Risk

i spent the evening of december 26th playing "the game of world domination" against my cute little cousins. i cheated like hell, and almost won! :D
tomorrow night, its class reunion... god, thats something 50 year olds do,, but itll be fun anyway, i have a good x-class :)

haha, i love the previous pics so much, they lift my mood like nothing else!
so here are a few more...

lets have some fun!! :D

okay, for all the danish ppl, Christmas (well the important part = the presents) is over now, which can be kinda sad. so im here to remind you all of these great fun things to waste time with on the internet the next few days,,, go ahead, be childish, i love it so much. :D
(its the only time im not shy and totally free... :/ )

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bekQU9l8hk

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwvVh0_ZelI
(haha, japaneese game shows are the best)

http://www.arto.com/section/games/play.aspx?id=15&cat=1

http://www.arto.com/section/games/play.aspx?id=1475

its christmas eve, and i need to sleep,,, i mean being tired on christmas is the one day a year that its a bad idea (well, being tired then again never really is,,, depends on the person, i like the way my eyes look when im sleepy:P)
however, im staying up, and dont ask why, cuz i know its stupide. my escuse is that i got a few xmas cards to do, and oh god sooo many great blog entries i need to write! (yay :D)
soo... the christmas tree is looking good, it really helps with the xmas mood, but to me, the thing that really makes the change is seeing all the presents lying underneath it (and along every other flat surface in the living room as well - wer a big present-loving family :P). i just love seeing them all lying there, the big masses and heaps of them piled up, each one of them a unique thing that has been bought and rapped with care....no, its not that: its the feeling of plenty, the space they take up, and it appeals to my greedy side.
talking about my greedy side, im con-fucking-fused. (?!) i mean the heaps of presents still turn me on, but then somehow, another part of my very normal greedyness, known as consumerism, seems basically non-excistent to me. i keep asking my self why people go around buying all these new presents when they got a brilliant set of gifts the previous year, and the year before that. and its not some weird act im putting on, its something that shocks even myself. i cant shop either, cuz im like, well i have a lot of great shirts at home, why buy this one..? (very weird for a teenage girl!)
so now i cant decide, go to bed or make that christmas card, and possibly another blog entry afterwards??
well see ;)
all i have to say is... now that its christmas (and at christmas you tell the truth - quote from very favorite movie and something ive been trying to do a lot of lately - also why im doing all the cards, im too much of a chicken to tell ppl i love them to their face :S) ... that this blog means so much to me, so to whatever being this blog is,,,, i love you :D

Oranges

when i don't eat treats
or buy new clothes
or watch stupid movies

and when the house is full of people
who dont listen
and who dont respect me
when nobody sees things the way i do.

when my sister calls me of
makes me gag
and steals my other sister

when my friends are miles away
partying
bonding

or when i suddenly looked stupid
although i used to look good
and start laughing at myself because nobody respects me

or when you have a blur of work
and so many other things you never get done
and when your tired of a trend

when it feels like your only joy in life is the orange in your mouth,

then i look outside at the trees
and inside
and i look at my reflection in my sisters eyes
i turn to my writing and drawing and working
and then i sleep with music in my ears
snatch away my little sister, all for my self
read blogs and books
and dream a little
and write down my dreams
in the hope they might come true.

Dont just tell me your brother is funny - show me what he says and does and i will decide weather i want to laugh.

Francesca has been born, its official. i was so happy when i found out, it was so random, i hadnt really expected her to be born although i knew she would be about that time. my sister was just talking to my dad on the phone and then she was just like, "what colour hair does she have?" and i was like.. shes born?! and then: :D:D:D (i felt really happy).... I LOVE HER!! .. already, and all i know about her is her hair colour. apparently she is really beautiful and shes perfectly healthy and everything. thats so lucky :D i feel so lucky to have her as my little sister, its so exciting, like the best christmas present :)

its so weird that im sitting in my room reading about "how to write a short story".. i think..(hence the title) and meanwhile Francesca is like 2km away in the hospital.. im going to see her at 5. but i feel like i already kinda know her..

156 Age of the Cupake.

cuuuuuuuute. fuck. toast.
im happy, really happy. today my little sister is being born, can you believe?! it might be happening as i write this, so im going to stop and instead concentrate on sending my sister happy thoughts as she enters this world.

we want nothing

i have no energy, i dont get it, im in dk, holidays and everything, just went shopping, bought great things and im just happy that the clothes actually fit so i dont have to worry about buying something stupid. i just finished watching amazing tv and now i feel empty again. the house is full of family, i mean i love them all, but i have pulled myself away, im not in the mood, so i feel alone. writing this blog was the only thing i really wanted to do. but its good, i know this is turning in to something better. i think that right now, all my usual sources of happiness are being disappearing: food, clothes, movies... but i think its because im discovering something even better.

no pants

i love not wearing pants. the girl walking down the street in thin tights and hot-pants in the gray december cold of Denmark will be me.

Although i havef things to be sad about, i feel as giggly as a little child.

fuck! my last post just deleted itself, and im not wiritng it again, so sorry guys..at least i remembered the title. :D :D

exam study time now, wish me luck ;)

Morning

I love the idea of mornings, only the idea does not include frantically finishing the most pointless hw in the world, tired, before getting ready to push off to school.
no
on prefect mornings, i should be sitting outside on the balcony looking and loving my beautiful view, slightly cold, eating a big bowl of watermelon, and have the whole day ahead of me to do as i please.
or i should be going for a walk, exploring an unfamiliar city.

well back to the frantic pointless stuff...

How i feel today:

This song.
Adele, thank-you for your beautiful music.

Oh, i wrote this poem a while ago... (and you have to read it slowly)

Drop,
I break through the walls
air surrounds me
i spread out my arms and
fall to fragments

Air is so silent, it does not squash me with thoughts
it gives me space
in all ways you can imagine

its not stealing its using.

today, i raided the art room!! i found the most amazing things, im so happy, :) i feel like a real artist.
i found: seriously delicious fat black pens (that i snatched like a box of), these manga drawing and shading pens that are amazing and i dont even know how to use them, colouring pencils without the wood - so they look really pretty and you dont have to sharpen them and they make beautiful colours, two sets of water based colours (my very favorite type of painting, a lovely black pencil that writes really softly and nicely, these amazing erasers that are basically like that blue-tack stuff you use to stick things on the walls so you can bend and play with them and stuff and i dont understand why everybody doesn't use them because they are like the best erasers in the world and finally, this thing that smudges pencil drawings really nicely. i basically spent the whole art lesson in the store room. i was gonna take these pens that draw on clothes as well, but there was only one pack - and i was getting kinda greedy, but to be honest, i think im gonna go back and get another set of those woodless colours. no matter if i want to or not i become incredibly greedy in these kinda situations - but that leads me to my next point...

im not stealing any of these things, im just using them. im giving them a home with me where they are appreciated and addored like jewlery, itsnt that much better than having them crowd the art shelves where nobody will end up really using them? besides i need them, im saving money on christmas presents this year and making paintings for my family, it will be fun and they will like it much more than my previous attempts at buying them some random things (they didnt even pretend to use what ever i bought them last year), and that way there is more money for nice presents to my friends and myself :)
im planning on buying as much second hand clothes as i can fit in my suitcase, i adore second hand things soo much! beats new clothes by far. hmm...ill also buy:
lots of fruits and vegetables and stuff because thats all i eat and ill be staying with friends mostly so ill need to supply myself with food,
papers to do my drawings on
bags and shoes (also from second hand stores)
ohh and maybe ill treat myself to a pair of incredibly ripped jeans from H&M, although id be so much cooler if i ripped them myself, but thats so hard apparently
and a dream catcher if i can find one.. but it can wait,
and i really should buy new underwear... im so bad at it, it seems so pointless hidden under all your clothes..
and these are on top of my Christmas presents...yay consumerism! :)

cant wait till xmas though... its gonna be my big family packed in one (luckily pretty big) house and cold weather and christmas decorations and lots of fun :P

im leaving for denmark in like 4 days! its insane..

Franshesca

(name of my unborn little sister who i already adore <3<3)
some day im going to write a book about a girl called franshesca i think who is un-worldly glamorous and speaks french and stuff. im gonna write it in third person, because those kinds of people never exsist. i was inspired by the thought of somebody who never goes to the bathroom to pee, just goes there to make sure she looks nice. but that would make her unperfect i realise now, she shouldnt have to look in the mirror and stuf, just look perfect effortlessly, constantly. hmm.... i made this up a while ago, its fun to remember. she was gonna live in london, and come from a worker - class family i think. be beautiful of course, with perfect big curls. aww this is fun.. :D








i would write about her like this.

i wanna be a writer. i like poetry as well, im beginning to think i prefer it. i wanna write 100 poems that are all unique and true. but im not sure. who knows at all..

you know those moments when your just really genuinely bored with your life and want to escape this universe. go some place else, where the make-belief reality we all dream is either non-exsistent or better. no, not better, because our world really is ok, you just gotta look at the right parts of it. then again, if you did as i told you and watched the movie link below, the love seems to hide away from this planet, so we think it disappeared, and with it the laughter, hope and smiles. its there though, the laughter, the love, maybe if we all found it, at once, then it would return from hiding and stay with us. but anyway, dear blog, my heart is kind of sad and dreamy right now... sigh. thats what happen when i finish watching movies and return to my own unreal life.

runaway.? escape? oh well... its not that hard, thats what ive read, and my good part is going to happily believe that.

birds soar into your mouth
kissing your open lips with their pointed beaks
screaching a bit
and scraping the back of your throat
so when you crie
your scream is harsh and dry.

ya, okay that was something very random i just felt like writing, not some dumb attempt at being a poet. and it isn't supposed to rime!!!.. oh it doesnt, i thought it did for a second.

i like it dark outside.. it reminds me of the danish winters i used to hate.

poetry isnt about metaphors and big words, its about intensity. if your danish, read these. they are so good and true and they make me feel good, i love the way she writes, she makes the dry and wordless danish language fertile with beautiful poems. waw.

New Moon

im watching it... what you can get on the internet at least...
to be honest, i dont really like the movies... kirsten isnt that great of an actor and stuf... but the books are fucking amazing, i cant deny..

so instead of watching bad actresses you should, either
1. read the book againg
2. watch this (please do, its important)... if you do, i will love you <3<3 :)

screw blogs everybody and GO DO YOUR HOME WORK.

some people (me) need a kick to commence at boring things...

what i would do if i only got a camra....

today, after calling my firend, i decided not to study for my exams next week.. okay i feel bad,,, oh well.
then i hung out in my sisters room because she is so awsome..
then i ehh,,, peeled but didnt eat a bad avocado, and ate old furit salad instead.
now im listening to music from random peoples blogs and looking foward to watching the dutchess tonight :D:D

and i found out how to wear my cowboy jacket fianlly... i think at least, i must say im not 100 percent satisfied, but wearing cowboy stuf is hard,,, so so harrrrrd.

kiss kiss :*

ps: thankyou random blogger for posting good music >> me=:)

please immagine picture of me wearing a cowboy jacket and shorts here, im hoping to get a camra for xmas... till then, immaginations are golden.

will be golden

shall be golden

were golden........so so golden
heres a random pic to make my blog look more pretty untill chriatmas comes around..
and yes, it is random but i had a dream about this girl last night... i thik at least... and shes pretty :D

12 - 5

I should be doing my hw now... from 12 to 5. but i will stop talking about it because it stresses me, besides analyzing classic literature is better than hw, especially when you have good music to go with it.
and i just slept, and the sun is shining so i feel good..
and i found cool outfit combinations in my closet (which is currently a messy pile of clothes on the floor in my daddy's room because my grandma decided to visit and snatched mine)

bye xx

PS. i feel like a cheat. these pics are stolen from cool peoples blogs.. but ill pretend that im creative enough to have found them myself.

just felt like saying hi :D

HI...
i hope to promise you this, dear blog, after the holidays when i am kind of a bit done with my personal project, back in my own room, (can't wait btw, you never know what privacy is untill you dont have it) and hopefully have a lot of free time (lets not mention that at that point ill have 2 sisters under 3 yrs and one eh.. 13 year old to look after. i love my sisters, so i shall refuse to complain, and nevertheless, i simply cant wait till my mom gives birth to sister number 3, itll be amazing to have a little one again.)
oh right, i promise i will write more, and the most important reason is that by then i will hopefully have a lovely now cybershot phone!! :D :P and i thik blogs are amazing... so ill write more soon, and do somthing about getting some followers,, no actually i wont, i kinda like that nobody really reads this, so its moore like my diary and stuf.
anyway, i changed the blog name again, yet again. but i think im finally happy, i mean how can something not be good if its ur last name?

i wanda wanda wanda...

so my daddy is finnishing his job here in Zambia at the end of this year - meaning well be leaving. in general, im fucking excited to go somewhere new, preferably some where civilised!right now going for a random walk all by my self seems like a part of a very perfect life.
currently, my dad is applying for something in washington D.C. how long does it take for traditions to develop? nevertheless, my dad can only apply for so many jobs, but for every one he does, my tradition has come to consist of: primarily looking up possible schools in the specified town, followed by a google search on the towns night clubs.
this tradition has lead me to a discovery: busboys and poets. to me, its a heaven on earth, a magnet pulling my pulling my sole of love and admiration towards the one place i least look up to, the USA. (pleace dont be offended, i know a fuck load of wonderful American people - i just also happen to know quite a few who arnt exactly that wonderful,,, and just seem really weird...??)

any how, i think im spending a good portion of my time contemplating my "next life" my "new beginning"... its the best.

more things i love:

looking at clouds from air planes, sitting on my roof because everything looks pretty from there and I can be alone, completing a good poem, having a good idea for an art work, gloomy weather, things made of leather, listening to rain, compliments on my writing, covering my face with hair and blowing at it, my teddy “Bamus”, anything related to London, listening to music before going out, secondhand stores, writing, wondering where im gonna be next year, happiness, and the Dalli Lama.

the truth

writing is not sex, its a drug: "my own personal brand of herion", sceriously.
today my account got fucked up and i couldnt post anything for far too long. i know i dont post things that regularly any way, but the thing is, when i decide to write a blog, and set my mind to begin constructing scentences in my head, i can only live for so long before i get desprate. the scentences in my mind pile up, and it feels like i just really, really need to write them down soon, or ill like explode. now that ive recovered my treasured blog, i am calm again.

hers what i intended to write:

ehh, fuck you see when i wait to long with writing, i forget everything i intended to write, loose all those perfect scentences my mind constructed.

ill start with... today.

i spent the day reading a norwegian model, party animal's blog. its cool to get a glimps of somebody elses life, especially when its a good life they have. but i realised i should write about myself. the thing that happens to me when i intrude other peoples lives is i loose my own. i subcontiously act like them.if i want to have a good life i should probably stop doing that. not probably, defiantly, and tell the truth. the whole truth. im not going to pretend to be cool in this blog. im not going to leave out all the facts that i dont aprove of, because all those facts are just as big a part of me as the ones i do approve of are. one thing i need to do is be able to admire people with out wanting to be them. i need to admire myself and be happy with the person i am. when i admire other people it just means im tired of myself. and i need to not be tired of myself.

like just now, for example, im watching a movie with my favotite charecter from skins - cassie (to those wh dont know what im talking bout, please please please check it out, its worth it) and as i cemmence the writing of this blog, i begin to write the way i think cassie would write. i dont hear my voice in my head, i hear cassie's - which is crap.

the thing is that who i am becomes har define. i am a blur of everything around me. which is why i cant be myself, because i cant sepperate the thing that are me from the things that are my suroundings. i think thats what makes me insecure. and now im depressed because i just wasted the whole day and i have a really big history test on tuesday. fuck me.

the truth is im not cool. but i try to be and everybody tries to be and fuck fuck fuck!!!! our world is so messed up you know - fuck the media and fuck me saying fuck all the time, it soo not cool that i keep saying it. i keep saying fuck because i am so influenced by my suroundings. i think i try to do what everyody else thinks is cool because that will make me cool or something. i also wish i had another word for cool. i use that to much too.

but why does it matter if you only use one word for cool? whats the diffrence - you mean the same thing. why do people admire artists so much? people that are able to come up with multiple words for the same thing and sound cool. because they are themselves. ? because they tell us what we are suposed to think about the world. no, we prefer artists to media because they dont inforce it on you. artists tell us what we are suposed to think and then leave it to us to decide on the truth for our selves, it makes us form our own oppinions.

the media makes us blind. just look at fashion 50 years ago. 50 years ago, something was incredibly fashionable, and everybody thought that thing made you look amazing. today, we find other things amazing that people 50 years ago would look at and say were ugly. this is what i cant stand about our world. we are the media, you are the media! and i am of course, we all infulence each other, even with out the tv and shit, we were the media. our world is based on people doing what they do only because they think this will make them appear better. and it is based on poeple being blind because they see what the society sees and not what their haert sees.

i want to see with my heart. doesnt that sound wonderful? that sounds really good to me. i have read a few books - i have read one book but i have the feeling that i have read more but i dont know. it says that we are all living a dream, which our society makes up and we believe in because, as i said, we are blind and do what everybody else does because we think thats the right thing to do (i used another word - a synonym- for cool there btw) but hey, guess what, its not. and that hey guess what thing isnt really me, thats me being influenced by everything around me and my memory which is good (which is maybe why i am so influenced - i remember all the things that are suposed to influence me. maybe thats why school stupide people are more popular - they dont think as much.?) remembers some american girl or some weird book (no, the book wasnt weird, no, maybe it was i have no idea, sorry) where they said that, and now it comes back to me because the context is perfect and it would fit in there, but its not my words - they orriginated else where. but hey, that makes me pretty clever, doesnt it? i like that, :D but i guess that makes me less popular then, but i really wonder what the ke to sucess in life is - being popular or being clever? please tell me... but i must know, let me do what i just told you guys about, sceach my memory for the right answer, i dont know the right answer, but my memory, which remembers the influence i have had from other people into believing what is right and what is the truth in the world, which then fools me into thinking that its my oppinion, when in reality i have no idea if it is or isnt. what was i talking about again? that sounds s sutupide and btw i just deleated a fuck i was about to write. the key to sucess must be... i dont know, for once, i cant be bothered to think back in my memory, because i know thats not me. the key to sucess must be to just be happy. that comes from me, i made that up based on my influence from society, but nevertheless, i made it up.

if i didnt go to school i could spend so much time getting to know the truth. i so badly want time to just do that. but the thing is, you cant just take time of for that. you have to get turned on, suddenly, sometimes you just spark and begin to write.

i love my dad. he is like me somehow. sometimes he can be so anoying, but sometimes we are just so alike, and he understands me so well. i like that :D


this seems personal,, and if i were obiding the dream, doing as i thouht i was suposed to do to be cool, i would not publish this, because cool people are never that personal, but im not publishing this t do the opposite. im publishing this because i need to tell the truth, because if i tell the truth than i must know the truth, which i want to know.

This calls for a celebration, i have now written so much that you need to click "older posts" to see my first ones... they no longer just fit on one page and i find that very, very marvolous.

The process of creating a collection of words reminds me of making babies :P

Ive gone far to long without writing here. It feels so wrong, like everything ive been wanting to write during the last week is pounding against the coners of my scull, screaming at the top of their lungs to escape onto paper. Like sperm cells that try so desperately to get a meaning with their exsistance, and become part of something as important as life itself, my dear thoughts just want to be "born" and released into the world where they can live happily on a piece of paper, and they will compete as hard as the sperm cells to do this.

of course i dont have the time to write down each one of my thoughts- people don't have time to have sex or give birth all day either.
i find that, like the sperm, for my thoughts to get on paper, they must get there first. When i sit down with the intention of writing, I write the thought that reaches my finger tips first. The thought doesn't need to be especially significant or incredibly interesting, i simply commence with the first one. Perhaps if i waited a bit, a better thought might reach me in its due time, yet i rarely have the ability to resist writing when first i have begun. I wonder: If sprem cells were chosen not on their speed, but on their actual quality, would we all be better people?

All i know for sure is that both sex and writing can be incredibly satisfying.

What makes Zambia worth while:

I have come to love this weird shabby place, it is fantastick at night :=)

it is possible to have fun in Africa, it is possible to have and good life and party all night at shabby clubs that just, somehow, are marvolously amazing and at least as good, (if not somehow better) as anything European.
justification/personalization:
the night between thursday and friday i slept 2 houres... it was fantastic. waw, i feel like im the only person who understands the full point of nocturnal-ness. staying up late is purely and simply incredible.
after eating my self-prepared sushi friday afternoon, and again attempting to start Romeo and Juliette, i went to sleep, and only woke up in time to quickly strap on my heels and pack my bag before leaving the house, late late,late as always...
next thing, i was eating weird spicy, minty things at an indian resturant (there was no time to get away the breath of the garlic i stuffed in my sushi - i hoped this could do the trick)
to save money for drinks and shots we didnt eat at the resturant, we went outside and lay on the grass along the half sement, half dirt road in the middle of nowhere in Zambia's capital, lusaka. we hoped that nobody in the cars driving by recognised us, the international population of lusaka is so scarce, so everybody knows everybody here, and usually, parents dont exactly appriciate their angelic children wondering around the dark scinister streets of africa, besides, our sneeking-out plan would only work if our parents actually didnt know where we were at.
finally, we became tired of shivering and decided it was late enough to procede...just as we got up for a taxi, we heard the well known honk of a bypassing car, indicating our wishes had been answered...
we should have waited longer by the resturant, arriving at a club at 9, as almost the only people there, is not cool.. by 10.30, people finally started dancing, which we had been impatiently awating since our first drink-round.
the cool thing about the international population being so scarce is that when you arrive at clubs like these, you know about 80% of the people there, and get to know about 7% more as the night commences. and its not lame at all, for some reason, your school-mates become these incredibly great people when you go party with them.
as the new group of girls there (people usually start going out in grade 10 - which is us - , so we are basically towards the younger end of the age group) one cant help but getting attention... this mostly just gets you the reputation of being slutty, yet i never saw the crime in dancing... and free drinks never hurt anyone. it is great to get to know everybody at the place, and they really, really are so nice people...
we over slept the next morning, my dear friend didnt hear her alarm. at 6.35 we panicked, hurried out of bed, restored the guest hut we had crashed (to avoid the issue of a curfew) to its old self, smsed our friend goodbye who was sleeping inside the main house, his main house, and sneeked out without getting seen by the parents.
it is incredible feeling to walk along an african road in the early morning hours. it felt superb. if you have ever watched the music vidio to full moon (the black ghosts) this was what it was like... after a good walk, we arrived at the local shopping center and drank tea for the remainer of our money.
since my friends parents believed their kids had been sleeping over at my house for a girls night, they came home with me, so they could be picked up from there and the aliby could hold...
3 girls lying by the pool, cahtting lazily about the nights events, still sleepy after the few houres of rest, eating clocklate for breacfast...
after they left, i downloaded music and ate guacomole with my fingers.
waw... :D:D:D
this is the good part f my life; now it becomes less exciting. the rest of my weekend shall as always pass with me going homework that i end up not finnishing, for monday, not mush else... there is so much... !

i am scared of being deep, and terrifying of not being.

i just rented "romeo and juliette" from our school library. i really, really want to read it... but as i sat down in the sun, with the book between my hands, i could not concentrate, i had no interest. i so badly want to stop reading pointless novels and enter into this world of inlightnment and boks with oppinions, i really want to be deep. deep deep deep. i want oppinions on things, i want to understand the world better, and i want to weave clever phrases in between my words, be somone with something to say.
as i read my latest issue of elle, i fell over an interveiw with some designer (i couldnt care less about the designer, but his/her witty answers were rather intriuging) here, i asked myself one of the questions demanded of the designer: what do you find hardest to forgive?
after a while, the answer came to me: unscencerity. when people dont mean what they do, and their actions don't matter to themselves. i think i will respect any action as long as people really meant it. as i explained to my english table: i, in theory, wouldnt be mad if somebody hurt me, as long as they really meant to hurt me, and were sure this was what they wanted.
the thing is: i dont know what i want, i am scared that i am not scenciere enough in what i do, for that is what i admire the most.
so i will return to my "romeo and juliette" and books on poetry, and do my homework, maybe.

what if rain drops didn't like falling?
and what if my hands would fly forever? and never look back,,, would i fly too?
and so what if i didn't fly although the wind was pushing me and my mind needed spaciousness?,, and my heart was turning very red?

contents of a mind at exacty one minute till midnight.

my mind is a very content blur of the muse, words i read to myself of my previous blog and the scilence of night.
i swing my head around a bit and am reminded of last time i heard the song... i was also swinging my head around then... just my sight was a bit blurry and i was dizzy but in great company that only improved as the night took over,,, god i miss dk

ive begun to stare obsessively at every male that passes me's shoes. im especially a big fan of those black brown boring buisness shoes. they are nice as hell. im incredubly envious...

i forgot the meaning of this post

why i love history...

i forgot school was about learning. i split my math class between the hope of a new watch as christmas loomed, and vaugely attempting to call my thoughts back to the classroom, and the board in front of me. i became happy as the sceene changed to history. here i could think to myself with out my better half reminding myself that i would miss something, there was very simply nothing to mis. with out thinking, i took out a paper and began writing. if only i could do as such forever, my soul is content when writing, there is always something to say, however relevant or not.

by the way, im joyful to not have to face the teacher's ramps of yet another year. if i look at the bright side, this really is my last year, although thats all i know for sure about my future. in theory i should really stop caring, i should use it to my advantage and know that i would leave soon, so i could do exactly as i pleased and then leave. however, zambia has the one thing in common with death that when your body leaves, your memory remains. and how people remember you for some reason matters to me.

i scan my suroundings to ensure that as last year, my theory of not missing anything during history holds. I am, as the only person, not listening to tales of my teachers life and recent experiences during the summer am for some reason praised for being studious, sitting there with my pen and paper, writing this blog. this is why i love history.

okay, although i am missing nothing, i should stop now... clever is sexy,, definatly. and i dont like people thinking im not clever, because i am, an therefore i shall stop writing blogs in class.

observation: teacher, loking more like a happy-faced, well-fed baby than a person who got through university and beyond (honestly, i respect that, university is tough), swinging his arms and laughing with a wide set mouth saying: "every single day we will have homework". fuck...

apparently, our homework over the summer was to aquire the skill of comprehanding incomprihensiple styles of cursive handwritings.... why the fuck cant our so talented teachers not bother to aquire the simple skill of a normal hand writing. ?.. oh well, actually i dont really care...

the rest of the lesson than passed with me forgetting where india was, (that actually is quite rare for me...) wondering why people keep wearing ugly shoes, and the teacher recomending indian resturants... i think i just found a new favorite subject. =D

To build a fence around a thought… to fence-it-in.

I like the idea of being different. I admire those who abandon all hopes of normality, and settle, simply, with doing exactly what suits them, never minding, or even thinking about being judged, simply going right against the stream of what you just do, and what you just don’t.

T hese people don’t even do it deliberately, they don’t intend to raise questions about traditions and ideas, they just do.

The good thing about being different like this is that you become an extremely good problem-solver, with your so unusual take on the world, your solutions will be miles on the wrong side of common people’s mental border’s of where they would, and where they would never dream of, letting their thoughts wonder freely. However, these solutions tend to work incredibly! If they didn’t, these miracle people wouldn’t be doing them, would they?... they know what works best and what doesn’t… none of us do, because we have set up a fence in our mind and told our thoughts very firmly where they can and can not go. As a result, I don’t think we know neither our selves, not the best solution very well.

So from now on, lets all kick down these “fences” and start being a bit inventive when solving our problems?

5000

Five thousand...
It’s a big number. Really big. Money wise, it is incredibly generous, depending on the currency of course. Yet this is a number that cannot be translated and dealt with like money in any way. 5000 lives are not worth more in England than in Pakistan. 5000 lives…
No perhaps I am wrong, perhaps they have quite a bit in common with money. Perhaps, some would say, 5000 lives are worth more in England than Pakistan, I think this is mostly because we would not, in a heartbeat, have the ability to imagine a religion rob so many lives in so little time in such a civilized place as England. Then again, that is a very common fact in Pakistan. Like money, 500o lives cannot buy happiness, but governing both imply power. One is the cause and the other is the result of destruction. Neither is independent of the other.
So what does 5000 lives mean to us? Its only one of many numbers.
5000 casuelties as a recent result of the Taliban. That’s nothing, the natzis reached a total of 6 million jews. Hurray.
I don’t think the amount matters much. What matters is each life. 6 million Jews, 5000 Pakistani, 13 students as a result of a mentally ruined kid, 1 taken by murder. They can all make me think and feel sorry. Because what 5000 means is 5000 minds, 5000 hopes and dreams, 5000 futures, personalities, families, 5000 souls that can only be mourned for.

Two train journeys

On the train departing from the head station of Copenhagen, with the distant end station of Stockholm Central, I was rather miserable. I felt stupid for ending the really wonderful, relaxed time I had with one of my closest friends, in order to go to Sweden. I was so happy here in Denmark, now why did I have to go and end it all and leave? My sisters would miss me, I stressed over the train journey and was deeply perplexed over meeting my two closest Zambian friends, out of Zambia. How would it be? I wasn’t concerned that we wouldn’t get along, that seemed rather impossible to me, how ever I did wonder weather I would get along, fit in, with them in these new surroundings. I had always been quiet, would I get a voice in between these two loud girls who squealed of laughter and always had great ideas?

Of course, I cant conceal that I did my best to subdue this gloomy feeling I had cocconed my self in, I was stupid to pretend to be so miserable, there was really nothing to be miserable about. It was the height of the holidays, the best time of my year, I would soon be shopping and eating sushi with two wonderful people, my purse was top full of money, I had already made 100 plans for joyful events to occur after my short trip (At least it was only 3 days, I told myself), I could really not think of anything sad about my life at that moment. Yet pretending to be miserable was a common aspect of my life, something I enjoyed doing from time to time, when the mood was to it.

Three days later, the “miserable” game I played became less of a game and more of reality as I stood behind the recently closed train door. Squinting through a small window at my two great friends running along the platform to wave their last goodbyes, a good amount of tears pressed against the corners of my eyes. Now, I was really mad at my self, why had I been so stupid and only agreed to stay for three days? I had been getting on much better that I could have dreamed of (typical me, I always dream of the worst-case scenario), and was enjoying my self incredibly - I had even stopped counting the days until I could go home and instead decided that I kind of preferred this to home! Marie was staying longer, and they already had cool plans, this was the last time the three of us would be together for a year, and now, again, I was responsible for ending it before due time. God!

This is a very common character trait for me, I always miss where I just was.

Marie and Gabriella, I had a wonderful time in Sweden :D