tranquilize - the killers feat. lou reed

Silently reflection turns my world to stone
patiently correction leaves us all alone
And sometimes I'm a travel man
but tonight this engine's failing


My little experiment in the previous post turned out with the people I expected stating that they read my blog -- I even got a comment from "Nisse från Manpower" which I sadly couldn't decode, but of course I welcome him to the gathering -- and well, it is about ten people that I meet every day. As expected.

But my brain is still close to bursting every once in a while, so the blog will be around for quite a while more.

So, life!

All too many nights now I end up not being able to sleep. I turn the computer off, I go to bed, I close my eyes, and then I fail to fall asleep. Too many thoughts bounce in my head and it feels like I've got all too much to do to even realize what it is that I should do.

Because life sure does feel quite damned abstract every once in a while. An endless chain of going to sleep, sleeping to little, waking up and being tired, taking the bus, having a long schoolday, taking the bus again, doing less homework than I should, and then starting from the beginning again. And the only thing breaking the chain are weekends that can be divided up in the same way.

And yes, there is something missing.

Because my life is getting all too close to being a checkered paper, with everything scheduled and planned subconsciously on beforehand and that was not the way it was intended.

There is so much that feels like it needs to be added. For the first a purpose, a goal for which I can strive and aim for constantly and in which I can find inspiration to maximize my work in the areas needed for this goal to come true.

So what do I actually WANT with my life?

I want to learn to speak another language fluently, preferrably Spanish. When that goal is fulfilled I believe I'll go for French, and if I have time I'll try to learn German fluently as well.

I want to get out and away from Ystad, and after that from Sweden. There seems to be a spirit on Ireland, and dangerous for me or not, I want to experience it.

I want to do something I can be happy doing or not doing. I can be living without work nor point if I only have chosen myself to do so for a while.

And most of all I want a way to reach out and something to tell people, something that will make me remembered. Some way so that the ink of my pen, the extension of my arm, brain and soul will be interpreted by people that will listen, understand, and agree.

I want to be remembered, or do something that will be remembered. Fame is nothing I care about; only a worth in the great whole that is our world and life.

Yours as ever, and still not rid of thoughts cramming his head
Snugglie

shoreline - broder daniel

Ever since I was eight or nine,
I've been standing on the shoreline
For all my life I've been waiting
for something lasting

You lose your hunger
and you lose your way
You get confused
and then you fade away

Oh, this town
kills you when you're young
Wo-oh-oh-oh-oh, this town
kills you when you're young

From the Wikipedia-article on Broder Daniel: "A couple of new members joined [...] hype of the now notorious band featuring the charismatic singer and songwriter Henrik who, with his singing out of tune and excessive use of make-up, had in a short time gained a following of maladjusted youth, looking for a leader."

I love the part "maladjusted youth". If only Joel'd been reading this he would have flipped. Pity that he probably isn't, and pity that I haven't seen him since I accidentally bumped into him this summer.

Also, speaking about reading and not reading.

The lust for writing came and went, and the questions of life won't be answered in a blog. But by pure curiousity, I now want to find out how many actually reads this blog.

Thus, please, any person reading here, please leave a comment so that I notice whether any of my words are going out or not. It might be some motivation to continue blogging at all.

Allright? Ten extra seconds of your time, not too much to ask for.

As always,
Snugglie

the pogues - if I should fall from grace with God

If I should fall from grace with God
Where no doctor can relieve me
If I'm buried neath the sod
But the angels wont receive me

Let me go, boys
Let me go, boys
Let me go down in the mud
Where the rivers all run dry

Yet another D-day now counts as history. The homework done today has, sadly, only been the Biology lab report. No English and no Maths. Instead I've been stuck in CAS, surprisingly enough.

This through writing After Action Reports. I allow me to be a little proud when saying that I've actually found a CAS fitting me as a glove.

So, what's an AAR, I can hear a few of my very few writers wondering? Well, an AAR is when one writes what happens in a game, generally a strategy-game. The fine thing is that in historical strategygame such as Europa Universalis III, that I am playing, one writes it as alternative history. Now, alternative history is a genre I've been thinking about exploring for a very long time, and this is a great way to do it.

Two chapters have been written today in the story titled "Kingdom of Scania - The tale of an outbreak", one prologue and the first chapter. To save space I won't upload it here, I doubt anyone'd read it anyway. Thus I will instead give you the link to it, so that you can see for yourselves if you want to.

http://forum.paradoxplaza.com/forum/showthread.php?t=326529

And please, if you can, criticism in some way. Consider that it's not really a story, rather a story contemplating how it could have gone, if things had only been slightly different. I might use it as a template for a story or stories in the future though. Criticism, if I surprisingly enough receive it, can either be as a comment in the blog or by mailing me or talking to me on MSN. I assume all of my readers already have my mail, but I'll write it anyway.
linus_sioland@hotmail.com
There.

Yours as ever,
Snugglie

california - phantom planet

Well, hustlers grab your guns
The shadow weighs a ton
Driving down the 101
California, here we come
Right back where we started from

A few of you might recognize the lyrics of this song, and state that it is used as intro-song to the O.C. So before I say anything else, no I don't watch that show. The reason I've got the song here is instead since it's used in the movie Orange County with Jack Black and Colin Hanks.

Now, this movie has been haunting the back of my mind since I saw it last weekend.

(Warning! Spoilers ahead!)
And not in the I'm-looking-for-monsters-in-my-closet-way of haunting, this is a comedy and not a horror movie. But it's the concept. Dude living in a decadent place that he longs away from, realizes he wants to be a writer, applies to Stanford, doesn't get into Stanford due to administrary problems, so he enters an odyssey with his hippie girlfriend and loser brother.
(Spoilers over)

The movie in itself is great. One of those Hollywood-comedies that's actually good, partially because of Jack Black's pure presence. But enough of reviewing, that's not why I'm writing about it.

As stated, it's the whole concept. The dude finds out what he wants to do, and he does all he can to follow his dream. And that's where I enter the picture. Because fact is, I don't have a clear and visualized dream yet. Something with politics, something with History, something about living abroad and a little of being happy.

Swell that far.

But honest, how much is that actually? It's nothing. It's vague and completely impossible to put an aim for, since I have no idea what I'll need to do to reach a place and position I'm happy with. I've only got one thing clear, and that is that my area of work is more important than my salary.

The dude in the movie wants to become a writer, and according to the movie he - of course - has got a big talent for it. I don't know how much or well I can actually write when it comes to books, the only project I've been doing seriously got 42 pages long and then died due to complete lack of historical accuracy.

Dreams, dreams... What do I want to do with my life?

Now, thinking like this all the time is of course a very impractical thing, since it takes my mind of schoolwork. Studying amino acids, radians and greek dramas doesn't feel that tempting when I'm sitting and being slightly anxious as well as slightly overwhelmed by the different possibilities when it comes to my future. I want to do something that I can enjoy, something that I want to work with. Something that can bring me out in the world and eventually have me die at old age with a smile on my lips, knowing that I got the most out of it.

There's only one thing coming to my mind when I contemplate the matter. History.

I do it on my spare time, I read about it, I do it in school, I play games in the matter, and I think about it if I ever think of any school subject. It's the only thing I actually really can, judging from my own experience. Burying myself in History-books is something I could definitely do without any regrets.

But then again... history? What do you become then? Teacher? Historian? What does a historian do anyway?

No, I didn't manage to be too structured this time. But one thing is clear for me, I need to get a plan as well as a real dream, and the sooner I get it, the sooner I'll be happy with school, life and spare time. Which I need, desperately. This is one of those weeks when motivation is rationed.

I'd like to end with a poem that, if I know whose reading this blog, you're all familiar with.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
and sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
and looked down one as far as I could
to where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
and having perhaps the better claim
because it was grassy and wanted wear;
though as for that, the passing there
had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
in leaves no feet had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I --
I took the one less travelled by,
and that has made all the difference

I really need to find which way to take.

Yours as ever,
Snugglie

winning - santana

I'm winning
I'm winning
I'm winning
And I don't intend on losing again

Santana isn't only the name of the band accompanying Mexican guitar hero Carlos Santana, it's also the name of a slightly slimy git that led the student's council today. Or as it now is called, "elevkår". I've yet to find an English translation.

Makings of the student's council today:
- Impeeched the now previous chairman of the temporary board
- Discussed different themes for future parties
- Santana campaigned a little "discreetly"
- Spent ten minutes for the issue of changing the "elevråd" in the paragraphs to "elevkår

Yes, of course I focuse a little on things that didn't live up to my expectations, but that's the way that all sort of power is to be looked upon. The pros have to outwheigh the cons.

The Best of Santana for the day is when I, during the meeting, asked whether we maybe shouldn't have very extensive discussions about what themes we might have on future parties, but maybe proceed to following points of more relevance. This since we only had 20 minutes of scheduled time left. I don't know if his answer was a joke or not, but it still renders him incompetent in my eyes:
"Nej, det här är en av de viktigaste grejerna vi gör, det är för elevernas trivnad."

Then he spent a few minutes with jokes regarding liquor. God (or anyone else for that part) have mercy on us if we ever actually choose Santana for chairman of the to-be-board. Let him have his fun bossing around with the temporary instead.

Yours as ever,
Snugglie

johnny 99 - bruce springsteen

Well they closed down the auto plant in Mahwah late that month
Ralph went out lookin' for a job but he couldn't find none
He came home too drunk from mixin' Tanqueray and wine
He got a gun shot a night clerk now they call'm Johnny 99

The world ain't getting better. Mankind ain't getting nicer. School ain't getting easier. But the Boss is as good as ever.

Too many thoughts spinning around in my mind, and too many carefully formed sentences left unspoken, alternatively just mentioned in haste and afterwards gone in the winds of time.

Hopefully to someone's joy, I'm back.

Yours as ever,
Snugglie

kom och dansa lite - mimikry

Hon tog på sig sin vitaste klänning
ställde sig vid spegeln och sa:
"Spegel, spegel på väggen där,
vem är vackrast i världen idag?"

Svaret blev lika som alltid,
"Kom tillbaka till mig nästa dag,
säg 'spegel, spegel på väggen där',
kanske du får det svar du vill ha

Spegel, spegel på väggen där,
vem är vackrast, säg är det jag?

Kom och dansa lite,
ja kom och dansa här med mig
jag vill dansa natten lång med dig min flicka


Last time I wrote I was whining, so now it's time to dig up the positive thinking. It's been an overly calm day this far, that's been spent with sleeping until 11:30 and then mostly cleaning.

Gotta say, that big window is a smaller odyssey to embark upon when cleaning. I don't know how close I've been to falling out, not to mention how many times.

The guy that designed those windows's got to be retarded though.

Anyhow, the day has as stated mostly been spent with cleaning. When actually settling down by the computer again and keeping on with my only existing hobby, gathering music, I happened to find a torrent containing Uppsamlingsheatet by Mimikry, which made me enter a frantic Mimikry-search.

It took me an hour or an hour and a half, but then I came to think of this song, that actually only was released in 50 examples. And well, not really released: Kom och dansa lite was thrown out in the crowd at a few randomly chosen concerts with Mimikry in 2006. It's downloadable from their web-page for only 5:- though, and now it's also available as torrent *hrm* at Oink's *double-hrm*.

No Maths's been done this far. Which sucks bad, but I'm working on it. Tomorrow'll be spent with Maths all through though. The whole day will be one long private Maths-lesson with my dad, or at least that's what I think. Well, the shit's got to be done.

When cleaning out my bag I happened to find a few notes that I made on a bus trip from Lund just a week or two ago. And since I've got the time, I'm now publishing it here; Enjoy.

Linje 6 070404 22:40
Man hinner observera mer än man ibland önskar som pendlare. Utöver att notera hur många lodisar och enligt populär benämning fjortisar som tar busen så brottas jag även med en rädsla att slita ut åsynen av solnedgången och likaså en lust att, så fort något yngel/kräk sätter sig längst bak i bussen (observera att jag allt som oftast sitter näst längst bak i bussen) och med sin flashiga och onödigt dyra mobiltelefon början spela den senaste gallan som spytts ut ur hip-hop/r'n'b-världen, slita ur dennes inälvor med ett aggressivt frustande om vad som egentligen är musik och sedan mata ovan benämnda yngel/kräk med tidigare nämnda inälvor till tonerna av "Killer Queen". För att inte tala om att det är rätt ohyfsat attmed ointellektuell blick och framtoning börja spela hög musik i en buss full av pendlare. Pendlare är människor under press. Och människor under press kan explodera.

Men utöver solnedgången och de okulturella kräk som vågar sig på mitt revir /Linje 6 Lund-Ystad) så får jag även tid att observera andra saker, de små detaljerna i vilka varje buss skiljer sig från andra. Klottret på sätena, mängden stoppning utsliten ur sätena längst bak, och allmäna skavanker. Till exempel så fattas på min favoritplats en stoppknapp på en buss, och på en annan plågas jag av ett defekt fläktreglage.

Nu har jag upptäckt ytterligare en sak. I ögonhöjf, vid i praktiken vartenda säte vid fönster, är det suddigt. Förnärmat undrar jag vad det är som stör min utsikt över alltifrån tomma fält till tomma byar till ett tomt Ystad och vid en nära inspektion visar det sig vara någon sorts fettig substans.

Med mitt inre öga kan jag se hur en morgontrött pendlare tillåter sig att sluta ögonen, för bara en liten stund, bara den där korta biten mellan Veberöd Öster och Dalby, och sedan förblir sovande tills bussan rullar in vid Universitetssjukhuset och den stackars saten tvingas springa till jobbet på Arkivgatan.

Bussarna är elakt utformade och inbjuder inte till sömn. Men om man har sådan tur att det inte sitter en storväxt luns bredvid en så kan man sitta lite snett och luta sig mot den vibrerande rutan, vilket inte fan är bekvämt, men man kan iallafall somna. Skånetrafikens bussar är på väg att vinna en Darwin Award för mest effektivt dödande av passagerare.

Hursomhelst, i våra upplysta tidevarv då en välsvarvad frisyr är ett steg mot framgång (liksom i fallet om du är kvinna, en välsvarvad häck) och vår sociala status avgörs av utseendet och utformingen av armar, ben och magar och, för kvinnorna tydligen både tuttar och armhålor så är det klart att man vill se proper ut på morgonen. Och om klockan är halv sex på morgonen så är det sälvklart att man om man suktar efter framgång har fettat in håret ordentligt med Garniers senaste klet innan man bordar den gula sardinburken varje morgon.

Och nu har hårvårdsproduktsförbrukningen (whoa, vilket ord!) nått så kritiska nivåer att jag endast kan se Konsum-skylten i Veberöd som i dimma. Uråldriga lager av hårvårdsprodukter skymmer min syn.

Vi har blivit lite som de där människorna i Jean M. Auels evinnerliga böcker.

"Hårvaxets folk".

Well, that's all I've got for you, my readers, for now. Leave me a comment, and I'll see you soon again, the weekend is short.

Cheers!

18:e balladen - lars winnerbäck

Javisst kan det va' hårt ibland
å kärvt å jävligt svårt ibland
Men när det väl blir bra
ja, så lycklig man kan va'!

Half a month and a little more since I last blogged. Guess that says much about my state of mind for the moment: I've got to get a grip of myself, and my studies. The school results might be slowly rising, I am to be completely honest not sure. It however has the cost that I don't really have time to blog anymore, since the little spare-time I actually have is spent either in Lund or on that bus that I've started to despise and sometimes hate (I'll come to that in a little while) or with friends, or alone with Ems.

.

And nowadays I'm thrown from overwhelming joy to pure sadness, and I think I can state with security that there are two major factors that have put me in this situation. The first one is, without doubt, the commuting. Hour after hour on a bus that doesn't seem to be going anywhere, hour after hour in an uncomfortable seat, and half of these hours spent in a way that feels totally wasted: to go back homewards, away from all that I enjoy and home to a place that is boring me to death, and which distance in between complicates everything.

Imagine, no matter at what time I end I will be home one and a half hour later, at the least. That is annoying, especially since these eternal busrides aren't very suitable for schoolwork due to bumpy roads and bad construction.

.

And well... I believe I don't even have to tell what a completely fucked up feeling it is to leave a movie-night at 2200 hours, then take the bus, be home at 2330 and have in mind that all others still are there, and according to all signs having a great time. Yes, that's right: I'm home before anyone else have left. No wonder one feels like shit when actually getting home, no wonder one have trouble sleeping some nights.

.

The other thing has emerged the last couple of days, but have escalated since November.

.

Mathematics. There are few words that I know of that can describe my situation in a good way. Fubar is one of the few expressions that actually works. Fucked up beyond all reason, that's how it feels.

.

Primarily I'm awfully pissed at myself for neglecting it the past half a year. Secondly I'm angry at the fact that I lack basics that I should have had. Thirdly I'm mad at ÖP for slowing down my development in so many ways in such a short time.

.

But most of all I'm scared. Scared of failing, simply. And not just the ordinary panic-panic that I'm not getting good grades enough or getting to few MVG:s; no, I am afraid of failing it. As it is now I don't even have a shot at Math B, I've only calculated half a chapter in the book.

.

It's my fault. Fuck all bad excuses, it's my fault for ignoring it and now I'm paying a bitter price.

I'm aiming at passing Maths. A G, and I'm happy. I can't achieve much more, any higher ambitions will suffocate me totally. That G is my salvation, because without it my whole world is falling apart. What about IB if I'd fail an exam? Dream on, farmer-boy.

.

Blesch, I don't want to think in those areas, but I can't help but do. If I'd fail I'm screwed in all ways possible, and even if not it's still painful to be so far behind. If there is anyone more than me this far behind I am very surprised. Not to mention that I'd consider that situation absurd.

Junior high gave me a bad impression of both my own and others capacity. From topping every class to being a good, but not best in a few subjects and simply lower half of the class in some subjects. And in Maths I guess that I simply am the bottom.

.

Yes, I'm counting it in prestige and that simply sucks. But hey, I'm getting used to the thought at least.

.

Wonderful Copenhagen tomorrow though. God and all other possible gods knows that I really need that. I need some rest, physically but above all, mentally.

.

I'll try to return to you as soon as possible.

.

Cheers!

en söt liten flicka - lars winnerbäck

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fat bottomed girls - queen

Hey listen here,
Now I got mortgages on homes
I got stiffness in my bones
Ain't no beauty queens in this locality (I tell ya!)
Oh, but I still get my pleasure
Still got my greatest treasure.
Heap big woman you done made a big man out-of me!

Now get this!

Oh, (i know),
you gonna take me home tonight (please)
oh, down beside that red firelight
Oh, you gonna let it all hang out
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round
Get on your bikes and ride!

16 days. It's been 16 effin' days since I last updated. Honestly, that sucks. Well, I blame lack of motivation, lack of time, lack of sleep, and an overload of homework to cram in between school and the little spare time that I actually have got. Now I've got both time and a subject though, and thereby I return to the blog. I promise, or I at least hope that I won't stay away from it this long anymore.

Alas, the studies, yes... They are taking a lot of time now. And that's blasted, but what can I do?

Today: 8th of March. Two great happening are occurring on this day:

• Me celebrating two months with Ems


• International Women's Day

Not too much to say about first thing. Two months simply, and I met up with her a little earlier this morning. And I even miss her now, even though I saw her just a few hours ago. Well, in averagely 10½ hours I will see her again, and that's very good.

And to the next matter, the International Women's Day (I think that is the correct term for "Internationella Kvinnodagen"). And what is that?

Well, the International Women's Day, hereafter labelled as IWD for simplifying and saving my own energy is a day when women issues and equality between the sexes all over the world are to be given extra attention. I'm not sure if it's given as much attention in nations like e.g. India, Somalia, or why not USA, as in our very own Sweden. For some reason I doubt it. The Swedes are masters in the art to celebrate or recognize things that makes them feel responsible and good.

As you might have noticed if you're a regular reader of my texts, I'm not overly enthusiastic. I'm not bursting out of my shoes through the roof in order to levitate by pink clouds, which might be overly clear. And why? Why don't I want to celebrate a day for women, about women, and recognize all of their rights for one day and think extra of the big issues of equality?

One simple reason: Why would I? In what way would I be guilty to do that during this specific day?

I don't know about you other boys, guys and men out there, but at least I don't feel for being good against women during one day. A year according to the Gregorian calendar has got 365 of these. Shall the remaining 364 days remain as a patriarchy propaganda with women being oppressed?

Let's put it like this. I like women. Heck, I'm a heterosexual teenage guy. And I like one woman really much. A whole lot of my friends are girls, I'm talking to girls regularly and I can laugh just as much and well in the company of girls as in the company of guys.

I have never ever in my life treated someone in a different way because of their sex. And I doubt that I ever will (if I do, kick me: this doesn't include sarcasm, irony or cynicism, I want to spare my legs).

The IWD is in one way a big demonstration of the state of the feminism in the world. It's the women, and not the casual women but the rabid ones, the militant women that brings forward their aggressive messages. Men doesn't really have anything to say in the debate without getting labeled as either dictators, animals or lacking character.

Yes, now I am the one generalizing, but this text is mainly a way to show my opinion against the fanatical feminists that claims that men hit women, because it's in our nature. Wtf? In our nature? Come on. Is it then in women's nature to shop? No, it's something you choose. And no, I'm not putting an equality mark between these two, but note however: No woman in the world has a need somewhere deep in her mind to go shopping for loads of money. It's something they want to do, and something they might feel better by doing.

Men hitting women are basically the same thing. They hit women either because of the influence of some stim or drug, to feel better themselves, or simply because they feel for it. And of course they should have a few slaps in the face in order to wake up. Violence is never right unless when self-defending. The same goes for women hitting men though, that is neither more nor less justified, and anyone claiming the opposite should have a really good excuse for it.

I've also a few times heard the argument that "All men are pigs". When then kindly asking whichever girl it might have been why they think that way (don't ask me why they were talking to me at all if they would be correct) the answer is usually: "All that I have met have been that way, so I assume that all others are that way too." Is it really possible to say that without meeting all men in the world? I've only met one guy from Dalsland, and he was deaf. Does that mean that I can regard all guys (or people at all) from Dalsland as deaf? Of course not. get a grip of yourself, it's no good way to whine to proclaim the entire male population of the Earth as any sort of animal.

Yes, I might seem hostile, and I am. I am hostile at people treating other people in an unfair way because of sex, and for that part also religion, race, appearance or ethnicity, among other things. I despise people proclaiming the patriarchy, just as much as I despise the people that want women to rule the world and men to be the oppressed ones.

We are all humans for [insert word regarded as curse] sake. Is that so hard for parts of the world and its population to get?

All from me for this time.

Cheers!

Edit: After being informed by all-around English-pro David I have changed "International Women Day" into "International Women's Day". Thank you David, for contributing to a blog free from grammatical errors and typos.