9 - My faith

I'm Linette and I'm an agnostic.
Why?
Because I think it's pretty conceited to claim we would have the slightest idea of what's going on.
We have the one side:
"But we don't claim anything, we just know in our hearts, we believe..that is faith!"
Then we have the other:
"What are you retarded? Show me proof!"

Does any one of them seem reasonable?

In my mind it goes:
A man in the sky? Really? I'm going with Epicurus on this one:

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent.
Is he able but not willing?
Then he is malevolent.
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him God?"
And to the other side of the coin:
Stop overestimating your own abilities. Our tiny little brains have no possible way of even being close to comprehend what is really going on. I mean it's the same as "Yeah the world's flat!" I understand the reasoning from the perspective we have today, and I am leaning more towards that, than any almighty God who gave his only son and so on.. But still, chill out, we'll all find out when our time comes.

You're all being unreasonable. The one thing we actually DO know is that we DON'T know..
Don't get me wrong, I don't care what you do. If you wanna spend every Sunday in church or if you wanna give an atheist rant on youtube, knock yourselves out. Just stop shoving your damn beliefs down my throat, I don't care.
"God bless you!" - Yeah, Santa gives his love...? What am I supposed to say? Thank you? I really don't know so I usually go with the very universal.. "uhm, ok."

Anyway, what do I believe?
As stated, I believe we do not know. I believe I am merely a human being, with no possible way of knowing which path is the right one. I can admire some people's conviction.. But what a bummer it would be to die, soul flying around aimlessly without a sight of any pearly gates.. Finally peeking through a window to heaven only to see a bearded man with 72 virgins..
"Oh crap, really, the muslims were right? Damn it..."
Or imagine the horror of expecting heaven and instead being pushed out a lady's vagina?
"Reincarnation? WTF? Ewww!"

I'm going with an open mind here, to avoid any disappointments.

Have I ever prayed? Isn't there any part of me that do believe in God?
Yes and no.

I have indeed prayed. When you feel like there is nowhere else to turn, then yeah.. It's worth a shot. Like I said, I do not know. I am also fully aware that me praying is a product of me growing up in a (somewhat) christian society. Although Sweden is one of the most secularized countries in the world, we still have a culture based largely on christian traditions. Would I have been born in Thailand, I'm pretty sure I would have gone about it differently.
So yes, some people may call me an emergency room christian, I still won't say I believe in God..
(or as my beloved cousin so brilliantly put it "You're a closet-christian!")

And, do I believe in the Bible?

No, absolutely not.
I do not believe in the garden of eden, I do not believe that some crucified dude was a son of this God-fellow.. I do not believe a single word of it actually. I do appreciate some of it. The sermon of the mount is absolutely magnificent. If we all were to take that to heart and really live it, we would have peace, we would have love, we would have mercy.
But we're assholes, so we don't. We may claim to, we may even preach it ourselves.. yet turn our backs to those in need, claim that love that goes against our cultural norm is sinful and we still slaughter each other for crying out loud. I mean wtf?

I also want to separate organized religion from faith. It is a vast difference in my eyes, and I do not care much for the former.

So, do I believe in something?

Yes, yes I kind of do. I have a hard time accepting that this would be it. That we would be it. Cause now THAT would be dissappointing.
Now what would that be? What's out there? What's the point of all this?

Well, that is anybody's best guess.

Read More

8 - In my purse

Read More

6 - My day

Read More

5 - What is love?

Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more...
Sorry, but it is a must.. Just like you can't leave the following sentence unfinished;
Now, this is a story all 'bout how my life got flipped, turned upside down and I'd like to take a minute just sit right there:

Eh? You thought it, don't even try!

This was kind of a cheesy one.
What is love..

Well, different for everybody I'd say, and different for each and every individual relationship.
Impossible to generalize.
I love the feeling of familiarity, memories, history.
I love laughter, especially that heartwarming laughter that you share with someone when you laugh at something that is slightly shameful, that probably shouldn't be laughed at.. It is never as funny as then.

I love the feeling of complete and utter trust. Even if people hurt me, that feeling of certainty that it surely wasn't their intention, they'd never want to.
I love the feeling of a warm a soft kitty that's sleeping in my arms like I wouldn't let anything in the world happen to them.
I love when people call me just to say,
"Hey, haven't talked in a while, I miss you, how are you?"
Or when they call specifically to tell me about something going on in their lives.
I love the feeling of fighting with someone, being so angry you think you could rip the persons head off their shoulder but at the same time still loving them.

Is that love? Yeah, to me that's love. And so, so much more than that.

Read More

4 - This is what I ate today

Because I'm just that cool.

Read More

3 - My parents

There were three rules in my house while growing up. Three rules that always applied and that I still to this day try to live by, and still to this day have to remind myself of:

1 - With freedom comes responsibility.
2 - Two wrongs doesn't make a right.
3 - You are not granted the right to be mean or bad just because someone else might be.

My parents have not always been given the gratitude they deserve.
My father worked three jobs at one point to keep us fed and dry while mom did her best to make bricks without straws.
Yet we never lacked. I never noticed. We had everything we could possibly need and probably lots more than that.

My mom was never cheap with what we had. She has taught me to appreciate a simpler life. A life where buying jam or processed food feels like cheating. I've grown up on home grown, home baked, home cooked treats of all kinds. Did I get honey puffs for breakfast I won, cause it was rare. I look at her now, still pickling her home grown veggies, making marmalade and stuff and I poke fun of her for it. "The war is over mom! It was over in -45..you can stop, food rations are no more. You know there are shelves full of jam at the store right?" But I can only wish that one day I will find the energy to actually obtain her knowledge and feed my future children the same healthy, unprocessed meals and not the kind of junk I now shove into my body.
She read to me a lot. And she sang, and nobody can sing a more beautiful lullaby than my mother, I swear.
She's a nurturer. A stubborn and very...rational one but still. Her ability to instinctively know what people need is something she must have inherited from my grandma. I don't have the same ability. Especially when people need it most I feel like I freak out and get stuck and can't think of a single, sensible thing to do.
I believe those two have always had a sixth sense.. "Aha - my student daughter is starving. I just know it.. though I haven't talked to her in a week.. I better swing by with left overs and two grocery bags!"
If she hadn't, all those countless times, I might have very well starved to death..or frozen..or ya know, pitied myself into oblivion.. cause sometimes all you need is your mom at the door saying "Ok enough. Get up, get dressed and get a fucking handle on your situation." Luckily it has been a long time since that horror struck me..

My dad. Oh my dad is Superman. I used to truly believe that.
I thought there wasn't anything in the world that man didn't know or couldn't do. I used to sit up on his shoulders and look out over the world and feel so completely and utterly safe.
He caught criminals for a living, he was an army ranger, a total badass in my innocent blue eyes.
As I got older I realized that my father was more of a normal human being, an incredibly strong and smart one.. but still, there are things in this world that could actually hurt him other than kryptonite.
So he went from army spec op to the police department to being a politician to becoming a university teacher. As if all those things were just another day at the office. Myself, I need three days of psychological preparation to be able to deal with a grocery shopping trip. So, still.. not far from superman. If I actually put on pants on a day off I feel secretly proud of myself for accomplishing that much. Army ranger? Yeah, come see me at the psych ward early morning of day 2, cause that's where you'd find me.
I have always had the ability to find that soft spot in my superman-dads heart. Did I take advantage of that in my rebellious teen years? Would I have been much of a rebellious teenager if I didn't? Or did he simply let me? I will never know. But he is a big bad ass softie though. He did teach me right from wrong, I might not always have listened, but I knew. He went with whatever whim I was going with. Soccer you say? Here's a spot on the team. (once, ONCE did I try and realized it was just like P.E and fuck that!) Stick horse-horse jumping you say? Ok, let me build you a course. And he sat through many, many of my riding lessons with a deep analysis of my developed abilities in the car ride home. He was that kind of dad. And a strong shoulder to cry on with big arms to hide in when the world just got a little too rough.

I remember one time, when a boy had broken my heart. I don't know if it was my loud sniffles or the even louder Lionel Richie album blasting through the house that tipped him off. But it can't always have been easy being a single dad with a 15yr daughter in the house. He knocked on my door, and I asked him in a very 15yr old way to go away.. He didn't, he knocked again.. And I thought, well if I scream even louder he'll obey me.. But he didn't. He didn't knock again, instead I heard a weird clinking noise. My curiosity got the better of me and I opened the door, eyes red from tears that he pretended not to notice. In his hands he held the biggest friggin bowl of ice cream I have ever seen..and a spoon. Handing it over he said;
"I thought you might like it.. Sometimes it helps a little.."
Ok, how cute was that?

Yeah, my parents might have made their fair share of mistakes..
But hey, I prefer that we don't count here, for my own sake.
They probably seem like pretty ordinary people to others, but they are extraordinary to me.
And tell me, aren't they just two extraordinarily beautiful people?

Read More

To Kill a Child

Just wanted to share one of my favorite short stories.
It is horrific, and morbid and I find it slightly disturbing that I am so drawn to it.
Perhaps it is the truth in the morbidity that I find so disturbingly fascinating.
This story has been read by almost every Swede I believe, it is by no means a hipster-obscure dusty old tale I have found.
It is however, haunting;


Because life is constructed in such a merciless fashion, even one minute before a cheerful man kills a child he can still feel entirely at ease, and only one minute before a woman screams out in horror she can close her eyes and dream of the sea, and during the last minute of that child’s life his parents can sit in a kitchen waiting for sugar, talking casually about the child’s white teeth and the rowing trip they have planned, and that child himself can close a gate and begin to cross a road, holding in his right hand a few cubes of sugar wrapped up in white paper, and for the whole of that minute he can see nothing but a clear stream with big fish and a wide-bottomed boat with silent oars.

Afterward everything is too late. Afterward there is a blue car stopped sideways in the road, and a screaming woman takes her hand from her mouth, and it’s red with blood. Afterward a man opens a car door and tries to stand on his legs, even though he has a pit of horror within him. Afterward a few sugar cubes are strewn meaninglessly about in the blood and gravel, and a child lies motionless on its stomach, its face pressed heavily against the road. Afterward two pale people, who have not yet had their coffee, come running through a gate to see a sight in the road they will never forget. Because it’s not true that time heals all wounds. Time does not heal the wounds of a dead child, and it heals very poorly the pain of a mother who forgot to buy sugar and who sent her child across the road to borrow some. And it heals just as poorly the anguish of a once cheerful man who has killed a child.

Because life is constructed in such a merciless fashion, even one minute before a cheerful man kills a child
he can still feel entirely at ease..

That part has been etched in my mind since the age of twelve when I first came across this story.
How one can captivate such horror in such simplicity.. It is certainly a beautifully crafted sentence.

Read the full short story here.
Or click here for the original Swedish version.

Read More

2 - My first love

How are you supposed to choose one?
What kind of first love does it imply?
I mean I was crushing hard on John Norum (guitarist of Europe) by the age of five, then I moved on to Bruce Boxleitner as Luke Macahan in How The West Was Won. Do they count?


What about dad? Like many other little girls I swore I'd marry him, it's true, I actually very vividly remember it.
I also, just as clearly, remember his answer to my proposal; "Sure honey, I'll remind you when you're older!"

Maybe Prince Carl-Philip? No.

What about little mr.D? The boy whose name I wrote in my diary all through elementary school? We never once held hands even. He broke my little crushing heart on several occasion, sometimes unknowingly, sometimes knowingly so. He was always nicer to me when I had ice cream though, the little whore. No, he doesn't count.

Maybe Marcus? My classmate and play-kiss buddy. (you know, the 10year old version of friends with benefits!) But we were so much on and off we make Ross and Rachel seem like a steady couple.

Hmm.. Maybe Tobias, my first real boyfriend? The first boy I ever introduced to my father? Then the most embarrassing thing happened in my life to that point. My dad shook his hand and introduced himself like a grown up. I wanted to die. I was like "Dude he's 15, not a 45yr old business man!" Come to think of it, that is probably one of the clearest memories I have of our time together, all the 6 weeks. Naturally I handled the situation as any rational person would. I ran and hid in a corner.

What about Erik, hmm.. The guy I stalked for a whole winter with song requests on the local radio? But that feels like more of a one-way kind of relationship.

No, fuck it. I'm gonna go ahead and say Milton. I loved that guy for years and years. I fell asleep with his picture in bed and I daydreamed about hugging him. Long past those days, when Milton finally fell into eternal sleep I actually cried.

Milton - my first love <3

Read More

1 - About me

Really, this is the first one to be thrown at me?
How am I (it sucks that I is always in capital, how are you supposed to raise it then, or you now, underline it.. like THIS?)
Anyway, how am I (raised) to be inspirational when I feel like I wanna dig a hole in a moldy dirt pile and bury myself in it after this week? I feel very much uninspired by myself. I simply cannot put together a post about something so mind numbingly boring right now.

About me: I am the opposite of an inspiration, don't listen to a word I say. Especially not when I am in this state of mind.

Read More

Blog challenge

Ok, I've been working all day, every day this week. Thus I have had no time nor inspiration to blog much. I have not yet committed the blog hara-kiri, still going strong y'all. (seems fitting with a ninja reference and y'all in one sentence somehow)

Anywho, to help me along I shall blog about the following themes the coming month:

Day 1 - About me
Day 2 - My first love
Day 3 - My parents
Day 4 - This is what I ate today
Day 5 - What is love?
Day 6 - My day
Day 7 - This is what I wore today
Day 8 - In my purse
Day 9 - My faith
Day 10 - One moment
Day 11 - My siblings
Day 12 - My best friend
Day 13 - This week
Day 14 - My best birthday
Day 15 - My dreams
Day 16 - My first kiss
Day 17 - My favorite memory
Day 18 - And this is what I wore today
Day 19 - My one regret
Day 20 - This month
Day 21 - Another moment
Day 22 - This upsets me
Day 23 - This makes me feel better
Day 24 - This makes me cry
Day 25 - A first
Day 26 - My fears
Day 27 - My favorite place
Day 28 - Something I miss
Day 29 - My ambitions
Day 30 – One last moment

Read More

Creativity, mental issues and eccentricity, what's the connection?

This is what I do with my free time. I think about stuff.
Right now I am very fascinated by creativity as a phenomenon. What is it? And how is it connected to an individuals personality? I find myself in a the classic "chicken or egg"-situation. And why is mental issues such a common thing within the creative sphere? Also, there is a high percentage of introverted individuals within the same community. Why?

I will look into this further, but I'm posting my starting point, my hypothesis.

As I was talking about in my post Creativity demands creativity, creativity is a need or urge, not just a hobby or a want. To me it's then rather obvious why the mental issues have such high representation within this group of people. Were you not to find your "out", perhaps you are left unable to create due to writer's block, performance anxiety, exhaustion or any other reason. Anyway, this could, as I was getting at in the earlier post, drive anybody to the verge of insanity.

Now, if we shall look at the introverts. (something I am sure I will get into several times in future posts)
Introverts have a different view on the world than extroverts. This is actually biological. To make it easy one can say extroverts live directly through their senses. They see, smell, hear things and their senses are taking a short cut through their mind to register and be stored in the right areas. Now introverts on the other hand, they sense things..then that notion is bounced through several areas of their minds before finding the right spot to settle in. All their impressions has to go through the memory bank and all sorts of mind-rooms to be pondered, reflected upon and finally concluded. This is exactly why an introvert so easily tires in social situation. They are simply overwhelmed by all the impressions they have to run through miles and miles of nerve pathways.

Ok, this is all a little much, I hope you're following..

So, is it really that odd that this kind of person might see the world in a very different light? Notice things that otherwise go unnoticed? Then what would you do with this knowledge?
Children experience the world in this way. They have many situations every day where they have to fill in the blanks. They do not understand the connections, they cannot make a conclusion without creating explanations where they are lacking facts. And is there a more creative group of people than children? I'm gonna go ahead and say no. But somehow over the years, we learn to accept that we cannot hold all the facts, we stop questioning and believe we are using common sense where we, I believe, would be better off using a childlike creativity.

My theory is that just as scientists are basing their work on the hypothesis that dreams somehow helps us sort through impressions and that it is a necessary function for our well being, I believe that creativity does the same.
If you receive a million fractions of impressions every day, maybe your need for an out is bigger?
Maybe, if all this external stimuli is bouncing around in your mind, some of it will inevitably get stuck along the way. Just laying there, lingering, with no place to go but out.

So, in a way, creating for a creative person would be the same as dreaming while awake...
Make sense? A little?

I am willing to stand by this, since I know the feeling of getting into it. Sitting down, getting the flow going is almost as relaxing and rejuvenating to me as sleeping. It's my off-button. Though I'm very focused and I'm producing I don't think about anything else in the world. Nothing can really reach me in this state. And it is wonderful.

Wouldn't this also explain why and how some of these people would be seen as eccentric? Very much like "those who dance are considered insane by those who cannot hear the music"?

Obviously not all creative people are introverted, neither are they all suffering from mental issues, but the fact remains that there is a high representation of both. It was also there I started putting things together. I might be so far off in this, I do not know.. but I will find out, and I will let you know.

Read More

Lazy Sunday morning..

Read More

The worst possible advice..

"-THINK POSITIVE!"

We've all heard it! We have all suffered the indignity of getting that worn out, worthless cliché thrown in our faces when we least needed it. Just STOP!

Mattias Lundberg, professor in psychology writes in his blog;
"Look around in society and you will notice that you are constantly receiving the message that life gets easier if you think positive. You will go through hardship much easier and you will get opportunities you'd never get. You can read about it in self-help books, listen to inspiring speakers and watch the experts on morning tv describe five simple steps to reach it.
The trend with optimist consultants has been around since the 80s. Shouldn't something have happened by now? Shouldn't we see the result?
But we are feeling worse than ever. Something ain't right here damn it!
It sounds so appealing to think positive, but there is a downside, or perhaps several. Positive thinking is not magical. It does not cure disease, medicine does. It does not create financial stability, planning, budgeting and organizing does.
We have to stop believing that a positive mindset is its own entity. An entity that automatically would grant us happiness."


I myself, have had the questionable pleasure of sitting through one of those optimist-consultant-lectures.. It was not by choice, I can tell you that much. This clown went on for two full hours about the importance of a positive mindset. Using some story about his father being fired as a reference how life always comes around to give you a second chance. He started his two hours of complete bullshit with showing my life-motto on the screen. "Pessimists have only pleasant surprises!" - to prove his point and we were already enemies.

First of all, as any dubbed pessimist will tell you, there are no pessimists. There are optimists, and realists. Pessimist is a term invented by optimists, and as they are not to be trusted I think we can stop listening to what they're saying.

From my realistic point of view, it seems an optimistic mind is quite limited. Cause if you can look at this world, really look at it. Reflect upon what your seeing and still claim to be an optimist, well, your either blind or stupid. Pick one.

Being pessimistic, or as I prefer, realistic doesn't mean you go "Oh crap, that job that I really wanted I'm never gonna get. Cause I suck, the world suck, everything automatically sucks!"
No.. it means you go "I am one out of 200 applicants. I have no idea who I'm competing with. I will most likely not get this job, and I'm not gonna count on it, as lovely as it would be."
I wouldn't know how an optimist would go about it but I imagine something along the lines of "Of course I'm getting it, I'm awesome, who wouldn't hire me? I'm placing an order on a Lamborghini right now!" Slightly exaggerated of course, but you get the gist of it.
Now, what seems like a reasonable approach to you?

Optimism doesn't help you, it only leaves the door open for shit to blindside you in your world of pink clouds.

"A pessimist have only pleasant surprises."
-The only wise thing I heard during my two hours with an optimist-consultant.

Read More

Sports and me..

Things I don't understand about sports:

• Why have numbers on the shirts if there is no logical system in it?
  Like if "11" was an actual position I'd get it...but it seems to me people just pick their numbers at random.. Why do you need your number as well as your name on there? (I have an idea, but I'm trying not to be too insulting here..) If I was in a sports team, I'd pick # 30278.
  
  
• Why all the protection? Doesn't that kinda take the whole sport out of it?
  
  
• Why so serious?
  
  
• Why all the rules? Seriously, I liked the Romans take on it; "You live, you win!" Seems fair.
  
  
• Does it really take a dozen guys to put a thing in a thing on the other side of a thing?
  
  
• Why in hell you don't get extra points for scoring a touch down from the midline or start-line or whatever it might be called.. the line in the middle of the field.
  
  
• Curling.
  
  
• The honor in running really fast... Now, release a cheetah to hunt them and sure, I'd watch it.. But then we're back to the whole "You live you win"-idea aren't we?
  
  
• The adrenaline levels reached without even participating... fascinating.
  
  
•  The urge to tire oneself out for no reason at all. I have never in 32 years woken up and thought to myself; "Ah, today I want my own sweat to sting my eyes. I'm craving a bad leg cramp and why have orgasms when you can have a stitch in your side instead? I want my lungs to burn and my heart to be close to attacking me.." It just doesn't seem like a pleasurable way to spend your days...

I just don't get it, any of it.. Never have, never will.

Read More

Sweden invaded

It has been 200yrs since we last fought a war.
Just stop and think, play with the idea.. What would it be like if we suddenly found ourselves at war again?
How would a passive aggressive people like the Swedes handle such active aggression?
I think we would probably prefer to fight a war like we fought the Brits in 1810. Not one single gun was fired. For two years, we fought a war on paper.. Isn't that the most Swedish/British thing you have ever heard?
So let's say we got invaded, and somehow I imagine Putin being the one to come up with such a brilliant thing to do.

What would we do?

I believe firstly, we would just stand there, gaping, asking "But why?"
I mean, we've got some trees and rivers and shit..but seriously. Norway's over there *pointing* they've got oil dude.. OIL!

I personally think that the Swedes would be the last people to pick up a gun, risk their life and yell "Get off my land you vodka drinking frickin homophob, get out, GET OUT!" But I do believe we would be the first to pack a suitcase and get the hell out..

"Oh, you want it? You're gonna fricking KILL me if you don't get it? Have it, please.. Take it, I'm out! Jeez man! I ain't dying for some pines and rocks, I'll live somewhere else! But please tend to the rose bushes, they need more water than the others, bye!"

But for those who'd stay.. I believe it would take approximately a century for a Swede to realize that we were in fact occupied.
We would grunt and express some uneasiness over the changes that would inevitably come, but mostly being pissed at the state for not resolving it faster.

Were it to become violent, would they actually take the life of our children, burn our homes and generally ass rape us for any extended amount of time.. I am not quite sure what would happen. I believe that a people like the Swedes, holding so much inside, being such a level headed population, could certainly be a force to be reckoned with if you push it too far.
Maybe those viking genes, buried deep inside us would suddenly and fully blossom to it's past, glorious state.
And Putin, don't poke the bear. You may think you'd be invading a bunch of sissy hipsters.. But when that Viking awakens.. Run for you sorry little life.

A while back I watched the news question our minister of foreign affairs about Russia's whereabouts right now. His answer;
"Well, this isn't even a discussion. They can't go on like this, it is just simply not allowed, and the sooner Putin realize it, the better.He's gonna do what he's told."

Well, seems like they haven't been all too successful in their endeavor but it was funny nonetheless.

Read More

F*ck it.

Adulthood brings a lot of garbage I never asked for. And I am sure I will return to complaining about exactly how much it sucks in future posts. But you know what I actually do appreciate?

Except for the more obvious things like a lack of curfew (remember that?), the ability to buy your own alcohol and a car; The freedom of "I just don't give a shit!"

It is refreshing indeed.

Oh - so you don't think I'm dressing according to teen magazines latest issue.. Well look at my fat ass over here not caring one bit!

Oh - you snicker cause I don't have a thigh gap... Look at me enjoying my XL fries with dip, does that salad leaf taste good?

Oh - you think I'm boring for staying home on a Saturday night? Well, firstly look at those diamonds on my finger, and I'll be home wiping my tears and my ass with dollar bills. Why don't you flirt your way to another drink that you can't afford?

Oh - you think I'm embarrassing? Yeah, I've done my fair share of embarrassing shit and let me tell ya, wearing none brand jeans doesn't even get an honorable mention.

Oh - you think I'm silly? Trust me, you don't want me to reply to that.

Oh - you think I'm old? Well firstly no not really, secondly.. I'll be over here watching my game shows, dressed in mismatched socks with greasy hair. Eating cereal right out of the box. Corking up the wine if I feel like it. Throwing the "tummy pillow" to hell and letting all my rolls flap freely. All the while enjoying the company of a man who loves me, even though I do all that. While not having to search for pennies in my pockets to afford the next night out, if I'd ever feel like enjoying one. And not caring one little bit about what people might think.. You are all more than welcome to join me in my land of the free also known as adulthood.

Please, make yourselves comfortable.

Read More

GarageBand

Lately I have been getting into to songwriting, I know...weird.

It's just such a nice way of indulging in writing, you have such limited space or time to tell your story, even limited syllables to do so. That's also where the challenge lies. But it's fun, it's really fun.

I am by no means a musician. I can, like most people, strum a G, D, A on the guitar. But that doesn't mean it necessarily sound good, or even decent. Actually more along the lines of "CRANG CRANG PLOINK *crap* CRAAANG". And I won't touch my piano as long as we are living in an apartment complex. Wouldn't wanna ear rape the neighbors in such a way. Anyway, safe to say I am very limited because of it.

It all started when my brother asked me to help him write lyrics to one of his songs. I was nervous, terrified.. But it went ok. He liked it, his band bought it.. it made it onto their album, which I am very proud of indeed.



So anyway, I downloaded the garage band app for my phone, and suddenly a whole world of chord progressions opened up for me.
Though my brother (you can call him Jimi Hendrix the Swede) and my dad (aka Mr has been playing the guitar since the T-Rex was roaming freely, and I don't mean the band) are on me about the mechanical sound of it.
And yes, naturally you don't get the life and sound of organic instruments. But for me to reach that I'd have to learn bar chords and I blame my little retarded sausage fingers for my incapability to learn just that. I mean come on, my pinky is like 3cm, how am I supposed to reach across like half the guitar neck with that. (perhaps the ukulele is more in my range)
I'm sticking to my little phone-machine and hoping that someone who can play (i believe that would be my brother) will eventually put down the guitar track on at least some of the songs.

Looking forward to spending some time with my brother working on this. But that requires a trip to Stockholm, thus vacation days. Babysitters, studio time and so on and so forth.. (Because adulthood fucking sucks.)

Read More

Oh Captain, my Captain..

On a serious note, can we talk about depression, anxiety and other mental health issues that are very present in our society, whether we want it or not.
Can we stop for a second and really reflect upon the severity of it?

We're not talking about having a bad day here, we're not talking about being a little sad and we are certainly not talking about something that a person inflict upon themselves.
Before you belittle it, before you add to the stigmatization of it, think on it.


Can you imagine your body turning it's back on you in such a way? Nobody questions the frustration following any other physical illness. Nobody finds it odd that you get angry at your body for not fighting the cancer, giving you migraines or whatever other weirdly, but socially accepted illness. But when a body fails to keep the proper chemical balance for your mood to be stable, suddenly people should just grow up and stop thinking so much about it. What are you, an asshole?

Can you imagine wanting to die? Or actually, I believe very few really wants to die, it's just that they can't find another way out. Can you imagine that? Feeling so trapped, so low, that the only relief you find is to end your own life.
Let the horrific notion of that sink in. You are so beyond what any measure of love, laughter or success could relieve. It's your brain saying "Fuck you! You're not worth any of it!" Sometimes for years on end, all your own mind is telling you is that you're worthless, in a very true meaning of the word, and you have no control over it.

Depression surely is a demon. One that resides within your mind. Claiming your whole life, one piece at a time. Isolating you from everything you hold dear. Constantly whispering in your ear, clawing your insides trying to gain full control. And if he does, well.. he wins, you loose, everyone looses.

Depression could be something that follows a trauma. It is indeed a step in the grieving process for example. It can overcome you when life gets out of control but..and..it can also be a life long struggle independent of external events.

So the next time you are about to open your mouth about someone who's seemingly not doing much of themselves. Pay attention.
Are you sure their behavior is that of someone who could just snap their fingers and "grow up"?
Does sleeping 18hrs/day, barely eating, not finding joy among loved ones or anything in life really, seem healthy to you? Does it seem like something a person would actually choose?
Would you? ...No?
Then what kind of person does it make you, to think that of others?

After Mr Williams untimely passing, I was reading about it. Reading the outpour of love and grief and it stirred up so many feelings from my past. I'd say that I, myself, have seen it closely too many times. Felt that heart-wrenching feeling of absolute helplessness. And I guess, here I am.. later on, with about as much distance as you could muster to these things.. Aiming my anger and frustration at a society that doesn't care to recognize the severity, the pain and the suffering that has hurt people that I so deeply love and have loved.

Previously talking about daring to share your creativity, well, here I go.
I hope you get to hear the song at some point, professionally recorded and ready for your ears but until then, I give you my take on this issue, lyrics only;


Bring Him Back
L.Burlin 2014

I have seen him, I've seen the Devil’s face.
Felt the touch, of his demons cold embrace.
There ain’t nothing, that a simple man could do.
Once the battle is lost, they have won, no matter what you do.
My heart lay broken, in a thousand pieces on the floor.
I know God can’t grant me, the one thing I’d ask him for.
Yet I’m falling, down on my rugged knees,
asking yet again, God won’t you please.
Bring him back, or bring him home,
bring him peace, like he’s never known.
Bring him back, or bring him home,
bring him peace, like he’s never known.
On a cold winter’s morning, oh the air grew too thin
couldn’t fight no more, gotta go, I’m givin’ in.
Baby baby baby, oh how I wish you well,
but I ain’t been the same,since that cold winter’s day.
My heart is broken, it hurts within my soul.
I know God can’t grant me, the one thing I’d ask him for
Bring him back, or bring him home,
bring him peace, like he’s never known.
I am broken, I can’t breathe no more.
it is getting colder,
every minute every hour.
Bring me back, or bring me home..
Please give me peace, like I’ve never known.

Read More

Night Owls Unite Against The Oppression!

Research has shown the interesting fact that we are about twice as many distinct night owls than there are distinct morning people. 25% vs 11% to be exact.
This means that 25% of the population hit their most productive time somewhere around and after midnight, while the 11% wake up early morning, ready to catch that slimy worm.
Naturally the rest of the population moves within the gray scale, perhaps leaning more to one or the other without being in the extremes.

Somehow, most likely stemming from the industrial revolution with it's wage work and need for structured day schedules, being productive during the first part of the day became the norm. You could argue that farmers indeed had to start their day early and so on and so forth, but nothing will convince me that they ever looked at a clock the same frantic way we have done since the industries made their entrance into our society.
Anywho, back to my point. Morning people are living the norm. They are also because of this, I'd argue, the greatest tyrants of modern time, thinking that their genetic, inner clock grants them higher morals and a bigger dose of common sense than the rest of us.

Let's turn back time even further, shall we? Beyond industrial revolutions and farming. Let's crawl all the way back to that cave, where fire had just been taken control of. Because I have a question, how would the morning people ever have kept the fire going all through the night, huh? How would they have chosen to protect their people against wolves or whatever predators where lurking in the dark just waiting for a chance to bite the limbs off of sweet tasting, innocent morning people?
See, that's where we come in, the night people. We totally kept that fire going, we kept you warm and cozy and safe from harm.
And this is how you repay us? By sitting up on your high horse at 7 am, offering snide comments about "sleeping all day" or "wasting time" or "whatever do you DO (always emphasis on the DO) in the middle of the night!" (I know, real original, I ain't very impressed by your wits either.)
Tell me something you do at 6:30am that I can’t do at 2am in the year 2014?
Really, I'm challenging you. Saying "work" doesn't count, it scheduled and I don't have a choice there.

With the marvelous invention of the internet there is really nothing I can't do. I can even order stamps online and have them delivered. I just gotta make sure to make it to the postal office before 10pm, which I think.. I THINK I actually can manage.
You are like religious fanatics, firmly believing your path is the true path. I bet Bin-Laden was a morning person.

That night owls would be lazy is just complete and utter rubbish.
I bet you wouldn’t be so frickin happy-go-lucky if we decided to start dragging you out of bed at 1 am to write a scientific report, or work in customer service. You would rather swiftly turn just as grumpy as we are.

Because that’s what you do. You drag us out of bed in the middle of our night and you expect us to be productive during the time that YOU are most productive. Let me do the same job at midnight and I swear, I will show you what being productive is all about!
You went so far as to dub yourselves “A-people” and then grant us the lesser name of “B-people.” As if we are some second class citizens. F*ck, we totally should have let the wolves have your ungrateful ass.

I say night-owls unite! It is time to bring a new world order. We need to fight the oppression!
Let the morning people be miserable for a few thousand years, it is their turn to suffer!

I hope I one day get to sit on a stone and watch a metaphorical wolf attack and then smile smugly and say:
"Well, if you didn't sleep ALL NIGHT, you would have seen it coming, you would have been prepared. Quite irresponsible of you I must say. Oh, and by the way - the fire's out."

Read More

Creativity Demands Creativity

Are you a creative person?

Congratulations, and to quote one of my favorite TV-characters;
- Welcome to a life of insecurity and paralyzing self-doubt!

Creativity - the need to create. Whether it is composing, writing, painting, photography or making pine cone animals or ships in bottles I would claim it's far beyond a hobby.
If you suffer this condition, you need it.
It is my firm belief that creativity that's not allowed to roam freely, that is kept locked up inside will inevitably wither but never die. It will just lay there and fester.


It's like those nightmares where you scream from the top of your lungs in horror, but not a sound will come out.

For many years I searched for my creative "out".. I feel like I've tried it all.
I've played several instruments, I sang, I snapped pictures, I painted, though my paintings were reminiscent of those painted by zoo-animals.
Nothing caught my real interest though. I quickly got to a point were it just wasn't fun. I didn't care to learn bar chords, or advanced piano sheet music, nor painting perspectives or the technicalities of photography. Nothing ever worked out as I wanted it to anyway. My hands were always left incapable of performing what my mind so desperately wanted them to.

You feel inadequate, without that out. You're screaming, without a sound.

And then I found it. It was there all along I just somehow forgot.
Writing.
I used to love to write. I wrote stories any chance I got as a kid. I, as many others, gave deep poetry a shot as a teenager as a way of dealing with all that teenage-angst, but then I somehow forgot it.
The written word has always been my favorite way of expressing myself. When I first met my husband, I didn't always tell him how I felt, and I've certainly never been, though I wish I was much of a "show-er".
As cheesy as it sounds, I wrote him, and you know what the best part of that is? The written word remains. 9 years down the line, those letters are still here and I hope when I am being particularly hard to love, he brings them out to remind himself that sometimes, I can be nice too.
Anyway, a little off topic there..

I've come to realize that creativity does not only demand creativity, it also demands confidence.

Do you remember when you were little, and you'd painted something which you proudly showed you parents, who went; "Oh wow, that's wonderful... What is it?"
You didn't take offense, you just went ahead and explained that obviously it was a robot-moose family that lived in the spaceship in the background.. or something. And so you parents went;
"Oh, well of course it's robot-moose.. I see that now!" and then they hung your surrealistic piece of art on the fridge.

What happens to that confidence? Who or what is it that is robbing us of it?

Take my sister for example. I am not by any means saying she's painting robot-moose or the like. I find her paintings striking and absolutely great. I have no idea how they would hold up in the "art-world" but she made them, hung them in her living room and thus is saying; "I made these, they turned out great and I have pride in my work." And I can't help but wonder, who will question it?
That kind of confidence will get you far. "I made it, I'm proud of it and I don't give a shit what some unemployed art-major might have to say about my work in comparison with Picasso's!"
I may not have majored in art, but trust me, she wins!

Dare do it! Or the demons who keep your creativity locked up will eat you alive.
"Creative people are more prone to depression."
Yes, I am willing to believe that. It's like being left completely unable to move or communicate yet having your senses and consciousness intact. The claustrophobia - I can't even think about it.

No, you might not be Picasso, Hemingway or Antonio Vivaldi but who cares? Do it!

Read More