New Camera

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I'm a massive, massive tool.

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It's a small world

This week I had a little online chat with a friend.
She asked me whether I could remember a guy who I apparently have talked with at a concert in my home town once. I couldn't. I can't even remember the last concert I've been at there.
She said she had a One Night Stand with this great guy last night. It turned out that he is not only the ex of her cousins long-term girlfriend, but also knows this guy she had the hots for for years since they were two.
What a small world! They randomnly met in another city.

Anyway, he apparently told her he had talked with me shortly on some concert and I had something alien-like on my head. Then it dawned on me: I was in a theatre group called Ten Sing. Once a year we wrote a play, and had a choir and a band performance included. The one with the alien was the last concert I took part, and I played an alien that was studying humans. That's about 10 years ago!
Still can't remember the guy though.

As much as I feel flattered that I am remembered after such a long time, it worries me slightly that I'm remembered with little silver antennae on my head... Read more on this article...

Merry Christmas!

My family had decided that we would celebrate Christmas at my bonus dad's brother's place, this year. And what a time we had. We arrive there at 3:15pm and immediately the alcohol is brought out. I don't mind, as I like the alcohol. We chat with friends and family and come dinner, we are overwhelmed by an enormous amount of delicious food. To all of our surprise, they've made enough food to feed an entire nation. We stuff ourselves full and begin watching 'Donal Duck wishes a merry Christmas' on TV - a mighty fine Christmas tradition here in Sweden.

Suddenly we are interrupted. We notice there is someone knocking on the door. 'Who is it?!' the entire crowd goes. No one answers. With frightened steps someone - I can't remember who - approaches the door and opens it. And there he is. Santa Clause is standing in the hallway. Joy lights up in everyones face as they see him and his sack full of presents. But I can't help but think that there is something odd about this Santa. I am very suspicious about him. Something just isn't right. He is very happy. He is nothing like the Santa Clause I met when I was but a child.

At my dad's. The year is 1995. In pure excitement I am looking out the kitchen window, scanning the surrounding for any signs of a fat, red man with a beard and lots of presents. Time is moving slowly and even back then I was a very impatient boy. I start to get a little frustrated waiting for him. But then - there he is, walking down the street towards our house. I let out a yelp in excitement and rush to get my father to witness this Christmas miracle. As we look out the window we see him entering the gate. But there is a problem: it is not our gate that he has entered. It takes a while for him to get back out from where he has been. I notice that he is looking very lost. I brush it off and make my way to the living room where I continue my anticipation for Santa to arrive.

After 10 minutes someone is knocking on the door. Santa has found his way, at last. My father goes to open the door while I'm sitting on the couch, about to burst from pure joy. Then he walks in and our eyes meet. I suddenly freeze all movements. He is staring at me with such intensity that I become scared. He slowly walks up to me until he is a mere 20cm's from me and looks down at me with stern eyes. He coughs, and I notice that he smells of a very strong scent. I can't quite identify what it is, so I let it pass. With a broken voice he asks me if I've been a good boy. I nod my head in a scared and nervous manner. He doesn't say anything. He simply continues to stand there, letting a minute pass. Then he drops his sack on the ground with a thump, and I flinch out of fear. Another minute passes without either of us moving an inch or saying anything before he finally turns around and staggers his way out.

I conclude that Santa is weird. My father agrees. Then I return to year 2008 and I say to myself: "This one is definitely a fake".

Merry Christmas! Read more on this article...

:D

My friend's test came back clean. She is still in remission. They are going to do a procedure to clean out the rest of the polyps because they are potentially cancerous, but are not actually malignant. Yay! Read more on this article...

Tips.

On a nice Saturday evening like this, I like to drink my Cola out of a wineglass. I've found it to be an easy way to add a little flare to your life. Bring you that extra bit of sophistication that you so desperately crave. Read more on this article...

A perch. On the bridge.

At work. I am assigned the task to, using a forklift I've never operated before, bring a huge load of bottles to our working station. With nervous feet I approach the forklift and get on it. I stare at all the various buttons and levers with a look of sheer confusion. After three minutes I finally figure out how to turn it on and I do so. I slowly but gently get it rolling in the direction I'm supposed to head towards. As I roll down the enormous labyrinth that is Coca Cola AB I start to get the hang of it; I start to become more confident and thus giving me the courage to step on the gas a bit more. I start to feel really good. 'This is easy', I think to myself. Then I arrive at my destination. I pull one of the levers towards me and pick up my cargo. And then it happens. The thing I've been fearing for several days finally happens. Coca Cola's own Schumacher comes blazing past me and yells at me not to get in his way and that I'm slowing him down. He is very upset. In panic I try to move my forklift out of his way, granting him passage to move through. After a while I succeed and off he goes, with an annoyed look on his face, muttering 'damn trainees'.

Silence falls. I am completely still, not moving an inch from where I am sitting down. I look down on the ground in shame. And then I suddenly get angry. I never meant for this to happen. I just wanted to get my load. 'Ass-face', I scream. A completely meaningless fit of rage. Like the perch's last jerk on the bridge. Read more on this article...

It's scary

A friend of mine confessed to me yesterday that she might be out of remission--that is, her cancer may be coming back. She was put in remission about two years ago. She fears it's moved to her colon due to the symptoms she's having. She's scared. Her boyfriend doesn't want to face the possibility of her cancer returning, so she tells me. Like any good friend, I give a cheer and say we can beat it!

But she doesn't want to, rather she doesn't want to put herself through the trio she (un)affectionately calls "cut, burn, and poison", which is surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. The last time she went through it, she described it as torture. She said she just wants to go to a tropical location, with a caretaker, where she can just pass away. She then told me how she wanted her mortal coil to be dealt with, and what she would leave me. I was horrified.

This is the girl who held my hand after I slashed my arm to ribbons, who shared to best conversations with, who was so strong in the face of everything -- except this. She wasn't even sure if there was a war yet, but she was already throwing up the white flag. She wouldn't hear my protests, saying fighting cancer destoryed her life the first vtime and it was just recently she managed to get everything into working order. But I told her it was fight and possibly lose everything, or not fight and lose it anyway. She didn't care.

I've never felt so helpless. Her test results come back tomorrow. Read more on this article...

Paths

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Yammer

So Janne, wonderful soul that he is, invited me to be a contributor this blog. I love blogging rather much. I have three of my own and I now have this one. So hopefully I can come up with something interesting to write about.

Later.

I'll just introduce myself right now. I'm Erica. I'm 22, American, of German/Italian decent, college chick, and I'm a professional ecdysiast. I grew up pretty rough but I think I turned out okay. I love music, mostly music I grew up with, namely Korn, Nine Inch Nails, Ausioslave, Soundgarden, and Alice in Chains (I love AIC intensely, almost sexually, lol). I have some love for current music, like Paramore, Rise Against, and Porcelain and the Tramps. I like pink, all shades.

Otherthan that I'm boring. Read more on this article...

Gems among rocks.

You know how it is. You just happen to stumble upon a song that you like and you instantly fall for it. And then you look up the name of the song and what band it is, and you download it. You put the song on play, and you put it on repeat. You play it again and again, neglecting every other song you have in your music library. It comes to a point where you become obsessed over it. You find yourself trying to make out all the subtle tunes hidden somewhere along the grand saga; tunes that you won’t find unless you carefully concentrate on certain parts of the song. You find yourself unable to describe what exactly it is about this song that manages to strike that special chord in your heart.

How I love this feeling.

This happened to me today. The song is none other than ‘Karma police’ by Radiohead. I’ve had this song on my phone for two months now, and today was the first time I heard it. I have always just skipped this song, thinking that I won’t like it. But today was different. The song started playing when my hands were busy, not able to reach into my pockets, pick up my phone and change the song. And for that I am very glad. Now I can’t help but wonder how many hidden gems I have left on my phone to discover.

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