Audrey Hepburn

For my friend's Halloween party (with the theme: famous historical people) I came as this lovely lady below...

“Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, it's at the end of your arm, as you get older, remember you have another hand: The first is to help yourself, the second is to help others.”

Audrey Hepburn was not just looks...

By the way, here was my version:

Who knows their math now?

I can't remember the last time I've been this mad. I literally flushed red in the face with anger. I'm not the easiest person to piss off - seriously! It takes quite a lot to get me mad and even more so that I can't let go off the madness for hours, and much much more mad that I actually flush red in the face! It really felt like a vein popped on my forehead.

Lately I've been working. The job is decent; it pays well and it's not superachieving. I work like 3-4times a week so that I can study on my free time. I should be happy (or I am happy) that it's a good balance (sort of).
Usually, I'm really patient with customers and I handle situations very well. I even handle the buggy kids well but there was something with me today that wouldn't "work".
Everything was just such a catastrophe. Sometimes I wonder how my boss and his wife sees the store, because seriously they just think everything is peachy keen when it really isn't!

Lately (the last week) we haven't had enough change in coins or paperbills that we've been asking customers for change in order to "stock up". Amazing! Since when did you really have to do that? Aren't we supposed to have everything we need stashed inside the vault? Aren't we supposed to be prepared and ready? No. We aren't.
On top of the whole coins situation, we ran out of plasticbags. Apparently the world stopped spinning and each and every customer had to give me the eye and whine about wanting a plasticbag rather than a paperbag. Well hello!?!?! Aren't paperbags supposed to be more enviromental friendly? They are made out of recycled paper unlike plastic.
So there I sat for like 5hrs taking shit from each and every customers who actually blamed it all on me (and FYI I'm not the one who does the orders AND I just started work that morning so how was I supposed to know!?).
As always, it's not a surprise that certain campaign products don't go in on the price that their supposed to go in on. Who takes the blame? I do. If they need help and can't get it immediately because I'm busy with another customer (although there are like 5 other people in the store), who takes the blame? I do. When I don't have the answer to their question, who takes the blame? I do. And when their card won't work because they have no money on it, who takes the fucking blame? I do!
That's how this whole day was. I don't know if everyone had their period or if I woke up in the wrong world but to top it off - I had a worse encounter later this evening.

When it was rush hour I had 2 boys come up to me asking to change a bill and a coin. I exchanged their bill into two golden coins and their silver coin into five smaller coins. Now I can count, I'm good at mathematics! I know and I saw what I gave them back! Suddenly they get in my face saying that I ripped them off! That I didn't give them two golden coins but just one. WTF!?!? Don't pull that shit on me! Not today, not now... These kids were like 14 or maybe even 15 years old. They've dropped in during school and tried to buy liquer from me without suceeding, how stupid do they think I am? Then they've been trying to snatch candy from the corner of the store and they get mad when I stare at them. Well, it's not like they didn't bad boy-label themselves already with the alcohol. I'm not that prejudice but these boys are amazingly easy to read. Apparently my co-workers had caught them before - snatching candy and what not. Then today they actually put up a fuss and were stubborn about the fact that I hadn't given them the change I changed for them. Bullshit! Even my coworkers heard when they dropped coins on the floor.

So as peace-offering as I can be, I made a deal that as soon as I was done with my customer we'd fix the issue. We scanned the floor for a missing coin and found none. I asked them to dig out all the coins they had in their pockets and they started making a fuss about that as well and slightly refused. Then my other co-worker steps in and puts on a bitchy attitude (I'm forever grateful that she had my back) and said that they could come back tomorrow if they wished. Thing is that if it would show that I had 10coins too much in my cash register then they'd get it back, if not - well then they've wasted time playing mini-con men! Don't you think that they spit out the ugliest foul words you've heard and start raising their voices and bring in their other friends. (I actually got frightened for a minute but decided to stand brave). All of this drama infront of other customers, and my face flushed red with anger. The last drop was when the boy who pushed it furthest, the guy who actually wasn't the one who changed any money, blurts out, "Så jävla korkade som låter en bitch som uppenbarligen inte kan matte sitta vid kassan!" I couldn't help it, I swear a vein popped on my forehead, I've usually got good selfcontrol but this did it! I can't take crap from small boys/girls. I spun around gave him the eye and said "Vad sa du nu? Säg det till mitt ansikte." He started mumbling something and I dealt with my current customer. After, that customer looked frightened and walked away, my co-worker with the attitude told them to leave the store because what they were waiting for wouldn't come and their attitude is unacceptable. Then they start yelling again and saying that I did wrong and that I was stupid, as I'm saying that I wasn't wrong and that they've been trying to fool me several times. I then yelled out infront of all the customers "DIDN'T YOU ASK ME TO CHANGE THE 20BILL TO TWO GOLDEN COINS AND THE 5COIN TO 5 SILVER ONE CROWNS!?" Then the smart ass little boy yells right up my face that I gave them a ten less ("we're supposed to have 3 golden coins") Then I had to do the fucking math for them. A 20bill gives you two golden coins, and a 5 silver coin gives you 5 small one crowns. They started making a fuss again and he yelled demeaning words at me and the only thing I could say before my co-worker took over was "DON'T RAISE YOUR VOICE AT ME!" which was quite lame and weak, made me sound sooo old. After that they threatened to come back the day after and I wondered if they were young enough to carry weapons, and as always I imagined the worst case scenario, me being one of those people who shouldn't have to die over a golden coin which really isn't worth that much...



I just have to add, that the fact that he said that I didn't know math pissed me off! Because I'm actually good at it, didn't do math C that well but, flying well on the other courses! And what does he know he hasn't even begun high school, so he knows nothing and he certainly proved his skills when he expected a 20bill to give him 3 golden coins (my ass it does!).

Who knows their math now???

An eyeopener

For the past few days, or weeks and months to be honest, I've been thinking a lot about my future and thinking about the paths I've been chosing. I tried to see things in a different perspective and think things through reasonably. I've asked others for opinions and advices, and I've been trying to feel after what my heart and innerself says.

My big dilemma is my future career. When I was 12 and started playing classical piano, I fell inlove. I fell quickly, happily and most of all - hardcore. I knew (then) that I wanted to be a concertpianist. Little did I know then about the currents I was about to fight, and the hardship of a musician.
After I was accepted to a highschool that focused on classical music, my whole musical world broadened and I experienced new things that I fell more inlove with. I felt a strong bond to it and knew that I never wanted to leave. The orchestras, the various instruments, the ensembles, all the musicians you met, the satisfaction and joy of playing a piece that spoke to you, the concerts, all of these amazing emotions that evolved and touched me in so many ways. How could I leave such a beautiful thing and find better?

Recently I've been wondering if it's really worth it; auditioning for the Royal College of Music. Of course any dream is worth going after but I've been wondering if this really is my dream. I love classical music, and I love the instruments I play but I had to admit to myself that all pressure was beginning to feel like a burden.
Everytime auditions come up and the pressure is high, my playing diminishes and the panic within me rises. As soon as the pressure is off and auditions are done, the opposite happens. Maybe I'm not suited for the life of a musician on the go?
I have to admit that the three years that I spent in my high school was bittersweet. It introduced me to so many things and created new passions for me, but at the same time it diminished my love for playing the piano and my dream of being a concertpianist quite a lot. What it was precisely, I'm keeping to myself.

I thought about everything thuroughly and I began asking myself why I've been holding onto it so harshly. The thought of not pursuing it as a career actually started to pick off a burden off my schest. It was when I fully admitted that I love it but don't want it as a career anymore, that I realised that I've been holding on to classical music for dear life because I thought that if I'd stop after high school it would never be a part of me again. I was wrong, classical music and my piano will always be a part of me whether I continue or not.
The fact that everyone around me was pursuing it as a career and had already started building their careers at the age of 16 if not younger, led me to only see one alternative in life. One love, one life, one path.
I built up this idea that once you have a dream about it, you're not allowed to quit. I met many that were drilled to play and play by their parents although they themselves didn't wish for it. And I suppose I saw it as the way it was supposed to be. I had to have it, whether the passion was strong or weak.

Somehow, I feel like I don't want to sit around and try and try for years getting into that godforsaken college. I know the competition, and it's tough. I know my level, and it's not close.
I'm a bit restless of myself and wish for things to happen immediately, and perhaps that's what's becoming my fall. I still have my doubts about giving up entirely but I've decided to have a talk with my pianoteacher tomorrow. I just need to know how good of a chance I have of getting into that college and when, and who would know better than her. I just hope she'll be split honest with me, eventhough it might hurt.

The thoughts of a Birthday girl, the thoughts of Bianca

(Birthday by Dorothea Tanning - my favourite painter)

19. A slightly monotone age in one's life. Nothing really happens. Nothing important, nothing special, nothing that makes you feel that you've grown.

Eighteen was an exciting age when clubs were open for you and when you finally were allowed to drink in public.
Twenty is a year away and that's when you're allowed to buy your own booze to drink at home for dinner or for (most of us young ones) partying and messing up our brains.
Twenty-one is then the final good age (or at least for me) when life has its doors most open for you. You're definitely legal, counted as an adult and all you need to do is to take that step towards building your family/career. That's when (at least for me) reality sets in and life gets serious.
Luckily, it's two years away from now and I still have two years to be a careless and wreckless teenager (although I'm actually not as carelss or even wreckless as I'm making this text seem).

Last night, when I was lying in bed, I couldn't sleep - as always. I'm beginning to wonder if I might be suffering from insomnia? Either way, as I layed their tossing and turning in my bed listening to the pitter patter of rain on my window, I couldn't help but think about the past; how my 19 years of life has been, memories that were both good and bad to me, friends that I've had by me for a long time and those whom I haven't.
I remembered last year when it was my birthday, it was quite funny actually and I didn't even get upset by it, my mother greeted me in the morning by cooking breakfast for herself. I thought that she would've included me in the portion but she didn't, so I made my own breakfast and sat down quietly. As the hour it takes for me to get ready had past, I was standing by the front door ready to leave for school. I took my time wondering when she would greet me Happy Birthday. She popped her head through the kitchen door and said bye, then vanished by the corner. I started turning the lock and pushing down the handle as she yelled "Oh, I almost forgot! Bianca wait I have something for you!" That was close I thought but as I turned around thinking she might be holding out a small present as an appetizer for the nights surprise, I found her standing behind me holding out a garbage bag towards me. "That's it?" I asked her with big confused eyes and as she nodded with the same confused eyes, I left with a garbage bag and without a "Happy Birthday". (Today she actually left the garbage bag by the door and asked me to take it out after she sung Happy Birthday to me quitely with some presents in her arms - it was really sweet of her, although the garbage bag feels like it might become a tradition). Back to the memory; she called me about 30minutes later and apologized a thousand times for forgetting that it was the day she had for (then) 18 years ago been squeezing me out in agony. We laughed together on the phone and discussed the nights plans.

After the trip down memory lane, I started thinking about where I am right now. I thought about my plans in life, career paths that I was open to, colleges I wanted or wished I could study at and etc. As usual those thoughts always leave you distressed and agitated. I wondered where I'd be in about 6 months, where my family would be, how my love life would be within the next decade. Always this annoying obsession with love! But seriously, how can it be that it is so hard to find one decent guy in a town, a capital city actually, with 818 603 inhabitants? I'm not looking for Mr.Right just a potential one that will at least last for more than a month or two.

Last night, I also seemed to have planned out my whole life, and my unborn childrens lives, in my bed. I decided and hoped that I would get twins just like my grandmother and most of my cousins (it's genetic). Preferably one boy and one girl. A minimum of 2 children but 4 would be ideal. If they were to be boys I'd be choosing between the names; Alexander, Maximillian, Franz, Philip, Oliver (but that's intentionally the name of my future golden retriever) and Calsuphur. And I'll probably end up giving them two names since I'm so indecisive. As for girls, not as many speak to me but I figured that Olivia and Elizabeth are names that I like. I also decided that, whether I'd do it intentionally or not, I'd be introducing all string instruments, piano and vocals I'd wish for them to play at an early age (probably forming a little quartet at the most). As for other arts, I'd be introducing them to ballet and various dance forms, creative arts, sports such as tennis (which I did when I was a bit younger), horseback riding and most of all fencing. I'd see to it that they study well and have their paths as widely open as they can. But most of all I wouldn't push it on further if they immediately make a resistance and don't wish for any activities at all. Although I don't want to admit it, I have to say that I might turn out to be the most pushy mother a child can have and exactly what I'm hoping not to become. I can tell now, that I'll probably become a helicopter parent.


Now I have to get ready for work and start planning my evening, I'll be going out with friends to celebrate my monotone and slightly useless age - 19.

Becoming a workaholic!

Lately I've been quite out of balance and I've been very distressed!

I've had a hard time finding time between my piano and work. Work that wasn't supposed to take over my life and free time.
All day long (these past days) I've been stuck behind a counter working pretty much the whole day. Its sucks! How many times haven't my bosses called me in on my free time to work, work, work! On my free time which I need so badly for my piano.
My energy just gets sucked out and they really don't feel bad about asking me to work all the time. I agreed to fill in for a pregnant lady and work like 50% but dammit this is like 89% and I'm not digging it!

Lately they've been calling me in like crazy and I've finally found the guts to say no. Tomorrow is my birthday and I'll be celebrating it with friends. Luckily my schedule shows that I'm free then. Although the day after I have to work. Well, we all know how teenagers party and I don't think that it would be a good idea to work the day after. For once, I actually asked them for a favour. A favour that I wouldn't ask again and that actually has a bloody good reason to why I should get the day off and they say no! Then I try to comprimise and ask: "well, how about if I'd start later like 2 or 3 pm?" No! the same response, noon is the only acceptable. Great! why not just give me my original time. Fantastic, and I actually agreed to it. Then my boss says that in order for that to work I have to do a favour to get a favour. What!? What freekin favour? Haven't all the times that I've cancelled my plans with friends and family for work been a freekin favour??? And all the extra times I've accepted for next week - aren't those favours as well? A big fat favour(!) and I should be free on saturday!

I was a good person on the outside and I kindly laid myself flat on the ground and allowed them to trample over me (an asset that is not benefitting for my pride) - while my inside was really reeking with dislike.
Not enough that they've asked me to work shit hours, they asked me to take more hours and naturally I accept. Just because I was so mad I asked what their reason for taking time off was and they mentioned a small vacation on the country side (which they visit often). Is that a better reason than my reason to celebrate my birthday?
Embarassed as one of them was, she said encouragingly "look on the bright side, you'll be earning a lot of money now". Yeah money's a really sunny side if you care about it that much. It's quite sad how money has taken over life nowadays. Everything is associated to it and it's the new synonym for pleasure and fun.

Life's a joke at times when priorities are so wrong in peoples eyes...

Vad var det jag skulle imponeras av?

Idag satt jag ute på stan och råkade smyglyssna på två tjejers konversation. Konversationen handlade om "en vidrig lya" som vart belägen ute på förorten. Lyan vart (uppenbarligen) inte vidrig p.g.a. dess interiör men p.g.a. dess område. Var är logiken i det? Varför säger/tycker man något sånt? Är inte det ett av de mest ytliga sakerna man har hört?

Poängen har inget med tjejerna att göra utan det har mer med ett minne som jag kopplade deras konversation till.

Det var någon gång under sommaren då jag blev bjuden upp till en killes lägenhet (en ny bekant). Han ville tydligen visa hur fint han bodde och vilken tur han har som bor så fint - inne i stan, olikt mig. Ointresserad som jag var så bestämde jag mig för att häpnas av hans lyxiga liv! Nog för att jag alltid sedan jag var en liten flicka velat bo inne i stan, i en fin lägenhet, i de gamla byggnaderna. Jag hade alltid nämnt det till mina föräldrar; att jag avundade de som bodde så fint och centralt till allt som vår stad har att erbjuda. Och kan nog erkänna att jag än idag fortfarande avundar dem en aning.
Hursomhelst, så skröt han väl lite om värdet på sin lägenhet och fortsatte snacka om diverse märken som jag hade ingen koll på. Det var tydligen dyra möbler och bestick, tavlor som köptes av konstnärer som sa mig absolut inget! "Oj!" tänkte jag och målade upp en bild av en stor, sofistikerad lägenhet. Varför jag följde med för att se hans lägenhet hade inget med honom att göra, utan jag har en nyfikenhet av att se hur folk bor. Det är bland de första sakerna jag funderar på när jag träffar nytt folk "undrar hur det ser ut hos dem?" (konstigt jag vet, men ibland kan inredning säga ett par saker om personen som bor där).

När jag väl kliver in i lägenheten var den mycket mindre än vad jag målat upp - inget negativt med det alls. Själva planlösningen på lägenheten var söt och fin samt passande för en som bor själv. Det som var negativt var hur han tog hand om sin lya, hur han inte skämdes över den, och hur han skröt över något som han inte hade något att skryta om!

Jag ville nog vända på klacken och ta mig därifrån, för det jag hann se visste jag skulle bli värre. Nog för att vi alla inte hinner städa och hålla ordning på allt, och att ett hem har rätt att vara stökig från tid till tid, så vart det här nästan oacceptabelt! I hallen låg räkningar utspridda på golvet, som hade tydligen ramlat av en hög på ett bord vid ingången. Skor vart slängda hit o dit, och strumpor syntes ligga under dem. Lägenheten var en 3:a med två små sovrum och ett litet vardagsrum samt ett pytte litet kök. I första sovrummet visade han stolt upp sitt "arbetsrum" med ett berg av kläder (som jag inte visste var rena eller inte, men utifrån lukten så var det nog det andra) på en extrasäng. Lutad mot en vägg var de tavlor han hade inhandlat av diverse konstnär, men de tittade jag knappt på då jag märkte ett spår av snus (både användna och oanvändna) på golvet. Samtidigt som jag klev runt om Hans och Gretas spår av snus och han skröt om sin Mac Air Book (som hade kaffefläckar och såg mer svart ut än vit), begav vi oss vidare mot vardagsrummet. Vardagsrummet vart fin och mysig och vart i riktig ordning, men dock inte renare. Spåret av snus hittade man fortfarande om man nu letade, små matbitar låg omkring på soffan och - äckligt nog - låg det ett par kalsonger som tittade fram och log mot mig. Usch!

Snubben fortsätter att skryta sönder sin käke om alla märken han har och var hans lägenhet var belägen (Östermalm för de som undrar) utan att verka bry sig om vilket skick han har fått den i. Ännu mindre verkar han bry sig om mitt förvridna ansiktsuttryck och mina höjda ögonbryn, och fortsätter vandra mot sitt sovrum. Sängen var obäddad, toma Ramlösa flaskor låg utspridda både på golvet och i sängen, en kudde såg ut att ha en urinfläck (vilket jag hoppas att jag har fel om) och givetvis var det snus överallt - han kunde bara prata om hur missnöjd han var med sin Hästenssäng.

Till sist var det köket som skulle visas, och han hade knappt sparat det bästa till sist - utan det värsta. Köket var ju high-tech och cool, det var inget illa med det. Men möglet på frukterna i hans fruktskål var inget roligt att titta på - ännu mindre när han bjöd på en, tills han såg dem och tog tillbaks erbjudandet. "Ja, köket var väl åtminstone bättre än de andra rummen" tänkte jag för mig själv. Han pratade på självupptaget om sina dyra bestick och letade fram dem. "Snygga va?" säger han och visar upp tre stycken, "Mmm" säger jag lite sarkastiskt då jag ser små matrester på gaffeln. Han uppfattade inte sarkasmen. Efter ett tags konversation ser jag en massa små flugor flyga omkring i ett hörn nära köksfönstret. Ena stunden är de där, nästa stund är de borta. Jag ser en kakburk vid fönstret som inte passar in i hans inredning och går mot den. "Få se vad du har för kakor i burken." När jag tog upp burken vägde den mer än jag hade anat och tänker "har jag hittat mig en Cookie-monster?". Jag hinner öppna locket några millimeter tills den fränaste lukten jag kännt tycks fräta bort min näsa. Äcklad som jag var, berättade han om hur han hade dödat en råtta som han hittade i lägenheten och la den i kakburken. Med det dog hans skrytande och med det bestämde jag mig för att det var dags att gå.

När jag väl var nere vid porten tänkte jag argsint på vart hans mamma höll hus när han växte upp och skulle uppfostras. Jag var shockad över hur blind och korkad han visade sig vara - blind för att inte kunna se i vilket skick hans lägenhet var i, korkad för att inte veta bättre och att märken är inte vad som imponerar (inte mig iaf.).
Och jag känner hopplöshet då vi stöter på varandra med gemensamma vänner, när han än idag inte verkar förstå varför jag inte imponerades av hans fina vidriga lya.

Efter all denna återberättning av mitt äckligt fina minne, ville jag bara motargumentera flickorna små med att "en lya är inte vidrig efter vart den är belägen, utan efter hur dess ägare sköter den".


Godnatt, må ni sova nöjda på urinfläcksfria kuddar!

It was yesterday during my lunchhour, when I read my horoscope in the newspaper where it said; "Tomorrow will be a good day. Your plans might be changed and things might turn out chaotic, but in the end it will be a fantastic evening."

Today I had my pre-birthday dinner with my bestfriends at home. I was out hunting for an ingredient that was needed for making homemade ice-cream. Apparently it was nowhere to be found but I found it after a couple of hours.

My scheduled and planned day took a turn, which lead me to cook under timepressure. I was quite pleased with my composed menu.
Starters was a prawn and avocado sallad which was definitly my favourite. Maincourse was a French potatoesallad with salmon that was cooked inside a foil in the oven. Dessert was a sticky chocolate cake with homemade mint ice-cream and kiwisauce. I also added on some extra ornaments like olives filled with fetacheese, bread, hummus, some cocktail tomatoes and candy (attached with the dessert). I was lucky that the dishes turned out well although the ice-cream could be questioned...

The evening did indeed turn out well since I had spent it with my oldest and most cherished friends. It was a travel back in time to the good old days filled with laughter and joy!

Anxious

In about, say 2hours and 40minutes; the tiny flat that I live in with my mum will be filled with the greatest friends a girl like me could ever have.

In about, say 2hours and 50 minutes; I'll be ever so happy and exaulted that I'll probably mess up one of my dishes.

And when those hours have passed and the hour for them to depart me arrives, I'll be missing them before they say goodbye and hoping to be in their company so very soon.

Liberty

There was once a guy I dated. Who I thought was perfect and who filled my criterias for an ideal guy.

There was once a time when I had a smile on my face and butterflies in my tummy, on a daily basis.
When that period ended, a new period with "what if's?" anguished me with disappointment instead.
During the latter period, there was a small period when I found peace and forgot - until I remembered yet again.

Although nothing that would've broken me down mentally happened, it's slightly strange how you can develop an affection for someone that is so deep, in a matter of short time and little actions.

It's not until today that I, for the first time, have actually becomed ashamed of myself for caring so much about someone who I really shouldn't have.
Ashamed for falling so easily, so publicly, so humiliatingly...

It's not until today that I finally realise; what a watse of time all my sitting, waiting, wishing has been.

Plans

I'm on the run today and I'm also deleting my old blogaccount which I started a couple of days ago. Why? Because I felt like it. To write is timeconsuming (in a good way) and time is what I don't have at this very moment. I feel that my blog is standing still and that it needs more posts, therefore I am posting an old post...in swedish.


På söndag händer det, jag ska fira min födelsedag i förskott! Känns lite larvigt att göra det, det blir ju lite "Happy Birthday Bianca, although not quite yet!" Saken är att jag ska jobba hela nästa helg och då har jag ingen tid att fira mig. Och helgen efter är det Habibas tur att firas!

Måste tänka ut vad jag ska servera till mina tösar... Jag tänkte köra en enkel tacos kväll och kanske fixa till med mojitos eller margheritas, men nej. Jag skippar det. Jag skippar det för att i år känner jag mig rätt ambitiös! Förra året vart det pajer och en kokoskaka. Tacos kan vi fixa till på nolltid och närsomhelst. Vi har ju t.o.m. Taco Bar fast den är inge bra, köttfärsen ser ut som "Sloppy Joe's"...smakar säkert som "Sloppy Joe's". I år känner jag för att köra hela köret med möjligen hors d'oeuvres (om jag känner mig så ambitiös) och tre rättersmiddag.

Jag har alltid tyckt om att "hosta" små middagar för vänner och familj. Då jag blir uttråkad med alla rätter jag vanligtvis lagar eller äter tar jag alltid fram ett helt nytt recept ur en kokbok och testar något nytt. Ibland kör man lite spontant och experimenterar men det orkar jag bara då jag känner inspiration. Oftast händer det efter midnatt och där sitter jag i köket och bakar tyst som en mus. Just nu har jag tre kokböcker uppslagna och försöker lägga ihop en meny. Känner mig lite kluven när jag bläddrar igenom huvudrätterna. Det finns så mycket att testa och smaka men så lite tid. Sedan måste ju det anpassas efter vad tösarna käkar, ibland är ni ju faktiskt rätt petiga med vad ni käkar samt att ni får ångest om det blir för mycket gott!

Måste erkänna att det är något mysigt med att leta fram recept i böcker och på nätet medans man sitter i mörkret och lyssnar på Electric Presidents lugna och nostaligska låtar. Electric Presidents låtar får ju mig att alltid tänka på tiden med tösarna. Vi var helt hysteriska, nej förlåt mig; vi är fortfarande helt hysteriska. Vi blir ju höga på varandras närvaron och energi!

Nu börjar jag tappa fokus på recepten här. Måste komma ihåg att gå in på Facebook och lägga fram en tid och plats imorgon då jag, Kristoffer och Anton ska träffas för fika/senlunch. Jag hoppas att Kattis kan också komma, resterande av er var ju upptagna. Måste komma ihåg att ringa Mathilda för att vi ska träffas dagen efter. Måste komma ihåg att föra över pengar till Mias konto, beställa noter, fixa stallet på min cello, ringa runt till folk vars samtal/sms jag inte har svarat på. Måste komma ihåg att jag jobbar och att jag ska skärpa mig när det gäller Bach. Sen så måste jag inte komma ihåg, men jag kommer på mig själv att jag är lite småkär. Haha...

Hursomhelst! Tillbaks till menyn, efterrätten blir en klassiker: kladdkaka! Men den ska inte vara jättekladdig, hade tänkt servera Mintglass med Kiwisås till kakan. Det ambitiösa med glassen är att jag ska göra den själv. Hemmagjord Mintglass med hemmagjord Kiwisås. Hoppas att det blir gött! Glass kan väl inte vara så svårt att göra, eller?

Att vakna som en Picasso.

To wake up at 8.30am to Mozarts Divertimento in B Flat, has often been pleasent for me hence the fact that I pick my alarm clock music myself. Although, today it wasn't as pleasent as I thought it would be! The night before, or earlier that night, I had gone to bed at 0.40ish am. I was (or I still am) sleepdeprived since tuesday night when I went to bed at about 1am knowing that I was to work after 5 hours of sleep...

Today I didn't get the chance to catch up on my lost hours. Let's just face the fact that lost hours are lost hours that we're never getting back, especially when it comes to sleep. Either way, the trio music was playing cheerfully from my cellphone which I couldn't find. Usually I'd smile and get up to hit the snoozebutton, but as I was about to lift my head I felt a surge of pain. It was like my head was hit by a truck or as if I had a severe hangover (although I've never really had one so I can't actually say that).
I find my cellphone, hit the off button and put my hands over my eyes. I actually couldn't see my room because I sat up too quickly that everything before my eyes went pitchblack - it happens to me quite a lot. As my eyesight returns, I feel like my face has been painted by Picasso during his late cubism period. My face feels dislocated and savaged. My eyes feel unbalanced with one eye on my forehead and the other at its usual spot. My ear, on the side of my face that I slept on, (I could only feel one ear meaning that my other was "lost") was aching and sore from my need of listening to Jack Johnson. And my nose felt like it had bent itself towards the left.

Dramatic as I might be retelling my headache, I head for the bathroom to wash my face with cold water. On my way I managed to think how ironic it would be if I took a look in the mirror and saw my face as I felt it. But unlike Gregor Samsa; I was lucky to just find my face feeling savaged as well as finding my reflection just as I left it yesterday - whole and intact, in all the right places. As much as I enjoy Kafkas screwed up books, I'm quite reliefed that my life did not take a "Metamorphosis" turn.