thoughts from within

patience

2008-07-31T06:41:00.000-07:00

Patience is a virtue. Power of action is as well. You just have to know when to use one or the other. I consider myself a very patient person in many ways. There are some occasions when I’m not patient though; instead I make sure the change take place at once. Or at least as fast as it can be done. I’m talking about changing jobs, changing continents, changing hair color and changing men. Other than that I do believe I’m considered to be a very levelheaded and calm person.

Disclaimer: if you do not like to read about “female stuff”, quit reading now.

Some things you can’t rush though. There is nothing you can do to speed up the process. I’m talking about children. When Iceman and I decided that we are open to have kids, I had in my mind that this would take place at once. So the morning after, I ran off to the pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. I was devastated when I read that you can take the test no sooner than after the first day of your expected period – maybe up to three days before, but that too was very uncertain. Well if you don’t get your period, you probably don’t need an expensive test to tell you – huh! Jeeeze what a stupid thing! And it turns out, the day you at the earliest can find out that you are indeed pregnant: you are considered to be four weeks into your pregnancy. Insane!

This bummed me out. I wanted to know at once. It didn’t make things easier that you can’t get pregnant every day of the month either. How people get pregnant by mistake when it’s so complicated is a mystery to me. Most of us do know how babies are made.

As with most female-only complaints/diseases, there hasn’t been an abundant of money spent on research on PMS and menstrual cramps. Since my cramps make me spend half a day trembling in cold sweat and pain on the bathroom floor, I have eaten birth control pills for years. I was told that that is the only thing that truly helps. And it does! However, the amount of estrogen in those is at much higher doses than that given to women at menopause, which are now being debated if it’s healthy or not. So for years I have been given myself unhealthy amount of estrogen?!

I decided to have a checkup to make sure I could indeed have children. The OBYGYN told me that she can’t see if I can have children or not, she can only tell me that everything looks normal. The full fertility investigation can be done at a private clinic until you are 41-42 years old. The Swedish free healthcare system doesn’t do the fertility investigations after the age of 37 and you have had to try actively for two years prior to that. Tried to get pregnant that is. The things they don’t tell you in school! Usually I’m upset that when you take accounting as your major, no one tells you that if you work with accounting, you will never be able to take a long Christmas/New Years vacation since that’s a normal year-end closing or at least a month-end closing time. And for some reason most national holidays are also so that you can’t enjoy the extra day off, due to month-end closing. But what I found out now was worse: you better fall in love with a suitable man looong before you turn 35 if you want children. Or you have to chance it big time! So many of my friends have not found a man they love and they are also over 35. Why didn’t anyone tell us?!

So here I was. 40+ and feeling very nervous knowing that there was nothing I could do to speed up the process, there was no place I could turn to help me clinically right this minute (even the private clinics require a long time of trying before getting their help). All I could do was to take care of myself, stay calm and wait. Patience is a virtue.

It turned out well.

(the kids in the pic are my sister's)

Scotland

2007-07-14T17:21:00.000-07:00

For our first thirty nine and a half years – we didn’t even meet. We had no idea of each others existence either. And then we start seeing each other for six months. Now a week apart feels like an eternity! Especially for me since I have “out of site out of mind” tendencies. Thank Heavens for text messaging! There is no way I’ll forget Iceman on a short week apart. Strange how easy it is to get used to (addicted to?) sleeping next to another person. But I am pissed as hell that he will not attend my graduation ceremony in Edinburgh though. I was not clear enough that I did want him to be there (in fact I didn’t say that at all) so he is going climbing in Italy with friends while I’m in Scotland. As Opera Soloist told me: “don’t punish him for something he does not know”, so I can’t really be pissed at him – but I can however nag about it on my blog! Love this venting! It’s easier to act mature in real life this way.

Short Voluptuous Friend (SVF) and I took off for Scotland to go biking – or cycling as they say there. What a wonderful country! All men are hunks! (or I’m just ovulating…). I’m sure it’s because Iceman has a touch of red in his beard that I now have a red-beard-radar and it was going on high in the Highlands, that’s for sure.

Since SVF and I started our vacation in a MTB park we were surrounded by sporty hunks. The trip there from Edinburgh was like something out of an old Twilight Zone episode (at least I kept hearing that music). SVF and I were dressed in our biking-gear (cycling for you Britts) and boarded a buss full of old people. They where all dressed up in very classy outfits, the ladies had make-up tastefully applied on their lily white skin (all British women seam to have perfect lily white skin as if it has never ever seen a ray of sun), and there where no ware to sit but on the floor. Could this be the right bus?! Turned out that old people like to have “a day out” and took the bus to Peebles which is right before you get to the Glentress forest. Oh and there where no bus stops once you where out of the city. You had to waive the bus down in order to get on. We had asked if the bus went to Glentress so the driver had written a note and attached to the steering wheel in order to remember to let us off there.

Yes we had rented top of the line mountain bikes and did some tracks for two days. We did not manage to get quite as muddy as most of the other riders though. We’ll charge more next time.

Back to Edinburgh and Graduation ceremony with a garden party. There is nothing like drinking champagne before lunch! My mom and her husband, my sister and her oldest daughter was there with me as was Short Voluptuous Friend. It’s such a big moment and it was even more important when I got to share it with people I love.

Not only are the men good looking and the women have beautiful complexion, but the Scottish people where all so nice and accommodating as well. If you haven’t been to Scotland yet: go! There is the weather though. A group of Italian tourists asked the front desk at their hotel if they knew what the weather forecast was. “It’s going to rain all summer” was his reply. Not a very selling one I might add. We didn’t get as much rain as they had “promised” though. SVF even got a sun burn – she has some British blood and that explains the sun burn more than the weather however.

This fun place we found to eat at was called Two Thin Laddies. Rustic looking interior – sort of like you would find in Tahoe City – and excellent food with large servings. The delicious looking chocolate cakes hade notes on them: “made by the step-mothers” and they looked and tasted homemade! Art was hanging all over the walls to look at and to buy. I was going to until I saw the descriptive text of what the artist had meant with the paintings. Not at all what I saw them as. Could be a good idea to let art be just art: let the beholder judge what it mean. Write a book if you want to TELL it instead.

Our last three days we went up to Pitlochry and stayed at the Poplars. The bike rental place we used had given us nice rout suggestions with maps and even detailed information of when to turn and so on. The bikes had these cool computer things on them that could do all kinds of things even if we just used them for time and distance – oh and speed of course! We could have used the detailed information if we really wanted to, but then we wouldn’t have been as lost as we now managed to get. Two days we went biking and both days we got lost. After riding a hill up on the lowest possible gear on a very narrow and winding road (not sure if cars could fit on it) we reached the top and where rewarded with a fantastic down hill ride for about twenty minutes (it took one hour to ride up the way we came). When we where finally down and so ready to find a place to eat we realise that we are miles and mils off from where we thought we were. Very low blood sugar level now. It was time to “walk that extra mile”. We rode on a visible bike path close to the A9 until we reached the only place where they took American Express in this part of Scotland. Ignoring etiquette, SVF and I bought all food we could get our hands on and sat in the dining room with our dirty bike clothes, helmets and raincoats next to us and ate like we had never seen food before.

Well back at Poplars and its awesome hospitality again, we decided to let the bikes rest for the reminder of our Scotland stay.

And tomorrow I get to snuggle up with Iceman again!

life

2007-06-19T00:06:00.001-07:00

The cab driver drove better than I could have asked for! Like a maniac that is. In and out of lanes, speeding up at each yellow light, driving really close to cars in front that didn’t move out of his lane fast enough. Very much the same way I would have driven actually, only his knuckles weren’t white and he didn’t yell “idiot” at the – well – idiots who didn’t move out of his way, the way I would have. How can someone drive so aggressive and look so calm at the same time?! And it turned out that he was half deaf as well, so nothing seamed to disturb him.

And then it hit me: I’m not ready to die yet. It was such a happy realisation! I hope that for most people it’s such a given that they don’t ever even think about it. But there have been times in my life when dying didn’t seam like such a bad idea or simply so that I was ready for it. You know when you think back at all the fun and fantastic stuff you have done. I’ve met so many nice and interesting people, I’ve done a lot of things that I never thought I would and seen so many places. It didn’t feel like a waste of life if I died. Or at times when things where bad like the years when my body was 95% covered with oozing, itching, aching rashes for example – dying didn’t seam like such a bad alternative. But today I have more things I want to do, more days to experience things. What a wonderful feeling that is!

sad

2007-05-28T01:48:00.000-07:00

When is it time to realise that you are defeated? That the happiness you thought you were worth actually does not belong to you. You are your own worst enemy and once again you made sure you lost. When is that time? Or do you have the strength to stand up and fight for what you want? Can you find that within? Would you survive if you went back to being miserable? Is it worth dying for? Ask yourself these questions before you consider yourself defeated.

weekend

2007-05-16T04:34:00.000-07:00

Since it’s not really every day business for me to attend celebrity parties, I was stoked to be invited to this one! Probably good that it was in a country where I don’t know who the celebrities are, or I would probably have made an ever bigger fool out of myself.

After spending a lovely day and a half at my friend’s beach house, we raised in to town to get ready for the Oscar equivalent of stage art. Not sure why I thought tanning without sunscreen was a good idea. Anyone who has ever tried to put on party make-up on a red – almost swollen – face knows that sunscreen is a party queen’s best friend. I forgot. My friend Opera Soloist and I caked on layers with ID make-up on our freshly tanned faces. It’s the inside that counts anyway – right…

All of Copenhagen’s sidewalks seam to be made of cobblestones. Thankfully we had changed into walking shoes on the walk (read: sprint) there. I had used some of Opera Soloist perfume and as we hurried over the cobblestones in our nice dresses (I had borrowed my friend’s and it was a bit too snug over my lungs) I kept sensing the nice perfume. The whole experience was so nice I later bought the same perfume and it’s like I’m back at that moment when I wear it.

We sneaked in the stage entrance in order to avoid the press. As you might understand, it was not me who needed to avoid the press. We hurried to Opera Soloist’s husband’s dressing room to change into hour nice shoes and make sure the lipstick was on.

The seats where amongst the whole opera ensemble which was cool so that I got to meet Opera Soloist’s co-workers and get a feeling for what her work environment is.

The gala was broadcasted live. It was hotter than Hell in the theatre. The whole thing was in Danish – a language I do not understand. My dress was a tad tight and my face was burning. Her husband does his number. He’s a good looking man with a fantastic voice. Finally there is a pause. We get cava to drink and mingle with the Danish stage celebs. What do you think sparkling wine dose to me at this stage?

We go back to listen to second half of the nominees. It is difficult for me to keep my eyes open. I’ve already taken my shoes off and tucked one of my legs under my bottom (a very nice way to sit in a dress – or not) when I notice that the darn camera keeps circulating by us quite a lot. It does not always have the red light on which I assume (hope?!) is the indication of whether it is filming or not. Aaaaand… I’m gone. Nodding off. Thank Heavens I don’t know anyone in Denmark who might be watching this now!

When the whole thing is over we run back stage to where the party is. I notice that my strapless bra is showing a bit. And Opera Soloist is pretty much flashing everybody if she turns in a certain way. What to do. More wine! Let’s drink until we don’t care!

Just as I’ve red in Swedish gossip magazines, there is plenty of food at the party. We walk along the tables and load stuff on to our plates. As I get to the end where the cheeses are, I put my plate down. The Brie is so perfect it looks like it has melted! My mouth is watering by now. I put the last of my cheese on the plate and top it off with some grapes. As I do this the whole plate falls to the ground. Food on the entire floor and on my shoes. We start kicking it under the table and I grab a new plate to make a new round. What is a girl to do?

The evening continued and all the nice Danish people tried to speak so that I could understand. There was enough gossip material to make a Greys Anatomy stage art version.

All good things come to an end and it was time for us to walk home. My plane back to Stockholm left at lunchtime the day after. Unfortunately the plane left at the same time as my management meeting in Stockholm started. I had given a heads up that “I might not make it in time for the meeting”. That was an understatement! The GM called me an hour later when I’m in the cab from the airport. They had been waiting for me. It’s nice that they think it’s important that I’m there, but I did not want to leave Denmark and Opera Soloist.

Our parents knew each other. We used to hang until we were 17-18 something. It was eleven years since we last saw each other. When she picked me up at the airport we both started crying. The next day and a half we spent just the two of us. It is so fantastic with a person who knows everything about me and I know all about her and there is no judgment and no denial. We know more about each other than our current closest friends or anyone else for that matter. It opened places in my heart and soul that I have hidden for such a long time. It was as if time was a clear gel and we could touch it, feel it and be in it.

It’s not going to be another eleven years until we meet again.

light

2007-04-04T01:05:00.000-07:00

It’s like I’m preparing for my deathbed or something. When in fact it’s just my forties-birthday that is coming up. I’m trying not to equate forty to do being dead.

During my Tahoe years I loved having all my friends around on my birthday, making sure that everybody partied more than they ever had before. This of course resulted in that it was not just I who got shit-faced and did things we had to regret for a looooong time after. But it’s all good! At least when I think back on it. So much fun and so much crazy stuff that went down. Good friends. When I moved to San Francisco it got more serious. I did lots of fun and crazy things on weekends with new friends, but I didn’t have the same safety net as I did in Tahoe, so I always made sure I stayed in control. (Except when I passed out after 4-5 Long Islands on a second date. I woke up 12 hrs later with all my clothes on in his bed. Did not feel so much in control then. Come to think about it: none of our dates after that where in control either.)

So gradually I’ve gone from truly celebrating on to finally not even tell anyone that it is my birthday. Well that changed this year. After I took my final exam for the Executive MBA I realise that I now have the rest of my life to do what ever I want. What a fantastic feeling! The door is open and life is waiting for me to participate. Friends I haven’t seen nor talked to in 10, 15 and 20 years popped into my mind. After some research I got a hold of the four girls I was looking for. It was so nice to hear their voices. Like not a day had past. Their good hearts and friendliness was still there. Why had I not taken the time to call them before? When I look back on the past 20 years or so, there is so much pain and hard work even though I have had a lot of fun and happy times as well. I’m sure life is like that to everyone, but I think if I had faced my fears earlier in life, if I had had better guidance, I might have seen more happy times than pain. It’s time to embrace today and start living. And I’m glad I realised this before my deathbed. Bring on the party!

And that brings me to the next subject: dating. I am still seeing one of the guys from the netting period. The one who made me feel the most relaxed and comfortable and laughed with me the most. I don’t have to “control” what I say or what I do when I’m with him. Let’s call him Iceman from now on.

A lot of men are provoked by me. Not sure why. But if a man wants to brag or compete (I call it participating in a rooster fight) I am - too quickly for my own good – instantly in the game “fighting” back. Guys who do not bring this side out in me or who do not get provoked by me I usually fall for. To me it means that they are safe enough in themselves not to have to compete. That is extremely sexy if you ask me. So obviously Iceman does not get provoked. And he manages to tell what things he does not like or not accept without offending or degrading. I’ve been thinking of how he does this. I think it is because he doesn’t express values in his dislikes: it’s merely an opinion. Does that make sense?

It’s just that it’s like having a “boyfriend light”. He travels for work and travels for play on an average five days in a week. The other two we do spend together. You can have fun, be nice, have a tidy home, eat good food and talk about interesting things with a person you only see twice a week. How do you know if it’s a person you could stand for a long time?! I don’t! But for now: I’m enjoying my “boyfriend light” and I’m planning for my big 4-0. And I’ve missed you all in Blogland!

will date for food

2007-02-05T06:02:00.000-08:00

”As long as you’re not doing the nasty: you can date as many as you want”. That’s what the COO of “my” San Francisco company told me when I asked her what she thought about dating more than one. (I’m sure she meant doing the “lovely” of course) Her advice is ringing in my ears as I’m “netting” with a bunch of men all at once these days.

I noticed that internet dating is a great place to select on qualities you don’t find out at once. Or should I say: qualities you don’t see because you get blinded by something else. Some men I met before I reject them, some I only spoke to on the phone before I dissed them. In normal life I try to give everybody a second chance, but since there is so many to choose from in cyberspace, I can let my narrow-minded side take over and drop everybody with a dialect for instance. (did I just admit to that?!). And some just got the old fashion – ignore. They can do the same back to me. We are in each others The Batchelor and The Batchelorett show. Who will get the last rose?

What qualities are important in a partner? Certain things I fall for will be of no importance at all once you get to know the guy if he turns out to be rude or stupid in any other way. What I have learned about myself though is if the guy takes me to a nice restaurant or cook an incredible meal for me: I won’t notice anything else: I’ll just be in heaven. I’m a sucker for good food! Unless he fiddles too long with his wallet when the bill comes in. I’ll whip out my credit card and pay the whole thing. And that will be the first and last date with him. And this is true although I’m born and raised in a country which prides in having the most equality between men and women in the world.

To me it’s a gesture to pay at the first date. I am struggling with this. How can I both demand that the man have to show this gesture and still want to be equal? In Sweden’s largest (?) daily newspaper there was an article stating that the traditional marriage - where the man is older and the woman younger and probably does not make as much money – is the reason why we will never be equal. The “cure” is for women to marry younger men who have not reached as high in their career yet. They are more apt to stay at home with the children since it’s usually who makes the least that stays home with the children in Sweden (we do get paid 9 months but only up to a certain - quite low - level). I do have this in the back of my mind as I’m dating around.

I’m now down to a couple of finalists. One who I know will be happy to pick up the kids from school. Another one will assure I get to drink champagne in Rome and Paris on the weekends. A third will get me out on the slopes much more often than I’ve been going the past ten years. They all like exclusive foods, they exercise and play the guitar (and want children). That’s basically all the criteria’s I had as mandatory…

Or wait! Did I forget something? Am I supposed to feel giddy and happy when I’m with the man of choice as well?! One more week of dating and after that I’m “shutting down” for a month of studying for that final MBA exam! I might not be as ready for a relationship as I thought I was.

open mind

2007-01-10T06:36:00.000-08:00

I am no longer worried that the species will become extinct! Not from lack of trying to couple up at least. Maybe from the change in the environment, but that’s another topic. Men and their positive view of themselves and their fearless attempt to find a partner will make sure mankind prevail.

How do I know this? I signed up for internet dating. Or is it called finding a date through the internet? I don’t think we are supposed to virtually date.

You know all the things you’d like to have in a mate. How they go out the window as soon as you fall in love. Cause then they don’t seem that important anymore. Some of them probably are important though if you want to be able to have a life-long relationship. Curly hair, dark socks with dark shoes and stuff like that are probably things you can drop off the list. I was more thinking values and things that matters when life’s hard knocks are upon the relationship and ourselves.

When you sign up for this you get to make a list of all the things you want in a mate. I figured I might as well be very specific here. Religion, politic, education, children, exercise habits, interests and even an age range although in real life I do not discriminate on age. Same with height. I gave some height requirements so that I can wear stiletto heals without being a head taller than the man. Not as important to me in real life. To really weed out the heard I wrote that I like to dance to techno music until wee hours in the morning. Thought this would scare some of the less all-round guys off. Boy was I wrong!

Seriously: if a man had written that he did not want any contact with a 5’8” blond – I would not contact him. Guys don’t seam to work this way. Even when they don’t match a single thing on my list, they still contact me (obviously not all of them, but some). This is very flattering ofcourse – don’t get me wrong! But it kind of defeats the purpose of what I though was net-dating (netting?). It’s no easier than in real life. And you don’t get to know the most important things of all: how their voice sound and how their personal scent affects you…

This was not a good idea.

glögg

2006-12-21T08:13:00.000-08:00

It’s almost here! The holiday where the Nordic countries have a party to celebrate that the days are starting to get longer again. The north of Sweden doesn’t even see the sun for a few days during this season. So you KNOW we have to eat well and give presents just to make it through! And after the crusades, we are also celebrating that Jesus was born. But for you people out there who are not Christians or just don’t have a holiday at the end of December, you are welcome to celebrate winter-solstices with us.

I want to share with you all a recipe for the Swedish Christmas drink called Glögg. All December we have glögg-parties where you meet up and have a few cups of hot glögg and some ginger-snaps before you head out and on to the Christmas chores again. There are as many version of the recipe as there are families, so feel free to experiment!

Glögg:
Two 1/4 –inch-thick slices peeled fresh gingerroot
1 tablespoon cardamom pods
Three 3-inch cinnamon sticks
½ tablespoon whole allspice
Two 4- by ½-inch strips fresh orange zest
1 cup vodka
1 cup Ruby Port or Portuguese white Port (red traditionally)
Two 750-ml. bottles dry red or white wine (red traditionally)
1½ cups sugar

Accompaniments:
Blanched whole almonds
Golden raisins

With flat side of a large knife smash gingerroot and lightly crush cardamom pods. In a large bowl combine gingerroot, cardamom, cinnamon, allspice, zest, and vodka. Let spice mixture stand, covered, at least 12 hours and up to 1 day.

Pour spice mixture through a sieve lined with a double thickness of cheesecloth into a kettle and stir in Port, wine and sugar.

Heat the glögg over moderately low heat, stirring, until sugar is dissolved and the glögg is warm (do not let boil!).

Ladle warm glögg into cups and add several almonds and a spoonful of raisins to each serving. Makes about 10 cups.

Big hugs and Merry Christmas, God Jul (or what ever you want to celebrate!) to all of you!
I hope Santa knows how nice you really are…

lib

2006-12-15T05:11:00.000-08:00

It’s what we have been discussing for a long time now – my friends and I. Just recently I learned that there has been waives of women’s movements for over hundred years. Probably earlier as well considering what happened at Knossos way before Jesus was born. Where ever I am, there is always someone who will tell me that they have started thinking about this. Wondering what they can do to help women to obtain equality to men. We are not talking about men and women being the same, but being worth the same, given the same opportunities, strengths from both being valued.

For a group of my friends it’s so important to have this equality, that not being equals is used to offend someone. Kind of like when we where kids and would say “my cousin can beat-up your cousin” (oh if the cousins only knew what we promised they could do!). Now you can hear “I guess equality is more important to me than it is to you” if someone wants to win an argument without valid reasons.

Some things are a non issue to me that seam extremely important to others. We are talking about sharing the cleaning, doing dishes and laundry burden here. I’ve met people who can go on and on how important it is for them that the man does half of everything at home, like they want us to give standing ovations for their contribution to equality because they refuse to do more household chores that their man. What’s the fuss? Why date men who want a maid or are messy in the first place? I’ve never had to give this a thought before. All men in my life (including dad) has seen the benefit of a clean house, dishes and clothes as have I. Granted we have all had different opinions how things should be done or even when, but that’s not a big issue. I’m starting to think that men who are looking to find a maid or don’t know how to clean are not attracted to me. Or/and I don’t get attracted to them. A long time ago I read a book called Women who love too much. I got it from an accounting client who said the book helped him a lot, so the title “women” is not all correct: it’s for everybody who give more than they get. That was a parenthesis. The thing I remember most from that book is how it described all the signals we send out in a first meeting with a new person. Subconsciously. I guess my signals are pretty strong since I haven’t had to deal with the cleaning issue. Lots of other stuff of course! But not cleaning. Or it’s just that I have a higher tolerance level of filth then the guys I date.

The non equality issues I encounter are mostly in the work-environment. I’ve written a post about it as well. Today I got an old article (May 2004) from the Harvard Business Review about Coaching the Alpha Male. They have a section called “What about Alpha Females?” and proceed to tell us that the researchers haven’t found a single woman with all the Alpha Male traits. They conclude this by saying “the corporate environment – and society as a whole – is much less tolerant of these characteristics in women than in men. So, far fewer women with these tendencies ever reach executive positions.” Did I get this correctly: we have built a society where traits generally seen in men are what will bring in the big dough and also what is getting high status? And women are told that they can achieve all this if they just buy into the predominate male way of being. And when they do: the society and the corporate environment do not accept this and will not promote these women into top executives anyway. We have to start thinking “outside of the box” here. Just because it’s been this way for a very long time doesn’t make it right.

What can we do to make a change so that everybody can benefit?

Over a couple of beers with my fellow theatre-students, we where discussing the base-camp metaphor. How in order to climb Mount Everest you need a good base-camp or you’ll never get there. Executives in large corporations have a wife who will make sure the base-camp is working, or they wouldn’t make it to the top. Even one of the Nobel-price winners talked about him benefiting from having a wife while it was harder for her to be a scientist since she didn’t have a wife. Well she was a scientist and worked along side with him, but because she didn’t have a “wife” she did not get the award. Here wife = base camp. The idea is that you do what is best for the unit. There are many examples of switched roles as well, where the woman brings in the dough and the man makes sure the base-camp is working. The CEO of a large Swedish bank is a woman who is married to a younger man from the analytics department in the bank. For them it was more feasible that he stayed home with the kids during the 9months of paid *) parental leave we are entitled to in Sweden. One of my favourite blogers: Mal, speaks about a similar situation. It is a great comfort to me that we have reached this level. We see more and more of this where families make choices which benefit the entire unit and it’s not always the man who has to sacrifice his time with his children. It would of course be nicer if everybody where able to spend more time with their children. What families loose in income, they might gain in not having to pay psychotherapists later on. Penelope Trunk has some thoughts about this as well.

So one of the single guys from the theatre class leans forward and asks me - with hope in his voice - if I’m looking for someone to take care of my base-camp. And actually: no. I want someone to climb along side with me. I know it’s not possible to reach Mount Everest that way, but that’s ok. With the right person I’d be happy with just a small hill.

If you’ve read all above you realise that I still haven’t been able to tie everything together. What is it that I’m saying? Some things sound contradictory. My thoughts are not in order yet. I do know that we need to work on getting a better place for everybody. More healthy and more productive. Other things than what you see today have to be valued. How do we get there?

*) you only get paid up to a certain level which is far less than she makes as a CEO.

nice

2006-11-13T08:52:00.000-08:00

So I’m Googeling around looking for information about commercial invoices. What value do you have to use on the goods shipped if it’s prototypes? I started reading this one site when I notice a text in the lower left hand corner. It’s a Buddha quotation. “What we think we are. The mind is everything. All we are is the result of what we have thought.” Quite a strange thing to put on a business site. Never the less it got me thinking. The power of the mind is incredible. If we smile or laugh it sends signals to our brains that we are happy. “What we think we are”. So when ever my depressing thoughts take over my brain: that’s what I am. This is true of course.

Or is it simply saying “perception is reality”?

Earlier this week I ordered a book called the power of nice. I like nice. Try to live by it myself. There are times however when nice can be too much for some people though it seams. As I’m happily walking around in the grocery story one evening, this man walks up to me. He looks like a perfectly normal man in his 40ies. He points down at my cart and asks “Did you find those sodas here? I’ve never seen them before. What are they?”. Instead of being a normal low-key Swede trying to avoid any contact with strangers, it was if someone has asked me to be in a TV ad! I took up my Mountain Dew and held it as if I had to show it to the camera. It’s only sold in certain stores with a “US-corner” where you also find Ranch dressing and marshmallow fluff. I told him everything there is to know about this drink. But either the guy was very shy or in a hurry. He hardly looked me in the eyes, sort of backed away from me and tries to hurry off. I wasn’t quite done with my Mountain Dew campaign and shout after him “and it contains loads of caffeine!”.

It got me thinking of this show on TV now called The Singles Coaches where they teach people with low self-esteem how to approach someone they want to date. One of the tip the coaches had for one of the guys where that “it’s ok to walk up to the girl in the park who is reading, and ask what she is reading”. Maybe this guy thought asking about my sodas was a good way to make contact? He just wasn’t prepared for my nice-campaign! Sometimes I think nice can be too nice.

nothingness

2006-11-05T13:15:00.000-08:00

What if it’s true? That we are born with a void inside. And have to spend the rest of our lives to fill it. If we don’t find something with substance, we’ll just have to keep filling that hole. Cause we’ll always feel that emptiness inside. That’s why we become addicts. We didn’t find something with enough mass. One person is a work-o-holic, the next is looking for love in all the wrong places, someone might try to shop herself happiness, or just plain old alcohol abuse to lessen the emptiness. Is this why most of us are starving for attention and recognition?

What is there with enough substance to make me feel whole?

For religious people it seams easier. They probably don’t have to search for a purpose. It’s given to them.

A lot of times it feels like music fill up that emptiness. It fills me with what ever mood the music puts me in. Same with exercise and using my body for strenuous activities. (I don’t want to use the word “sports”, because I am too much of a competitive person and personally don’t like the element of competition in sports.) Eating a well prepared meal also seam to satisfy me.

But the music become silent, most of the times I’m too tired or too lazy to exercise and I’m not that good of a cook.

I still feel that void.

party

2006-10-15T14:49:00.000-07:00

Probably the first party pic of me ever when I’m not the one holding the camera!

Why do they not arrest me? I know there are cameras all around this building. It’s the police headquarter for crying out loud! It’s staffed 24/7. Maybe drunk-walking with dog isn’t even a misdemeanor?

Even though I could hardly stand up, I knew Simon had to go to the bathroom now or we would not like each other in a few hours. So I did what I always do: I stumbled around in the police park with Simon. It’s almost 5am.

It’s amazing that the taxi driver could interpret my drunken slur and actually drive me home. The receipt said that the trip started at 4.31 and ended 4.48. I love the Stockholm cabs. They accept all credit cards and their receipts have so much information on it, it’s like a little novel.

I’m paying for this the day after though. The only time I stand upright is to walk Simon.

Today I’m thankful that Simon can accept a slow walk every now and then. There is so much to smell and so little time.

My tall statuesque friend was supposed to spend the day at my place, but she has been led between the bed and the bathroom all night by her boyfriend the Saint. She spends all of Saturday that way actually.

My short voluptuous friend on the other hand had not spent the night (or do you call it morning when it’s after 5am?) at home, so thankfully she was happy to come over and spend the day with me. Sleeping on the couch, but anyway.

The worst thing with alcohol is the side effects. For one your body doesn’t count it as sleep when you “pass out” in bed when you come home. And then there’s the anguish. You’ll bee seized with anxiety whether you have a reason for it or not. The best way to not get stuck in those horrid feelings is to spend the day after with good friends I’ve noticed. Or curled up in bed all day with a hunk – but that’s another story.

So the first time I wake up (when the alcohol is “slept off” maybe?) it’s almost eleven and my make-up is still perfect! On my way to wash it off I see my trail of clothes. If I didn’t know I came home alone I would have thought it had been a hot and steamy scenario here earlier. My clothes have been dropped piece by piece, leading a trail to the bedroom, starting with my shoes at the front door. For some reason I left my socks and my undies on. (strange choice)

One of the walks me and short voluptuous friend do with Simon is to the corner Thai restaurant for take out. Cheep and good! Unfortunately I can’t sit up long enough to eat more than two bites at a time. Dinner goes on for a while.

My man-friend comes over with a movie. He is shocked to see the state we are in.

So why are we doing this? On one of the blogs I always read, Diane is telling that she had a “corner turning moment” when it dawned on here that maybe there are better/other things than partying. It’s time for me to get to that corner: even if I have to crawl. Still on Monday I had eyes like a boxer and a severe hangover voice. Thank good for Clear-eyes and nice clothes! I hope I fooled my office at least. Don’t want them to find out about my secrete double life. Being a top executive during the day and a drunken party princess at night.

How did we get to this state?

Starting Friday night with tall statuesque friend and me as usual in my apartment with lots of vodka. For some reason we started discussing politics. We do not share the same views. I told here that I can not see myself getting involved with a guy who has another political view than me. This went on until 1am when we got a cab and went to the club. Short voluptuous friend showed up around 2.30 after drinks with her co-workers.

As the money-spending-junky I am: I kept ordering White-Russians for us until the bar ran out milk. Ohps! And I can tell you that we did not need quite as many White-Russians as we consumed.

I saw this guy. I liked him right away. Not sure why. He was not particularly good looking. He was far from fit. You could tell that he liked good food. And he had a beard sorta like Mr Solas (what ever the guy’s name in Desperate Housewives is) but it was blond. I would not be surprised if he likes Jazz. Had tall statuesque friend noticed that I was not standing next to her and seen me with this guy, she would have totally dragged me away from him. She only accepts guys who are handsome with wash-board stomachs and a cool clothing style (at least when we are at the clubs). Short voluptuous friend saw me though. She saw the big smile on my face and left me there.

The night went by so fast – it’s all a blur. The music was really good. People where happy. I ran in to a few guys I know (one of the “sailors” took the pic). I do remember that I asked the guy with the beard all sorts of things. Like what political side he was on. Not your average club chit-chat I guess.

Suddenly I realize that I have had way too much to drink. “I have to get a cab” I mumble and storm off. The guy who I’ve been talking to all evening follows me out. He gets me the cab of the particularly company that I prefer to ride with. He opens the door and lets me in. Then he closes the cab door. From the outside. He didn’t even ask for my number.

John? What happened here?

poll

2006-09-29T03:51:00.000-07:00

Big headlines the other day on the Swedish evening paper: “Half or the Swedish women have se x on the first night” It doesn’t say on the first date since it’s not necessarily a date these women have been on. It’s more likely after a night at the local bar or on the dance floor. Who can blame these women?! Most cities have more women than men habitats for one. The chance of ever hearing from a guy you actually think is nice is extremely slim. Most of my friends would say next to none. (and these are all cool, friendly, nice looking and adventurous women who makes money). Even if it’s actually spending the whole weekend in bed with the person you like, having dinners together, experiencing moments with someone special, just hang with, discuss important matters over the morning paper etc – even if that’s what you really want: wrinkle the sheets with the man at hand is all that is offered. Better than nothing? Is it even a substitute? Most of us know that se x the first night will not lead to a relationship. And still I think a lot of these one-nighters happen due to yearning for true love. Hope’s the last thing we give up – isn’t it.

It’s so nice to see that 20 people at this point believe in love according to my mini-poll! That brings hope to me. I on the other hand am the only one who has voted “what’s the point”. And I’m asking that again: what’s the point? People who are in relationships seam to be complaining about it, misunderstanding each other etc. It’s beyond me. Yes it’s nice that I may do what ever I want, when ever I want. I can crank-up the music and dance in silly ways, eat my favourite dish for a month in a row, watch all the CSI episodes ever made, book different activities every night of the week, spend an entire Sunday with my girlfriends at a coffee shop, buy way too expensive lotions and what ever I feel like doing. But still – I want more.

During the same time as the headlines above in the Swedish paper, there had been a poll in Great Brittan: who would give up se x to live a 100 years? 60% (or was it 40%? – still way high) had answered YES! Can you believe it?! How would you spend your time those 100 years?!

rules

2006-09-27T06:30:00.000-07:00

The things we do to protect us from life. I’m sure the first rule we set up was to protect ourselves. Protection from being violated. We built a wall to be able to control everything that happens to us. To some point this is good. It is good to not accept having other people put you down. But what if we interpret everything other people do or say as being hostile or an insult? We have to build higher walls and make stricter rules. Each rule is an opportunity lost. If I instead try to meet my fellow creature with an open mind and listen to what he/she has to say, without demanding that this person follow my set of rules, I could gain a broader perspective of things I never even thought about. I’m at a state where I try to live with this awareness. I have been going through life like a steamroller. Protecting myself from being hurt, protecting myself from what I thought was other peoples judgements. When in fact it’s my own judgement that is heavy to bear. All people out there with another point of view, other frames of references or just another way of expressing themselves: I don’t want to keep them out. Tear down the walls and start living life. Give and take: forget the rules. Or as we say in business: think out of the box.

The art of projection is enigmatic! No matter what psychology-school you read: they talk about projection. There are a few different vocabularies for it, but it means the same. The “bad” attributes we have – consciously or not – we see in other people. It has helped me to get a happier outlook on life, by not taking in everything people say as being meant for me. Rather it is saying something about them. It is truly a work in progress and I have to actively think about this. It also makes me think of why I say the things I do. Why am I mean or put other people down? I can not change anyone else, but I can change how I perceive what people say to me. Perception is reality, and I prefer being at peace than being hurt.

board room

2006-09-01T05:25:00.000-07:00

Note: no animals where harmed during this photo shoot. Simon loves me, he really does. He just doesn’t like having his picture taken.

Is there usually not a difference between men’s locker room and the board room?! I might be naïve, but I thought that successful men had high standards when they where gathered in professional context. What is norm?

Last week I attended a board meeting. I was elected secretary and kept notes. An unannounced break came up when one of the men (I was the only female) went to the bathroom. This made the rest of the crowd a bit more relaxed and chatty. The sales manager is such a “mother hen” to all his sales guys. He pampers them and their egos to the point where it’s almost cute. The rest of the board asked how the Swedish guy stationed in the US was doing. They have all heard that the sales manager wants him to come back to Sweden for a year so that he can find himself a wife. In the manager’s experience it’s apparently hard for a salesman stationed in a foreign country to find a mate. Well new information is that the sales guy wants to spend some time in Japan, because he thinks Japanese girls are cute. I am not kidding. This was the actual conversation in the board meeting. Off the record, but still. “So now the company is going to make great business in Japan with him there” one of the guys cheerfully said. “The business expansion of the world is driven forward by men’s se x drive!” was the excided conclusion.

I was speechless. How do you react to such a statement? The earth is rotating due to men’s private parts.

When I lived in the US, there was a cigarette brand – Virginia Slim’s – which adds would say something like “you’ve come a long way baby”. It was pictures of “strong” and beautiful women smoking, and I assume they wanted to say that women have more rights now than we used to. What I’m thinking is: Babe: we’ve got a long way to go.

exam

2006-08-30T07:12:00.000-07:00

Disclaimer: The picture has nothing to do with the text below. Except the “getting shit faced” part maybe. My regular partners in crime.

It’s funny how moods can do a 180 – one minute to another. And I’m not talking drastic things like getting your house bombed or anything like that. No it’s when I have to study for an exam. The weeks before I’m totally stressed out, I’m mad at people who ask if I want to meet up for a cup of coffee because it takes time away from my studying. My brain is so speeded and as I’m reading, my brain is making plans for what I will do when the test is over. It’s hard to concentrate when your brain is not cooperating. My apartment is never as clean as it is before an exam. This time I even sewed all the buttons in, that had come loose and arranged my bills by month. A friend called and asked if I felt a sudden urge to see how MacGyver reruns ends as well. How did he know?!

I take the test and when I walk out of there I’m on such endorphin-high, I bounce when I walk. All the troubles of the world are gone and the things I have been planning for the last couple of weeks seam so distance. It’s such a strange happy feeling. Like I’m floating.

When the “every day” routine sets in, the high is gone and so is the planning to some extent. I don’t’ wish to be under the study-pressure often. Actually never. But the way the brain is so active and plan fun things ahead is an amazing state. And I’m a planner, so it’s not that I don’t normally plan, but during study-time my creativity seam to be out of control! Ofcourse I wish some of that energy would be focused on the upcoming exam, but you can’t get everything now can you.

When I interviewed for my present job, one of the older and very experienced managers said to me “it’s funny with education: if you don’t have it you think it’s everything. When you have it you realize you don’t know any more than you did before”. It was such a relief for me to hear! I have worked my but off for so many years to compensate for my lack of education, and now when I soon have my executive MBA, I realize that I learned everything by working anyway. But it looks good on paper with an education. Good on paper?! When dates “look good on paper” it usually means they are boooriiiing.

Every now and then I’m asking myself if it is/was worth it to get this paper saying that I have an education. The price I’ve paid is having virtually no time left over after working, studying and sleeping. And getting shit faced. I’m hoping it’s my insurance to never have a boring job!

dance

2006-08-14T08:25:00.000-07:00

The dance we do with other people. Sometimes it’s so frustrating! If you are the defender, I’ll almost automatically take upon me the roll as the accuser. Or if you are the one crying, I’ll be the detached and objective one. And just as how you twirl in dancing, changing the balance from the right foot to the left: the roles we have will change to the opposites, sometimes during the same conversation even. Why is this? Where did the “grown-up” and compassionate personality go? Like it is with my close circle of good friends: we “see” each other, give encouragement, praise and advice. When one of us is about to do something that will hurt herself: we do make her aware but try not to judge. None of us is stealing attention from someone else and doesn’t hog the entire conversation or its topics. Why is it so hard to be as loving with family, love interests and sometimes even with people of less importance to me? Or do I get easily provoked and that is why I can’t always be the understanding and forgiving person that I like when I am? And I’m not saying that everything should necessarily be forgiven, and I don’t claim to understand everybody out there (very few actually), but still. So many more issues would be solved if both parties could listen to each others points and both give and get. Don’t se it as being a winner in an argument, because you probably lost something in the process. Or you made another person lose some of his/her self-respect. That is one expensive victory. This is something to consider in these times of war as well. What can we do to compromise with out feeling like one of the parties is a looser? We can’t all get along, but maybe we can leave alone more. Might seam like petty little words from a person living in a small - and thus far – pretty safe country. But it’s on my mind.

It’s funny how some people make us feel. I always tell my friends that the person they are interested in is the “right one” if he/she makes you like whom you are. Now when I think about it: that is true for friends and even for work places as well. I have a job where I feel that everything I know and have done is an asset. And with some friends I like who I am and others just makes me feel ugly and boring. So strange. It’s still just me.

sailing

2006-07-30T15:12:00.000-07:00

Sailing is math. At least that’s my conclusion after a week on the water with three engineers. My previous sailing experience had been with smaller boats and old fashion sailors. I was taught how to figure out what direction the wind came from by licking my finger and putting it up in the air. Not here. There where quite a few clocks and digits that told what direction the boat was going, what angel the wind was blowing from in relations to the boat, the depth, the speed, the angel the boat was leaning and lots more. Some of them I never bothered to understand. The guys spent most of the time calculating wind speed and direction with planned direction and distance. They made nice straight paths on the GPS. Which where only interrupted when I had to go to the bathroom… One of the inconveniences with being a girl: you can’t just strap on a safety rope and hang from the side of the boat when you need to pee. At least I didn’t want to.

The boat was nice and stuffed with wine glasses from Iittala, glasses for drinks, cognac, shots etc. More glasses than I have at home. The owner (a business associate of one of the “sailors”) had also left tons of boxes of wine, nice bottles of wine and beers. You might say we where all set on that department! No room to put our stuff due to all the glasses and wines. But that’s ok.

The only place I have sailed before is in the Stockholm archipelago which is full of small islands so you have to keep switching directions all the time (not sure what the correct term for this is in English) (it’s “kryssa” in Swedish). Not here. Since we where sailing from the east coast of Sweden starting in Visby, Gotland – going around the south of Sweden up to Gothenburg on the west coast, the rout did not have many obstacles in it’s way. Just open waters basically. We set the autopilot on one direction and just sailed. Didn’t have to do much actually. I’m used to being in charge of something, usually one of the sides of pulling in or letting go of the front sail. Here the front sail was automatic. Sometimes it needed tightening, but since it was so big I wasn’t strong enough to do the last bit which always seams most important anyway.

So what did I do? While the guys kept busy with their mathematic calculations and occasionally changing the sails (it seamed like they had do be occupied with something at all times), I finished a book, worked on my tan (the days we didn’t wear our ski-jackets that is!), talked to my guy-friend onboard and sent text messages to my girl-friends on shore. During our night-sailing sessions I had the graveyard shift with the least talkative guy. I didn’t know this before we had the shift together (1am - 4am) but I got painfully aware since the tree hours felt like the longest ones in history. Imagine being dehydrated, suffering from lack of sleep and not really in tuned with the sea yet, and then having to stay awake for three hours with a man who says NOTHING during this time. I tried to start conversations by asking him questions about things I thought he might be interested in. He answered them in the shortest way possible and didn’t ask anything back. Jolly!

Although the week was fun and full of sailing, sun, wine and good food – the way these men all got excited when the engine broke: they read the whole manual and had the problem figured out within a few hours. Or how they could discuss cell phone technology over an entire dinner. Not a single word about relationships, art or other “soft” issues. To be frank: they where boring and single minded. That’s a bit harsh: I know. My friend is a keeper and not dull and one of the guys is a fantastic chef. They’re not a drag all the time, I’m sure. But if I can sum the topics up: that is my conclusion.

When the owner came to get his boat back, he turned out to be an attractive man in that undefined age between 38 and 55. He brought golf clubs, tennis rackets and he was very social and friendly. So when his wife was coming, I was expecting a cool woman in his age, with an interesting career-job, fit and with good social skills. His match basically. I got so disappointed when this young girl in her lower twenties came. She didn’t have a firm hand-shake and hardly looked people in the eye. I’m not sure, but I bet she doesn’t even work – at least not because she thinks its fun and challenging. What a bore! I asked my friend what he thought about this and he just said “it’s another statement showing how wealthy he is”. Excuse me?! Why is a pretty girl with no thoughts of her own a sign of wealth?! I’m guessing he’s no more fun than the other guys I have sailed with, and he would get a low self esteem if he was to date a woman his equal. I am fascinated by people who think about relations and context of things. It could be religion, politics, psychology, society, art or anything. People who might not expect to find definite answers and who doesn’t se everything as right or wrong, black or white. Not like the square headed men who have not discovered the beauty of a woman’s mind, and only see her as a threat or an object. Why are things not changing?!

So I’m not particularly interesting myself and certainly not entertaining, and maybe that’s why I’m so fascinated by people who are. I’m a thinker but unfortunately not a communicator, I confuse s ex with intimacy. So what’s my point? I don’t know. I got a tad bit discouraged.

archipelago

2006-07-04T00:15:00.000-07:00

Same friend – different year

Starting the morning with a car chase perks me right up! Or bus chase rather as the case was on Saturday morning. I was invited to spend the weekend at my friend’s island in the Stockholm archipelago. I knew that the conditions would be quite Spartan out there, so I had made preparations and packed a couple of bottles of wine, tons of chocolate and other life-necessities. Since the weather was going to be fabulous, I was dressed quite casual in just a small top and linen-pants. After doing some last minute strawberry shopping I realize I was not going to make it to the bus if I took the subway. It is summer after all and the trains and buses don’t go as often. So I get into a cab and ask if he can get me to the bus in three minutes. “Not likely, but we can give it a try” he answers. “My driving might be a little less smooth if we try though” the driver added and took off. I swerved with my luggage all over the back seat – but we still didn’t make it. “Try to catch him at the next stop” I hollered from the backseat and he but the gas pedal to the floor once more. Well the bus had already left that stop, but we caught up with him and followed him. We stopped behind the bus when one of the bridges was opening – or so we thought. “Run out and ask if he lets you on here at the bridge” the driver suggested. So I ran out and darted towards the bus. People who are not used to Stockholm bus drivers probably don’t know how matriculate they are with rules and stuff. There is no way a bus driver lets you on unless you are at an actual bus stop. Many times I have ran alongside the bus until I get to the next stop because I live between two stops and for some reason always get out when the bus is at a red-light after the first stop. Not fun to do in high-heals, I tell ya! But it was worth a shot here. But before I reach the bus, the bridge starts going down and the cars starts driving again. So I turn and run back to the cab. As I’m doing this I notice that my pants are hiked down a bit and my not so attractive thongs are showing. Not just the undies, but the skin between the rim of them and the pants. No, I’m not showing buttocks or anything, but the undies are dated pre the low ride pants era and the linen pants where – well… just not tied tight enough at the hips. What a site for sore eyes this Saturday morning! Oh well. The taxi cuts the bus off at the next stop and I run out to ask the driver to wait just half a minute. Cause I didn’t have cash – only credit card. I didn’t tell the bus driver that though. Bless the Swedish cabs for taking all credit cards! I finally get all my stuff on the bus and the driver is furious! How could I be so rude and let all this people wait! I’m glad he didn’t through me off the bus actually.

After an hour on the uncomfortable bus with the angry driver I was finally at my stop. My friend picked me up in a small motorboat and we drove to her island. The horrid morning very soon disappeared as we enjoyed the sun and the rocks. For you who don’t know: the rocks by the water is smooth in Sweden due to the ice tides a couple of thousands of years ago (or how ever long ago). The rocks have sunken-in parts where it’s just perfect to lie down like in a beach-chair. Wine and strawberries for a late lunch, discussing all important life issues and reading our books. And the sun doesn’t set in Sweden during the summer. The only thing that was missing where a couple of stallions by our side. Or maybe not. I have never dated a guy who wanted to just lie next to me in the sun all day and being happy just laying there. They always wanted to do something. Like beach-volley ball, play in the water or anything but just lay still. Either I’ve just dated hyperactive guys, or I’ve never dated anyone who where infatuated enough by me to be happy just laying next to me and gaze into my eyes and occasionally help me put sunscreen lotion all over my body. I’m leaving this topic now. I will just let myself believe that they have just been normal hyperactive guys.

We did this for two days and when I got home on Sunday I was truly relaxed! My vacation starts on Thursday evening and usually I’m extremely stressed before I go off to vacation. But not this time! The Stockholm peninsula is the place to be in the summer. Everybody you see are tanned and good looking! Not me though: I had my hair in a funny pony tail and my skin was like a palette of white, red and tanned. And my pants had wine spilled all over them and my cute top was full of sot or something. But who cares! Its summer and I love it!

directions

2006-06-28T07:07:00.000-07:00

It is a challenge to live with no sense of direction. But I have learned how to cope with it. I always take the big and straight roads – even if it’s longer – and ignore the winding short-cuts. I certainly don’t just drive in the approximate direction to get somewhere. Cause I have no clue what that direction might be. If I’m in a new place and go into a store or building it takes me a while when I get back outside to know what way I came from. But I’m aware of this and work around it. I try to memorize the things I see and go from there. My American mom used to say “you can put Åsa in a paper bag and she wouldn’t find her way out”. That is pretty much how I live my life actually: without a clue of what direction to take. I just tag along and deal with things as I encounter them. Every now and then this does cause me worries. I sometimes wish I had a plan. That I knew which way to take. Also here I try to adopt by analyzing things I recognise. It’s like with driving: I have an idea of where I want to end up: but I don’t know the fastest way there. I’m doing things unnecessary complicated or at least more lengthy than it has to be. And as the car will require more gas for the longer road: I use more energy and effort than I really had to. No wonder I’m so tired!

But of course: just because you do have a plan doesn’t necessarily mean you will end up where you planed though. All my Swedish engineering friends who I met in CA, USA had very detailed plans about life: what position to take career wise, where to buy a house, when to get married (to a very good looking girl of course) and when to have children. Only one of them did get all the things in a timely manner. The rest of them have been forced to revise their plans over and over and over…

One of these Swedish engineering boys – who happen to be one of my best guy friends – never had such detailed plans (as far as I know!) and have finally moved back to Sweden. Each year when he came back to visit Sweden I got to be his personal shopper. That’s why I was brave enough to apply for the position as Deb’s personal shopper (and get it I might add!). I like to shop for others more than for my self. I’m way too frugal to spend money on myself – but spending money on others or better yet, spending other people’s money: that’s the way to go! Now when he is back for good (?1?) in Sweden: we’ll be doing a lot of shopping! I’m so happy to have another returning immigrant to hang with! Someone how doesn’t think you have to have known each other for three generations to go biking, travelling, SAILING (yes yes yes!) together. And probably WANT to do all these things! Hmm… wonder if that means I ought to get in shape now. At the moment I’m expecting my gym to make a sign “sponsored by Åsa” since I sure aint using the gym – just sending monthly payments….

goal

2006-05-21T14:45:00.000-07:00

Why is golf so important? I always get invites to business tournaments. Maybe I should learn how to play? But what’s wrong with a good old cocktail party? Do we really have to hit a ball in order to justify drinks with business associates when the sun shines? I’m not sure about this. I have been told that it’s a good ratio on the courses though: more men then women. Let’s say that I do learn how to play and say yes to the next invitation. Am I supposed to win or loose when I play with a customer, a supplier, boss, my contact at the bank etc? Being an extremely competitive person I don’t think it’s a good idea to just play as good as you can. That might turn out the same way as when I played softball. It was a co-ed C league. That means that it’s for players who are so bad (or not very serious about the game?) so that you pitch to your own team. I’ve already admitted to being lousy at sports, and softball is no different. I suck but I fight well. As a matter of fact I used to charge towards first base so hard I always tackled the poor baseman/woman off the base. Apparently there is no tackling in baseball… Who knew?! It would be an embarrassing moment if I start smacking the person next to me at the golf course at a business function. Embarrassing might not be the correct word here (depending on the outcome).

With the competitive side comes being goal oriented. I don’t think it’s very healthy to be goal oriented actually. Cause if you really think about it, the goal with life is to die. So why wait so long before you reach the goal? Being goal oriented doesn’t work well with relationships either. What is the goal with a relationship? I’m not sure there is a goal here. And if the relationship itself is the goal: what’s next? Perhaps it’s better to consider the road to the goal more important than the end result. Since we don’t know for sure what happens after we die: maybe we shouldn’t hurry to get there. Could be that the relationship itself is the important part. Sometimes I think that having safe s ex forever is the purpose of a relationship, but that’s not true either. And it’s not good to start wrestling in the sack too early, cause that takes focus off everything else (like finding out who the other person actually is, what he/she is all about). Once you go down that road: there is no turning back. No, it must be something less easy to obtain, like being able to be who you are, without the proper attires, and still being liked. How often do we meet that? I know this might sound too prosaic, but still though. There are too many “lets play house” kind of relationships out there. Where people couple-up just because they happen to be two single people not wanting to be single anymore. And it’s convenient to have one person take care of the car and the other decorates the house. You don’t have to do it all as you have to when you’re single. Some seam like they don’t have anything in common, more than that they live under the same roof. What happens when they get older? If one person gets permanently ill and needs the care of the other person forever after? When they retire and the kids have moved? If all they did was “play house”, what do they do now? How can you live with another person without “seeing” what that person is all about? How can you not be curious of how the man/woman you live with think, like and want? And I’m not talking about just enough not to interfere with your activities, but to actually WANT to know. The scary part is that many of these relationships probably started off with two people falling in love. I’m terrified of this. Terrified of waking up in a relationship one day, not knowing who this person next to me is. Also knowing that I have never been my true-self, so he has no clue who I am either. Next to being bored, that’s my biggest fear.

Well, I could just try to be a sound human being and apply the result driven personality where it does good: in some business situations, and work on the tranquillity side for the rest. I’m ready to take on a new approach here.

grief

2006-05-13T04:10:00.000-07:00

Is there time to grieve? On the news on the Swedish equivalent of NPR, they are talking about miscarriages. One out of five pregnancies ends up in a miscarriage. Most of them so early on that the couple have not yet told family and friends about the pregnancy. What the program was talking about is how this made it harder for the couple to express their grief and get sympathy from people in their surroundings. That it made it even more painful not being able to talk about it in the same way “visible loss” is talked about.

But even if the couple have told every body that they where pregnant: it’s still hard to express how sad you are for them if they lose it. The Swedish language does not have a good expression for saying “I’m sorry for your loss”. I don’t think Swedes are supposed to talk that much about feelings when you look at the vocabulary we have to work with actually. How do I tell my friend who just lost her few week old fetus that I was so looking forward to meeting this new little person who where about to move in with them? How sorry I am that I never will have that opportunity. How do I tell my wonderful friend and her awesome boyfriend that I know they will be fantastic parents one day because this is just the beginning of their making of a family? That I am so sorry they had to go through these hardships and feel this loss. They are allowed to grieve for as long as they need.

But does the life we live today allow us to take the time to grieve? Don’t you always have something that has to be done at work (or the office will collapse…), or some social activity you just can’t ruin by moping around at? Why is that? Shouldn’t the healing of our soul be one of the most important things we do? And I’m not saying that we should do nothing BUT grieve. Our brains and our hearts are big enough to hold both the love for what we have and the mourning of what we lost. There is a point when the grieving becomes destructive I think.

My sister and a friend of mine are both very good-hearted and wise women. They have always allowed me to grieve for as long as I want. Even if it’s for things that other people don’t think are important at all. Some things we grieve are just the loss of a possible something. Not the loss of an actual someone. It used to be that when I was told about a break-up for instance, I would always start saying things like “good riddance”, “glad you god rid of that slacker”, “he was such a loser anyway” and things of that fashion. Now I don’t. Even if I still think that (all the men who don’t want my friends are losers of course!), I’ve learned that they are entitled to mourn (even the biggest deadbeat!) because that’s what’s going to make us whole again. Just to keep on walking and not grieving must be like fixing a hole in a dam with bandage. One day the bandage will be too wet and the glue will be all gone – and the dam breaks. Trying to dam ones grief.

I need to give myself some time to contemplate. You do too.

Love

2006-05-08T11:34:00.000-07:00

The Swedish pharmacy (yes: it’s a monopoly business in my country) had a campaign a few years ago about making-out. There where big posters with people well… making out. And it was saying things about how hugs and human touch makes the immune system better. More touching – less colds. They did mention that single people who did not have someone to snuggle with could go pay for a massage or have a heavy blanket when they sleep. It supposedly gave the same effect (yeah right!). I’ve also read some article about how people with low social activities take longer to recuperate from the flue. Well that’s a happy thought for you: you’re not just lonely with out friends, you are sicker as well. Maybe that’s nature’s way of weeding out the herd. Make sure those suckers with out friends or lovers get sick and die early so they don’t use too much of the Earth’s recourses! Scary!

I’ve been indulging myself with chick-lit lately. Swedish, British and American. They are all very much the same actually. Not the kind with Fabio half naked on the cover – but the more modern ones. I think that’s the kind of literature someone had a post card on PostSecret for: only reading when on vacation so no-one the person knew would find out. To some extent I understand why. None of the books have dazzled me with amazing sentences or new words, but they aren’t bad. I find them quite entertaining actually. And a lot of times they describe embarrassing things even I have done. Let’s hope not too many guys read these books and find out how some women are and think! I know I try to hide it ;-)

After OD’ing on all the above, I start to feel like that’s just a bunch of crap that marketing people and best selling authors come up with. You know: that love would be important. Cause it’s probably just a fiction of imagination. A way to keep flower-shops and jewellers in business. Until something happens.

One of my very dear friends – whom I refer to as “almost related” gave us a real scare this spring. To explain “almost related” I want to point out that at her wedding, my mom sat at the table with the bride and groom’s parents, and my sister and I sat right in front of the wedding couple at the same table as their coolest and nicest cousins! While at my “actually related” people: they don’t even bother to invite their aunt to their wedding. I shiver in disgust just thinking about it! Well, back to my friend:

To make a long and painful story very short: she was pregnant and then got the flue so bad it induced labor – right there at home with out any warning. The little premie and my friend were flown to the hospital in helicopter. She got blood poisoning and was put to sleep. Put to sleep for days that became weeks. Only five cases per year of this occur in Sweden. There is a high fatality risk, and what distinguish who will make it or not is the will to live. My sister and I visited her every week, afraid that it would be our goodbye to her. It really made all of us think about what we value in life and how short life can be. My friend made it and is home today. She will still be bedridden for a couple of months, but we are all so happy she is with us! And when my sister asked what made her survive this, she answered “my husband”. It was the love she and her husband have for each other that made her want to live.

I have nothing more to say.

advice

2006-04-28T12:35:00.000-07:00

The people in this picture may or may not have anything to do with the context of the story.

How good are the advices we give? Since our knowledge and opinions are depending on our frames of reference, our advices must depend on the same thing. How often are we egoistic and when do we try to see the bigger picture? I know that power of friends is a strong force. At least for women. Not sure how it is with men. The song “when a man loves a woman” points in the other direction: that what the friends say doesn’t matter at all. Is that true? Well it doesn’t matter. I’ll just ramble on regarding things within my frames of reference anyway.

I do my darndest to give advice that I think will be the best for my friend – even if it means not being to my advantage. The thing is though, just because I think it’s the best for her/him, it might not be. But asking for advice is asking to get someone else’s morals and believes imputed upon you. It’s a dangerous thing! To “advertise” this – that the advices are on basis of my experience – I try to find actual examples from my life, or the lives of people I know. Come to think of it, that’s also how you are supposed to do if you are a supervisor and want to rag on an employee: use actual examples, don’t just ramble on about how you “feel”. Not a very charming parallel hu!

The power of friends should not be taken lightly. When one of my friends went back to Sweden after living next to me in Tahoe for a year, I called her everyday and told her how much fun we where having, how nice the weather was, how good looking the guys where etc. Until she decided to come back. She did the same thing to me when I moved back to Sweden. After three months I moved back to Tahoe again. Sound silly? Maybe. But it might not have been only the phone calls determining the decision. And I have more examples of this phenomenon which I might share at another time. Or it’s just a proof of how easily influenced me and my friends are? Don’t know.

So if I aim for giving unbiased advice, I have managed to do the exact opposite when I just make casual comments. Since apparently I am born with a foot in my mouth I can say things that are so hurtful to the other person that one might think I have a total lack of compassion! And this without thinking or meaning anything by it. Like this one guy I said something to in sixth grade, about him probably not needing another piece of candy. Why you say something like that to anyone I don’t know. But how you can say it to a chubby person like my classmate is unbelievable! And it was just because I didn’t want to give any of my candy away. He confronted me like five years later and I hadn’t even thought about it as an incident. I’m a bad bad person. I could tell so many more examples of this, but I’m too ashamed and I bow to repent my evil words every day. For being a heathen I really do believe in doing upon others like you wish they would do upon you. That all the bad stuff I have done is being punished and each day I live: I pay. What comes around goes around.

Well some bad stuff I do is like in Faulty Towers (John Cleese) when the Germans are there. The staff is told: “Don’t mention the war!”. They keep repeating this so much that the only thing John Cleese’s character is doing is making references to Hitler and World War II. It’s hilarious! And sometimes that’s how I am as well. Not with Germans per say, but like when my sweet, dear, strong and pregnant friend is having coffee (decaf of course) with me I tell her how tired I am of my new co-workers talking about nothing but their children. That I feel like I work in a seed-factory considering the pregnancy rate at that office. And this knowing that I will probably want to talk more about her baby than she will! I’m a bad bad person.

So now it’s time for me to go out and do some good deeds to compensate!

4-20

2006-04-20T07:26:00.000-07:00

So it’s my birthday. Well not yet. Not until my mom has called and told me about the day I was born. Not that the story itself is so enticing, but her being so moved still every time she tells it is so sweet and makes my day.

But birthdays are not the same anymore. My years in the US, the tradition was that the birthday-person got to choose the dinner that day. Oh so I can still choose my birthday dinner – actually, if I don’t: I don’t get anything since no one else is responsible for my eating. That’s not all bad though. I’m getting used to my own cooking. Preferring it actually. Oh shit! It has come to that!

Being born on this day is associated with Adolf Hitler and Napoleon of France. But not in the California/Washington area. 4-20 is some petition or something to get marijuana legalised. When ever I have to show my ID in like a Trader Joe’s or something, the clerk always looks at me in awe and say something that makes me understand that it’s this legalising thing they worship. I don’t have anything against Trader Joe’s, but it always happens at that store. It’s kind of cute actually, that such a thing can be so important to them, that they even see it when they read my license. Maybe cute was a bad choice of word here – but you know what I’m saying though.

I read in “The ultimate birthday book” about people born on April 20th: “Not only does their strong self-belief lead them to dominate other people (oh I think it’s the fact that I’m the oldest sister that makes me bossy), but their aversion to criticism (I rather have you leave me than criticise me!) furthermore instills in them an intolerance of alternative viewpoints (my way or the highway – simple as that). Both propensities are potentially destructive and may cause them to live in a fantasy world (hmm… I have been reading a lot of blogs lately), isolated from both reality and the affection that they desire (“desire affection” is that what they call it nowadays…). It is vital for their emotional well-being that they do not take constructive criticism as a personal affront (what else could you take it as?!), but instead recognize the importance maintaining an objective and open mind (I’m pretty open minded I think), accepting that they are not always right (ok, so I’m not always right – I’m just never wrong). Learning to relax their drive for perfection and high expectations (don’t think so – that is what has gotten me to the place where I am), and becoming more tolerant in all things (well, I’ve always been told I need to up my tolerance level), will ultimately bring those born on April 20 great fulfillment”.

Is that good or bad?!

No more moping around! Time for champagne (spiked with vodka, and a strawberry in each glass) and party! Crank up the music and start filling the balloons!

do be do be do

2006-04-09T15:37:00.000-07:00

Are we what we do? Or do we become our occupation? That would be pretty sad though, since most of us probably dreamt of being something we didn’t end up doing eight hours a day. And what about people who haven’t started work yet – or people who are unemployed? Maybe it’s like with sculptures: depending on the base material, there is only a limited amount of tools that will decide the final sculpture. Take clay for example. You couldn’t use some huge hammer as you would if it was marble. The finished sculpture could look the same but you can’t use the same tools to get there. I don’t apply a different value to the clay contra the marble (I prefer to make clay sculptures myself though), but like with occupations: different materials are good/useful in different ways. Clay is not the material to choose if you want to make a statue, and marble is not the easiest material to make fine details in. I wanted to be a tight-rope dancer or a gardener when I was younger. Considering that I am scared of heights and am allergic to freshly cut grass: it must be like a piece of clay wishing to become an image of some dead king on a city square somewhere.

At the improv-group, we where not allowed to talk anything about our occupation. A very smart move actually because that way we only imagined people for who/what they where portraying that moment, not what they where outside of the stage. On our last night we went out for beers to celebrate. Someone started guessing what every body worked with. It was fun! We had been doing silly things and pushed our limits together and alone for the last few weeks without knowing anything personal about each other. Half of the people I managed to pin-point at my first guess. Like the woman who was in upper management and the journalist. The guy who was a script writer was almost disappointed that I guessed his occupation right away. Maybe he thought it was too out there for us to come up with. But he has the same cool calm that my friend who is a script writer (and drama teacher) has. It’s not the kind of cool I have in business context, which is more a controlled cool to make sure I stay on top of the situation. No, this seam to come from within. My theory is that they are secure in themselves and who they are, and the writing probably becomes an outlet for frustrations, fears and hopes in such a way that it doesn’t have to disturb who they are outside of the writing. This made me think that maybe there are only a few occupations that are suitable for each person. Or do we become that person after we choose a certain job? Do some people start out as clay and some as marble? Would I have been a different person if I had become a gardener?

I don’t think it’s just what we do that shapes us, it’s also where we do it and who we have around us that mold who we are. Take me for example. Now when I’m in an environment where I’m only expected to work eight hour days, I have so much extra energy that I have a hard time using it in a sensible way. Had I been in a relationship now I would have handcuffed that guy to my bed-post and worn him out. Instead I have been shopping. Hopefully Amex doesn’t have hit-men on their payroll because I would probably end up on their list! Don’t think I will be able to pay my next bill actually. Darn this energy ;-) Well some of it is spent on rational activities. I have been preparing lunch boxes for each day. That might be pure survival instinct though since the canteen at my new job is awful. Before I start moving walls in my apartment or something, I think I’ll start going to the gym. Where else would my energy be of best use?!

There is a thing with the gym though: none of the other people in the weight room get red-faced or sweaty. I don’t know how they do it or why they do it. Girls do get sweaty at the gym, but only when taking classes. Some guys have no problem sweating on the treadmill, and apparently preferably next to me. At least the ones who decided not to wash their clothes from last time they went to the gym… But I don’t think it’s only because I work out hard that the guys in the weight-room doesn’t check me out. There is a much bigger competition: themselves! Most of the guys seam to do lifting in a non-ergonomic move, constantly checking themselves in the mirror. Oh I know that you should look in the mirror to make sure you do the movements correctly, but when you are done: it looks kinda silly to prance around and flex in front of the mirror. Or is that just me? And you KNOW that a guy like that is more interested in having a member of his fan club doting on him than him aiming to please his partner. Some guys are just meant to look at, some are meant to date. I was a sucker for pec’s and bic’s (chest and arms) when I was younger. It was almost like a joke amongst my friends, because you could tell as soon as you walked in to a place which of the guys I would walk up to. But that got old. I am so not fan club material.

On one of my shopping sprees I went though my entire wallet in search of something I can’t remember now. It turns out I have been saving some fortunes that you get at Chinese restaurants in the US when you pay the bill. I’ve been told that you have to take a bite of the cookie before you read the fortune. And you should add “in bed” after the fortune. Adding or not, the fortunes that I have saved are pretty cool. Funny I would have found them now, at the start of my new life with a new job and all:

The tide of change approaches.
You have given some thought to a different life style.
A welcome change is about to happen.
When time permits, your personal life will be exciting.

It must be a sign! The fortune-cookie-Gods are talking to me! Right on! Bring on the change ;-)

cervinia

2006-03-18T12:16:00.000-08:00

Vacationing without company is always an adventure! So I'm not the kind of person who necessarily needs to go soul-searching in India or travel to countries with dangerous animals roaming around to find it exciting. Just deciding on a destination and a not so sure way of getting there can be thrilling enough for me. Not to speak about moving to a place without knowing anyone there. That's an adrenaline kick right there! But that's a totally different story as well.

When I moved back to Sweden in 2000, I took the bus to work in the beginning. One of the first co-workers I talked to on the bus told me about skiing in the Italian Alps. Not too cold, sun, snow, good food and wine. Every thing a person can ask for in other words! Since that moment, I have wanted to go skiing in Italy. I took my negotiation final on Tuesday and hopped o a plane to Milan on Wednesday. Almost missed the plane though. That's nearly as much of a tradition for me as having to re-pack my luggage at the check-in counter due to overweight...

Prejudice as I am, I got pleasantly surprised with how accommodating, helpful and internet savvy the Italians are. Even the taxi drivers want you to e-mail them the booking of a cab rather than calling.

I knew I had to get from the airport to the central station. Due to an "incident" the day before: no trains where leaving the airport, only buses. It sounded so mysterious with "incident"! What if there had been a bomb threat or other scary things?!

The train ride from Milan to Chatillon-Sant Vincent took less than three hours including one change of trains. It was inexpensive, clean and empty. Apparently I had missed to stamp my ticket in Milan, so I got a friendly lecture from the conductor (or what ever you call the guy checking tickets). He had his lip pierced ad lots of jewellery everywhere. He was not very good at English and I know like two words of Italian, but I think I know what I should have done in Milan. Well next time then!

For some reason they only have one tiny sign at each station that tells the name of it. It was close to midnight and pitch black outside. I know my station was coming up so I took my luggage and jumped off the train trying to find out what station I was at. I see the conductor at the other end of the train, running towards me. I grab my bag and meet up with him half way. Sure enough: this was not the correct station. Phew! I would have hated being stranded in the middle of no ware in a strange country at midnight!

My cab was waiting at the correct station and took me the one hour drive to the hotel. They had left the door open for me and left a big note with my name on it and my keys at the counter. Loving this trusting environment!

Next morning it was time for me to rent skis. The guy at the rental shop had friends in Sweden so I got a "svenska flicka" (=Swedish girl) discount. I'm just hoping he wasn't referring to the un called for bad rep that Swedish girls have around the world. The Swedish bikini team weren’t even Swedish for crying out loud! But who cares at this point. I got a good price on my skis.

I know these hour-glass shaped skis are supposed to be a little shorter than the old straight shaped skis, but when I took the first gondola ride I realised they had given me a pair of midget skis. What's up with that?! So I'm not an expert skier or anything, but my old skis are 203s and I'm not going to dork around on some measly 150ies! I changed them to a pair of longer and stiffer skis. Felt much better...

During the days I skied in both Italy and Switzerland. The sun has been strong and I have a total skier's tan. You know when you just look dirty because only parts of your face are tanned and NOTHING below the chin. It's not attractive, but it will be there as a reminder of my vacation long after I'm back home.

The outdoor life makes me so hungry! The other people at my hotel must think I have some eating disorder or something the way I pig out at every meal. We get four courses for dinner. I always choose the heartiest ones. With red wine ofcourse! All this food and wine after a long day of skiing makes me pass out right after dinner. What a party person I am...

People are not as talkative here amongst skiers as I am used to from Tahoe, California. Some lift rides have been quiet even! Maybe because there are so many different nationalities that ski here. We don't have a common language to use. No one seams to understand my "pretend Italian", but at least I try!

I do have dinner and a guided tour via motorcycle lined up next time I go to Rome. This Italian guy - Sandro - read my palm on the way up in one of the longer lifts and gave me his card. Guy's total lack of self-critique always takes me by surprise! It's charming in a cute kind of way. If I had half the self esteem most guys have, I would be running some big public company by now! But then again, when Sandro read my palm it turns out that I don't have a "luck line" (he showed me what it's supposed to look like), I have a powerful line of some other sort instead. He told me that I have the power to make my own reality. Not sure if that is a good way of expressing it. It's translated from Italian, to English, to Swedish, to English. But anyway, I understood what he meant. And it's funny because that's how I view it myself: we are all responsible for our lives. That's what makes it so devastating when things don't turn out the way I want them. I only have myself to blame. I have met people who always have an explanation as to why things went wrong. They always feel like it's someone else’s fault. I loath that reasoning and I will never marry a man like that again! But on the other hand, those people must have it a little bit easier though. Maybe they sleep well at night because they can't change anything, so why worry? Not sure. But I know I'm not one of them and apparently my palm is even supporting this! It's a curse and a blessing: I have the power to change the way I live if I want to and if I have the strength. Cause God knows that you have to be strong if you're not lucky!

addiction

2006-03-06T14:22:00.000-08:00

Will I need a twelve step program? I am a workaholic; a true job-junkie. How do I know this? Ever since my Silicon Valley period I’ve been working 24-7. My job has been my number one priority. In Sweden we have 5-6 weeks of paid vacation per year and the Department of Health as well as labor organizations are recommending that you take at least four consecutive weeks, and I never have. Even though I know the way I work has affected my health, I’m still doing it. Isn’t that just what addicts do? Keep going even though they know it’s damaging and they put the substance before everything else in this life. Well that’s me. Or was until today…

Today is my first day between jobs! People around me have been asking how it feels to leave my job and almost seamed worried that I will have withdrawal symptoms or something. And surprisingly enough, after just one last fix, I managed to quit cold turkey. Besides being exhausted from my ear-inflammation and working 24-7 for my last week at the office – I feel nothing. A bit euphoric maybe. Quite a lot actually! And here I thought I had an addictive personality (not in the sense of people being addictive to me that is…), and it turns out that I can quit my biggest addiction just like that! What a relieve! And here I’ve been refusing to try anything stronger than Marlboro lights in fear of never being able to quit. Besides alcohol ofcorse. I manage that by sticking to the rule “never drink alone” as well as forcing myself to leave a glass even if it’s not empty. That way I can justify getting shit-faced with my friends every weekend! Could be time to get that life insurance at a good rate and then start doing some new stuff! Or maybe not ;-)

One of the exercises we did today at the Improvisation Theater class was that three people where sitting in a row. The middle person was the boss and the people beside her/him where employees. The boss was mad because of something the employees had done. As soon as the boss looked at one employee, the other one was supposed to make faces behind the bosses back. The exercise is called two-faced (I think that’s the right translation for “ögontjänare”), and the group was very impressed with how many faces I could make. I didn’t know I had it in me! Maybe that was just what I needed to get rid of my addiction; an outlet?

It’s so exiting to have time off! After tomorrow I won’t even have a computer. I’ll be homeless in cyber-space. That might cause some major withdrawals though. Not being able to check my bank account, not reading e-mails or looking what’s new on blogs around the world. Time to just experiencing here and now. Every person I meet is real and has a story to tell. Feel pain and pleasure in every day life. Being average is so underrated. I’m going to strive towards “normal” (what ever that is…). That’s what I’m going to do these two weeks. It’s like meditation where you are sensing each feeling as it comes to you. I think I might get addicted to vacation!

sick day

2006-02-21T12:00:00.000-08:00

I can’t stand being sick. I dislike it so much that I ignore the signs as long as I can. But after a night of bleeding from my ear I thought it would be a good idea to take a sick day and visit the doctor. Apparently my eardrum had burst due to an ear-inflamation. Guess that was my punishment for pretending the major cold I’ve had for the last week and a half wasn’t as bad as it sounded and felt. The doctor taps me on the sinus area and asks if it hurts. When I tell her “Not really”, she mumbles to herself “Or you just have a high tolerance of pain”. And her face when I ask if she thinks it’s ok to go back to work tomorrow is either saying “She must be kidding!” or “This girl belongs in the loony-bin!!”. That’s when it hits me that I’m doing the same thing my mom is doing! And not the good stuff my mom does that is. Cause she is a fantastic person. One time in the late nineties in my happy California days I was interviewing for a CFO position at this medical company in Silicon Valley. They had some good antibiotic product of some sort. When I asked the GM what he expected from the CFO he got very theatrical on me and started to say things like “I want the accounting department to be sexy!, I want it to be exciting!”. That’s all good I guess, but not exactly how I viewed my job at the time, so I made good use of my professional stone face and did not show him whether I agreed or not. Cause frankly: I had a hard time finding a comeback to those statements.

The next person in that office that interviewed me was a woman in her fifties. I don’t even remember what her position was. She asked who my hero was, who I looked up to. Not exactly one of my rehearsed questions like “name three strengths and three weaknesses. Where do you see yourself in five years?” and so on. Without a lot of hesitation I told her: my mom. Not sure where that one came from. But right then and there I realized how much I admire my mom. Her ability to see if people are genuinely nice or not. She is always right about my friends: who cares about me and who will not be a good friend when push comes to shove. My mom sees the importance of making the “every day life” special since there are so many more of the workdays than the holidays. I love that about her! No matter if it has been times with very little money (when I was just born and mom and dad was still going to the University) or when times where good and we had loads (exaggeration…) of money. She always makes sure that the weekdays are pleasant (as well as the weekends of course). Another thing I admire is her strive to further her education. She has a gazillion University credits and is still so humble. Not sure if humble is the correct word to describe what I mean, but she has constantly worked on getting my sister and me to not judge people based on their education, wealth and other things, but to look to the kindness within. Not sure if that’s how she would describe what she is doing, but it’s definitely how I have interpreted her and my dad’s upbringing of us.

There are plenty more good things to say about my mom, but that’s not what I thought about when I sat at the doctor’s office. No, it’s her denial of feeling pain or being sick I’m talking about. How crazy isn’t that! To me it’s insane to “ignore” the stomach pain until you pass out and the ambulance has to rush you to the incentive care. Or never take a sick day in your life because you don’t want to mess up the other peoples’ already tight schedules. There are more examples I can tell about my mom, but I think the picture is clear. And it hit me that I’m doing almost the same thing! What is wrong with me?! Why don’t I think I have the right to be sick and week and need help?! I know that “no-one loves a whiner”, but at some point it is ok to feel some pain. As a matter of fact, it’s even ok to admit to being tired even if you haven’t run a marathon. On an intellectual level I do understand this, but I tend to forget it when I’m out there in “real life”. It’s probably closely related to the problem all “strong women” have. If you act as a strong person, not everybody understands that you also need a shoulder to cry on from time to time. Just because you are strong most of the times, doesn’t mean that you are strong all of the times. Don’t take strength for granted and don’t think it comes without effort. Or like for beautiful people: they too need to hear that they are beautiful every now and then. Don’t take for granted that how you view others is how they view themselves. If perception is reality: we all have different realities.

To get to the point: I am a work in progress, and learning that it’s ok for me to make errors, feel pain, be sad, not be in charge etc. is something I’m slowly realizing. Especially my sister and a very good friend of mine have helped me with this. Maybe it has to do with having enough support around you so that you can let go of the responsibility. Knowing that the responsibility is just my imagination and there are plenty of people around me who will let me cry on their shoulder or bring me stuff from the grocery store when I’m ill. I thought I had come further in that process than denying my sinus cold until it developed into something nastier. I usually describe myself as a person with an old soul, but today I feel like a blank piece of paper that has learned nothing from the past.

hot-dog tag

2006-02-07T14:03:00.000-08:00

The few people that know about this blog are usually warned: it’s my drunk-pretentious blog with narcissistic elements. But I met my superior yesterday! Not just one actually: a whole group… I had my first lesson in improvisational theater. A person that used to be on the management team at my work told me about this. She said it was fantastic to be in a place where status and origins did not matter. And after taking these classes she never felt that what she did in her professional life (and in her personal?), was too embarrassing or awkward sine they had already done worse stuff on stage. Boy do I need that! Queen of saying the wrong thing and stepping on peoples toes: that’s me! So I signed up with hopes of becoming a better person.

It started on the application. They asked if we had any pervious experience. Eeeehh… Isn’t life in it self a big improvisation? How much of what we do is rehearsed? Or even slightly resembles what we had aimed for?! My “roll” is to be a kick-ass career woman. Guess if I improvise! Not a day goes by with out me thinking that someone is bound to reveal that I’m just pretending. But not to give too much away I just wrote “not really” in the box.

The group seam like a really cool bunch. All ages, men and women, artsy and white collar. Appears to be a large spectrum of people. To warm up we played tag. I hate tag. I’m not good at chasing and I can never get away from the person that is the tag person. But this was different. It was “hot-dog tag”! The same person was the tagiee (my own word!) the whole time (or at least until our teacher told us to a new name). Instead of saying tag you had to say hot-dog. The person that got “hot-dogged” had to stand still, look sad and repeat “hot-dog” in a sad way until two other people came and held hands around the hot-dog and said “hot-dog in a bun”. And you where saved! Yeah I know: it sounds silly. But it was fun – especially considering all the other stupid/embarrassing games there are out there.

During the brake we sat two and two and interviewed each other. We had three questions:

Who – alive or dead – would you like to meet?
If you where to invent something: what would it be?
What are your fears and expectations with this class?

After the brake we went up on stage two by two and introduced the other person. All the other people wanted to meet Jesus, Che Guevarra, their dead grandfather etc. I wanted to meet Elvis Presley. I mean really: who wouldn’t want to meet Elvis?! I’ve had the hots for him since I was a kid. Well, he died when I was a kid, but anyway! Come on! And then there was the invention. The majority of people wanted to invent time machines. As if we have time to spare you know. Make it right the first time and you don’t have to travel back and forth to try to correct things. One guy wanted to invent fuel that did not ruin the environment. There where other environmental and “feed the world” inventions as well. A couple of really cool ones (read: pretentious) like making time be like gel, so time wouldn’t be so volatile and you would sense and experience it better. And a few more in that fashion. What did I want to invent? Strings – almost invisible – with tiny hooks on so that you can hang picture frames on your wall. It should be so that the pictures hang even, even if you have strings next to each other and it should be easy to switch if you want new pictures. How did I come up with this fabulous – save the world – kind of invention you might ask your self? Well: I tried to hang my pictures on fishing-rod and tiny hooks for pictures all this weekend. It was not an easy task and they do NOT hang straight. I had to run to the hardware store, IKEA and my dad’s tool box three days in a row just to get all the supplies together.

It was a fun class and I did learn one thing: I’m not as pretentious as I might think :-)

sports

2006-01-23T01:59:00.000-08:00

I so miss the outdoors activities of my Tahoe days! There where always plenty of people who wanted to go skiing or snowboarding in the winter. Even if I went to the slopes alone, I never had to take many runs by my self. There are so many friendly skiers on the slopes to hang with. Or just sit and catch a tan and talk to people by the lunch hangout in the middle of the slope. And I do have a thing for skiers I must admit. If I see a guy on the slopes: I’m usually sold right away. There have been some unpleasant surprises though when meeting these cool skiers in the hot-tub at the local gym. People who look good in ski-gear are not necessarily hot in shorts…

Or take hiking. Tahoe is one of the most gorgeous places I’ve ever been to, and even the small and easy hikes are amazing. And living in Tahoe, you are surrounded by people who are happy to go hiking with you. Any day of the week actually, since most folks there work in the tourist industry and have “weekend” on all kinds of days of the week. Such a difference from being in Sweden. You have to have known the person for at least three generations before you can ask if they want to go hiking with you. Or you are being looked upon as a total wacko for imposing on other people’s spare time. I’m serious!

Biking is another thing I miss. Biking I don’t mind doing on my own since you can’t speak a lot when you bike anyway. My challenge is my sense of directions. Or lack thereof rather. Tahoe was easy. There is like one road around Lake Tahoe and one road that goes to Truckee. Not even I can get lost there! And for the Flume trail and other cool rides: I went with friends. And another good thing is that I started the ride from my house. No getting the bikes into the car and driving somewhere. Here in Stockholm I would feel very silly on a mountain-bike until I reached the outskirts. Stockholm people ride city bikes in the city. Dressed in suits and mini skirts. Not in helmets and bike pants all sweaty like I do. I know, I know: it’s ok to be different. But it’s boring to be extremely different and not having someone to chit-chat and plan the trip with. So for now I’m letting my mom borrow my new mountain-bike with good chocks. She lives in the country ofcourse.

So why do I absolutely want to live in a city? Because it’s fantastic! Although my image might be that I’m a sporty person: I actually suck at sports. My genetic composition is perfect for sports, and that’s probably why I can get a way with that image (until I have to fess up…). I can’t STAND being around people who only have one interest and one interest only. At least not for a long time (a few years’ tops…). It’s fascinating with talented people and almost regardless of the talent: it’s quite alluring actually. But not if it’s the same thing day out and day in. I want all my senses to be stimulated. Challenge me with new music, old literature, fancy art, crazy plays, exhausting jogging laps and a million other things! I’m talking to myself here ofcours. There is not going to be anyone else that will give me these challenges. I have to seek them out by myself, some with help of friends, some alone. Isn’t that the biggest challenge of all: living and knowing that you are on your own. If you don’t do it: it’s not going to happen.

When do I get to take a break from life?!

good stuff

2006-01-21T11:09:00.000-08:00

There are strong indications that 2006 will be a good year! Although I had a rocky start with Simon’s cyst and some personal stuff where it turned out that I was more curious of what might develop if we took a good friendship to unknown grounds, than what my friend was. Apparently feelings are something you can plan if you are a man. There is a pre-determined path that should be taken and not be deviated from. One should be so lucky! Or maybe not? What’s the use of living if you know how it’s going to turn out anyway? It’s like reading the last page of a book: you don’t need to read the whole book if all you wanted to know is how it ended. I want to learn something every day. Learning is a wide concept and what I mean by that here is just that I don’t want to be bored. On the other hand, he might just have said that instead of what we all probably think to ourselves when we reject someone: you are ugly and boring. Not getting that in my face is probably one of the signs that 2006 will be a good year ;-) And besides: I’m a grown-up. All I can do is try to treat people with respect as well as respect myself. What’s done is done and can never be repaired, but as grown-ups there is always the polite acquaintance alternative! And I’m pretty good at that. As long as you know that a friendly gesture is just that: nice things friends do or say, it has nothing to do with deeper feelings. And that men don’t consider intimacy something you only have with people you like. Then you are ok. Life is definitely not boring…

So what do I base my 2006 prophecy on?! Quite a few things actually, including but not limited to the following:

Simon’s surgery went well. He is so much spunkier after this surgery than what he was after the ferocious dog-fight last summer.
Two of the kindest and most good-hearted people I know gave birth do daughters in December. Very much longed-for children will be taken care of by their parents in 2006.
Two of my good friends have met and moved in with, or are moving in with good men this year. These girls are cool, friendly, professional, and kind-hearted and where single despite this for a very long time.
And here I’m talking about being single when you don’t want to be. When you have passed the stage of being happy about:
being free, “allowed” to flirt anyone, not having to take someone else’s feelings or time in consideration, not having to spend so much money on food as you have to do when you live with a man, get all the covers in bed, not have to argue about cleaning routines or money, not going crazy when he wants to watch some TV show you don’t like etc.
No, it’s when you reach the point when you wish you had someone to:
eat breakfast with and discuss the editorials in the morning paper with, sleep embraced by, go on vacation with and who wants to experience moments and places with you, have passionate se x with, love enough to have children with, do everyday stuff with etc. That’s the kind of single I’m talking about. Now they can look forward to discovering all kinds of things about themselves, their men and couple-hood in 2006. Exciting and fun!
One of my fantastic, strong, creative friends has reached another level with her man. I get the feeling that they are more synchronized and have come to understand that even if they have miscommunications etc, it’s worth working through because of the reward you get from being in a healthy, loving relationship where both parties give and take and let the other person be unique. Their love for one another is a strong indication that 2006 will be a good year.
My sister’s oldest daughter can now speak and that she does! Listening to her and hearing what she has to say is going to make 2006 wonderful! Her little sister will be there shortly as well. Can’t wait!
Last but not least: I still have single friends who knows what I’m talking about and is out to have a good time, can comfort a sister in need, is up for a night of crappy TV, can discuss art and literature etc. The list could go on forever.

To sum it up: lots of good stuff is in the air!

Hope

2006-01-16T16:37:00.000-08:00

I’m a cynic. Hope is the last thing a person looses”. What a bunch of crap. Waste of time if you ask me. Well not if you are buried under an avalanche: then hope is a good thing to hold on to I guess. But why misuse your energy if you’re not under an avalanche?! Just spending valuable efforts on hoping? What good is that going to do you? Instead of hoping to get that job, do everything you can to get it! There is always something more that can be done. What good does it do to hope to make it in time for the theater? Work on it instead: run, take a cab, or call someone. Either you make it or you don’t. Hoping does not make you come any further. Don’t waste your energy on hopes! Or hoping that this guy likes you. Ask him and get it over with! You should know though: if you have to ask if someone have feelings for you: the answer will be NO. If they do: you won’t have to ask. But don’t just sit there and hope for Pete’s sake! That is the realistic cynical in me talking.

And then there is Simon. My wonderful companion for 13+ years has a malign cyst. Everything just went blank when the Vet told me. I could not eat, not sleep, not think. This little guy has been with me through so many good and bad times. More than any man has. One of the things I miss when I’m single is not having a lover (=someone I love on many levels) to share moments with. But the truth is that Simon has been there most of the times actually. So he doesn’t speak and he’s not very good in public. He never cleans or brings cash to the household. He doesn’t read books and don’t seam to care for music. But he is there. He wiggles his tail and is happy to see me each time I meet him. I can be happy, sad, beautiful or ugly: he doesn’t care. He’s still happy to se me. And so many times has he shown, in a way I can only interpret that he considers me he’s special person. Like when my x-husband moved in with a new girlfriend. Simon didn’t “hear” when she called him. He pretended she wasn’t there. When she tried to pet him when I was there, he turned away from her and looked at me. As the instigator he is, he rallied up her dog to get into trouble. Finally they called me and said they couldn’t stand him any longer. And he was back with me again. Only one year apart.

Simon travels with me, he helps me select dates (he is very picky), he make sure I get exercise, he let me sleep when I’m sick and make me get up early when I’m well. I don’t know what to do if the operation isn’t successful. I can not imagine my life without Simon. So now the only thing I can do is hope. Hope that the cyst hasn’t spread, hope that he isn’t too old to recover, hope that the Vet has a good day, hope that Simon comes home to me again and live healthy for many more years. So even a cynic becomes a softie sometimes. Even a toughened heart is vulnerable.

holidays

2006-01-09T10:49:00.000-08:00

It’s finally over! No more holidays for a while. Don’t get me wrong: I love Christmas. If it was up to me: we would be singing “Jingle bells” from November on! There is no such thing as too much decorations either! At least not in stores and on commercial streets is my view on the whole thing. Don’t have too much of it myself though. Changing continent tree times the last decade as well as housing a million times, does not provide the best conditions for saving up a lot of Christmas decorations. It does put me in such a good mood to buy – or on rare occasions: make – Christmas presents, wrap them up and hand them out! Every now and then I’ve been known to go overboard a little bit actually. One year I worked at Nordstrom’s over the holidays on top of my “real” job as an accounting manager. They give their employees a nice discount. Don’t know why they bothered to give me a check each pay-day though, since I turned around and spent it all at Nordstrom’s anyway. I think my near and dear-ones (and me!) got more than they had expected that year and Nordstrom was the happy provider. Same with the year I spent abroad the last three months of that year. It gave me quite a nice per diem allowance to spend on presents that Christmas as well. It fills my heart with joy to spend all my money on presents and wrap them up in nice packages! Although I always curse my habit the following months when I hardly have money for bills and food. Not sure why it always comes as a surprise to me that if I spend all my money: I won’t have any. The years when money is scarce, I still spend a lot of effort on wrapping the presents. That is half the pleasure actually: listening to Christmas music, eating goodies and wrapping gifts. My room-mate Simon must find it odd that I sit on the floor for so long, because he wants to lean on me the whole time. This means that all the gifts have black-lab hair taped to them. Or maybe he just wants to contribute to the gifts as well. Although I DO write his name on the “from” box on most of them anyway.

One of the downsides of being single on Christmas is the sleeping arrangements. If you don’t come with a couple of kids and a husband, or at least a boyfriend: it’s sofa city over the holidays for you my dear! Or some horrid spare bed they pull out from under the garage or something. I scored this year though: I was the only guest for the first two days. I got to sleep in the guestroom with the best bed those nights! Peace and quiet and a room all to my self. I had time to finish two whole books before the other guests arrived.

Another thing I don’t understand is why couples have to argue at Christmas. Single people miss having someone to open presents with on Christmas morning or evening, depending on the country, but the people who DO have someone to kiss and unwrap presents with: they argue. What’s wrong with this picture?!

And then there is New Years. I asked some newfound friends in my position (30+, single, all-round, cheerful etc) how they viewed the evening to come. They all agreed: rather alone on a tropical beach, than being at a party and being the only one that didn’t have someone to kiss at midnight. If my job didn’t require me to work 24-7 around the holidays: I would have been on that beach with a strong rum-drink (filled with umbrellas), listening to the waves in the dark. Hmmmm! I did the next best thing though: ate six course meal until 2am with some good friends. Not too shabby ;-)

I usually don’t make New Years resolutions. Don’t think I have too many bad habits to kick. Or maybe I just don’t care if I do. But I did think of something though: This year I promise not to make the same mistakes again. I will make them differently! I will try to get into my thick head that if I have done something the same way over and over: I will not get another outcome the next time I do it. I have to change my ways. Since I start a new job in March, it will be a terrific opportunity to change the way I work. To keep the New Year’s resolution, I have to work smarter and not harder (I stole that from a workshop!). Maybe I have to find something outside work that requires my attention as well. And I’m not going to fall for the same men I already fell for in previous years. (They would have to come up with something that is different if I was to fall for them again…). I am so tired of living the life of re-runs! No more déjà vu for me. It’s time to write my own script for this sitcom called “Life”. Now, if I only knew what I wanted it to be about…

happy-go-lucky kind of person

2005-11-28T14:43:00.000-08:00

Today was one of those lucky days again! I am a truly lucky person actually. But on the other hand, if I wasn’t so oblivious, I wouldn’t need so much luck. It’s mostly non-structured, clumsy people who need luck. Right? You can get somewhere with hard work and determination, or you can be lucky. Statistically there is such a thing as unlucky people, so there must be lucky folks out there as well.

It’s Monday morning and the first snow is falling. And everybody who has ever been in a city when the first snow fall knows what happens: chaos. Car accidents, canceled trains, and frozen people to just name a few. Lucky for me I had managed to park my car very close to my house when I came home on Friday night. Only it wasn’t there. Very strange. Since I’m not a “car person” – I can only recognize a few older once like Volvo P1800, Ford Mustang (1966-1968), Jaguar and Citroen etc – I don’t always find my car until I see the license plate. Or maybe it’s because I have a Saab that looks like a Volvo. Who knows. So I wonder around in the heavy snowfall and try to read license plates hidden under what just looks like snow-piles. Nothing. As I’m already late and have meetings and a long day ahead in the office, I take the bus instead. Although my workday was hectic, I did manage to call the police and report the car stolen.

The work day was long and didn’t even give me time to fix my social calendar (AKA calling and chitchatting with friends). We work as a team and three of us stayed until about ten when I called a cab that drove around town and dropped us off. When I get to my street I realize its “cleaning day” (parking not permitted) for the streets around my apartment complex, and it would be very easy to find an abandoned car… And my luck is back! My car has been safely parked outside the police station all weekend and all day today – since that’s where I left in on Friday. Well, what can I say? I’m just a lucky person I guess.

status quo

2005-11-24T04:46:00.000-08:00

We where put on this earth to accomplish a certain amount of tasks. Right now I’m so far behind I will never die!
Have no idea who said this first...

moments

2005-11-20T12:43:00.000-08:00

Surely we have all had moments that we wish could last forever. Or at least bottle up and save for a sad or rainy day. I know I have had plenty of those. A lot of them happened when nature have surpassed my most vivid imaginations of beauty and excellence. As when you have been hiking up a mountain and when reaching the top you can see what’s on the other side and it makes you catch your breath! Or start running on a trail in woods you have never been in before. A path where the leaves have changed color to yellow, orange and red, and form a beautiful colored portal that smells wonderful. If the air is full of oxygen – if it just rained for instance – than the whole running experience will be something to savor! Those moments. The nature moments I always want to bottle up and save for a day when I need to be reminded of the beautiful things around us.

Music also creates those moments. Certain songs give me Goose bumps! It could be the lyrics, the voice or the melody. Or even just a few notes of those. A lot of times, the song can help bring back – at least the memory of – the moment. That’s not always a good thing though. Breaking up with a guy is usually hard enough as it is. Basically every single song they play on the radio is about love. How uplifting is that to hear when your heart is aching and feel like you will never love again? It’s like being forced to fast before an operation or something, and have to spend the entire time in a gourmet food store. Painful!

Sitting in a concert hall or at the opera, when the lights are dimming and the orchestra starts playing: that is a moment I wish could last forever! Thankfully enough, it’s not difficult to recreate. It’s just go to another concert and opera basically.

And then there are people. With some people you get to have moments you wish could last forever. I think that’s why people get married: in hope to have that moment – if not every day, so at least: - many more times forever after. Good moments become an addiction. Once you have one: you want more. It’s like you never want to go to bed (or fall asleep…) cause than you might miss it. Or if the moment is over a cup of coffee or maybe a burger: you want that coffee or food to last forever. Cause who knows what will happen after that. Was it just the moment that was good? Or was it because of the person you where with? It’s like with first dates. Mine have almost with out exception been wonderful. Both people are curious, want to make a good impression, old enough not to be too nervous and it’s usually in a nice setting. If I had died driving away from one of those dates, I would have died happy cause I thought I met the perfect man for me. But reality is that when times are good and the party is on: you can feel connected with almost anyone. That just doesn’t count. It’s who you want to be with every morning and when the car breaks down, when your co-workers have been nasty, when you just feel like watching TV in your sweats and well, you get the picture. When things are not fantastic and glowing: that’s what counts. Who do you want by your side: both walking along on a fantastic beach in the sunset and when the wind blows so hard you can barely stay on the path? That’s your moment person.

vacuum

2005-10-30T14:22:00.000-08:00

It’s like living in a vacuum. For a million of reasons. One is because in my mind, I have already left my job. Only: I don’t have a new one. In-between does not feel like a creative state. It’s the not knowing that makes it a vacuum. Not knowing when I will find a new job. Not knowing if my new boss will help me find one within the organization or if the new job will also mean an entirely new company. I always have a target which I strive towards. Now the goal is unclear and floating. One advice would be to go with the flow and take the opportunity to do nothing. But what a waste of life and time! Find me a goal to reach – someone!

To help me forget my vacuum, people around me are in need of help. Or at least that’s how I interpret it. A good way to ignore my dilemmas is to try to sort out other people’s problems. I’m sure there is a term for this in the psychology world. It saddens me so when the people I love and respect are unhappy.

I have wanted to go color with finger-paint for so long now! Even thought of crashing a kiddie session at the Stockholm Culture House or the Stockholm Museum of Art – I think these places have workshops for kids. That and other harmless, mischievous adventures have been on my mind for ever. But I live in a vacuum and don’t even do that. It seams like if I can’t fly: I don’t even bother to walk. But my vacuum will pass. I will start walking again. Walking and then running. Happily trying to reach the sky once more. But right now, it feels like it’s an eternity until then.

words

2005-10-25T15:30:00.000-07:00

Who has mastered the art of communicating? Is that a mystery forever unknown to mankind – or maybe just to me? “Drunk behind the wheels of possibility” (Fastball) is one of my favorite lines because it’s just so ME! Conversations are just like that: you know there is potential – MAYBE you will get your point across to the other person. But as when you are drunk: no matter how hard you try, you will still not make sense. Not make sense might be to strong of a statement, so let me try to explain. We all have different frames of reference. Even siblings growing up in the same family have basically grown up in different environments. The first born lives a few years as an only child and gets ALL the attention, just to have that taken away the instant the next child is born. That child always had someone else around to entertain – at least when they where very young. Entertain or get beat up by. Never the less: something entirely different.

Not only do we have different environments growing up: it’s the man/woman thing as well. There is research supporting that men and women’s brains are different. No wonder it’s so hard to communicate between the sexes! Sometimes talking to men feels like trying to bounce a basket-ball that doesn’t have enough air. No matter how hard I try: it just won’t reach the heights I want. Or do I not try had enough? Maybe even before the conversation glide towards a more delicate direction, I have shot it down. Probably. There are so many things on the road of life that has molded who we are and how we view our surroundings. But actually it's just an encounter between individuals. This is how a relationship starts: a meeting. A meeting with another person who you get to explore by having them talk, and you talk: about yourselves and everything else. It has to be "chicken shit" talk at first. You just can't blurt out that you think about death and are scared of ghosts (or what ever secret you might have). This would make anyone turn and run. I think that's one of my challenges, to understand that it's just that at first: chicken shit to get to know the other person lightly. It confuses me. When are we supposed to let the other person know more about ourselves? How long will it take before the other person opens up to you? Not until we reach that point will we know if the feeling is mutual. Up until then: all we can do is keep talking.

flowers

2005-10-20T15:00:00.000-07:00

So what’s this thing with flowers anyway? Has it always been so symbolic for humans? I know in high school, English A or what ever the course was called, we read Hamlet and had to write a paper on it. One of the suggestions for thesis was the meaning of flowers. Today I can’t even remember that there was anything about flowers in Hamlet! My thesis was that Ophelia was too good for this earth. Oh no: I’m not a fan of drama or anything…

I went to buy flowers for my new boss and another new co-worker that starts tomorrow and on Monday. Two stock-conservative, not so spunky men. It ought to be potted flowers so the welcome last longer than the newbee free ride so to speak. We don’t want the flowers to be withered before the guy even gets in on Monday. What kind of signal would that give! So what do you get for this group of people? Something that lasts without a lot of TLC, and maybe without water for longer periods of time. Cheery but sober at the same time. I spent way too much of my company’s money on these plants and my biased beliefs. Watch these guys come in and have brought their own dazzling plants to put in their offices!

Another flower allegory I have experienced is men and their relationship to women. Being a Swedish woman in the US was looked upon as being a little more exotic for US men than what a Swedish woman is for Swedish men. It’s delightful being looked upon as exotic. Lots of perks comes with that title: nice dinners, trips to faraway places, undivided attention from busy men with important jobs, men willing to try something new for them which they though I would enjoy (like walking through a museum and read about every single painting, running across the Golden Gate bridge etc.). I’m sure there are more advantages that other women have gotten as well, but this is just a sample from my list. This is all good until you realize that you are exotic and interesting because you’re like cut flowers: expensive, beautiful and the centre of attention for the week they live. But they don’t need any true maintenance. Potted flowers need maintenance. They should be watered regularly and the dirt should probably be changed every two years or so. Sometimes I think men have not understood that the only thing they have to do for their potted plants to be glowing and fabulous is just that: give them water every now and then. If these men have wives (let's hope I haven't been dating married men...), all they had to do is give them a little bit attention. Instead of spending time trying to figure out what I (the other woman) like and get excited about: find out what your spouse would be happy if you did. I went to a sales-convention. In one of the sessions we all introduced ourselves and spoke briefly of what we did. This one guy was in the business together with his wife. Everybody wanted to know how they could stand each other 24-7. He said that once he realized how pleasant it was to have a happy wife, he started to do things that he knew she would like. The gratification of drinking a beer with his pals after work was so much shorter than the extended benefit he got from coming straight home from work for instance. The beer night lasted: the beer night. The happy wife lasted: a life time. Instead, men spend lots of money on what seams like exotic cut flowers. Not realizing that the potted plants could be just as amazing and exotic if you nurture them right.

getting lost - finding my way back

2005-09-05T23:33:00.000-07:00

What a Blair Witch Project experience I had today! My vacation was meant to be a boot-camp for me to get where I want to be: run and go to the gym every day. Watch what you wish for, it might just come true... Since I'm not the fastest runner and definitely not in shape, but had decided to be serious about the boot-camp vacation: I decided to take the 8K trail. Hellas is a beautiful place just 10 minutes outside Stockholm with lots of trails of different lengths and a lake to go swim in afterwards. So I brought my running companion Simon (on the picture) and we started running. It felt so good and at times it felt like I was flying! I did fly a couple of times actually, where I ended up face first on the ground. Now I'll have some "cool" scars to show from my boot-camp experience... After running way too long I realised that something was not right. Each year they re-mark the trails to new ones so the runners won't get bored. It seams like I had taken an old trail this time. Two hours later I actually came to something close to civilisation: a small parking lot. I called my dad. He was in a meeting. An old man - deaf on his right ear - walked by. I asked for the way to Hellas. "Follow me and I'll show you where the trail starts" he kindly offered. He walked me back to where I had been not that long ago. I had two options: run back the same way from where I came or go back to the parking lot where I had lost the blue dots on the trees that marked the trail. "You know what you have but not what you'll get" my head was telling me, so Simon and I started running the long way back. Another hour passed and I really got Blair Witch vibes since it's just trees everywhere you look (dhu! we're in a forest!) and we had been there before. When we finally reached a place where I had been many times and knew how to get on to the road where the car was parked: my dad called. He's meeting was over. Even though it was probably no more than 2K to where I had parked the car: Simon and I gladly accepted my dad's offer and sat down on the side of the road until he picked us up. My 8K run ended up being a 4hr adventure deep in the woods!

I think getting lost in the woods is where I am in life as well. I don't know if the best route is to follow the trail back home again or if I should try to find where the blue dots starts up again and go that way instead. I love Stockholm where I have my family and friends, but I don't know if it can give me all the experiences I long for. Right now, New York city is on top of my wish list. But as with my running today: will a few years in NYC just bring me to the starting point: only way too late? I wish there was someone I could call to pick me up so I don't have to walk that long way back if it's not getting me any ware, anyway.

2005-09-05T16:14:00.000-07:00

A blond Asa: smothering Anna-Karin?

2005-09-05T15:29:00.000-07:00

In NYC June 2005 with my dark hair

First day of vacation!

2005-09-03T11:06:00.000-07:00

It's finaly here: my vacation!