Photo spam

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.

It's RENT.

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.

Decisions and consequences

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.

All the cool girls are doing it...

Name (almost) anything from my life, and I'll take a photo of it to post here.

Whelmed.

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.

And she's whining again.

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.

Beautiful people

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.

The future?

Fucking terrifies me.

I'm really just writing out of guilt.

I know I promised to keep this blog up to date, but what can I say? Blame children's psychology.

So, my first semester is over, and I now have my first 20 points of a teacher's degree. Hopefully this second semester is going to be an eyeopener and help me decide whether this is really what I want ot not. We have work experience in two weeks, and I'm sort of dreading it. That can't be good, can it? I'm supposed to be looking forward to it. Everyone else is. And if I'm dreading these two weeks, how am I going to feel once I'm actually going to start working full time, for 40 years no less (as my mentor keeps telling me that I am)?

You know, snark really brings light into this world. TWoP is my savior on dark days; there's nothing to make me giggle like the OTH thread. When it comes to snark I have a lot to learn, but I think I will get there eventually with such great teachers. And while I'm learning, they provide excellent entertainment at the same time.

I was going through my old Gilmore Girls cds the other day and watching my favourite episodes; also very good for cheering up. I'd forgotten how many hillarious lines there are. 'Oy with the poodles already', 'Walk as you babble, please', 'People are being particularly stupid today', 'I'm going to go make out in the coatroom. Don't eat my chicken' and to add the most recent gem: 'Welcome to the SH, bitch'.
And if I ever say 'I'm lovin' you like a two dollar whore'? Please don't take offence, I am only quoting Lorelai. I really need to work that one into my conversations more often, but you know, people in Sweden react in funny ways when you suddenly start speaking a different language.
Oh, and also - the alleged character assassination of Jess? I don't see it. Really, I never did. I loved the asshatty jerk even at his worst. Rory, on the other hand... That is character assassination at its finest.
I miss Naked!Guy, also known as Marty.

See? When you don't know what to write about, ramble on about Gilmore Girls. I can't help it, I love that show. It's my guilty pleasure.
Or was that One Tree Hill?
Oh, screw it, you're allowed two, right?

I didn't know the dead speak to her.

When the phone rang tonight, we shooed my father out in the kitchen to get it - it's usually for him, some company or other wanting to sell him something. But this time apparently it wasn't, because he came back for my mother.

"Mum's on the phone."
"Mum?"
"Yes, mum."
"YOUR mum?"

No, mother dear, it's grandma calling from the other side to tell you the flowers on her grave are frozen.

Saw my girls (unfortunately bar two) today, lovely as usual. I wish we could see each other more often.
And it's still snowing like there will be no more summer. King Bore, could you please stop this madness now?

'Walking in a winter wonderland'

There's so much snow here it's incredible, and it's still coming down. We didn't get a white Christmas, but at least we got a white week in between Christmas and New Year's. Better than nothing.
On my way home from coffee with Melanie this morning, I even had to ask a strange couple to take a photo of me in the snow. They were old, harmless, and if they'd tried to run away with the camera I would have caught up with them and taught them a lesson. Yes, I brought my camera when I left home, because this weather calls for photographical evidence, and yes, I wore my pink earmuffs.

The bad news is that my beloved camera will definitely have to be turned in to be fixed. Damn.

Feel the christmas spirit?

Because I do!

I. Love. Christmas. Seriously, I love it. Last night was the perfect Christmas Eve - sitting for hours around the table, eating until we couldn't eat another bite, talking, christmas songs in the background... My younger cousin Jonas planting surprises in the candy, my older cousin Andy being Santa, no one opening their presents because they were busy waiting to see everyone else open theirs, remembering the last christmas we spent with our grandfather and laughing at the memories of him hiding the almond and Jonas finishing all the porridge to find it...

Only thing was that we... We missed... We missed Kalle Ankas Jul! I have never, in my whole life, failed to watch Kalle on Christmas Eve, until yesterday. Jag skyller på glöggen som vi satt och drack istället. *mmm*

The fact that I got a new mobile was an added bonus of last night, I have to admit. It's small, pretty, has flowers on it and is named Mimi. And it answers to the same number as my old one.

To each and every one of you, a very merry christmas. I hope Santa is good to you and that you have a fantastic day with whoever you're celebrating it with.

By the way, internet scrabble rocks.

But I didn't even write to Santa!

So, according to the site, the RENT 10th Anniversary tour will be coming to Sweden. And Denmark, which actually is even better.
In the words of Jo... Fuck me!

Okay, so here's the plan for when it's time. Logan, you get your ass on a plane over here (and bring your bear); V, you get on a train to Lund; and London girls, please book flight tickets with RyanAir or any cheap airline of your choice, so that I can sit bawling among all of you seeing RENT live for the first time. How does that sound?

I didn't even write to Santa. I must've been a really good girl this year.

Not in my backyard, utensils! Go back to China!

Does it ever end? No, don't tell me, I know the answer.

So, today included vomit, a large amount of drool, and very dirty nappies. Abso-friggin'-lutely (tmesis! logan, you rock) lovely. Remind me again why I chose this career?
And you know, there's only so much nursery school teacher's talk a student can take. If I hear one more story in the staff room about how two jackets were mixed up because they weren't nametagged, or statistics of chickenpox, there is a possibility I might scream. Perhaps even throw my tea at the offender.
No, I wouldn't do that. It would be a waste of perfectly decent tea, to which I often owe a lot for getting through the day.

By the way, the best thing about CSI: NY is totally Baba O'Reilly playing at the start.

They have problems too, you know.

Biggles, my little puppy, isn't a puppy anymore. He's growing old.
And what does growing old mean? Yes, yes, you guessed it - bladder control problems.

My family usually sit by the table for quite a long time when having dinner on weekends, and Biggles tends to get a bit annoyed with this. As he did last night.

"He seems a bit uneasy."
"Um... When was it we come home after the walk?"
"Oh, eh, one'o'clock."
"So he hasn't been out for seven hours? Should I call animal social services?"
"Oh, he's fine, you know he can hold it."

Roughly a minute later my dad looks over my mum's shoulder. "Okay, now he's peeing."

Yes, he was. He was peeing while staggering all the way from the kitchen out in the hallway, and - my hands are shaking as I type this - came dreadfully close to my shoes as he wobbled past.
The look in his eyes said everything. "If you guys yell at me for this, I'm warning you. You'll wake up tomorrow morning with every single pair of shoes out here torn apart, and a big pile of poo on the floor. No, wait, scratch that last part. Make it on the carpet."

Yeah, dogs' eyes can tell you a lot. Needless to say we didn't yell at him.
And I promised him I'd look up the animal social services' number.

I'm miss Brightside.

Your 2005 Song Is

Mr. Brightside by The Killers "It started out with a kiss How did it end up like this It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss" Let's just say you're happy to be done with 2005!

What Hit Song of 2005 Are You?

I got Mr. Brightside. How cool is that? It's definitely been one of my favourite songs this year.

I had no voice the other day. My friends at school found it quite entertaining.

Joel: *telling a story*
Me: *nodding*
Sebastian: You know, she's lost her voice. She can't speak.
Joel: Oh, I was wondering why she just kept smiling at me.

Getting to know me.

To start out my blog... For your reading pleasure (?), I give you a whole bunch of random facts about me.

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I'm about 5'2 feet tall. Not very tall at all, that is.

I love musicals and theatre and easily get addicted.

I'm so damn excited about both Wicked and Avenue Q hitting London next year.

Pasta is, according to me, the best food in the world.

I'm a phone-o-phobic, but I love getting text messages.

I'm not religious, but I sometimes wish I were. It would be nice to be able to really believe in something.

I have no brothers or sisters, and when I was little I never understood why my parents laughed when I asked them for an older brother.

The one thing I want more than anything in the world is to be able to sing.

I'm extremely picky with spelling and grammar, both my own and other people's. Although I'm excused when posting in English.

I'm in love with Madrid, Barcelona and London.

I think George Bush is quite an idiot and I applaud Michael Moore.

I have two tattoos, a frog and a four-leaf clover, and would like to get one more.

I really want to save money for a trip to either Australia or New York sometime next fall.

I'm a bit stuck on One Tree Hill, much to my embarrassment. But I can't help being invested in the Naley, and Sir Squints-a-lot is very entertaining to watch, I must admit.

Music can easily make me cry.

These are names I've answered to at one point or another: Katta, Katarina, Kattis, Hicky (not the English one!), Ina, Paparazzi, Katey, Kat, Mouse, the Swedish bint. Amazing I never suffered an identity crisis.

I hardly ever listen to the radio and so I never have any idea what I kind of music I should be into at the moment.

I kinda miss being in college. "Life was so simple back then."

I'm a Mac person, and have never owned a PC.

'Dude' is one of my favourite words, thanks to Harriet, Matt, and Bat Boy. Shame it doesn't work in Swedish.

I've never smoked, and I'm proud of that.

Only time I've ever slapped someone was in 9th grade, when a classmate viciously threw a ball at my head.

People have often told me my biggest fault is being too damn nice.

Sometimes I don't want to be nice at all.

I decided what to call my children a long time ago - a girl, Miriam Elena; a boy, Nicholas Benjamin.

I've really started to believe I've made the wrong choice in studies/career.

I love, love, LOVE Bare, and cry every time I get to the end. Well, actually, I cry for the last 20 or so minutes.

Alan Bennet's "The History Boys" is one of the best plays I've read, and I could kick myself for not seeing it while it was playing in London.

I absolutely believe in ghosts.

I'm considered totally strange because of the fact that I don't eat vegetables. Myself, I simply prefer to call it being anti-green.

I once grabbed a strange man's leg on the plane to London. Extremely embarrassing.

I tend to scream out loud and/or run away fairly quickly if I see a wasp within five feet of me.

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If you made it all the way down here, I'm very impressed.

And she has arrived.

Well, here I am, about to start forcing my incoherent thoughts on yet another blogspace... Consider yourselves lucky.

Unfortunately, I have nothing of interest to share today - I've been a whiny bitch this past week, so I'll just wait until the bitchyness has passed and then start posting very deep, interesting and enjoyable things. Or something like that.

Later!