Nåväl

Dear fellow humans,
My computer has been crashed for a month or so, hence the lack of new posts.
Recently I succeeded in reinstalling the software,
unfortunately this lead to the ellimination of all content on this computer.
approximately 100 GB of.. everything. My life. Is gone.
All my pictures since 5 years back.
My compositions.
My respectable music collection.

Oh well, that's life.
I'll just start over.

I am at the moment sitting in a giant empty house. Belonging to a certain Maximus.
I am entertainting myself though, I just watched the second and final episode f SVT's christmas drama "August". Strindberg, that is. Played by the one and only Jonas Karlsson. And yes, I do have a thing for him. Strindberg or Karlsson, you might ask yourself. Which i cannot answer, even though the original answer would be Karlsson, I identify them too much with eachother at this specific moment. I have to read Röda Rummet very soon. Oh I have to read so many books, I got lots of them for christmas, and they all seem positively delightful. I am still busy reading Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell at the moment. 1000 pages...
Back to Strindberg, intriguingly portayed by Jonas Karlsson; I had some vague notion of him being this bitter, proud old man who detests women. This changed slightly after watching this series. Which is of course an understatement.
I can, however, imagine that my previous image of him might have had some truth to it after all, but since i only saw a small part of his life, and an early part, I can imagine that he changed.. And of course, this was somewhat fictional. I imagine it is quite impossible to have a complete and truthfull insight into his life and personality.

Annyway, I spent christmas at my sister's place. Her daughter now trots around the house mumbling "karta" (=map) and throwing balls. And in one month or so, the sound of an additional sweet child scream will fill her house...
Me, I will go to Paris and meet my dearest Karin and a complete stranger. Well, several probably, but we will occupy the house of one of them in particular. I believe it will be a new year somewhat more interesting than the last 19 ones.

Happy New Year to all!

Postcards from France

All here over: Nîmes, this weekend



















above and underneath: Toulouse, two weeks ago

l'Automne

Mathematics

Me: Now listen to me, for example, if I take three cans with 1 % mango in each and pour them into a big bottle, It will have the same taste, and it will still be 1 % mango in it.

french dude: Haha, no no, Myleen, that makes THREE percent. You have three cans, right.

Me: ... Yes, you have three times the amount of mango, but you also have three times the amount of the other liquids in the cans, consequently there is still just one percent mango.

The two other french people: *silence* .... Well, yeah.. she's right... in THEORY
Maybe it works for DRINKS.. but not for everything

Several frustrating minutes later one of them delivers this killer line

French guy: Okay, it might be logic, but that doesn't apply to real things.
Math has got nothing to do with reality.

I spent the rest of the evening being upset about this enormous ignorance, so vast that it doesn't even see itself.

Of course all previous lines were delivered in french, and of course I was not quite so eloquent.
But peu importe.

Smooch

Spin

I was looking through my pictures, and strumbled over this one. And for the first time, I actually experienced a real warm feeling, when thinking of my graduation. This picture has such an air of joy and freedome. Sounds cliché, and indeed it is. I mostly lacked this feeling during the whole event, probably because I found it slightly ridiculous how you were supposed to scream and act like an idiot. etc. I felt as if though the whole thing was being forced upon me. But looking back now, and looking at this picture, maybe it wasn't so bad after all.

Plupp

Jag saknar min lilla Kaorin.
Nyår i Paris, säger jag. Det blir fint.

Mal à la gorge

Yesterday was... interesting.
Let's say I drove to the middle of nowhere to be greeted by a dog with eyes of different colours, people who have never heard of showers and a masturbating skeleton. Let's say an italian hardcore band slept in my apartment. And let's say I had strawberries for breakfast.

Now, I'll give you a hint. One of the statements is false.
Gold star for the right answer.

View

This weekend I have:
Climbed a real mountain
Spent time with good people, who are now gone
driven 500 km

Air

Mystical tree balls, and other views from previously mentioned walking path

la mort

Merde

Rugby, dear friends.
Anyone ever taken an interest in it? Didn't think so.
Why would anyone care about rugby? Beats me. But the french people, preposterous as always, do. Of course.
I tried. I really tried to stay out of it. But, in case you failed to notice (which you probably did), the world cup in rugby is currently organized in france. It is impossible not to hear every little think about it. So, I thought, what the hell, might as well take the opportunity to observe a part of the french culture. Said and done, yesterday I went to town to watch the rugby match between france and england. I was in the company of two french couples and an iraqi dude. All of them are over 30. (By the time I get back to sweden I'll feel like 35 probably).
Half the town was on the square staring at a big screen, and the other half were un the numerous bars and pubs staring at slightly smaller screens.
I tried to understand and take an interest for about 6 minutes. The remaining 74 minutes were spent observing people and trying to figure out my life.
It was a quite tolerable evening after all, followed by tea and cheeze in the house of one of the couples.

Oh yeah, France lost.

The main event of today was me deciding to take a walk. But what a walk. I discovered that I live 10 minutes from what is possibly the prettiest walking path I have seen in my life. Photos coming soon.

In the mean time, pictures from the city cemetery! :

Last days of Summer

Dear diary...

I have spent a week on a "on arrival seminar" for people who are doing EVS in France. It was situated in an isolated centre, just by the sea, some kilometres from Montpelier.
I was happy that I was leaving, because I felt I needed to get some distance to my life here at the Foyers.
It turned out fantastic. There were 28 people between 18 and 27, from 15 countries, who are currently doing EVS in France. Most of them spoke french on a level similar to mine, somewhat higher for some, and 2 -3 people didn't speak french at all. Mostly we spoke french, and the funny thing is that it is so much easier to understand foreigners speaking french than native speakers, since they tend to use simple grammar and vocabulary... This led me into the illusion of actually being able to understand and speak french very well. Until I came back here of course.. "Pardon..?" "J'ai pas entendu... " "Quoi?" All over again..

Anyway.. (Excuse my random and spontaneous use of language.. I am tired)
I had a fabulous time, talking to all these different people from different countries. I tell you, that EVS volunteers are generally very nice people. If you have any in your town or surroundings, make friends with them for heaven's sake!
I also got to speak swedish, since there was a Norwegian girl. That felt good. My brain was a mess though, when I switched between speaking Swedish, french, english and attempts to speak spanish and italian. In the end I couldn't control which language would pour out of my mouth when I opened it.

My Swedish soul couldn't believe it's eyes when I swam in the ocean in October, and found the temperature... pleasant.


Now to something completely different (gold star to the one who identifies the origin of this quote)
My dear and most intelligent friend Fabio wrote a wonderful respons to my latest entry. If you are interested, please see what he had to say on the subject of music and evolution:

http://ahumanmind.blogspot.com/2007/09/music-and-evolution.html

*Tries to Think of Something That Doesn't Sound Hopelessly Emo but Fails*

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7vFaoA7t2RE

I just discussed this issue with someone and it so important to me that I felt the need to vent it here also.

Yesterday, I was listening to music on my computer. Shuffle as usual. Suddenly this song starts playing - How to Disappear Completely by Radiohead. (Just the title is worth dying for)
And it hit me so hard. I don't want to seem like an.. a-hem... emo-kid. But my God, did it hurt.
And it is not because I have any special associations to this song, nor is it because of the lyrics. If you haven't heard it already, please listen (there is a link above).
There is this high note, floating above the rather average chords, which by conventional measures do not "fit" musically. But it has an astonishing effect. It adds this amazing edge, like a sharp knife, and interacts in a new and completely surprising way with each chords. And it hurts so bad.

If you read my previous post, I was talking about the conflict between my logical and "romantic" (in the wide sense, not really referring to love or such) part. This is a thing that my logical part can not understand. At all. How can a combination of sound frequencies invoke an emotional reaction, so strong that it is on the verge of physical. How is this possible? How does this facilitate the recreation of my genes?(It sounds rather funny but it is a serious question) What the hell IS music anyway? Is it perhaps just a odd side effect to something that actually has an explainable purpose?

Main Froide

Shot at an eerily beautiful cemetery in Liverpool