my father is 72 years old, and i have no idea of his physical or mental shape. starting a couple of years ago, i've made three attempts to re-establish some sort of contact with him, because i believe that it's important to me on a level that i most likely can't see all that clearly at the moment. he left me, my brother and my mom when i was three, my brother five and my mom in her greatest need of domestic and financial support.

all three of these efforts went straight to hell.
the first one seemed to be going alright; i sent him a short letter, offering him to contact me if he wanted to meet with me.
he wrote back, giving me a phone number on which i could call him. i called, we decided to meet on a saturday, but when i tried to get a hold of him at the arranged date, he didn't answer. at eight o'clock pm i had been calling numerous times, without any luck, and so i went and made one of my life's greatest mistakes.

the second time was a few months after this incident. i sat down and poured my heart onto a paper, being understanding, considerate and empathetic about why he didn't show up.
no reply.

third time was during my last visit in sweden. i sent him a post card, briefly explaining my arizona-plans for the coming two years, encouraging him to contact me, while giving him an ultimatum; if he didn't respond, i would consider that as his way of saying that he didn't want anything to do with me.
you guessed it - no reply.

now, i'm getting increasingly concerned with how i'll react once i hear that he has finally died. what dams of held back anger, resentment and pain will burst as i realize that he forever made it impossible for me to deal with this part of my past? i don't want to be left scarred by this.
it'd be so easy. please, just let me meet you.
see you, talk to you, and get a sense of who you are.
i need that.

before i tried to contact him, he was very rarely on my mind, and if he was, it was in a non-emotional sort of way.
now, it's unrestrained. i burst into tears when watching 'goodbye lenin' and i get sad when hearing 'butterflies instead' with k's choice, even though i haven't even lived through what she sings about. there was no divorce, there was no separation trauma. one day he was simply gone, and that was it.
and this was all fine, until i tried to get a better grip on it.

i can hate the world and slit my wrists and pop some x and fuck myself blind, but it doesn't change anything.
it's still this way;

my father doesn't want anything to do with me.

in lack of friends, hobbies or something of value in my life, i've undertaken the task of spending all my money as fast as humanly possible. i started out with a laptop (AV3270-EH1, $959) and went on to a new digital camera (Sony Cybershot DSC-P200 with upgrade kit, $641) and now finally a new mp3-player (Archos Gmini 20GB MP3 Player - XS200, with car charger and extended warranty, $265).

all this in under two months, and i'm still searching for more expensive things to put my money on. a mountain bike perhaps? or how about a palm pilot? the trend seems to be going in the right direction though; i started out with the big stuff, and now we're into the not so terribly expensive things.

the ironic part in this story is that i'm homeless. for all of you who remember my texts from last summer; i'm there again, but this time it's a wee bit less glamorous, maybe simply because it's the second time.
we are once more living in and out of our office and cars. yesterday, i returned from 15 days in the field to find all my belongings divided between three vehicles and the office, and some left over stuff at the porch of our latest accomodation.
as my mom wrote: "it can be fun to live as a gipsy for a little while, but honey, sooner or later you guys have to find some stability".

finding clean socks is a challenge, and a time consuming one at that. taking a shower means going to the gym (and today, "going" means walking, as i had to lend my car to a local crew) and eating means visiting one of the many cafes and restaurants in flag.

it's an expensive life. i guess i could've spent my money on an apartment rather than all of the above. but that wouldn't feed my new addiction, and i am cutting myself some slack here. i've never been addicted to anything (other than possibly working out), so i feel it's about time i indulge in this new infatuation with spending the dough.

however, gratis is good, so i think i'll go to the library, take out a few books and lie down in the very inexpensive sun light and read.

you know, you can't beat the free stuff, even when you have the money.

Från How does it feel to be loved, av: slushpuppy

1: Do you wear glasses?: No, perfect vision.
2: Describe your hair: Fake blonde, falls on mu shoulder, long bangs.
3: Do you stare at your shoes while dancing?: I might glance at them every now and then if they\'re new and I really like them
4: What's your favourite Belle & Sebastian song?: Can\'t remember any. That CD is still in Sweden.
5: Which indie star do you fancy most?: I don\'t \"fancy\" celebs.
6: Do you think " la la la la la la la la" constitutes a good chorus?: Definitely. Boom is another great word if found in a song and sung with passion.
7: Morrissey or Marr?: How about none of them?
8: Have you ever worn your pajama top to the pub?: Probably.
9: What's the longest time you've had a crush on someone for?: Not very long. Maybe a year. But then that person always turns out to be unworthy any kind of admiration.
10: What's your favourite animal?: Dog. I miss Chief.
11: Which is the best Primal Scream album?: Well hey, I just might not be a fan.
12: Have you ever played marbles at a gig?: No.
13: Which is your favourite badge?: Little Baseball League.
14: Do you throw like a girl?: Absolutely not. I\'m a tomboy, goddammit.
15: Which song always makes you cry?: \"Everybody hurts\" with REM and \"School night\" with Ani DiFranco.
länk till denna frågespalt

numbed by restlessness, this body of mine feels heavy and sluggish.
i don't want to.
everything. nothing.
just let me be.

energy took off a little while ago, and i don't know where to find it again. maybe this time, it won't come back.
maybe i'm where i was before i crossed the atlantic ocean in hope of this thing that i still haven't found.

it's a desperate yet quiet search.
back home, i rarely shared too much of myself with anyone else, but just having my loved ones there, knowing that they would listen in the way i needed them to if i started talking, that was enough.
here, i have no one.

he's beautiful, when he doesn't know i'm looking. i don't know why he can't handle my attention. my eyes on him make him nervous. that doesn't bode well for our future life together, does it?

what is it i want, if not this?
i wish i knew where to go, what to do to rid myself of this desire to leave.
i have enerything i could want, but somehow i want more.

at mogollon's the drinks are only .25 cents for the ladies tonight. just like every other wednesday. i could go there and get really, really drunk. i could dance myself sweaty, dance with no one and everyone on the dance floor. be right there, right in front of them, but out of their reach.
just as i am for him.
i'm right there, right next to him in bed, yet i'm nowhere near him.

what right do i have to take up his time with this?
he deserves better. i deserve better.
i doubt we'll ever make each other very happy. he wants me, but just as long as he thinks there's a future.
and me, well, as usual i don't quite know what i want.

svara bara, av: helen

1: Hur skulle du beskriva din sinnesstämning idag?: bakis, trots att jag inte drack igar. what\'s that about?
2: Vad borde du verkligen göra just nu?: trana. eller gora nagot kreativt med min lediga dag.
3: Och vad gör du istället?: sitter vid datorn med kalla fotter och tanker att jag borde verkligen ga och trana. jag borde aven ga till bibblan och lana lite bocker att lasa.
4: Vad har du på dig?: manchesterjeans och en t-shirt med itchy and scratchy.
5: Vad är du sugen på?: att traffa mina polare. second best: att traffa nya manniskor som kanske kan fylla tomrummet efter mina polare.
6: Vem pratade du med senast, och om vad?: baker sitter bredvid mig i soffan, och han fragar mig arbestrelaterade fragor som jag inte kan svara pa for att jag inte har min arbetsdator med mig.
7: Vad ska du bli när du blir stor?: saker pa mig sjalv och mindre utseendefixerad.
8: Vad skulle du vilja ge dina barn för namn?: barn schmarn.
9: Vad längtar du efter?: vannerna, familjen och hunden. och ny musik.
10: Vad vill du ändra i ditt hem?: jag har inget hem.
11: Vad såg du på tv senast?: basket bakom mig pa widescreen teven (som inte ar min) just nu, silence of the lambs igar kvall.
12: Vilken film skulle du vilja se?: yrrol.
13: Vem orkar du inte med?: baker. det borde nog ta slut snart. jag ar irriterad over det mesta han gor, och det ar inte sjyst mot honom. eller mig.
14: Vem är bäst?: jag vet inte. sa snart jag tror att jag gillar nagon visar de en sida som gor att jag bara tycker att de ar ok, inte sa vidare fantastiska langre. svenska hanna som jag borde borja hanga med ar bra, dock. hon har inte gjort mig besviken an.
15: Vad önskar du dig?: en cykel.
länk till denna frågespalt

it pisses me off.
my confidence used to be based on real things, not on superficialities like looks and the size of my goddamn tits.
i'm the ugly duckling personified, and he won't understand it. i've tried so many times to explain that in sweden i'm not really considered all that good-looking. i mean, i'm not considered ugly, but not drop dead gourgeous either. just a comfortable in-between.
and i've tried to explain the transition, how it affects a person to abruptly and unexpectedly be seen as something completely different. to come here and all of a sudden work as a model, to get all this attention for something as shallow as my looks, my anatomy.
this is something i've never experienced in greater scale before, and now, it's my persona.
"ooohh, the hot swede..." i'm a fucking stereotype here, and i'm not sure i'm adapting all that well to it.
because all of a sudden, my life is about looking good. once you're considered to be a foxy babe after having gone through your whole life telling yourself you're not chopped liver, that you're collarbones at least are real nice, your way of looking at things change.
now, a good day means a good-looking day. if i have a bad hair day, i'm miserable. but if our stoned landlord makes comments about how hot i am, or if the guy at the rock climbing gym asks me out, or if eric hits severely on me, then i'm having a good day. well, at least a good moment.
and then, just as easily, if he mentions another female's attractiveness, my confidence is absolutely mutilated.
this is not me. it has never been me to care about that. i'm not stupid, i know that there are other attractive people, and that has never bothered me before. but now it does, now i'm allergic to hearing about anyone else's sex appeal. it's like i'm taking on the massive hybris i joked about in the beginning.

to hear day in and day out that i'm so gourgeous, that i'm the bomb, that i'm a swedish model, to have people hit on me daily, well, let's just say it alters my value system. i took on this new personality that consists of nothing but charm and good looks, and so when i'm feeling not so charming and not all that hot, it makes me empty inside. i feel like i've lost a huge part of myself, and i blame it all on modelling and media. heck, i'm a horse having her hooves and teeth judged. good coat, but the tail could need some tending to. we'll lower the price accordingly.

it pisses me off, because media wins again.
yes - my values are all to hell now. i judge myself after how good i look, and my inner strength is diminished by every day that passes, 'cause ohmigosh, i'm not getting any younger here. i get older and less attractive, and that, in my new fucked up point of view, equals less happy and less secure. the fact that i'm not perfect depresses me, and reduces my value as a human being. my thighs are not absolutely flawless, therefore, i must allow myself to like myself less, and to expect others to like me less.
cosmo - you got me. keep throwing more of that computer-manipulated beauty on me, and soon i won't have the courage to walk outside anymore.
you win.

what will i do when people stop giving me the attention they do now? how will i handle that?
i'm just another pathetic victim, but to realize that is not the same as changing it. oblivion is bliss and self-consciousness can easily get out of hand, so i've identified the problem, but i have no clue whatsoever what the solution is.

this is not me, this is not who i used to be. even more so, this is not who i want to be.





yesterday, i ruined a whole day and then some because he agreed when i said that my tits are getting smaller from working out and loosing weight.
that's what i'm talking about.
it's a fucking joke.

business-related trip to seattle for four days, glorious refuge from the small town into something new, something unseen. i love flagstaff with all my heart, but at times it feels too familiar.
seattle didn't.


i arrived around 7 PM and took the bus downtown where my hostel was located. checked in and walked out onto the streets, where i soon found the triple door. they were playing live jazz at the musicquarium lounge, so i stepped in and looked around to find a seat. a guy got up from his seat, pretending to be headed somewhere, and bumped into me on purpose.
"damn! you're looking fine" was this gentleman's pick-up line, and sophisticated and innovative as it was, i silently ignored him. not because i'm too cool to smile at him or in any way acknowledge his existence, but rather because i'm not used to being hit on so overtly (i'm from sweden, dammit, we're timid people!), and even more so, because i was scared to death that any kind of recognition would encourage him.

i settled for a stool in the bar where i ordered a captain morgan's with coke. two minutes later a guy sat next to me. i had placed my jacket and purse on one stool next to me, but unfortunately i could only take up so many seats, and so there he was.
he initated contact by making some remark on the band, on how great they were. i nodded and stirred my drink.
then, the line i thought was banned from real people's mouths, since it's been chewed a few times too many in movies and shows: "so... do you come here a lot?"
i couldn't help but smile, probably with a rather condescending look on my face.
i talked to him for a little bit. he worked hard on getting the conversation going, and i worked just as hard on killing it at first, but as my drink's volume steadily reduced, i couldn't find a good reason to not be at least civil to him.
turned out his name was cosmo. he wrote his name and number on a piece of paper in case i wanted to get together for something the following nights, and i, naturally, did not believe that cosmo was his real name.
"it's true", he said while fishing up his ID-card", my parents were hippies. look at my middle name."
i looked: mann. last name: king.
the guy's name was cosmo mann king.
i told him i once had a hamster whose name was cosmo.
and that's pretty much how much we connected.

following morning i did the tourist route of seattle. took the monorail to the space needle, up i went, looked around at the view, and then down. had a fabolous tofu-wrap at the westlake centre, and spent most of the day walking around enjoying the big city-atmosphere.
in the bunkbed below mine was an australian girl, chantal. we talked for a bit as i was getting ready to have dinner with the others, and it turned out she was going swing dancing later on. i asked her to leave a note on my bed with directions on how to get there, and then i went off to the red robin for the dinner. the most interesting thing by far that happened there was when the uzbekis told us about some circumcissional ritual of theirs; they described a field of up to 200 men on horses, and a goat with its head chopped off in the centre. they fought to be the first one to reach the goat (which by the way was filled with carrots to add weight) and lift it up. whoever did that won. fascinating. and slightly barbaric.
i came back to the hostel around 8:30, and grabbed the note on my bed. i followed the directions, got on the bus leading to the century ballroom where i paid $5 for a 30 minute long introduction to the art of swing dancing. chantal was there, and after the lesson the floor was open for everyone to dance. some of them had been doing this for years, others were there for the first time, like myself. it was a lot of fun, and when they closed at midnight we drove off to IHOP and had some hot cocoa, in pure teen spirit. but it was nice to not go home to someone's apartment and open a bottle of this or the other for once. yeah, i liked it. sometimes being sober is exactly what i want.

following day there was a meeting until three, and then i walked around in this city that gave birth to the worlds first starbucks, god bless.
i took one final touristy route; the pike place market. apparently you HAVE to have seen that before you leave seattle, so i did, just so that i can report that to all of you.
had sushi at a fastfood sushi-stand called rice'n'roll. despite the corny name the sushis were gourgeous, and very affordable. just the way i like it.
a bum came up to me and asked if i had been saved, if i had met jesus. i said no, but i would let him in if he knocked on my door any of these days. he's the best, the bum continued, because no matter what you do he always loves you, and he always forgives you. yeah, that's rare, i replied. the bum kept telling me about the glory of jesus, but my light turned green so i wished him a good day and crossed the street, where i ran into another bum. he asked for money, and i told him that i don't carry cash "but there's a guy down the street who wants to save you", i added. "whad'ya mean? in what way?" asked the bum. "well you know, through god, jesus, salvation and all that stuff", i said.
"why are you telling me this? do you think i'm spiritually illiterate?!" the bum asked in an insulted voice.
i just offended a bum, i thought. lord have mercy.
big bum day, since it probably only took a few minutes before the next bum came up, asking for money. this woman had a cigarette in one hand, and she approached me as i was sitting in the bus booth. i could have handed her my standard bum-reply about not carrying cash, but i got so annoyed over her exhaust finding its way down my lungs that i instead took the opportunity to exercise my right to categorically discriminate smokers. "sorry, but i really hate smokers" was my reply. she stopped, frowned, and after realizing that what came out of my mouth wouldn't put any change in her hand, walked on to the next potential doner.

that night they were playing "the ring" at the hostel. unfortunately not the japanese version, but i haven't seen any of the two, so i thought i'd give it a shot.
bad decision.
i was the only one in there, and after ten minutes of that horrifying acting, consisting mainly of quivering bottom lips, flickering eyes and uneven breathing, i couldn't stand it anymore. i mean, it even had the "scary movie"-mandatory young girls in school uniforms home alone, just to appeal to the average man's sex dream in case the plot itself wasn't captivating enough. which of course it wasn't.

i went back to flag the following day.
it's annoying; regardless how great a place is, it's only that much fun if your significant other is not with you.
b was not in seattle with me, and so seattle was not really where i wanted to be the most.

love really makes me feel like a sucker.

senaste..., av: pyttesyster

1: du pratade med i verkligheten: baker.
2: du pratade med i telefon: ben at \"big o tires\". i scheduled an oil change for our honda.
3: tjejen du kramade: as if i have friends here... probably kati. she greeted me with a hug when i came back from sweden.
4: killen du kramade: baker
5: jen du pussade: elin, in her bed, the very same morning i left sweden.
6: killen du pussade: baker
7: tjejen du höll i handen: again; elin.
8: killen du höll i handen: this is getting old - baker
9: låten du lyssnade på: some crap off raadio uuno - estonian radio. unless you count the static that comes from the speakers in the honda.
10: skivan du köpte: the carpenters - love songs. for baker.
11: konserten: i can\'t remember. i saw a band play at mogollon before i left flag in december, but that was hardly a consert.
12: festen: new years.
13: hånglet: gaaah.... baker. although we don\'t kiss even nearly as often as i\'d like.
14: brevet du fick: i actually received a happy birthday-card from a teller at wells fargo. she was really nice, but to get a card was somewhat unexpected. maybe she\'s hitting on me. you think?
15: boken du läste: anna karenina. er, still reading...
16: fikan: two days ago, with john running.
17: maten du åt: frozen pizza
länk till denna frågespalt

quotes from a document written in order to teach foreigners about america:


GENERAL ATTITUDES:
"Americans value innovation, industry and integrity. They enjoy a good sense of humour, including sarcasm. Americans have the ability to laugh at themselves as well as others."

"Americans consider their country to be a guardian of democracy and freedom, as well as a promoter of peace worldwide."


GREETINGS:
"Among the youth, verbal greetings or hand-slapping gestures (such as the "high-five") are common."

"Friends often greet each other with How are you? and respond Fine, thanks. Americans do not really expect any further answer to the question."


GESTURES:
"When conversing, Americans generally stand about two feet away from each other."

"Poor posture is not uncommon."

"Holding up one's hand, palm in, with only the middle finger extended, is an offensive gesture."


DATING AND MARRIAGE:
"Casual sexual relationships are common."


ECONOMY:
"[The U.S.] exports capital goods, cars, consumer goods, food, and machinery. It also exports pop culture (movies, music, television programming, fashion, sports and more), which can fuel the demand for American goods."

"[...] while American economy as a whole is prosperous, there is a widening gap between the wealthy and the poor, and even between those who earn a comfortable income and those who struggle to meet basic needs."


HEALTH:
"The health problems facing Americans are different from those in some other countries in that a sedantary lifestyle and risky physical behavior are the two greatest causes of adult health problems. The United States is the only industrialized country in the world without a national (public) health-care system."

business trip to zion, one of the worlds most beautiful places, and we sat in a meeting for an hour and a half, before moving on to vegas, a trip that was not business related this time.
vegas is what we do for a few days off.

on our way out of utah we drove through a town called virgin, when i recalled what i had heard about this town. you remember when michael moore slams the states for their weapon laws, and he informs us about virgin, utah, where the inhabitants by law must own a gun?
well, i had to find out whether this was true or not, so we went into a trading post and asked the fat lady who worked there. she said the law had recently been revised, and now it said that every inhabitant was required to have "protection", but it no longer specified that this needed to be a gun.
"of course, everyone here owns a gun anyway. you'd have to be crazy not too. i mean, we're in the middle of nowhere. we have to be able to protect ourselves."
she told us that the town had the lowest employment statistics in all of utah, and she admitted that ok, maybe they didn't have that much that anyone would want. i glanced at the john waye hot chili sauce for $5.99 on the shelf next to me and nodded agreeingly.
"but it's a matter of feeling safe", she explained.
of course, we concurred.

entering vegas the billboards read
"Embrace life's best"
and other equally suggestive things, but on your way out of town you're hit with
"Was it worth it? God cares. Call for prayer now."
i can't get over how amusing this city is. even in its choice of diner names; there's "in'n'out burger", and on some ads you're told that what happens in vegas stays in vegas, while other ads claim that what happens in vegas never happened.
it's pick and choose, i guess.

wednesday we went to bed at 7 and slept 'til 6, eating a huge breakfast buffet before going out to amuse ourself. we went to the batting cages, and i impressed the crap out of my baseball-fanatic boyfriend with hitting an overwhelmingly high percentage of the balls. he was less impressed by my sore back muscles the following day, but hey.
we drank margaritas for 99 cents, strong, cheap bastards, and then we went to the deja vu night club, but i can't tell you what happened there, because what happens in vegas stays in vegas.