read aloud, because aaaah, reading in swedish and in class, omg. I don't care, really. so I thought I'd read. turns out, for the next 45 minutes, h. and me would have to run through the room, scream at each other, and I had to knee down on a desk (so that everyone could see me), smoke a cigarette (aka our professor's pen) and feed an imaginary dove.

this week was awesome. there is a huge chance that I will be going to the faroe islands next year. In 2,5 hours someone will cut my hair, probs not as good as my beloved hairdresser, but she'll be around and maybe help and I'll have short hair again. this is all I want right now. oh, and to not feel ashamed about having worked ca 1,5 hours of my 8 hours I should have worked this week. oops.

NOT.

do you ever only realize how badly you wanted something when it has become impossible?

I mean, that thing helps me to understand at least a bit of what the girl from far away is writing on her fb page when I shouldn't be able to understand anything at all,
but for me it's particularly funny when I run my swedish texts through it and read the english it spits out.
First bit of funny times: the "poem" I promised Jon in July.


July horniness

A long time ago
saying my thoughts
His parting words
With his head left empty and alone
We are naked on the floor
At night
Not the dark cool longer
Although it is difficult for our lungs
On the days we walk through desert
In the oasis of fountains
Does not reach one's home
To our thirsty bodies
Is dried again
and I am never hungry
but the taste of salt on the skin
a glittering mustache on his upper lip
would not you taste it?
For I must confess
-In the days when pants are glued to your thighs
I want you to River of em

now, I don't really know what "river of 'em" is supposed to mean. the infinite form "riva av" is correctly translated to "tear off". but "river of 'em" is really, really poetical. I kinda like it, as the rest of the poem.

a few years ago, only two or three, I took my picture with my webcam about two times a week. I stopped doing that for no reason, and it might seem self-centered but it is just so interesting to see. yesterday I stumbled across pictures that I first thought were three years old, but they seem to be from spring 2008. however that happened.
no. it simply has to be from the summer of 2007.
I looked at the young girl's face, yesterday, and thought "who are you? your face is so clean like nothing ever happened to you, there's a smell of fresh air around it, and those collarbones, where did you hide them? what happened to your face, it is wide open". I might post pictures to compare, but is that what it feels like to grow up? to get older? you look at your own picture and think THAT'S a photograph my children will look at 15, 20 years from now and scream "MOMISTHATREALLYYOU?"

I captured a lot of important moments with that camera. the time when I was obsessively in love with my tutor. the time when my grandma got cancer (and survived, btw). and that horrible time between the winter of 2007 and spring 2008. I look so tired. a hundred years old, like a light had been switched off. and a few weeks later, the sun shines through my window and I look concerned and sleepy but you see my face waking up. but I would never look that fresh and young and clean and open again. something changed.

I will not continue to simply complain about my life. every week I have to post something particularly beautiful or funny, so that I know that I am only 23 years old and have a face like a baby compared to that other face, three years from now.

so I will find something this week. Sign language class is something that is beautiful and funny at the same time, but the jokes are hard to understand out of context, I would have to show you. but the "your mom"-jokes have become a constant in those lessons, for example.

so, what about now? we are straddling the line between being creative dreamers and wannabes incapable of taking action, as jon said. that will change. Florence sings and in the spring I shed my skin and it will be spring again.
three years from now I will find pictures and think "what the hell happened" and by that time hopefully my face will have opened up again and a lot of good thing will have happened and love will have had a good impact on me.

it is the first night back from dublin and still the last night home again, until saturday.
there is this huge wedding, my fathers cousins son (yes) is getting married to his girlfriend. who is 25. when I heard that I looked at my watch.
I don't hear any clock ticking, but it still feels weird.

this is a short interlude, a shout-out to brietta: you lucky bastards on the north american continent! why is ivan hanging out with all of you, but not with us poor, poor europeans? you have to tell. everything. it's gonna be great, I am sure.

ireland made me actually feel better. it's a small difference, but it's important. I was there with two of my best friends and my favorite travel companions. it was a couple of days of declaring our love for one another. our closet case who was only out to me came out to the other one as well.
I realized things I didn't actually want to realize before over some pints of guinness, and that was painful. it was a stinging pain that almost made me cry instantly.
the first thought was regarding a person, and how stupid things turned out - but it feels ok knowing that this feeling might come up every couple of months or so and I'm fine with it.
It'd be more scary if I wasn't able to feel at all.
the second thing coming up was a bit stupid. for years now I have been joking about how I will surely become a therapist, or couples therapist, "when I'm a grown-up". guess what, I am growing up. I don't feel stable enough just YET but I had a moment when I realized that that was a calling, I HAD to be that. it's not only the thought that I could be one, if I wanted to, but that at some point in my life I will have to be a therapist of sorts.
I almost cried because this is scaring the shit out of me.

and then, again, dreams of sorts and communication that is going on my nerves. maybe I need advice. maybe I only want to talk about it so much because it fills empty spaces.

that girl from that country far away. I am happy she's far away. sometimes I miss her, because it was so casual. I didn't care. It was that night and now I realized she is interesting, like I am always interested in the casual girls after a couple of days. I am not in love and won't ever be but still she is annoying me. facebook destroys semi-anonymous one-night-stands in foreign countries, y'all.
anywho, she communicates like I communicated with my ex when I first met her. when I was the person who, under no circumstances, wanted to be in a relationship. she likes statuses. she answers messages, she talks, a lot, even when I first met her. but she talks about herself. she interacts a bit, reacts a bit, but never quite enough, even though she seems interested. it's a weird thing, and I shouldn't care but still I am the person who cares, and have always been.

and then her. the dreamwoman, as we call her now. I met her twice, briefly. the day after the second time I realized something was wrong. the night after that I was thinking about our wedding invitations. I haven't met her in 3-4 months now but dream about her OFTEN. and it's always the same kind of dreams. I am meant to be with her. someone else wants me but it's wrong. the last time I dreamt about her, I had another girlfriend who wanted to propose to me but i was ALL wrong. she was in the background and I knew I had to marry her and break my girlfriends heart. a few weeks ago, in portugal, I dreamt I had application sheets from women, and everyone was sort of my could-be-girlfriend. and I was reading the applications over and over again, they were all good, all the same but I couldn't make up my mind. then she came to me and asked "why are you double-checking everyone?" and I answered "because I already know who I have chosen".
I woke up at 5 am creeped out as hell because I had. already. chosen. her.
now what is that supposed to be? the love of my life? I have a creepy mind and a close relationship to my dreams, and that's important to me. but I don't want to lose myself in those dreams and I don't want to just project wishes and feelings on some person who is the victim of my made-up love.

so things are still a lot worse but feeling better. I am still confused. I have very little money left but want to go to paris. and see my friends in sweden. and then, and then, and then...

via autostraddle.tumblr.com

apparently here

eller i alla fall tre dikter, äh, dikter och dikter. ingen kan verkligen definera vad en dikt är, sâ jag definerar de här smâ utkasten som dikt, helt enkelt. de första tvâ skrivna av jon, den tredje tillägnad honom. 1.
HOPPA UR MORMORSDAMMET
OCH SKAKA
DIN FRÄSCHA UNGA VENUSKROPP!
Du är ju värre än mig
i vintras
SLAMPA LOSS!
Tänk en kort tanke
när du känner tvekan
Till exempel
"NEJ NU JÄVLAR"
Varje gång du tvekar
Du känner östrogenet,
testosteronet,
ostronet
och musslan
pirra i kroppen
Och så GÖR DU DET!
Du är fröken socker!
Du är en modig jävle ASS


2.
Du är som
en skälvande dominobricka.
Knuffa dig själv,
utmana dig själv,
SKRÄM DIG SJÄLV.
Skräm dig halvt ihjäl.
Precis som det beska
gör lingondrickan ljuvlig,
så ger dig skräcken en frihet,
en känsla av att våga,
att du är fri, stark och modig


3. Julikåthet
För länge sen sa mina tankar
Sina avskedsord
Med huvudet lämnat tom och ensam
Ligger vi nakna pâ golvet
Om nätterna
Inte är mörkret sval längre
Även det svârt I vâra lungor
Pâ dagarna vandrar vi genom öknet
Till oasen av fontäner
Når inte ens hem
Tills vâra törstiga kroppar
Är torkade igen
och jag är aldrig hungrig
men smakar salt på hela huden
en glittrande mustasch på överläppen
vill inte du smaka på den?
För jag måste erkänna
-I tiden då Byxorna är fastklistrade på låren
Vill jag att du River av em



eller sâ säger vi helt enkelt sâhär:

Kvinnorna också.  Det drama jag skrev om så mycket, det slutade visst inte som man hade önskat sig det, men det var dock underhållande – så länge det höll på. När man pratade om hur situationen egentligen stod till kändes det inte konstigt, det gjorde inte ont, det var en „okej nu går vi vidare“ känsla. Lite kallare än vad jag har vant mig vid att vara, lite mer som jag brukade vara innan jag upptäckte hur det verkligen kändes att vara ihop med någon man älskar. Och förlora den personen igen.

Jag har varit ärlig mot en tjej, jag har skrivit det där mejlet, jag väntar ibland men inte på riktigt; jag har, som hundra gånger förut, varit för blyg för att säga hej till en tjej som flirtat med mig på dansgolvet en hel natt, jag har kommit långt ifrån gamla vänner som jag inte känt mig trygg med på länge. Sånt folk som byter flickvän en efter en, som har förhållande efter förhållande. Visst har jag mindre samlag, men de förstår inte mig och jag förstår inte dem. Jag förstår inte hur en människa kan betyda så lite att man går vidare till nästa person precis efter den har gått. De tycker säkert det är tråkigt att inte ha flickvän på såhär länge.

Allt har för- och nackdelar. Allt. Även det här. Att vakna till liv igen är viktigt.  Att veta att det var RÄTT att tänka på henne så länge, till det ögonblicket man verkligen kunde säga till sig själv „men låt henne gå bara“ – för vi verkar ju leta efter helt olika saker  - är det likaså. Och om, nej, NÄR, jag träffar henne, den andra tjejen som är som hon ska vara men som jag inte ens känner ännu, är jag beredd och orkar släppa in henne.

Men för tillfället är det här ett paradoxalt tillstånd mitt i „julikåtheten“ (tack, jon) – man vet att man inte har något att ge, särskilt inte i ett fast förhållande, och samtidigt undrar man vad som är så dåligt med att ta, bara ta och inte ge, ett tag innan man orkar igen, om det finns en person som vill ge.

 

and in the spring I shed my skin 
and it blows away with the changing wind

(...)

Midas is king and he holds me so tight
and turns me to gold in the sunlight

[Florence and the machine]

 

Till en ny vår, nu.

„det är egentligen dumt att önska att ens liv vore en feel-good-movie.  I själva verket vill man ju att det är trailern till en feel-good-movie!“

Så eller liknande. Med hur många funderingar i huvudet som helst. Tre månaders sommarlov ligger framför mig, och sen? Plugg, två jobb, förhoppningsvis skrivprojekt, extrakurser? Privatliv?

t. föreslog att vänta en termin, eller en halv, till med magisterarbetet. Men, säger mamma, någon gång måste du bli klar. Men jag kommer ju vara det? Vad är viktigare? Att njuta av den tiden man har, att göra något man känner en viss passion för, eller att bli klar med något, att ha möjligheten att utvecklas efteråt och gå vidare.

2, 3 månader, sen kanske 2, 3 månader till.

Och sen måste man bestämma sig, efter hur många år? Det skrämmer mig, även fast jag har börjat vänta på det. Att det här studieprogrammet tar slut. Att vara utbildad. Att kunna gå dit man vill som en överkvalificerad jävel.

ladybugs.

 

sâ har josse varit här i en timme och man börjar prata svyska pâ en gâng.

Det här måste verkligen bli en long story short. Vad som hände sen var…

 

*Några dagar senare råkade jag skicka ett meddelande som var tänkt för min mormor till henne. Dagen därpå träffades vi på vägen till cafeterian (på universitetet, där man kan mötas hundra gånger om dagen utan att det är avtalat), det var lite pinsamt men egentligen ganska sött; två dagar senare fikade vi med några stycken. M. frågar vad vi gör på helgen, jag frågar om fotboll, hon svarar inte direkt, snarare „jag ska vara hemma blabla“

 

*jag har precis vant mig vid tanken att inte höra från henne på flera dagar och påbörjat min myshelg  - meddelande. 30 minuter senare träffas vi på ett ställe som ligger mellan våra lägenheter och tittar på ett asdåligt frankrike-spel.

 

*så, vad tänker man egentligen om det här: man har varit ute med en tjej man gillar, men hon måste gå eftersom hon ska upp tidigt nästa morgon. Men när man börjar känna sig illa till mods eftersom hon inte ville stanna längre lägger man märke till att hon inte går hem. Hon svänger inte in i gatan där man trodde man skulle skiljas åt. Hon följer med, hela vägen. Och man gör ingenting.

 

*hon dyker upp på midsommarfirandet, ingen kommentar innan kvällen. Jag hade sagt det två gånger, det är midsommar, har du varit där någon gång, osv. Hon dök upp, bara sådär. Det var andra vänner där, lite mer folk än vad det hade varit i vanliga fall. Det var en spänd kväll. Mysigt också,  men frågan var alltid, rör du vid mig, eller spelar det ingen roll? Jag sitter på gräsmattan med benen utsträckta, hunden som någon tagit med sig lägger sig bredvid mina ben, så för att klappa hunden måste hon nästan sitta på mina ben, när hunden har gått sätter hon sig på det sättet att hennes ben fortfarande ligger ovanpå mina. Även fast det inte hade behövts. När hon famlar cigaretterna ur min jackficka pussar hon mig på kinden, när jag pussar tillbaks ser hon lite förvånad ut. Hon går tidigare än de flesta andra.

 

*och när vår vän är full och vi sitter vid elden börjar hon skvallra. Om den där tjejen M. mötte för månader sedan, de brukar träffas och fika, fast den andra tjejen har ju pojkvän. Vännen tror att de är kära i varandra och att M. är alldeles upprörd pga pojkvännen och att det är en stressig situation. Hon vet fortfarande inte att M. och jag träffats ensamt, jag talade inte om för henne eftersom jag inte ville, att någon annan skulle blanda in sig i den här historian, och M. …?

 

*så, efter skvallerattacken letade jag efter min andra kompis, A. (tjej nr.2), som jag skrivit om tidigare. Hennes resonnemang var, säkert spelar hon lite grann, men hon var väl här pga dig. Okej. Get over it. Ta henne om du vill. Sedan förändrades samtalet och ja, i slutet hade vi nästan avtalat att vi någon gång kommer ha en, ja, affär, förhållande, ligg? Problemet: hon har pojkvän, hon med. och jag tycker inte om att vara otrogen. Men jag tycker det är något annat att vara den någon är otrogen med.

 

Ändå har det känts konstigt på flera olika sätt sen dess. Nu det där med pojkvännen som inte längre finns. Risken att de blir ihop. Risken att jag missat min chans. Är det bara ett spel, eller är det ett spel där någonting kan hända? Två personer har redan sagt att jag ska bara säga till M. att jag gilar henne. Jag är ju inte dödskär, som tur är. Men, ändå.

 

Och vad ska man göra åt den andra situationen? Jag har redan skrivit till henne att „erbjudandet fortfarande gäller“, men att hon först ska reda ut saker och ting i sitt förhållande.

 

Jag börjar längta mer och mer till portugal. Drama, bitches.