A Blog for the sake of Blogging

Back, back on track and bare back on truck track

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Thu, 19 Nov 2009 23:25:00 +0100

Please disregard the header in this post.

What I wanted to say that I'm happy that I finaly did it. I took it upon myself to revive this blog of mine. A blog that has been dormant for three years now.

I still don't really know what I should talk about here. The difference now, however, is that I don't care. I don't even know if I'm going to write in English eller på Svenska. Vilket känns nice. Det works either...uhh kanske inte.

As a newsflash about me. Istill work at that historic place called The Royal Dramatic Theatre in Stockholm. You know that place I ended up in after a dreadful week of unemployment.

So in other words, I'm alive and kicking. And trying to get press to cover Dramatens productions and actors.

wish list...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Mon, 4 Dec 2006 13:56:00 +0100

Every christmas I have the same problem. It's not a big problem, it's not a problem at all for most people on this planet. It's, if anything, a rich man's problem.

There isn't really anything I want for christmas.

If I want something during the year, I'll buy it. So at christmas I have to think about all these things I have thought of buying, but never did, because I prioritized some other thing. The result is that I always, for christmas, get the "junk" I've pretty much already discarded.

I understand my family's reaction every christmas when I tell them that I don't know what I want, or I don't want anything. They, then, have to go store to store searching for something suitable to give me. Which is a real pain at christmas with seventy eleven customers in each store.

This christmas I've made a list of "junk" that I really don't need, but would be happy to get.

- Books about ancient Rome
- A backgammon board
- A Trivial Persuit board
- A thin cotton sweater
- A FM dial transmitter for my MP3 player or computer
- Some black socks.

This is actually the first "wish list" since I was a kid. Fun. Silly. Fun.

The Struggle...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Sat, 28 Oct 2006 15:37:00 +0200

I've been silent for some weeks now, and what an eventful couple of weeks it has been. In my last post, I cherished the fact that I was an idler no more. I had a job, with descent pay and a descent work to go to every day. I wrote that post on the 9:th and on the 11:th I was fired.

I was fired under the pretext that I was uninterested and passionless about the job. Which I wasn’t, I really wasn’t. The true reasons were of a nature which could not be expressed directly to me, hence the cowardly phone call an hour after work on the 11^th telling me that I’m not welcome back.

I was struck down by the lies certain persons at work told my supervisor at the employment agency, which had provided me with the job. I haven’t been feeling well since, not quite any way.

I have had the means to become an idler again, but I didn’t take it. I took instead a crash course in anxiety management. I was angry for one day, sad for another, panic struck for a third, had extremely low self-esteem during the fourth. On the fifth day I resurrected and applied for a bunch of new jobs. On the sixth day I stood firm and held my own during a job interview. On the morning of the seventh day I stood inside the doors of my new work place. A work place with a history worth fighting for, a work place with nicer people, better pay and a much better contract than I had before.

To all of you who used to see me at my old job (Emma, Micke and Anne): I’m fine and happy… so damn happy to finally be out of school…

I’m happy again…

Has this experience left any mark? During the two weeks that has passed since I got my new job I have struggled with a paranoid feeling of not being able to trust my co-workers. A struggle I’ve seem to have surpassed brilliantly.

I’m strong again…

surfing the mind...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Mon, 9 Oct 2006 14:07:00 +0200

Last night as I lay in bed I thought of the most wonderful topic to write about. I structured beautiful sentences and lovely punch lines. The problem is, I can’t remember any of it. I’m totally blank. And I praise the fact that the problem is it self a topic worthy writing about, the wonderful sentences excluded.

I have always thought of myself as something of a daydreamer. But daydreaming seems to be the luxury of an idler. Daydreaming is very important to me since it’s through daydreaming I raise questions about society, form my opinions and ideals. It’s through daydreaming I blog.

Now, I can’t find the time, not during the day at least. After the lights are out, however, I have all the time I need to ponder and turn and spin thoughts. The result is dubious though. The most immediate consequence is that I lack sleep; secondly I can’t record what I have thought.

I can’t record what I have thought because I can’t turn the light on, pick up a notepad and start typing, even less use a recorder, without awakening my girlfriend. Furthermore, I always seem to push my luck. I greedily try to hang on to a seed of thought to see what might become of it. The seed is all I need though; I can water and fertilize it perfectly well during the following day. But no luck, most often I fall a sleep and wake up… blank.

I’m an idler no more…

What should I do?

Crackling...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Wed, 27 Sep 2006 10:41:00 +0200

My intention was to post a post about space, something about the human urge to explore and spread. I meant for you to understand my fantasies about the universe and how I would like to see humans colonize it. It would be a beautiful text describing travel through nebulas, and between solar systems and planets. How trade and struggle would allow us to live in a time that quite accurately could be compared with the sea faring during 16th through 19th century.

But I buried that idea somewhere easy accessible for future use.

I really don’t want to write about football to the same extent as I have these last posts, but I have to because it has left such an ugly and heavy mark upon my soul. The club responsible for the heavy chains, lifted some, if not all of the stones linked to the chains up yesterday. A liberating 0 – 2 victory over the arch rivals AIK could perhaps be the leverage needed to carry the stones to the blacksmith for removal.

And I wasn’t even supposed to have gone to the game…

A gentle soul found and returned a lost ticket yesterday to work and since no one claimed it I wouldn’t let it go to waste, and today it would be waste. So, after work I went and sold the ticket for about half its price and bought another one, one that would place me among friends. I also bought a very nice scarf…

The ticket let me see the most beautiful display of football I’ve ever seen Hammarby produce. “Bajen” totally annihilated AIK during the first half. Discipline secured the victory during the second. I’m so glad I witnessed it.
Perhaps the next game will provide sufficient strength and energy to have the blacksmith remove the last shackles of my soul.

Digitus impudicus...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Wed, 20 Sep 2006 14:47:00 +0200

A gesture I actually would like to be able to use more often is “the finger”. I would love to be in a situation where I could "flip the bird" once more. I can't recollect when I last used it; I mean really used it. I imagine I use it quite often at football games, but the judge who often is the intended target hasn't as of yet, and for obvious reasons, seen me giving it. I also, even more pathetically, use it when I feel aggravated in front of the TV.

I would however much more like to give it up front to a person. I think I would like that very much, to recapture the times when we as kids walked around giving it to all and everybody. I imagine it would feel liberating, in an obnoxious and rebellious kind of way. I guess, actually, that what it really comes down to is that you, from time to time, feel the want to be a kid again.

I started thinking about "the finger" when I saw one of the top politicians in Sweden, Lars Ohly, giving it to a political adversary on a morning show a few days ago. Watch the clip here. Even though I’m no big fan of Lars Ohly (he’s a damn communist what ever he nowadays says) I felt that it was quite funny of him, in a very immature and stupid way, to give the finger on live TV.

The thing about giving the finger is that it’s somewhere between a minor and major insult. It’s somewhere between getting neglected and receiving a fist to the jaw. It’s severe, but not severe enough to cause you harm. And it can be done silently.
I do it like the kid almost exclusively at football games; just as the little kid a two posts ago.

Hmm...ok?

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Thu, 7 Sep 2006 11:40:00 +0200

I'm still at school...

One step outside its doors provided me with an invitation right back inside again. At least its full time and the pay is somewhat descent. I'm still clinging on to the hopes and dreams I barely see at the horizon.

But it felt strange the day I left my previous job, a job I have had for a very long time and one always justified by the notion that it's only extra, a good job while I was studying. I can't say that now. Somehow I have to justify this new job in some other way.

I usually just use fact that it's a harch time for academics in Sweden right now, and that you have to take the work offered to you. But I'm sick of all the excuses.

I've recovered from the blow to my identity and pride last week, even though it will take a very long time for Bajen to prove its worth again. A win on Sunday would help a bunch though.

This became another very short post, but I'm getting there.

From under my bed....

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Wed, 30 Aug 2006 00:48:00 +0200

I should not write this at a time like this... not without sounding too low, too depressed.

I have a bitter taste in my mouth, a tremendously ugly feeling in my stomach and a very painful lump in my throat. I've been let down and something have somewhat died within. I can't let go of the feeling, I can't shake it of like a usually can. I just can't. The hate is too strong.

I hate them so much, my hate turns on me and I hate myself for caring. Why should I care, your side always let you down, except once during the strange autumn of 2001. Should I stand fast, or should I turn my back on it?

I'm devastated and it's a shame.

Shame on you Bajen

Sommar, sommar sommaaaar

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Sun, 2 Jul 2006 18:55:00 +0200

The posting will be sporadical at best during the summer. I will pick it up as the horrid Autumn draws nearer.

Have a nice summer.

Sigh

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Fri, 23 Jun 2006 14:24:00 +0200

Midsummer Eve....

Yay!

A World Cup weather...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Tue, 13 Jun 2006 01:58:00 +0200

I must say that I really think I should start vary between English and Swedish in my blog from now on. I've felt an urge to write in Swedish again, and for now this is the only spot where I do sincere writing. But, don't worry. I will try and keep this post purely in English....Trasdocka...

Damn I failed.

The sincere writing of mine in this post will use the weather as a starting block. Not very original, I know, but very sincere indeed. You can not be anything but sincere when talking about the weather.

...So what about the weather?

I want to get drunk. I want to sit, with friends, and drink beer, cocktails and what not. I want to do stupid things like go swimming under the influence during the warm nights. I want to feel all mediterranean and free. I want to party my brains out and wake up to feel it's ok to get drunk again.

Is that my sense of freedom, of vacation and relaxation? And what about the weather?

It's 2 am, and my palms are damp, I would press them against a window just to cool them down, If it just wouldn't leave a mark. But they do leave a mark, I've already tried.

It’s the World Cup! Sweden played a tie (read: lost) against Trinidad & Tobago. I don’t care, I predicted it. I’ve seen so much football these last couple of days (I haven’t actually, as of yet, missed a single game) But do I feel free because of it? Not really.

It’s the world cup, damn it! I’m being held captive by it's a shame to miss a game that perhaps could be the most important game for a nation in a decade if not more. BHut if I would choose to disregard a game, which one should I choose? They're all good!

There is only one game that I’m not entirely happy to watch, and it’s the game between Iran and Angola. These two nations don’t stand a chance against the other two in their group so their game is pointless.

I should be outside in the beautiful nameless, but I’m not, at least not enough to rid the feeling of missing out something equally fantastic as the world cup. My brother, however, is doing the Mediterranean thing. He is there! He is in Germany. He is drunk and he is free, and (!) above all… he’s watching football and he is drunk, yet again.

The curse of the World Cup is that it brings with it the most excuisite and beautiful weather.

Damn!

Oh yeah? Did you now?...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Mon, 5 Jun 2006 19:45:00 +0200

I don’t know if it’s just the skepticism of everything American, that almost every European with dignity and enough English skills holds, but the answer in the following two sentences really bugs me.

“I’ve just cooked a fantastic dinner for me and my girlfriend”
“Oh really?”

I just hate that! If you don't know what I'm talking about, it may be because you are American, or because I haven’t managed to give you an example that clearly illustrates my point. It's probably because of the latter. Here, therefor, is another example:

“I took this picture at Ground Zero three weeks after it happened.”
“You took that picture three weeks after? Oh!”

Can you see it? Can you hear the nauseatingly false interest? It makes me feel sick, uncertain and generally nervous when someone I talk to drops a line like that when I’m talking. Instead of being encouraged to keep on talking, I get uninterested in continuing or even ending them damn sentence I’ve just started.

In Sweden, we encourage the speaker with a humming, mmm, or by saying something like, ok! Cool! Oh damn! Oh my! You see the exclamation marks at the end of every line? That’s the difference as I see it.

To further the mouth diarrhea of mine, I can pose couple of questions.

Is this something that has been noticed in the states (because as I see it, it’s solely a phenomenon within the borders of the US)?

If it hasn’t been noticed, how come every European, suspicious about anything American and who enough skill in English, do notice it? How come every Martha Stewart Show (or what it’s called) watching American do not notice the insincerity, the false kindness of the listener towards the speaker?

Are we, Swedes, also insincere when we say Oh (exclamation mark) , Cool (exclamation mark) mmm (exclamation mark)?

We probably are, I am at least. I’m too egocentric to listen to anyone for any length of time, really. But that’s me. And, I’m probably the only one who have really noticed this flaw in character who a lot of Americans seem to share.

Now I got pissed! Aaargh!

Ahh soon it’s time for the world cup, a world event that every citoyenne du monde cares and talk about, except the yanks. And I feel somewhat happy and free because of that.

Ambivalent...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Sat, 3 Jun 2006 00:09:00 +0200

I’m going to tell you one of my fears. I’m 27 years old right now, and I feel that I’ve missed my peak. I mean I haven’t even started working yet, for real. I am working, but not with what I want. I feel like I’m, like Kurt Vonnegut would say, unstuck in time. Where I am now, I should have been perhaps a decade ago, and I believe that goes for a lot of people. Just look at our grandparents and their lives, hell, just look at our own parents. When did they start a family? When did they step onto the career ladder?

Our biological clock isn’t in sync with the clock of the society. We live longer lives today; True. We live until we are roughly eighty, and by 64 we are retired. Furthermore, if we all start to work when we are 25-30, the society, or the state will only gain from our labor during 35 to 40 years. Only during 50% of our lives we help the world spin. During the other 50 we slow it down. It’s a no win situation. How should we be able to justify our own generation when we have done nothing to prosper the society, to grow a better place for our children or simply put; To evolve the world?

We can’t justify our wars like our grandparents could! We can’t justify the way we are living while we have all the facts about what our lifestyle does to the planet. We can’t justify anything really.

We are unstuck in time, unstuck in history.

The people of our generation are the pee poles of the future.

The divine question and the diabolic answer...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Thu, 25 May 2006 22:33:00 +0200

As the tip of my tongue carefully placed the fresh bag of snus at the right spot under my lip, I felt ready to go…

Can I actually start a new post in such a disgusting way? I can and I will. I'm pretty much ok with me using snus ever since Shannon Hoon mentioned it in a sort of romantic way in the Blind Melon song Vernie.

I'm not going to talk about tobacco, and I won't. I'm going to talk about taboos, at least until I feel that I've reached the edge of dire straits; just before the point of no return.

Here I go…

I find homosexuality very, very interesting, as a phenomenon. It is a phenomenon (in swedish: företeelse), at least according to the criteria established by the Swedish National Encyclopedia.

… I really fell as if I’m in dire straits already…

It’s a phenomenon which I’m pleased to say is quite accepted here in Sweden, or at least in Stockholm, I can’t speak for the rest of the nation (I can’t speak for Stockholm either, but that’s something I have to do in order to proceed).

No! I can’t proceed. I don’t have the guts to do so. It’s like trying to cross a big meadow at night, just after the cows has been brought in. I just know I can’t reach the other side without stepping in dung, in pure shit. The shit in this case is the uncertainty of how people will look upon me. Will I accidentally portray myself as a… well I don’t know… something awful?

I have always thought it was something divine about thinking and asking. Divine to ask; What makes the world tick? But attempting to answer isn’t always, apparently as divine.

This is a divine question: Why do homosexuals feel a sexual attraction to their own sex?

Try answering it, and feel divine! You can’t, you can only feel like shit!

I'm off hiding...

Reading people...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Sun, 14 May 2006 00:37:00 +0200

When I enter an apartment I've never been to before I often, quickly, find my self looking at the books, if they have any, in their bookshelves, god forbid if they don't have any. It's pretty obvious that you can tell pretty much what a person is interested in by merely reading the back of their books. However, you can also read a lot from how long it take a visitor to start reading the back of the books in your own shelves.

Once more, I will start a scene where someone is either exiting or entering the stage.

I welcomed him, and offered him entrance. He stepped inside and took a quick nervous glance around the room

The guy was normally built, but taller than most and in his late 20:s or early 30:s. Below his, partially by long hair and big designer made sunglasses, covered head he wore a light blue jeans jacket over a trendy thin striped t-shirt. His jeans were old and worn, not pre worn from the stores, but traditionally worn.

Refering to his black sneakers, I said:

"Keep them on if you want"

"Oh, well... Ok", he said cautiously.

His carefully planted steps, you know the ones you take when you are not comfortable with wearing shoes while walking on parquet, took him around the apartment for the primary tour. I guess his first objective was to get an understanding of the condition and standards of the apartment. On his second tour, he start to complement the basic decorations of the apartment, such as the colours of the paint on the walls, the clinkers in the hallway and kitchen and the parquet in the living room and the bedroom.

It’s not until during his third tour he stops and starts to examine what was in the shelves. It didn’t take long until he, with some effort, extracted an old videotape containing Alice in Chains MTV unplugged session. With this, we had found a shared interest, and we talked about the tragic death of Layne Staley and the strange and perhaps pathetic reappearance of the band during the summer festivals around Europe.

After he had left I remembered that during his first glimpse of his surroundings his eyes fell on my two guitars that stood leaned towards one of the corners in the room. He looked at them for just a couple of seconds, registering the types, brands and the pamphlet that stuck out from the side pocket of the case that contains my electric guitar. It reads: Beginners Tablature for the Guitar Case

Who is he? What does he do for a living?

Priority...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Wed, 10 May 2006 14:56:00 +0200

I had promised myself not to talk about the weather... but, well, hey what the heck.

I will try to write this on the whim so to speak. I'm off to the beer in the sun which always should precede a football game on a day like this. We've had some 20 degrees Celsius for over a week now in Stockholm and a wheather streak like that is hard to come by even at the peak of the summer. Just enjoy and make as much of it as you possibly can. I can't however, except for the, hopefully cold, beer later today. I can't because I'm too damn busy.

Writing on my essay: top priority
Studying for my essay: top priority
Writing up some job applications: top priority
Meticulously cleaning the apartments for the people who are to come and look at them: top priority
Finishing the damn model my girlfriend bought me this Christmas: high priority
blogging: low priority

What am I doing right now? And what do you think I did last night?

I'm making progress though; I am.

Now I'm off to the one thing that isn't even on my to do list... go figure.

Being someone else...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Tue, 9 May 2006 00:01:00 +0200

I opened the front door and stepped outside, I looked around. I looked around to see if anyone looked at me, in envy. I couldn't see any envy in the eyes of those that strolled past the charming old alley way. They were all tourists, I imagined, and they had no reason to envy me, since they probably were not even Swedish. Nevertheless I felt pleased, pleased to be part of the tourist attraction.

I had this ridiculous feeling the other day when me and my girlfriend went to look at an apartment in the Old Town of Stockholm. To live in the Old Town is every Stockholmers dream. On such a wonderful little Island, containing not only the royal castle but also a labyrinthial amount of winding narrow streets and alleys (some as narrow as 90 cm or 35 inches), you get overwhelmed by history. And, I love when that happens.

Another time I had a similar ridiculous feeling was at Huddinge University Hospital. I was there as a trainee through the military. Any time I went for lunch after a surgery I had participated in; I would put on my white coat over my green surgery clothes. At one time, I even borrowed a stethoscope and hung it over my neck. I loved the looks I got from everyone, especially the women who I imagined thought something like this: "Wow, what a young and handsome doctor!”

I'm not sure if I would ever take a situation like that to my advantage, I probably wouldn't.

But then again...

Learn and learn...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Tue, 2 May 2006 02:45:00 +0200

I took a dive yesterday, into a deep daydream. Like with all daydreams it was a dream where you were in control and you never, in any circumstance, let it turn ugly. It's was an exploration into the subconscious and I had both feet on the pedals.

Break or speed ahead.

I speeded through some wind torn clouds stocked at the top of a mountain range, down the valley, I followed the river to the sea. I used the break pedal over the masts of an 18th century frigate and I lingered in this, among many other things, time of exploration and adolescent science.

For an inquisitive man or woman (well not perhaps for a woman, they're better off today) it must have been a wonderful age to live in. The knowledge of the ancients have just been or are in the process of being unraveled, and with that firm ocean floor as an anchorage point the ship could safely plot a coarse on the seas never sailed.

Enough with the poetic drivel... What I want to say is that today our knowledge of the natural universe are immense, though barely a drop in the sea probably... there I go again...

Nowadays with every Jim and Tim being highly educated or at least literate and enlightened, it is much harder to hold a conversation concerning the little and big things that puzzles you about the world. You are too afraid to sound unintelligent, uninformed or ill schooled. All we really have to talk about is gossip in all its forms and variations. We gossip about football, the famous people or the stupid people on TV (who are the same as the famous people). We gossip about the people close to friends, our co-workers and us. We gossip about politics and the stupid people that conduct it. What we don’t do, what we never have is philosophical discussions. We never discuss religion; we never discuss moral or the deeper aspects of human behavior. We are too afraid to do so; we are not allowed to do so because we don't have the sufficient tools to win those discussions. So we shut up, and talk about the stupid King and Queen. And, we stay stupid.

We shouldn't be so afraid to let our guard down, our pride. Pride is only useful when you've done something good, and then only in moderate proportions.

Don't be timid because of lack of knowledge... ask, think and analyze. When you stand corrected, you have learned something new. Be proud of that…

Cup of Gathering...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Wed, 26 Apr 2006 00:43:00 +0200

There is a very important but also a very misdirected debate going on in

Sweden

, where our Ombudsman of Equal Opportunities (I don’t like that Swedish word in English) is perhaps one of the strongest voices. He want the, along with several other organizations, Swedish national team to boycott the single greatest sport event in the world, just because the German law is very welcoming for prostitutes in general. They claim and fear that hordes of east European prostitutes will sell sex to the immoral western men that are there to watch football. They are afraid that many women will get horribly hurt in the slavery and trafficking that will follow this huge global event.

I am too worried about it even though I don't agree to the actual severity of the problem during the World Cup. I'm worried about it because it's a accelerating problem, world wide. It's a growing child of the global situation. Stupid Germanic laws do not help, nor does the World Cup. Their aim is, however, very much off when they target the World Cup. The World Cup is, like any other sport event, about peace and friendship. It will become a topic of conversation for every man, woman and child around the world for a whole month. I will easily be able to start a conversation with almost anyone, from any country during that month. This is much harder during any of the other 47 months the Cup isn't played.

We should instead boycott German products, like we did when France decided to nuke that poor atoll in the Pacific. But I don't think the Swedish government is very keen to that idea since Germany is one of the most vital countries of trade for Sweden. So, it would probably be a political suicide for the Ombudsman for Equal Opportunities (damn I really hate the sound of that word in English) to suggest something like that.

(In fantasy fiction, items can often be enchanted and can thereby have silly names like the sword of Storms and such; Hence the title.)

Me? I'm putting on the Robe of getting a Job.

Steady as she goes...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Mon, 24 Apr 2006 21:15:00 +0200

"Steady as she goes" is not only the title of a brilliant song by The Reconteurs (a new project band including the honourble Jack White), its also an order often given by sea captains when they want the boat or ship to keep a course. Steady as she goes is, further more, the term I would like to use when it comes to the monarchy in Sweden.

Yes! The King can, at times, be very silly or perhaps princess Madeleine is the royal slut the paporazzo want her to be (she probably is), but they are our own lasting royal tale to talk, gossip or complain about. Is it unjust that they do last? Is the pain too severe for the ordinary self righteous swede to know that there will always be one family, despite everything that could happen, that will live on easy street? Hey! They would live comfortably even if we refused them the crown, a crown not used since 1873 by Oscar II. Very few of the thousands of kronor the state send their way can found in their pockets at the end of the year.

Many people complain that we support a deprived culture of excess by upholding the monarchy. That may be so. Money deprives, there's no question about it, especially new money. The Royal Family, however, is made out of old money, as old as money possibly can get. If there is one family that every degenerate von, af, or other semi-germanic surname look up to, it's the royal family. And we control the royal family, we do! We ruthlessly judge and rule on the behaviour of the one family that in their turn set the rule of etiquette for how to behave in the Swedish high society... at least I hope so, but it could be wishful thinking on my behalf.

The strongest personal argument of mine is history and tradition though. I just love history. And when I look upon a ruin of something I can't help to think how it was back then. And I can't bare the thought of a future where my children will look upon the Royal Castle and barely see a fragment of something that has, like no other thing, marked the history of Europe as the monarchies have. Imagine the horror of a Royal Castle turned into a hotel for the elite. A castle where the history within have been gutted out for all to see (or not, since many of the items would surely be stored away) at some dust collecting museum.

Let's keep the history alive with a living history.

A trivial matter...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 00:59:00 +0200

Hmm no comments on my last post... I guess everyone else are cat kickers.

I was about to write something about poker, since I'm sitting here loosing, in ordinary order, at the poker table. But I'm saving it all in case I would need it later, at a completly different forum...

I instead intend to write something about the lack of motivaton I was so dreadfully concerned about. I use past tense because it seems to have vanished... to be honest, it hasn't, but that's irrelevant to my point. Earlier today I reread some of my more juvenile and unripe posts on this blog, the ones that dealt with all the things I apperantly still wanted to talk about. Well, I don't. They're no fun and there is nothing personal or unique about them at all (I do not claim that there should be something unique or astonishing about the later posts). This is my point. The reason I felt such a frustration about having such trouble writing something on this blog, was because I had gotten use to the pace I posted post, posts containing nothing but pixel enlightened letters, nothing else. So, I'm sorry to have to say that you, my few but dear readers, have to get accustomed, as I have, to the future amount of posts posted on this blog. The goal is three posts a week.

On the topic of future. A futuristic vision: A massive fleet of alien motherships hover the atmosphere of Earth. The aliens send a delegation to the, if they've watched the movies, White House, or, if they've done some real research, the UN HQ in New York. The delegation arrives and the General Secretary asks who they are. The aliens answer; Death.
... And the world, after a couple of hiding american soldiers have sniped the alien delegation and the US president sent every available nuclear rocket the US have intended to scrap for some 20 years or so towards the motherships, ends due to missunderstanding. "Death" in this case simply meant hello.

The vision isn't that far fetched as it may seem, maybe it is, but that's irrelevant to my point. When the Spaniards first arrived to the Yukatan they asked the indians what the land was called. The natives said; Yukatan.
Yukatan actually meant; What the hell do you want? (It really means "What do you want?", but that's not as funny). I guess the natives found it all very funny at first when the Spaniards then thrusted a flag into the sand of the beach and said that they now preclaimed "What the hell do you want?" as their land. No wonder the natives didn't take them seriously at first. I wouldn't.

I'm sorry about the minor assault on the USA, but if you are Rome, then you are Rome.

GAH... Like this post would be that much better than my earlier!?... But that's irrelevant.

Cat lover and dog kicker...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Wed, 19 Apr 2006 16:22:00 +0200

I've got the flu again... How about that? It's not as bad as the one I got a month ago, but still...
I've always thought that there would be some sort of correlation between the desease (that's a word valued too high, perhaps ailment is better) and the time you are healthy. I believed that I would be well for at least a year or so... Oh well.

On the way home from another job intervue (which went very well, much better than the last) I accidently overheard a conversation between two woman talking about dogs. I can especially recollect one phrase outspoken by one of the two.

She said: Oh they are so nice and faithfull, they never let you down.

From this point I was a hairs breadth from intervening and saying something like: What the hell are you talking about? Are you seriously comparing a dog with a human beeing? Of course the dog is faithfull to the hand that feed her. Naturally I didn't say any of this, I never do.

I honestly believe that the human race, no, lets narrow it down to people from the western hemisphere, can be devided into two groups; the one that loves cats and the one that loves its literary arch-nemesis, the dog. I for one am a cat lover and a dog kicker.

When I get my cat, that is for certain even though the time frame is not, I will get it for my amusement. With a graceful cat I can study nature at a comfortable distance, this I can not do with a dog since it requires so much from me. It requires me to feed her to walk her and to play with her. What do I get in return? A really, really expensive friend. I've got friends and while there's always room for more, I don't need a stupid one.

I don't get a friend when I buy a cat, I get a hint of nature. The cat couldn't care less about me but always shows compassion when it wants something from me, like food. But if the cat don't get the food from me, he'll run away and hunt the food on his own. That's what I like about cats..

Don't buy a dog, get a talking friend instead.

... or a cat

At least I think...

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Fri, 14 Apr 2006 22:48:00 +0200

Perhaps you should, but what about writing?

Is it possible to write about anything? Anything that pops into your head? I'm often afraid to sound stupid when I write, or when I speak for that matter. But, that's because I won't let my ignorance stop me from thinking, pondering and trying to understand something, even though I know I don't know much about it.

I'm willing to be corrected and informed about something I've written. I am not however willing to be insulted for formulating a thought where I perhaps haven't had time nor the interest to check if the facts are correct or not. This hasn't happened in a long time, but I very much afraid of it.

In a previous post I wrote about an idea of letting the unions predict the demands for seats of specific professions in schools of higher education. I felt the thin ice, I heard the crackling sound of bad wood uphoalding the roof I stood on (what?). I didn't and in some sense don't know what unions does today (I know and fully understand the importance of unions in the 19th and 20th century), except negotionating your salary, and every one elses.

I still however don't regret posting posts like that, how stupid they may sound. They could be a seed from wich something more constructive may grow, but they could also be pathetically stupid and perhaps even insulting.

I can live with that.... And I can perhaps live with the stupidity of this post

Perhaps....

A touch of the dark side

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Mon, 10 Apr 2006 22:48:00 +0200

If I bit my nails, I wouldn't have any fingers left. Oh how I love football.

And oh, how I hate Djurgarden. Hate is a powerful, destructive and simply put a bad feeling, I know, but that's how I feel. I hate the team, I hate the colours I hate everything they stand for, what ever they stand for. I do not, however hate the fans, I just utterly and completly despise them. Thankfully I don't feel hate that very often. If I felt it more often something would be wrong and I would tumble further and further down the spiral because it's such a sweet and seductive feeling, especially around alot of people you know feel the same. It is the dark side and more than once I have wanted to plant my fist into the face of, and turn his face into the same colours as his shirt. I have never done it though. And it's ok...

Derby is the name of the game. Battle is how it's fought. Mental death is how you loose it. North of Stockholm versus the South of Stockholm. Djurgarden versus Hammarby. 0 - 0.

This will become a short post, the tidal emotions that rises and fall before, during and after a game has taken its toll. I'm tired.

The highly educated beggar

noreply@blogger.com (Niklas) — Sat, 8 Apr 2006 16:41:00 +0200

I can't have the title "Hey I'm drunk" on top of the blogg for too long.

It seems as if many of the people I meet within my own age group, who has a university or college education in humanities are unemployed. While every other person I talk to who didn't proceed to higher education do have one, and makes a hell of a lot more money, after taxes, than I will ever make. If I could get a job, I still would be pretty much be impoveriched because of all the loans I have taken in order to recieve my, to this date, worthless education. I've been robbed of almost a decade of my life together with loads of money. I've been conned to believe that once I have an college or university education I would be more than welcome on the job market. Well that's not the case in Sweden.

I sense in a prophetic way that the highly educated wi be the unemplyed of the future. We are far too shy and well adjusted in Sweden to do something about it. Sometimes I'm sad that Sweden has been such a peaceful nation, politically, for over 200 years and militarily just below that figure. How would we react to the idiotic policies of today if we had a culture of rebellious uproar like they have in France for example? Which number in order is the current French republic? Is it the sixth, seventh or eighth republic? Someone once said that every nation needs a revolution every 20 years, and I'm starting to believe it to be true.

A feeble minded solution perhaps: The police, the firemen and the doctors, together with many other professions all have vocational oriented educatons, where the number of graduated in a sense are related to the number of job opportunities on the market. Why should not other schools have the same? I say, let all the differant unions take control of schools, let them predict the future and its need for differant types of professions, and let the state supervise the unions. It's not as if the unions have that much on their plate anyway.

How is the situation in the states?