Did and doing. Thought and thinking.

I went to see the medicine man a couple of days ago about the lump on my head It’s been there for years, but has been itching more since the hair clipping. Conclusion is that it’s some kind of  seborrhoeic  lesion.  A cyst with seborrhoeic exzama. Been given a steroid cream and antihistamine to try and break it up. Funny thing is, the antihistamine is also often prescribed to people with mild neurosis and sleep disorders. Yesterday I was spaced. Too quite. Too loud. My eyes felt like lead. The world took on the sharp grey contrast of polarised sunglasses.  And by golly I slept! I lay down in bed and watched my brain slowly fade out before falling into the deep velvet pile of undisturbed sleep.

Today has been a sweet lonesome day. Loppis and library, laundry and lunch. It smells like Autumn. The rain is drenching and the tree tops are threatening to turn. Försökte att läsa lite mer på svenska. Jag är lite tråkade ut av att bara säger vad jag vet. Jag vill lära mig att säga vad jag vill. Jag vill förstår nyansar när man pratar. Painted a picture. My first in a while. I’m not sure if I want to share it yet.

As with most things in life, the more you search, the further away you seem to get from what you are looking for. While I struggle to view life objectively and worry about what I meant to the people beside me, I am tied to nervous insomnia. The key is just to relax… maybe. I feel that the time to ‘do’ something has come. I already live outside the norm, create on a daily basis, encourage others to do the same, am in education and searching for a job. Surely that sounds like enough. However, I can not avoid the fact that I believe there is something amiss, and that it is still possible to do something about it.

OK, sure, I could join Greenpeace, volunteer to feed orphans in the third world, join the UN Peace Corp… but does this really work? Certainly, it is likely to flatter the ego into believing I am doing my best. But while the vast majority of people are happy to stay ignorant these missions are doomed to failure. Without spurring a mass shift in the general psyche, those of us working for the “greater good” don’t stand a chance.

Here we hit a problem. I have never been a fan of having someone else’s political (or social) views rammed in my face. What gives me the right to do the same? I believe my views are right. Naturally, I wouldn’t have them otherwise. And lets face it, the ‘opposition’ feel no shame in doing it to me. Only today I was stopped on the street to express my opinions about Moderatena. (I understand why people support them because they appear to have easy answers, but easy answers are rarely the right ones. Sweden is a left wing country and should remain that way.)

This aside, should we, the disillusioned, be campaigning against the society which, in effect, has allowed us the time to think? Absolutely. An unquestioned regime is no better than a dictatorship. Argument and debate are a necessary part of maintaining democracy. These however, requires a counter argument. Can we put forward a solution? Negative campaigns are all too easy to mount and quick to gain support. But negative campaigning never ends well, the fatal flaw being a complete lack of policies (or alternatively, equally flawed policies.) If we have no follow up… well, moaning is moaning, whatever it’s guise.

But what is the policy? The news to spread? The buzz word of today’s articulated youth? Socialism? Environmentalism? Freedom? Surely these things already exist in this country? We have freedom of choice. And yet, the vast majority choose not to. Why? Is it fear? The ‘what’s the point, this suits us just fine’ attitude? Or is it lack of education? In this maintained society we have access to all the education a person could wish for. And that is just the thing. Most people don’t wish for more. They are prepared to settle, trading in mediocre knowledge and exchanging it for a reasonably comfortable, air conditioned, consumer lifestyle. Leave school, get a job, buy this, buy that, get a raise and buy something else.

Before long most folks are so far up the possession ladder that they have reached the point of no return. The criteria for ‘alpha’ has changed from physical and mental to possessional prowess. Constant competition amongst friends drive us to upgrade, splash out and re-fresh, regardless of the fact that what we already have is far from spoiled. Not only does this vicious cycle bind people to the 9 till 5 capitalist routine, the flooded market artificially devalues goods, preventing economic grown in the countries where it is actually needed.

So if the consumer lifestyle genuinely IS the root of the problem how do we go about changing it? I have no idea. Perhaps then, the time really has come to consider campaigning. Unsavoury though it seems to impose my views on another person, I believe in this, and surely the only way to effect change is by encouraging people to think twice about their lifestyle? We desperately need to reflect on the extravagance, the obscene waste and the lack of appreciation. I believe however, that the lack of appreciation may be an encouraging signal, that deep down, almost all of us feel like something IS wrong. If this be the case, then ‘campaigning’ is apparently the way to go. After all, we live in a world where people respond to advertising as frequently as any other form of advice.

Of course, it is likely that the only people who will take notice are those who already think this way. If we take graffiti for example. Granted, much of it is little more interesting that the bottom of your shoe, but those who take time to read quotable scrawling are most probably looking for something. In this case, what are we to do? Quietly live our lives the way we think is right? Buy fair trade, organic, second hand. Grow your own, make, do and mend. Certainly, we can try… but as the child of a couple who did just that, let me assure you, your kids are going to have a really fucking hard time! As a progressive thinker I feel compelled to do more than just follow their example. Not only do I wish for a world for my children, I would like it to be a fairer one.

It must have hurt the first time Atlas tried to pick up the world. This kind of weight is slow to move but easier shared than faced alone. There can only be hope.

Despite taking myself off to bed nice an early last night I was still awake at sun rise. Spine crunching period pains and a serious case of the shivers kept me conscious rather longer thannecessary. The makeshift hot-water bottle and emergency 4am painkillers plus chocolate finally did the trick. Woke up too late and impossible to motivate. Decoupaged a table top with gammaldags soldiers and read a book about giraffes in Swedish. Found a tick from yesterday’s rasberry picking while I was taking a shower. Nastly little buggers.

It has been a funny couple of days. I have been resting in that familiar place outside of company. Whiling away and hour or two with a notebook and a cigarette outide a house full of friends.  I miss my family. I’ve booked tickets for a flying visit to Chester in early October, discussed the possibility of vising home for Christmas. I will be back at school in a week. I find myself compassionate, resigned and furious, rolled into one neat oestrogen saturated package. Relying too much on nicotine and sugar in any case, that is for sure. Not to say that I am not happy though. I have felt more at ease than in a long time.  The lack of attendance at the Scribbling Society meet didn’t cause too much of a worry. There have been a sucession of pleasant candle filled balcony evenings and one could not claim to be anything but ‘productive’. It feels like Clover in her resting phase. Temporary hibernation.

Sometimes passion and compassion get confused. Or they combine into an unusually clear broth, the drinking of which allows one to be level headed. To say that one is ruled by emotion may well be fallacy. Idea and principal are central. Is it worth fighting for something that doesn’t exist? Just because it has no form now, does not mean it can not in the future. That which does not exist should be fought longest and hardest for because it has no facility to defend itself.

I took a bath this evening for the first time in a couple of months. Lavender and candles. I am warm and tired and wish to share.

Good night.

There is always more than meets the eye. Strength comes from within, as does weakness and history. All things are written in our own words, they can only be confirmed or denied by those arround us. We must choose wisely who to share with.  We must remember that all things can not be shared with the same person.  And that we do not have to share everything. A moment, a movement, a touch can mean more than a thousand words or an eternity together. It is sad to think that some people may just end up as part of your diary. That eventually they will be packed away. Their memory stored in the attic as another takes their place. But they will be discovered again. If not in your life time, perhaps in that of your children or grandchildren. Because your strenght (and weakness) has given them a story, and there is alway someone willing to read.

January 10^th 2009

Written on the train from Nyköping to Västerås after a short trip to the UK.

Returning to that grim and dreary place makes me so glad to be apart. It is no wonder that I got stuck fast in the rut of nothingness, for that life is dire! Neither stimulating or satisfying, it is an existence driven only by the need for possession. The possession of purposeless goods. One can only admit to a penchant for purchasing (oddities and books) however, the wanton spending on uninteresting items and resulting discussion bores me thoroughly.

What horror to discover that everything I had told myself about Britain in order to stay sane elsewhere was, in fact, an accurate summarization! Equally, what despair to discover that my aunt and her middle aged friends are still plagued by the insecurities I have been desperately trying to avoid in my own peer group. But that is as it may be. Returning to the UK has only reinforced my conviction that being true to myself is of the greatest importance.

The country is rotting, dank, stagnated. Nose bleed treasure trails and remnants of a fast food lunch lead from one desperate part of town to another. There is an air of disgust. The educated become arrogant and the rest apathetic. We have been cajoled into believing that existence is enough. No need for pride. No need for respect. No need for encouragement! The streets are plains of grimy concrete, ready to receive your puke, spit and fist fallen bodies.

In the past we threw our shit into open sewers. The stench of human effluent hanging in the air. Blighting our lives. Today we enshrine our shit in textured plastic and worship it from brightly lit windows. Our bodily waste no longer contaminates the towns. Instead we are plagued by the dregs of our ingenuity. Marketed and mass produced to distract us from the fruitless actuality of our lives. In these unpleasant products we have placed our misguided trust. They provide the temporary diversions which make life in this unwholesome situation bearable.

These tools of distraction, these projections of out discomfort, only delay the necessity for thought. Thought about the need for change. Allowing generations to grow prematurely old. Hollow shells of people in dilapidated houses, furnished with impersonal tat. Perhaps you assume that I romanticize about days past, when we worked hard and appreciated life? The ‘good old days’? Not so! Progress and a new attitude towards life are vital.

We can not keep stepping backwards, returning to what is familiar and comfortable. Our world no longer contains the same boundaries. Moreover, a considerate, less wasteful approach to life is vital if we are to thrive. I assume that every generation has this panic. The pace of change in increasing exponentially and as a young person today we are learning to live with the challenge of altered identities without the support of our elders because this situation is unprecedented.

I do not wish to argue against technological development. Many of the advances really do serve to make our lives easier - the ball point pen, followed by word processor and instant publishing online for example. They decrease our physical workloads and allow for greater mental expansion. In short, they provide the opportunity for those among us so inclined to continue improving our situation. Easier said than done. Unfortunately, these time saving devices also create opportunities for those very people to slide into deep despair. In most cases those who wish for change are those inclined to thought and melancholy. One thing this evolving system of technology has not changed is the stigma attached to those who think differently. There seems to be no end to the bleak outlook.

It was a surprise to stay with an old friend and his housemates last night. I enjoy their company because they are intelligent geeks of a certain nature, but they, like the rest of us, waste their recreational time. Not with narcotics or shopping but with computer games. Whether one is any more wasteful than the other I wouldn’t dare to say. I can only conclude that all three are an attempt to retreat into a world where these realities become unimportant. Is any escape any more worthy than the other? Perhaps they can be absolved considering that they offer social opportunities? My own retreats, into the realms of my imagination, are entirely personal, and as I do not yet have the capacity to record them, they are no more worthy than any other escape.

With quiet relief I returned to Sweden this morning. After last night’s performance (being groped by a drunk, track suited, lesbian in the train station, on account of my short hair) the polite decorum of Nyköping is welcome. Admittedly, it was a Saturday night, but the dripping walls and stench of alcohol piss also made a lasting impression. I am well aware that my chosen land is far from perfect, but the challenges of language are enough to occupy my mind, enough to prevent a relapse into the despair I experience ‘at home’. However, no matter how far I run, how many distractions I try to find, I can’t avoid the idea that it is time to DO something.

There has to be something worth fighting for.

To be continued.

When there is something to be done it is amazing how many other things it is possible to do! After food shopping, applying another coat of varnish, some cutting out, clearing my desk, organising a Scribbling Society meeting,  feeding the frog, making a couple of sketches and sanding down the table a little more I finally sat down and wrote my CV. Eugh. Not fun in one’s mother tongue, but down right bothersome in another language. Anyway, it is done, along with a cover letter, plus or minus some editing.

I have been wondering recently whether it would be possible to paint a park bench in daylight. If I dressed up as a commercial decorater and took along the right tools, would anyone say anything? There are a myriad of benches arround this town that could do with a little TLC. If they are done tastefully and professionally, who is going to complain? Is it worth the risk to make the place look a little more welcoming? My reasoning for doing it during the day goes as follows… only people doing something ‘wrong’ paint at night. So if someone comes accross you painting during the day they will assume that you are supposed to be doing it. Paint a bench at night and if anyone sees you no doubt the police will be informed. Surely painting a bench is not vandalism if it improves it’s appearance? Jag ska fundera lite mer.

Oh yeah,  I decided to organise a Scribbling Society meeting despite having heard nothing about funding yet. I had a lovely day recently with Hubert and his little family, picking cherries and making pie as a diversion from International Presence Exhibition work. Reminded me how nice it is to have a house with people in it. Check out www.vscribbling.blogspot.com for more info.

Tomorrow is another day.

Baldie strikes back.

Bappy hirthday farter!

Panda eye's view and a fish out of water. Thanks!

Tired as hell, but standing to fight another day!

Four hours sleep followed by - Meeting at arbetsförmedling. Heavy brass fynd and a walk home. Lunch and laundry. Hoovering. Painting calaveras. Administration. Coffee and the plan to bomb off on the huge bicycle to shop syrsa for feeding this fat ass frog.

Must remember to buy muesli.

Trained like something possessed today.  Felt like I was going to pass out more than once. A combination of heat and poor nutrition. Drank too much after… still felt like I was going to pass out! Cursing the little buggers who took my bike, but all the same, walking is enjoyable. Teaching myself to breath in through my nose and out through the mouth…

***stop press***

Fat ass is chewing down her largest cricket to date.  The bugger had learned how to sing, and boy it’s making some weird crunching noises now!

***back to the story***

Dinner and another body builder documentary with TG. I’m not usually one to shout at the screen, but this stuff really gets me riled. I accept that for the first time in my life I am enjoying being a bit of a fitness freak. Sure, I do get some kind of satisfaction from seeing my strength and stamina grow, but I keep training to improve what I DO not how I LOOK. The sickest/saddest part is that most of these kids start at 17 or 18. I guess we all have strange relationships with the world in one way or another.

Had an email from Miss K this morning, it’s nice how a friend pops up when you need them! Methinks a trip to Germany is in order some time soon.

Me and Miss K

And a quick message to my dear Miss Amin… kämpa! Your thesis will not beat you. You are stronger than that!