Meme photos, per request.
Inside my closet:
My favourite mug:
My favourite drawing:
Downtown:
(Well, as downtown as you can get in Lund)
A favourite tree:
For sentimental reasons, mainly - that's the school yard of my old college. The tree's prettier in the spring.
My uni - Malmö Högskola:
I'm going to be taking a little break now... There's too much stuff going on at the moment and I'm not coping all that well.
I'll see you soon.
I'm only just home from the cinema, and while I want nothing more than put my thoughts down, it appears I can't. I can't find the damn words to express how I felt walking out of that salon. I think it suffices to say that I cried, several times, and laughed, several times, and was amazed all the way through the film. I just wished I'd had my girls with me.
It didn't feel right going alone, but I couldn't not go on the premiere night. It means I'll just have to see it a few more times, with other people.
I wish there was a way I could thank Jonathan Larson.
Oh, and the photos are done and will be up tomorrow.
I'm not going to be a teacher. And it feels so. Damn. Good.
Oh, what I'm going to do instead? I've no idea! Isn't that great? I might go back to London. I might get a job. I might continue on the sign language. I don't know, and right now, I don't even care (I will later, of course, but right now I'm savouring the feeling). All I know is that I'm not going to be stuck in a profession I hate for the next 30 years, and the relief is total.
I'm really looking forward to tell my mentor at the nursery that I'm quitting after this semester.
Yes, I'm quitting. Quitting. Who said that's a bad thing? A word that makes you feel this good can't be bad.
Quitting!
Rent premiers in a week. I can't wait.
Listening to Michael Arden, I would've loved to hear him as Mark. I think he'd be awesome.
Oh, and the requested photos will be up during the week, once I'm back at uni and over this damn cold that takes all my energy away from me.
Name (almost) anything from my life, and I'll take a photo of it to post here.
You can be overwhelmed, and you can be underwhelmed, but can you be just whelmed?
Y'all need to see Brokeback Mountain. And Jake Gyllenhaal needs to get that Oscar for best male in a supporting role. My dad still refuses to go and see it on the premise of it being about gay cowboys, and my mum thus asked me if I'd mind seeing it again with her. I told her I'd consider it.
I even ordered a copy of the book 'Brokeback Mountain - from story to screenplay' from Amazon. Yes, I know, I'm a weak, weak person, but not so weak I didn't manage to resist all the recommendations Amazon had for me because they thought I'd be interested in them: The Rent bible, Anthony Rapp's 'Without You: A Memoir Of Love, Loss and the Musical Rent', and the Grimmerie. I'm quite proud.
Well, I did actually add them to my shopping cart, but when I saw what the price added upp to I forced myself to remove them again.
In other news, I survived my first week at the nursery, probably with the help from some higher power - there is no other explanation. I don't know how I'm going to get through another one, though (I'm already dreading my seventh semester, when I have to do for weeks straight). It's driving me mad, it's making me talk to my parents as if they were children, and it's physically painful. One of the new baby girls (whom I have admittedly grown to adore in a short time) has taken to me and wants me to lift her up constantly, not to mention that I yesterday had the responsibility for a boy who can't walk and has to be carried and lifted an awful lot. And he's a big boy for his age. Ever tried lifting a sleeping kid up off the floor? I wouldn't recommend it. When I woke up this morning I felt like I'd been going for three hours straight on the gym last night, without stretching.
I will hopefully be doing the whole of next year with the six year olds, thank god, if I decide to stay on. But there are still three weeks left this semester. Please, give me strength.
Sometimes I lie awake in bed at night thinking that I'm not supposed to be here. Just that, 'I'm not supposed to be here', over and over (yes, in English, for which the reason escapes me), and the problem with this is that I have absolutely no idea where I am supposed to be. All I know is that this isn't me, or what I want to do. For a while I felt relieved having a plan B, but lately I've realised that not even mentioned plan B makes me feel 'Yes, this is it'.
Fuck. Is it too much to ask for, wanting to find something that I can feel passionate about? Something to burn for? Something that doesn't involve London, theatre or simply things that holds no future for me?
On a completely different note, I reached a lowpoint this morning when I was tempted by the Abtronic on TV Shop. I'm so ashamed.
From Willy Russell's The Wrong Boy:
"It's terrible, isn't it? When you're into someone as much as you were into Morrisey and then suddenly it's not there; not in the same sort of way, the feeling's gone and no matter how much you want it to come back, it won't."
This? My feelings for We Will Rock You in a nutshell.
This book is sofa king awesome.
The past weekend in London was just awesome, and I am so, so lucky to have met all these fantastic girls. Coming into the restaurant and see all the girls sitting there made me smile like never before. Love you.
It was lovely catching up with everyone I hadn't seen for ages, too.
And Blood Brothers made me cry like a little child - no suprise there. I'm so glad you liked it, V. I love that show, and I love introducing people to things that are special to me.
Oh, and my cd? I love it. I'm never going to stop playing it. Every time I listen to it it reminds me of how amazed I was at what the girls accomplished with that night, not to mention it rocks my socks.
