How's this for a Tuesday?

I'm standing on the brink of having the time of my life. It's as if I've always been waiting. I've missed before, but never longed with such intensity.

♥♥ Happy Birthday, Knit! ♥♥

One fall day in 2003 I saw a bunch of kittens jumping around, round bellies and triangular tails, by the outside building. Of course I had to go over there with some food and of course only one kitten was brave (or hungry) enough to come out. He was laying on the paper plate, arms stretched out, growling as he was eating. I couldn't help but pet him, and later on pick him up, just a litte bit to see what it was like... I could feel every bone and he reminded me of a small bird. Later that night he was found again. In the drive way, meaning he crossed the whole yard, wobbling. He couldn't even walk like a real cat yet. I was just going to let him stay in the house over the night, after all he was very tiny and the night could be quite chilly. But when I came down to the drive way he was nowhere to be found! I looked under the cars, checked the grass, and then I looked down by my foot, and there he was. My wonderful little Snowball. My intention really was to let him back outside the next day, but by that time his mother was gone, the other kittens were still there, but he was much smaller than them. Only weighing 125 grams he needed me almost as much as I needed him.

It's been seven years, he's all grown up but he's still my baby Knit. Have a happy birthday you marvellous thing!

Summer, how I hate you.

You're the fickle mistress of an entire people. They worship you as if you were a goddess, they wait for you, long for you, plan for you, celebrate your arrival. What do you offer in return? Scorching heat or pouring rain. Mosquitoes, wasps, peeling skin, naked children, flipflops with socks, closed hospitals, caravans tipping on bridges, ice cream stained asphalt and arguments in cars.

No, summer, I'm not charmed. No flowers can compensate the autoreplies I get from e-mailing the university. No heat can justify me in a bikini on a square. I hate you, detest you, loathe you. You're the barbed wire I have to crawl through to get to the air at the end of the tunnel. Autumn, I will embrace you this year in ways I never have before.

As a mistress you have twisted their heads, summer. They can't see you for what you are, you lying good for nothing whore.

Today

Today I smell like sunshine, I'm blinded by the heat and the birds will need a speech therapist if they keep this up. With all that, this comes to mind



Don't worry, love, I get the irony. Especially as irony is the love of my life.

Summersummersommercomekomhere

It's a beautiful day, said like we all know exactly what beautiful is. I say it's that time a year when you can't hope for a last brush of winter to save you from submitting to the sun. Every year I go through the same process of not wanting it. Summer is the end. It's the wet stain on the sheet and the last breath before sleep. It's the eggclock reminding you dinner's burnt. It's the exploding tires on the interstate. It's the last shake of the ketchup bottle.

It's a vacuum of nothingness. Long bright days that all sink into each other where nothing happens and nothing's exciting. For it's supposed to be exciting in it's mere existance. Throwing a party with the best of guests but lacking a script or a room to be in. Standing under the open sky holding empty glasses, summer's supposed to fill them all you know. Fill us all with joy and misplaced understanding of the greatness of life.

But what happens to those of us who won't succumb to the beast of a queen summer is? We'll hide behind giant hats and sunglasses and pout with teapots beneath the great shade of oaktrees owned by the crown. Leaving all that not aside, it's always the same where I patiently wait for those sun addicts to have their time, I soak my toes in lukewarm lakewaters and wait. Wait. Wait. Wait for September where life can begin anew. Without all the distractions of clothes barely worn and memories soiled by disapointments.

Redemption and to be forgiven

SVT1 aired a documentary/interview with Annika Östberg yesterday. Prior to this two other documentaries had shown her life, how she ended up where she did, but we didn't really get to hear her speak. She was asked if she had any regrets, and she said something down the lines of "of course, don't we all, but I'm more sad that my mistakes effected me in the ways they did, and effected other people the way they did". I found something in that, maybe not the obvious. The consequences are often what we're upset about. If the outcome is good we rarely concider it a mistake, it's a fortunate turn of events, a chance, a break.

The fact that she was locked up for as long as she was, 30 years or so also raised a few other trails of questioning in me. When are forgiven in a human perspective? I'll leave the divine to someone else that knows more about it than I do. I'm not interested in what she was convicted of in that sense either, but the crime involved was murder. She was present when two murders took place. (I'd like to add that she doesn't deny involvement, but she didn't pull the trigger). Either way it went down she was in a situation that cost two people their lives. Naturally the person the American authorities was more upset about was the police officer. But that's a whole other can of worms. So, basically, she spent 28 years in American prison and 2 years in Swedish prison and now she's in rehabilitation, a life rehab. I can't shake the feeling that there's no way to be forgiven. At the same time I know that locking me up with my own thoughts for 3 decades is more punishment than I could bear, especially if those thoughts are about my guilt for someone else's life. Is that humane? Or is the whole point that it's not supposed to be humane?

How do the families of the victims move on as long as the person that caused the dead of their loved ones is locked up, doesn't that create a neverending present? Losing family members and friends to death is something we'll all experiance, and yes sometimes it's lovely to have someone to blame. So I quickly jump onto the next lilly pad of, should we hold on to that pain forever? Maybe it's simple math. You're guilty and should beat yourself up for as long as the person whose life you took should be alive. Meaning that if you kill someone in their 60s your guilt is shorter than if you kill someone in their 20s. I'm not sure I like that equation though. Murder is the extreme of the harm people do to each other, isn't it? I'd like to think that he worst prison guard a person can have is oneself, but maybe that doesn't apply to everyone. I can only think that 30 years of your whole existance being the consequence of one fatal mistake is more harsh than a physical punishment. It is however possible that I think so only because I know what mind demons can do to a person. How to remain sane while having the worst representation of oneself being the entire you must be close to impossible.

Back to holding on to the greif. Of course I see the need to punish people for murder. But to what extent? What gives the families of these victims the right of the possibility to hold on it for so long? The period of grief after death is two years. I'm still within that period, technically. Would I like to be reminded of that death? No. Not at all. Would I like to be reminded of the death 11 years ago? No. The death 18 years ago? No. To hold on to all that anger for 30 years! That's impressive! How is that reminder helping the families. Perhaps I'll never fully understand it. I thought forgiving is divine. (Couldn't stay away from the divine, could I?) It brings yet another thing to mind; being the bigger person and accepting life as it happens.

What mistakes do, and the consequenses of them is that it seperates people into good and bad. Bad people are easy to identify. They're in prisons, they're homeless, they swear. Not quite. If it was that easy to seperate the good and the bad I would have had plenty more good nights than I can testify to. The sad bit in is that once you've been labeled as a bad person it's hard to get a chance to be a good one. You're forever stuck in the negative so to speak. You're going to be compensating for that bad thing you did. Simple example most of us have seen; the former drug addict going to schools telling the students how bad drugs are and all the things the drugs made him/her do. (Does anyone else recognize the line of "It started with a cigarette"?) Forever compensating for the bad with the good, and always being reminded of it. Just like a beggar is stuck compensating the money received with putting up with the disgusted looks from the givers.

By now it might seem that I think we should let all prison doors open and abolish all punishments, but that's not what I mean at all, I'm simply using crime as an example for things we all do. Every time you say "I'm sorry" you're compensating your bad.

Should we really be judged on our worst moments instead of our best ones? To me the answer is evident.

Happy Easter!

I wish all of you a happy easter. And remember what came first, the egg way before the chicken. Dinosaurs laid eggs after all. Plus the chicken crossed the road because it felt like it.

This holiday will be spent doing nothing productive. I'll watch too many cartoons and kiss the cats too much. The perfect pasttime.

Gah!

If I come across another blog about a parent blogging about their child's miracles, or see another status update about what somebody's child is doing I'm going to vomit. Don't get me wrong, I can understand you're proud of your offspring, but seriously, people have been having babies as long as there world has had human beings.

I like to find interesting blogs that aren't too selfabsorbed and selfanalytical, but rather culture observing and questioning. That calls on people with agile minds to relieve my boredom and slentriant way of being, sort of like a recepie where someone sticks a frozen hotdog in a meatloaf. Anecdotes about kids doesn't do it as the full background of thoughts. Misunderstand me correctly, if the child does something fun, by all means share, but does the world really need to know what colour poop it had this morning? And then, taking on the bigger perspective, isn't this taking away from the children themselves? What if the child grows up to never want to share a personal detail online, ever? That choice has already been taken away. So, please, show your children some respect and assume that it will have some integrity later in life.

As a whole it seems that blogs and websites are becoming more streamlined, perhpas it's just that my intrests vary and I'm too lazy to find new watering holes. So, could someone please make something in any shape or form that takes a little from a lot and skips all the stuff I'm not really that interested in?

Indivuals aren't that interesting unless you actually know them and what's going on in their lives, stranger's kids aren't that interesting either, unless you love them and care for them, books are interesting, observations and conclusions are interesting, so are movies to an extent, history, sure. Turtles wearing backpacks and skipping on lilly pads - sure win.

EDIT: I'd also like to add that I have a tendency to end up on way too many political blogs, so if you share intrests with me, it seems you're either a mother who reads while your child sleeps or a political activist. I hope that doesn't say too much about me.

The world's richest

The other day I read something I've wondered for a while, if gold has always been the wanted metal we know it as. And yes, because it's softer and easy to work with it's been coveted. Good to know.

In the backwaters of the list of the richest people in the world. Good for them. Hopefully they earned it, deserve it. Hopefully all of us deserve what we have. I'd really like to read more from riches to rags stories, without any idealistic background, or political ones for that matter. Why is it that money is the only receipt for success? Why is it that beauty is the sure tell sign of happiness? At times it feels like I'm fighting an endless battle with every new person I meet, where I find myself in a situation where I have to defend harder to measure indicators.

Lists are practical ways to measure successful people, and people are easy to measure ourselves against, but does the comparison really say anything at all? Of course they don't.

International women's day

First a couple of sentences about Victoria Benedictsson. I was given the task to make my own literary canon. An impossible one as I found myself getting tied up in perspectives, but I lovingly remembered the first time I read Ur Mörkret, a sad yet perfectly composed story about a girl being brought up by her father and how she eventually came to detest her own gender simply because she couldn't live up to a male ideal. It's hard to be forgiven for being born a woman.

Then, today is also International women's day. Not the day for international women, but a day to remember that the fight for equality is very much still fought, every day still. So I mentioned it to an American friend, that appearantly never heard of it. That's a disgrace. In the sexual revolution the US was on top, women's rights were a big deal, women's camps and conferences, last time I heard about this part in modern history is when I listened to the P3 documentary about the history of female orgasm (if you know Swedish you can download it here) All I can think to ask is, what happened?! International women's day was always a big thing in school, as was UN day, and I grew up in the least gender equal part of Sweden, it still is by the way, it was in the news today, even.

Maybe it doesn't even matter what happened, it just reminds me that the world is hardly ready for the post feminism era. Either way I wish all women would get the chance to do with their lives as they please and don't feel forced to bleed on their wedding night. The idea of hymen is just another myth to control women's bodies, and deprive them of the human right to be their own masters. A woman's body is never quite her own, is it? There's always someone having an opinion on how it should look and what she should do with it. Again, that's why we need this day to begin with.

A contemperary angle of historical substance

You know exactly how they go, those employment ads. First it's a bunch of things that you're supposed to be that you're not, then things they offer than you don't really want, but they're masked for appeal and you think "Hm, that sounds fun", and then after you apply and wait, and try to imagine a life having that job, getting used to the idea you get a letter of refusal and you get a bit upset, but keep in mind what they're really asking for. Either way, I read the most darling article in the latest edition of Världens Historia. addressing the Middle Ages from this angle. I will let you non Swedish speakers enjoy part of it.

Want to experiance the world? Lego soldier

We offer: A varied job with lots of travels and excitement every day. Your pay is based on your results with a possibility of great bonuses during intense periods.

We demand that you

- can work independently and in groups

- that you're in good physical shape and that you're not afraid of chipping in

- that you bring your own shoes, spear and shield.

Then there's a little text informing you of what life was supposedly like for these soildiers. See, anything can be sold with the right PR agency.

Are you outdoorsy? Farmer (not fully true, but I don't want to use the politically incorrect term)

We offer a routine imprinted 96 hours working week with a lot of fresh air, flogging and abuse.

We demand that you

- bring your family

- are honest and duteous

- are ambitious and sustainable

Again, a text about the lives of those who were far down on the social latter. I'm probably a horrible person but the "we offer" part really made me laugh. Not even for that part could they find good selling points, but then again we all have our preferences of how we should be treated.

Tired of working 9-5? Nightman (honestly, I don't know what the correct English term is.)

We offer an exciting job from midnight to early morning. You'll get your own horse and carrige with barrel and plenty of exercise. You will also be living with your colleagues.

We demand that you

- bring your own shovel and bucket

- that you're not afraid to get dirty

- that you have good nightvision

So what did they do? They emptied the latrines. Both public and private during the night by candle light. They made twice as much money as a journeyman, but they stunk so badly they couldn't live among others. Talk about a crap job. But like my late father used to say "People will do just about anything for money, some even work".

Naturally there were other jobs as well, but knowing my luck I'd end up as one of those three. Luckily for me times have changed a bit. Here at least.

Unfortunatly, I choke on my own giggles at the nightman employment ad when I remember the caste system, and how by default this profession still exists, while the Portugese were the ones that introduced a caste system, it still lives on. I hope it isn't news to you that toilets aren't a common man possession in India and they still have human beings collecting human feces. As European countries withdrew, moved on and hopefully moved on some of the bad ideas live on.

Feudalism was from a humanitarian point of view a disaster from beginning to end. Too bad we haven't fully reached the end of it. The idea that one person can be worth more than another based on their heritage physically disgusts me. We're all worthy of the same respect no matter who or what you are. Even if you're stupid I'll respect you based on being human, but that doesn't mean I don't get a laugh or two out of the things you say. No offense.

So much for cultivated beings

For the 50+ years the UN has had peacekeepers out in the world it's been going on, sexual relations between the soldiers and the people they're set to protect. Last year Swedes were sent home for this very reason. Even though they know it's not allowed they do it, still.

I have one main question, and then some following: Why are you such horny fucks? Can you not hold it until you get home, or are you so rejected by your natives that you feel like you reached heaven when poor women are available? Nevermind world peace as long as I get laid, is that an idea the UN should stand for? Of course not. Are all inhibitions tossed out the window when put in the heart of darkness? Perhaps Joseph Conrad was on to something. The consequenses don't seem to be enough of an issue to stop the behaviour.

In Kongo Kinshasa the very center of the mission is to keep the women safe. Rape is just a war strategy, one that won't be met with guns. It's using women from two different angles. Getting them to do what you want with money or a dream of a better life somewhere else, or planting the seeds of militia in the wombs of thirteen year olds, the victims are still women. Not in one of the world's most poor countries, but the poorest country.

In lack of better alternatives we rely on help organizations as well as the UN to do the right thing, but when the good guys are breaking the rules, what can we put our faith in? And first and foremost, who will fend for those who can't fend for themselves?

Valentine's day

The name Alla hjärtans dag (All heart's day) is oh so much sweeter. Don't forget to love every day, not just when greeting card producers tell you to.

Speaking of stupid stuff...

It never ends... I read this article, basically saying that a conscript was left standing in rain and cold saluting without gloves. This gave him a 1% disability and he recived 12 000 kr from the government for his handicap.

I love newspapers, the full story is never told. I wonder, why was he out there, why wasn't he wearing gloves, why for an hour, is it possible to get disabled from saluting in the cold? There has to be more to this story. Oh it did say that he was out there for an hour. An hour in the cold makes you handicapped. Good to know. Thank you.

Iron-y in the loyalty

In order to remain neutral Sweden had to promise Germany that the supply of iron from Norrland wouldn't subside, so in that Germany took Norway and Denmark, while Sweden promised not to interfere. By 1944 Sweden had gotten 40 tons of gold from Germany. I guess that's the price for throwing out all loyalty. 60% of the iron Germany required after 1933 when Hitler decided to ignore the deal made in Versailles and rebuild the army came from mines in Sweden. Germany was with that depending on supplies from Sweden, and occupying Denmark and Norway was a strategic move to keep the route between Sweden and Germany open.

So basically, in order to not be occupied by Nazi Germany Sweden had to promise to give NG what they wanted. In exchange for gold, of course. Naturally there are two sides to this. Of coure I think that Sweden should have helped their neighbours. But for what, really? Would the outcome have been any different. Sweden grew richer and the following decades the economy was blooming. What would Sweden's identity have been had it acted differently during WWII?

Another aspect to concider is Sweden's historically close relationship with Germany. At the time for the war German was more widely known than English among the Swedish public. Alliances grow through common intrests. We see the same in more current events. Three countries, US, UK and Iraq. Need I say more?

Leaving history and politics to the side, people are just people, and yes we're loyal to our friends, but we sometimes need to ask ourselves, what's a friendship worth, and whose dead body am I willing to walk over to get what I want?

Coming up

Timo Räisänen digitally released Numbers January 26. The album "The anatomy of Timo Räisänen" set to be out March 24. Just so you know. And if you don't care, well maybe then you should.

Calling all humanity

I turned on the TV to watch some random crap to waste some time with and the regular programming had been replaced with a disaster gala to raise money for Haiti. We've all been reading and hearing about it for the last almost couple of weeks. The horror is just too vast to grasp. Reporters stumbling on words and children disappearing from hospitals. The stench of death and the ultimate loss of a dignified life. The breakdown of civilization and a whiff of anarchy. An experiment of what happens when there's nothing to lose and all to gain.

For me the whole event and scenario raises other questions circulating around the concept of humanity. About 9 months or so ago I wrote about how the world is so divided and how a disaster would pull us together, how we'd all unite in misery against a common enemy. Have I gotten my wish? If so, it didn't turn out the way I wanted it. Yes, we all agree it's a horrible thing, yet we quarrel about which country needs to do what. In my opinion it's always the closest country that has the means to help that should pull the biggest load. If something happened in Finland, Denmark or Norway I'd go myself even though my help'd be utterly useless. But that's besides the point and it's leading me away from the actual one. What does it matter who does what? What does it matter about country budgets where a whole nation has been knocked down? Are we seriously that selfish? Is there no humanity left in the world on a national level. The people donate money and the governments send in armies. There is no chance of profit in disaster relief! Or maybe there is, what would I know. So yes, maybe humanity is lost after all, the endless shampoo commericals roll on, papers are printed, people go on dates, coffee pots bubble on, every day life is only disrupted by the plea for help when we turn our heads to face it.

Nature isn't our enemy even though it does us harm we wouldn't be able to live without it. We can't act suprised when something happens. It does happen. It hasn't been that long since the tsunami, and there was a similar dilemma then, who's responsible, who should do what? Is every government responsible for bringing their nationals home from a disaster area? Can we expect the help from our native land while we're on holiday? To me the answer is yes, but surely that wasn't as natural as I had assumed. Where does that leave us, when there's nowhere to turn, noone to call upon in times of need? You can witness this at a very basic level as well when the first snow falls, and the ice covers the asphalt. Suprise and accidents. We can't beat nature, all we can do is find ways to deal with the hand it deals us, and as human beings we should come together and make the best of it.

I won't tell you to donate your entire salary to help Haiti. I haven't. At the same time as I believe that we should help each other out I also believe in helping yourself. It has to do with respect. If you ask others for help in a situation you more than likely could handle for yourself you're pulling energy from others. It can be hard to tell when it gets to the moment where you have no choice but to ask for help. For someone that has lost everything it shouldn't be a matter of asking for help, it should be a matter of getting a chance to build your life back up again, without even having to ask. That's what humanity is. I wish the world had more of it. Human made disasters, are pitiful excuses for prehistoric behaviour while nature created disasters are a chance for us to show how far we've come.

You learn something new every day...

I read the most marvellous nonarticle on Aftonbladet's site today. Apperantly men grow up slower than women. Boys become men at the age of 27, and aren't mature until they're 29. There was also a poll conducted of how you can tell when someone's an adult. The options were "when you reach a certain age", "when you start working", "when you become a parent", "when you settle down with a partner", "when you move out of your parents'" and "some people never grow up". Also, according this article men still continue to drink themselves senseless and moon people after the age of 29. Women stop showing off their breasts at 23, but still remain obnoxious until the age 25, and stop swearing at the age of 26. Of course the comment field was full of explainations as to why this is, along with mentally stunted men bragging about how much they enjoy being assholes.

I say better to show your ass than being an ass. According to the study the following makes you an adult: stop swearing, only drink moderatly, only wear a reasonable amount of make up, stop mooning and boobflashing, have kids, and get this, listen to documentaries on the radio.

I say being an adult really only boils down to two things. Taking responsibility for yourself and those you care for and treat others with respect. How you respectfully moon someone I don't know, but maybe it's about finding the right arena for it. Don't moon the kindergarten class when you pick your child up, but moon your friends on a night out, or something. I really don't know. The criteria of "having children" is a bit silly. Isn't it better if you're adult before you have children? How well you can look after yourself in order to look after others. I'd like to think my cats are fairly well looked after. Does giving them food before I eat make me an adult? Does getting hours of entertainment out of playing with them make me immature? Is it possible to grow up and still remain a child at heart?

I think what the nonarticle was really trying to say is that you have to stop playing, you have to start enjoying boring things, because what could be more boring than a radio documentary? I can think of plenty of things. Some of those documentaries are pretty interesting! Perhaps it's simply about finding a balance between "fun stuff", and "things I have to do to be able to do the fun stuff". It's when things get out of hand that it's immature, when you don't take responsibility for your actions. Or perhaps being an adult means you get tired of acting like a moron, and when you know the the consequences for your actions might be a bigger chore than biting your tounge.

However, I do believe some people never grow up. I know a 42 year old that still refers to herself as a "girl". I'm trying to stop doing so in reference to myself, just like I stopped wearing braids in public when I turned 21. My games are more sophisticated now than when I was 6, and my daydreams about other things, but that doesn't mean I enjoy them any less or plan to stop. And oh yeah, I still swear.

More morbid stuff

No this post isn't about Darin. No matter how morbid he makes me feel. It's about the DNA testing of seven people buried in Riddharholmskyrkan. The testing is to establish their relation to Birger Jarl. He's been dead for close to 800 years, but appearantly being related to him is so important that ... Nevermind, let me unwind. He's the father of Magnus Ladulås so I guess that's why it matters. Why it matters I don't know really. Must we be opening graves up? I mean it obviously takes very long to be buried in Sweden, and then we have to be dug up again because of those exceptional things we did. How do you feel about that Moder Svea?

They're also going to open Karl XII's sarcophagus to examine the bullet that killed him. So much for the honor of Sweden's warrior king. Do they say "rest in peace" because the body is still there, in the ground somewhere to help rest the minds of those who still have questions about the past?

Time, again

On my usual hunt for something to read I came across this, an article about the time passing between death and the funeral. I can honestly say it's not something I think about daily. Apperantly, in Sweden, the average time is 20.2 days. Both Norway and Denmark have an 8 day limit. How the compliance in relation to this is, I don't know. But in time of grief one day can seem long enough and the funeral is a way to say goodbye. It's not for the dead but for the living.

My intention is not to sound morbid at all, I just found it fascinating. After some googling about how it is in the US it's my understanding that it's also about a week. So why is Sweden so slow? Does this have something to do with us being so slow in general? Waiting for three months to see a specialist at the hospital, 9 months for your decision from Migrationsverket, a month to find out how you did on your exam. All wheels turn so slowly here, and it can be utterly frustrating.

The suggestion of making a law on how long one has to wait to be put in the ground is out on remittance from the government to effected instances. God only knows how long it'll take for a decision to actually be made in the matter. My guess is three years.

Sweden is a lot about rules as well, there's usually only one way to go about things. Handy in one way, frustrating in another. For instance you can't apply directly to a college, you have to do it through the Department of higher education. It's fair, everyone's judged equally, on your previous grades, and you don't get extra credit for being the child of the professor. Trouble is that there are no shortcuts, and we become mainstreamed and it's easy to fall off the wagon on the way to success. We're all expected to go in the same direction and have the same ideals. There's no room to shake around and do it your way. There's only one place to buy alcohol, and very few movie theatres that aren't connected to SF. Are all Swedes exactly the same?

I'm sure you already know the answer to that is no. We're all just as different as any other nationality is, we just appriciate our vacation time, coffee breaks and klämdagar. This is however not reflected in the face of Moder Svea. To her we're all the same.

It goes nicely with the idea of every single person's worth. We're all worth the same no matter who you are, what you've done, didn't do or cried about in the park. Sometimes I just wish that we could see the greatness in the individual. But Jante law does not permit such disgusting behaviour, so here we are waiting to be buried because by golly, one musn't think your death is important enough to make someone change their schedual.