Things doesn't quite seem to go my way these days. the driver's test was failed by three points (time to study!) and my head has been empty for ages. sometimes I find myself spacing out and not being able to really come back. weirdo. but the thing that takes up my mind right now is my car. the bus, THE bus that I was going to buy off of my father after the reparation. well, today I found out that I have to get a new enginge for it, and I have no idea whatsoever what it is going to cost. but I have my fingers crossed for a reasonable prize, because I would be so pissed off if the euro trip that me and Rasmus have been planning had to be done by trains and stuff. it would suck, basically.

so, looking at this from an economic point of view, I decided to not buy any clothes that aren't neccessary for a year (aka, I'm only gonna buy underwear, period.)

wish me luck.

so. days are running marathons here in my world, and probably in yours as well. to my utter happiness the café at Elsas Hus has come back from the dead, and I will try and visit as soon as possible.

it takes time to settle back into your life when you've had a massive amount of time compressed into three weeks run through all of your senses at maddening speed. that will serve as my excuse for not uploading anything recently, live with it!

anywho, the bike. that was the story promised. not really a long one to be honest, but still a good one. yours truly and Tim Middlehurst (aka, NOT the one accompanied by a pterodactyl on track 21) were walking back to town from a great training with an awesome team, and stumbled upon a lonely bicycle. said bicycle was lying sadly and abandoned on the pavement, thrown  away by someone who disapproved of its rusty chain. the bike was an old one, the kind that knows its purpose and find pride in doing the bidding of its master. it was navy blue with a brown leather saddle, and out of nowhere Tim asked if I wanted to take it. the thought had been knocking on one of the many doors in my head, and I answered and asked it in to have a cup of tea. getting to the point, I adopted (no mom, I didn't steal it! it was like finding a baby set out to die.) the sweet bike. it spent a couple of days in Tim's apartment-building's bike-room-thingy before I finally managed to get it home, where it is currently reciding. I have now started on the task of patching it up, hoping to succeed quite soon so that I can have a bike in town and therefore enable myself to swish around at tremenduous speed. or something like that.

right now I just want to melt into the sky, because soon indoor training starts, and I simply can't wait. every time I think about it, my heart is doing summersaults. see, there it goes again, out of control.

avoiding rambles, since I am tired and you are not (or are you?) there will now be a list of the things I was going to write about. enjoy.

• I met up with Rasmus and had mudcake and jammed for a while, which made me terribly happy since I haven't seen him in forever.
• on monday there will be the theory test of my driver skills. u huh. I just spit that one right in your face, but I'll admit that I am a bit nervous.
• school sucks without the right classrooms and few classes with my Raptor-Robin
• there will be a mini-camp in two weeks, and I'm going there to visit with work (mentally disabled youths) which is gonna rock!
• I miss you. yeah, you know who you are. fuck you.

it's twentythree minutes past midnight, and outside the rain is beating against nature like a fierce father or a reproachful lover. I'd like to think of it as if the rain is washing the world clean, giving it another chance to do something right. or something weird like that. either way autumn is soon here, kissing the summer good night with its red leaves and early evenings. summer is trying to stay up though, just gonna shine my sun overe here one more time, just gonna make the air smell of wheat and grass. like a kid trying to stay up late and eat cookies.

I love rain at night, the sound of it against the roof, the way the wind whistles in the chimney. it makes me feel comfortable and safe. it also makes me drink a lot of tea, and I long to sew dresses in earth-colors, wearing thick stockings and contemplating life on the porch in warm scarfs.

anywho.

time to get to bed, for tomorrow I shall commence the quest of restoring a bike to its youthful days of glory. or something by the likes of that anyway.

forgot to tell you about said bike.

I'll tell you tomorrow.

somewhat back on track.

rain has been falling constantly (almost) since I came back. I decided to continue this blog in english, mostly to expand my vocabulary, but also to come to terms with wether I'm a different person or not when I speak different languages. so there.

anywho, first week of school was chillin' bananas, and I expect next week to be more challenging. it warmed the core of my heart to meet up with everyone again, and even to get a glimpse of good old Kitte. even though she's my least favorite teacher, rawr. have I calmed down since this summer? I don't know, but somehow it doesn't feel like I'm jumping around as much as I did before. perhaps I'm just tired. or perhaps part of me has grown up a bit. let's hope not, aight?

something that really made me happy to find out was that Tim finally was home and had been so for about a week. whoppa! big meeting in the club's house talking about the coming season.

can'twaitcan'twaitcan'twaitcan'twaitcan'twaitcan'twait

hopefully I will be playing opposite, which means I get to bomb every rotation (SCORE!) this season is going to be pretty hectic what with english C, scinece, work and games, but I think I'll make it with some time for cisv things as well. if not, then I'll compensate with favours toward other people and giving away clothes and stuff. so no worries. in the end, I'll still feel good about my self and the way I act, lols.

woah, big happening, right outside my window. SUN IS SHINING. call the newspapers, cause I'm going out to catch some of it!

bisous

om ni kommer ihåg mina tidigare inlägg så skrev jag om ett äventyr med Isak och Rasmus, och utlovade en fortsättning följer.

detta har hänt: en lång och svettig resa mellan linköping och sturefors har tröttat ut Saga och Rasmus, och de tar en paus vid en ica butik. utanför butiken träffar Rasmus sin bror som inte har varit försvunnen men som ser mystisk ut. hemliga kodade meddelanden som låter som artighetsfraser utbytes dem emellan, och Saga sörplar oförstående på en Loka citron. Isak anländer sent - varför är han sen? vem uppehöll honom? och varför är han så glad? kanske är han bara Isak. kanske är det en charad. ingen vet. de tar sig till badplatsen - men det är fullt av folk. från ingenstans kommer förslaget om att åka till Grebo, och Isak hinner bara nämna hopptorn och mopedkörning så har han Rasmus på kroken. Saga är precis lika lättövertalad.

[intro med cool musik]

vägen till Grebo är lång, men bara för Isak, ty det är han som cyklar. Rasmus kör för första gången moped med växlar, och Saga ber för sitt liv i kurvorna. "Ska man inte hålla ner växeln när man gasar?", "när ska man växla då?" och "vad fan!" är fraser som Saga inte vill höra, men som högt och tydligt ljuder genom motorns buller. det är lite fint ändå att förklara för pojkar hur växlar, gasar och motorer fungerar.

helskinnade anländer vi tillslut i Grebo, där badshorts lånas (för min del) och hopptorn intags, och för första gången på flera år skiter jag i att vara en rädd tös som inte vågar dyka dumt, och det är det finaste som finns. det är sjukt befriande att svanhoppa från trean och dyka baklänges från bryggan. vi äter singoalla och pratar om allt och inget, Rasmus fryser och isak och jag voltar från bryggan in den tidiga kvällningen.

efter ett tag bestämmer vi oss för att åka hem. Isak och jag åker moped, och Rasmus cyklar. i sturefors bestämmer vi att Isak skjutsar mig hem med en lånad hjälm, och Rasmus cyklar tillbaka till stan efter att ha ätit hemma hos sin mamma.

vägen hem är lång, men luften är fin och solen är röd, så det gör ingenting alls.

this will not be the story of my camp and how it went. neither will this be a list of things that happened, or events that occured. if you ask me about it, then I will answer you truthfully, but there is no way in the world that you will understand what happened to me. you won't realize what I realized, you won't learn what I learned, and never will you fully understand what I understood. that is because we are different.

I am not saying that i won't share my experiences with you, for I already am, only not in the way you think. I will simply share it through my actions and my opinions and my ways of trying to persuade you to believe and accept me. I will share it with you in the way I ask you to spend time with me, and to help me make a change.

I am not saying that you won't enjoy the story. I am simply stating that your interpretations of things and people differs from mine, and that is why it would be pointless to recite all the wonderful, horrible, loved and feared moments of the days when I participated in a fake empire. that house was full of people, and I love each and every one of them to bits, even when they let me down. even when we did not agree. even when I didn't deserve to love them.

and those feelings will never enter your heart, because those are mine, and you can only make your own version of them.

just rest assured that the three weeks that i spent away from you, or with you, were treasured and remembered greatly indeed.

I didn't go there to have fun and come back home. I went there to explore the ways of a society, to challenge my values and views, and to find truths about myself.

cisv didn't give me that, because it's not for free. they guided me, and they helped me achieve it by myself.

which is a huge difference between being born a king and actually fighting your way there from the bottom.

ögonlocken ligger fortfarande slutna, även om jag tittar vart jag sätter fötterna. långt nere i ett djup jag inte förstår eller har en karta till ligger skratt och regn och minnen fortfarande kvar, påminnandes om att jag inte var färdig. att jag inte var det på långa vägar.

hos er var mina ögon öppna, men jag vet inte om jag vågar öppna dem här ockå. jag vet inte om mina näthinnor kan ta in det.

patetiskt, jag vet.

men jag vill inte förstöra det som mitt hjärta fann vara rätt. jag vill inte plocka isär de tankar som formats med hjälp av er, för jag är rädd att ni försvinner då.

folket talar om att bevara sin ras, att bevara sin kultur. men är vi inte alla en kultur med många egenskaper uppdelade emellan oss? det finns så otroligt många vägar som är rätt, och vi kan inte alla gå på samma gata, för gjorde vi det skulle den nötas bort och försvinna, eller bli något helt annat. en grop som vi inte skulle kunna ta oss upp ur, för ingen skulle finnas att hjälpa oss på andra sidan av vårt perspektiv.

hur kan du sitta och säga att du är bättre än någon annan, när du inte äger ett uns av kunskap? hur kan du döma ett folk utifrån de stereotyper du hört talas om av andra?

hur kan du vilja bevara det system som uppenbarligen drar ner dig?



jag vill ändra på världen, men jag vill inte förstöra den.

jag vill bättra människors villkor, men jag vill inte ändra deras kultur. för den är deras, och min är min.

men hur kan jag få de som har valet och makten att göra det,

att faktiskt, helt osjälviskt,

göra det?