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