Sober and irrelevant

It's not the title of my Tuesday morning. But it was the song I chose to play when I got off the train this chilly end of January morning.

Sober and irrelevant with In Flames. The effect on my brain was like a punch in the stomach and I was wide awake. Well, as wide awake as I can be before my first dose of caffeine.

It's a good song. I love the title.

I have to start putting playlists together to have in my car. Coz I'm getting a car this week! A proper Dear Diary moment. I've been thinking of suitable names for this sweetie. Hey, maybe sweetie would be a good name. Or baby cakes. Sweet cheeks. Honey pie. I thought of Betty, but since one of my friends back in Sweden named her daughter Betty, it feels not quite right and not as fun anymore.

Oh, discovered yesterday that one of my best friends in high school and college had a son in December last year. It felt very distant. But being on the 27th year, I guess more and more of old school mates in serious relationships are gonna become parents. The path of life. And the single ones are either gonna wish they we're on the same path or think that they would be lost on that path. I'm probably part of the latter ones. Not even sure I want to have kids at all, but that doesn't seem quite allowed to feel as a woman. As a woman I'm supposed to want kids, and like kids. But you won't see me run up to other people's kids and cuddle them and talk baby language with them. That's not me. But I'm very aware that this might change when/if my life starts looking different to what it looks like today.

A dog on the other hand. Yes, please. I would make sacrifices for a dog.

No place like home

So I've been staying at my sisters place since last Sunday when they've been in Jamaica. They went on their own, like a second honeymoon so I've been living with my niece. And the dog, Pysen. And the horses. It's all been going really good. I mean, she's 13, she's not that difficult to take care of.

My sister and her husband were supposed to come home today. Supposed to. She called yesterday saying they wouldn't be able to go home because their plane had had to do an emergency landing on the way to Jamaica. But they would hopefully leave within 24 hours. So another night in Send. Another day with the car. But I had been looking forward to come back home to my room and my bed. To sleep alone and have some alone time. A few days of me time before I spend the weekend in London. I'm hoping they will leave today. Although I'm not very keen on going back travelling via trains to work again. Driving to work has been heaven, even if it took me one hour again yesterday because of the rain. But Adam might be my knight in shining armour. He told me his brother is selling his Ford Fiesta for £500. That would be a dream come true if I could buy that one.

I'm on my 25th day without nicotine. 25 days without snus. Yesterday I didn't handle it too well. But I was oh so happy that I'm living in the UK where I can't just go down to the store and buy some. But my body was really struggling with itself. Left claw marks everywhere. Tore down furniture, threw glass, everything in reach. I better stop talking about it coz it's making me want it really bad. My mind is crowded enough these days.

Dave asked me last week if I was ok. I felt ok. But apparentely my face/body language was saying something else. Don't know what. But I know I've had a lot of stuff on my mind the last week or two. Maybe since Christmas/New Years even. I don't know really where to put it either. I want a few days on my own, just me. Soon. Hopefully.

I better get back to work now.

ta-ta

Bring on the weekend

I've been in the office for about one hour. So far I've only opened up the applications I need, and about ten minutes ago, I remembered what I was working on when I left yesterday.

You should see me on a Monday morning. As I'm trying to flirt my brain awake with coffee (but it's instant coffee, and that's not real coffee), I'm going back to Friday in my memory to find out what I was working on before the weekend. This happens pretty much every week, and I still haven't started writing down on Fridays what I've done during the week. But I'm quite happy with this, because it means I don't bring the work home with me. When I leave the office, the work stays inside. It sees me go away, and it waves, hoping I will look back and wave too. But I don't. Because I 'm back the morning after. Downing poor instant coffee, feeling that it doesn't contain as much caffeine as real coffee.

Joey: You know how Monica feels about low fat mayonnaise?
Monica: It's not mayonnaise!
- The one that could have been, Friends

A few artists later

I don't know if Metallica did the trick with soothing my itching soul. But it feels a little less restless inside. But not much really.

And this restlessness has made me not do so much work today. I think I can safely but not very proudly say that I've done almost nothing today. I've done so little I don't even remember it.

But the project I'm on is just so mind numbingly boring. And I'm so near the finish line I can almost lick it.

Tonight I need to update my iPod with some more music.

Adam is the apple of my eye at work. I would go under with boredom without him in the office.

30 more minutes before I follow the lady's voice home.

The soundtrack of me. Today. 11am-ish.

I'm trying to put together the soundtrack of today. The soundtrack that would reflect what I am today.

You know how you some days listen to lots of songs, and yet none of them manages to sooth the scratching sensation in your soul? No? Well that's a good explanation of how I feel some days. Those days no music I have is good enough. I can't find the relief of tension that I look for in the guitar solos, drums and lyrics. It makes me frickin frustrated.

I have a day like that today. Right now I'm trying out Metallica. A shuffle of the songs on Black Album, Master of Puppets, Load, Reload. Some songs come close to put a smoothing coating on me, but it's quickly replaced with... grains of sand? That scratches the surface. It's fuckin annoying.

I think I may have a little of that ever so lovely pms. The hormonal bitch that makes you question pretty much everything. That makes nothing seem right. That makes you feel things you don't really want to feel. But you know chocolate would satisfy that bitch. At least for 15 minutes or so.

Today I wish I was somewhere else. Maybe Somewhere Else on Koh Lanta. Or Koh Chang. I thought of Lion. That wonderful Cambodian-people-disliking dog. And Me. The chubby stubborn dog. Who just wanted someone to cuddle him. And I did. And he adopted me and Markus. Slept outside our bungalow. Got in trouble when he followed us into other dogs territories. Came looking for me when I sat on the beach night time.
Me, I miss you. I hope you're still sleeping outside Seven Eleven and chasing King Kong off the road.

The hunt for the perfect music continues.