There’s a hippie living inside of me. Every spring she wakes up. While listening to Janis Joplin she dreams about selling her stuff to travel the word and live freely. For her all things materialistic feels meaningless because she realizes freedom is what truly makes her happy. She wants an adventure. She wants every day of her life to hold meaning and be something special.
Every spring it’s the same. It’s been like this since I was a teenager. I feel alive this time of the year but I’m not doing anything with the life within me. I just go on with my daily routine when all I really want to do is pack a bag, leave this place and see the world.
I’ve always hated the rat race but I’ve never had the money to leave it. Every spring that knowledge gnaws in me. The teeth of reality sinking into me when I think of the one dream that has stuck with me for my entire adult life. The dream of independence and freedom to travel.
Today I planted more stuff on the balcony. Lettuce and more radishes. Also replanted the chilli into more pots.
I post a lot of photos of my home but rarely any of one of the rooms. The bathroom. So here we go. It’s rather unmodern but I’ve spiced it up as good as I could with a lot of pink.
Salt stone candle holder.
I’m growing chilli. Fifteen seeds where planted and so far twelve tiny chilli plants are peeking up.
It’s interesting how people assume that heroin chic was a trend which died out. Did it really? Look at the fashion photography of today and tell me, is there such a big difference between the heroin chic models of the 90s and the models of today? No, there isn’t. Because heroin chic didn’t disappear. It became norm.
The heroin chic look of the 90s was often more extreme, with more focus on truly making the models look like drug addicts. The typical model today doesn’t necessarily look like she’s on drugs but the emaciated look and dead looking faces with empty staring eyes, is indeed inherited from the heroin chic look.
Even the original heroin chic aesthetic with models looking like they’re on drugs is still often used today. Take a look at this ad which I found on a big Swedish site today. Since I don’t want to be sued for illegally using a photography which doesn’t belong to me you’ll have to click this link to see the photo.
Tell me, how is that not heroin chic?
I have gone white trash over night. I have bought these crocs. No, it’s even worse, I’ve bought crocs ripoffs. I’ll wear them every day from now on. In sunshine or rain. To pants, shorts, dresses and skirts. And I love them so much.
Nah, just kidding. I still think crocs are ugly as fuck. I only bought them so I can wear them when I’m out on the balcony. They’re easy to slip in and out of so they’ll stand in front of the balcony door from now on. You’ll never see me leaving the house in these.
I always hated physical education when I was a kid. Mostly because of how awful PE made me feel about myself. Or rather, how awful the other kids made me feel about myself. When teams were set up I was always among the last to be picked. Sure, I wasn’t sporty but there were plenty of others who weren’t either. The problem with me was I wasn’t popular either. Other not so sporty kids who were popular where always picked before me, even though we were at the same level when it came to football (soccer), indoor bandy or whatever.
I could have done ok if I had been given a chance, but I never was. I stood at the edge of the field since no one passed me the ball anyway. I didn’t want them to pass me the ball because I thought I’d for sure screw up. At least they seemed to think I would. Why else would they pick me last and never pass me the ball? It was a self-fulfilling prophecy. They thought I sucked at sports and since they thought I did I thought they must be right, so I didn’t even try to be good at it and since I didn’t even try, it appeared as though I really did suck at sports. I wasn’t as terrible as I thought though.
Brännboll (a form of baseball) was a really popular sport to play during PE. When you play brännboll you strike the ball and try to run around the four corners of the field. Out on the field there are several players from the opposite team trying to catch your ball. If they do they get points. Since I was convinced I sucked at brännboll I always just hit the ball right down into the ground so it bounced, so at least no one could catch it and get a point for it. Then there was this teacher who took the time to try to teach me how to strike the ball for real. I even practised at home and got pretty good at it. Turned out I wasn’t all that horrible at brännboll after all. I wonder how good I would have been at other sports had I only tried and more importantly, had I only been given a chance to prove myself. But I was never given such a chance because I was unpopular.
When I was in high school PE was very different. There weren’t a whole lot of sporty people in my class so pretty much everyone was at my level. There weren’t really any popularity contests going on either since everyone just stuck to their group of friends and left everyone they didn’t like alone. There wasn’t even all that many people who disliked each other. This was a very different atmosphere from the one I was used to from grade 1-9. Still, I was so damaged from being told I sucked at sports for nine years that I didn’t really try during high school PE either. Most of all I had come to really hate the PE lessons. I didn’t reflect over why I hated them so much but in retrospect I think it wasn’t so much because high school PE was bad but because I had come to associate PE with bad things.
Why the hell do teachers let the students pick teams? I wonder if it ever occurred to my old teachers that the people who were always picked last maybe felt bad about it? That maybe it would be better to try to avoid making the team building into a popularity contest? Because that’s what it was. And always being among the last to be picked fucked up any self esteem I might have had about sports (and myself). So severely that I never gave PE or sports a chance again.
I told you I’d show you what I bought for the balcony this weekend so here we go. Look at the new wooden floor! I also brought up my old book case from my basement storage room. I have no use for it any more and the thrift store didn’t want it so now it decorates the balcony.
This months package from Tampons for free contained a hand cream from a series of products called Oliva, containing olive oil. I don’t like creams, especially hand creams, since they make me sticky but this one was absorbed by my skin rather quickly compared to the skin cream I currently use. It smelled very nice as well.