i am staring at this vintage purple sweater i've had since i was eleven and trying to work up enough nerve to cut it up into a costume for zhiwen's item.

:(
Posted at 9:50 AM

i think shutting down-- at least momentarily secluding-- this blog is liberating in a way. it's not as if i didn't have a private blog on top of this all along, as well as a diary, but-- maybe i just wanted that extra space.

i long to lose myself in music, but i can't find the songs to lead me astray these days.
Posted at 12:23 PM

driving on ecp...
mich: "fifteeeen... when you only got a hundred years to live--"
von: "I love this s-- HOLY FUCK!"

from crazy white merc taxis SWERVING into my goddamn lane in the middle of effing nowhere, good lord deliver us. i don't want to drive anymore. he didn't even CUT into my lane he just veered about 2mm away from my car along the turn at the IR area. HELLO GO BACK TO DRIVING SCHOOL CAN?

and no, i didn't crash into him. according to my sis i did some superhero cool shit swerving in return that would have been totally awesome if she wasn't in the car with me.

but i DON'T WANT TO DRIVE ANYMORE. and i definitely don't want to sing five-for-fighting while driving. what an omen. and i still have to go and find xf tonight. oh my god i refuse to drive there i've flipped off enough people on the roads today. I HAVE TO STOP SWEARING (and skipping lessons, but that's another story for another day).

apart from all that i am happy-- and sad. i liked this choreo a lot, and i don't think i did as well as i could have for the last show. i will miss-- am missing already!-- this item!
Posted at 10:16 PM

Steal a moment, or two, or twenty.

Drink chardonnay by poolsides. Devour home-made mushroom tagliatelle prepared by best friend. Eyeball Helen the Cadbury dog. Dip feet in cold and chlorine. Walk two moons and live a dream. Capture a thought, an emotion, a glance, an earring. Wander the night. Lose track of time. Talk till the witching hour. Confess, hold back, reveal, conceal.

Offer comfort to a friend. Walk blindfolded on tightropes fingers scoring the air, balancing on a knife's edge. Yes, this is a dagger you see before thee. Reach for it. Take it. Break, voice; break, heart. Accept the truth. Remember the years. Tell-- or hint at-- what no one else has ever known. Realise the similarities. Try not to judge. Drive home, pray; things will be okay for everyone.

Stay out till late. Fall asleep to the rocking of a shaking, the lullaby of a machine. Listen in on god's words. Walk out into the lightest of drizzles with Leona Lewis in your ears. Breathe, lose the tension, the disappointment, desolation. Pause enthralled by the sight of leaves slowdancing in the wind under the amber warmth of a streetlamp. Fumble for a camera. Laugh as the raindrops spin into the fury of a full-blown thunderstorm in the span of seconds, silver-needled-heavy-handed. Walk home through the storm never minding the drenching, because this-- this-- you have not felt in months.

Feed brandy-spiked chocolates to a friend. Drink lassis soapy with cinnamon. Give your dog a hankering for peanut-butter-and-nutella sandwiches. Speak with your father. Be thankful for your grandmother, and her wonderful cooking that she gets your mother to bring home for you when you miss a visit because of practice.

Take a step away and leave the madding crowd. Feel anger; resign that signature to sadness. Sit in darkness with a friend. Talk. Share a bus ride with a sister. Make peace. Recall 25 roses in a plastic bag. Laugh at her Tristram-Shandyness.

Dance like you're dying, and so we are. Feel the thrill from learning a piece of choreography, from remembering steps, from fitting a move to music. Taste disillusionment; experience regret. Know envy, awe, pride, belonging, friendship. Be glad, utterly glad, for this today that will never come again, for the yesterday that's forever past, for the tomorrow waiting to be filled with promise.

Be as glad as you can be.


I know exactly how you feel because I feel the same way. But I'll be damned before I admit to it, because I've got sand in my shoes and my eyes and I will happily go on living this lie if the fantasy can only last a little longer. But the winds are ripping it to shreds, even the blindest of the blind must see. Now I could dance, but she had left me without music. What if the converse is true?

Bait your hook with strips of flesh; blood-backed worms cut from your heart.
Posted at 12:08 AM

that tonight was a good good night. we ought to do this more often.





time to crash. dance in something like 7 hours.
Posted at 4:42 AM

i know i left too much mess and destruction to come back again
i cause nothing but trouble i understand if you won't talk to me again
and if you live by the rules of it's over then i'm sure that that makes sense

but i will go down with this ship
i won't put my hands up and surrender
there will be no white flag above my door
i'm in love
i always
will be

this is the song that keep segueing into my head during thank you. :S it's a sign!

But I'm so glad weina cleaned us all up for Halo today. feels better knowing i'm not screwing up the steps so much... which i can't exactly say for other pieces :| why can't there be 30 hours in a day. preferably with the extra 6 at night. in as7.

sigh okay i need to study like michelle said pass-fail is all very well but it still means i need to PASS. HW sorry for cancelling on you again :( sleep is for the weak sleep is for the weak sleep is for the zzzzzzzzz

wishing
Posted at 2:45 AM

remember those walls i built?
well baby they're tumbling down
they didn't even put up a fight
they didn't even make a sound
i found a way to let you in
but i never really had a doubt
standing in the light of your halo
i've got my angel now

everywhere i'm looking now
i'm surrounded by your embrace
baby i can see your halo
you know you're my saving grace
you're everything i need and more
it's written all over your face
baby i can feel your halo
i pray it won't fade away

Karen's storyline for the item took my breath (and composure) away-- I started weeping at the last line of the above lyrics. The incredible build-up of emotion and the sheer audacity of hope in that final image just struck me almost physically, and it's a whole new reading of a song I've always liked but never really fully appreciated the potential depth of until Saturday night, when she explained the story behind the music and dance.


It's been a glorious week, but I don't feel like I've danced enough. I regret not going for PA today :(:(:( but it's all I can do trying to remember all the choreos; I can't even do that much half the time, and I'm definitely not dancing them.

things I want to remember: discovering that I am a secret prodigy at Assassin's Creed; discovering that I am NOT meant to play time crisis; lying beside the boardwalk with music playing out of pet banana's phone; dancing; writing emails to anna and letters to tracy; eating "da xi gua" with the kiddos and parents; dinner with the creatures, which was a riot, picking out disney files, and basking in the glow of old, true friendship.


some weekday before school really starts in earnest i am going to drive out to the middle of nowhere-- or maybe i'll just walk, or take a bus so that I don't actually have the option of going back earlier-- and just sit for the whole night and read or write (or run through choreo, hurhur). something in me wants that. a lot.

off to read european labour law for friday's exam :S. good night world, and-- thank you for sharing.
Posted at 3:42 PM

shoot me :(

Talia Gallegos Fadda 11 January at 05:32 Reply
Hej!

Celebration of Womanhood 16-17 januari Hörsalen, Lava

http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=204420327578&ref=mf

Kom och ta del av en inspirerande helg på Kulturhusets Hörsal och Lava!

Lördag 16 januari-Dansföreställning
Ca 40 dansare framför sina showcases!
Entré 80 kr

Söndag 17 januari- Workshops och paneldiskussion
12-13- Popping med Cathy (Paris)
13-14 Breaking med Apple
14-15 Waacking med Maggie
15-16 Hiphop med Yeya
50kr/workshop el 150kr för alla

16.30 Paneldiskussion med bla Sabina Dalfjäll, Yeya Ekström, Maria Decida Wahlberg och Maggie Aulin.

:( and uppsala dc has oppet hus this week: a week of about 100 classes for something like 50kr. :( instead i am stuck here reading european labour law.
Posted at 5:37 AM

morethanitseems says (3:12 AM):
ahahaha
aiya
not so hard
just need a plant
then can stalk



i love my friends, it's been a great week, i haven't felt this alive in an extremely extremely long while. I am honoured that you take time out to read my words; touched that you quote them; amazed that you are there for me when I crumble. I don't fall apart often (or maybe I don't show it) but when I am able to reach out for help I am unspeakably glad that there are hands there to haul me back up.

I love you, who takes walks with me till 2am in the morning, till we are stranded in the middle of nowhere; you, who call me at 4 in the morning and then drive me off to paradise at 6.45am singing under the boardwalk. I love you, who listens to my distressed plaints and writes me long emails dissecting all my worries, giving me pointers on what to do. I love you, who unselfishly shares with me all the details of your life, who trusts me enough to take my advice, who despite your tiredness stays up to talk to me. I love you, who always always makes me laugh till my sides ache; you, the filtration device; you, the one with the words of wisdom; you, the inside-tube-who-is-distracted-by-noise; all of you, who don't care what I look like or how ridiculous I act in public (like falling asleep on the floor or tucking myself into a strange alcove) and love me back.

i love the way dance makes me so damn happy even when it kills my body and makes it useless for anything else the rest of the week. i love it even though my entire stomach was one big churning mass of worry and anxiety and pain and practically-lip-gnashing terror before i went for my first session this week. i love music, steps, choreography, feeling.

i had a display message on msn a while ago which said "a six-letter word for love". so many of you asked what it was-- fiona guessed affair, xf guessed sweden. i simply said everyone has their own word. at that point in time my answer which i told no one was enmeshed thus: a six-letter word for love, a four-letter word for loneliness. my nouns and adjectives are mixed, but basically my word was lonely. you love, and you leave yourself open to vulnerability; you love, and you end up missing the person/thing not there; you love, and you run a whole gamut of risks knowing full well all the ways you can be hurt in return. But that's the thing about crosswords, and questions, and life itself-- the answers change, even the questions change. i have so much to be grateful for that i don't have any right to be upset or unhappy-- although in a way i'm even grateful for sorrow, because of the sheer beauty of emotion. my words for love are plenty, and i am glad to be back, and glad to be loved, and incandescently content that i may love and feel and live, happy and sad.
Posted at 3:13 AM

There's always cracks
Crack of sunlight
Crack in the mirror on your lips
It's the moment of a sunset Friday
When our conversations twist
It's the fifth day of ice on a new tattoo
But the ice should be on our heads
We only spun the web to catch ourselves
So we weren't left for dead

And I was never looking for approval from anyone but you
And though this journey is over I'll go back if you ask me to

I'm not dead just floating
Right between the ink of your tattoo
And the belly of the beast we turned into
I'm not scared just changing
Right beyond the cigarette and the devilish smile
You're my crack of sunlight

You can do the math a thousand ways but you can't erase the facts
That others come and others go but you always come back
I'm a winter flower underground always thirsty for summer rain
And just like the changing seasons
I know you'll be back again

I'm not dead just floating
Underneath the ink of my tattoo
I've tried to hide my scars from you
I'm not scared just changing
Right beyond the cigarette and the devilish smile
You're my crack of sunlight oh

I'm not dead just yet
I'm not dead I'm just floating
Doesn't matter where I'm going
I'll find you
I'm not scared at all
Underneath the cuts and bruises
Finally gained what no one loses
I'll find you
I will find you

I'm not dead just floating
I'm not scared just changing
You're my crack of sunlight yeah

and there are things you can't put words to truths you can't run away from travel twenty thousand miles or walk two moons.

and reasons why i couldn't say what was really on my mind and why an empty cliche marks the middle of our walk to nowhere.


who was i trying to fool?
Posted at 11:25 PM

And so, yes, I'm back-- a little the worse for wear, still operating on Swedish time, and finding Singapore incredibly effing hot (the full expletive would have been the only way to express how bloody hot it is, but I am working on cutting down my swearing especially after I yelled it three times at 3am after nearly cutting my finger off with a ladder [don't ask]). The moment I stepped off the plane into the transit airport I literally wilted-- my first few seconds of 2010 (by Swedish time-- otherwise, because of the vagaries of time zones I never did experience the new year at all) were spent in an airport toilet stall frantically stripping off random articles of clothing and trying not to boil over. Cut me some slack, I basically jumped 49degC in 9 hours.

I also rounded off 2009 by going something close to 72 hours without a shower, which was an experience I NEVER EVER EVER WANT TO EVER REPEAT AGAIN. Catch me scheduling two flights consecutively one more time, especially when one is a long-haul and transit time in between is especially long and dreary, and I promise you you can smack me. Oh oh and not to forget-- how could one ever forget the madcap dash to the airport after Mark convinced me there was no way I could make it to the airport in time if I tried to go and take the train from Stockholm, especially with my lovely monster blue luggage? And so because of that monster I spent 450SEK on a cab ride. that's 100sgd. bloody hell come to think of it it would have turned out cheaper to just put my luggage in storage for 15 days. bloody hell!

p.s. i still cannot figure out how i dragged 50kg worth of luggage (backpack, black trolley, blue suitcase) from uppsala to stockholm to bergshamra to toss the monster blue luggage with mark. i really can't. but i think that would explain my near-complete breakdown that night and why i couldn't raise a hand to even scratch an itch on my back for the next week or so in italy. before you sneer, there was one reason why that luggage night was aptly named worst night of my life-- EVERYTHING that could go wrong went wrong. I couldn't get my luggage out of my apartment because it was so heavy-- called Inese begging for help and the girl came out immediately, she's a complete saint; dragged all my stuff onto and off the bus and then played luggage tag with it all the 50m to the station, which might as well have been a hundred miles. how to play luggage tag, you ask?

you need: 2 very heavy pieces of luggage
optional: heavy, incredibly slippery snow and lousy heeled boots, plus a 12kg backpack to drag you down
instructions: drag all luggage off bus. carry one as far as you can until fingers give way and you drop it in the snow. go back for the other. carry this one as far as you can, pray hard that you pass the first, until fingers give way again and you drop it again. go back for the other. rinse and repeat.

then my klippkortet refused to be refunded so i had to beg the counter lady like crazy, my next train to stockholm would depart in 2 mins at the furthest platform, on arriving at mark's place he didn't pick up and i had to beg station lady to let me leave the bag there so i wouldn't miss my train; dashed back to stockholm, black luggage trolley handle suddenly refused to work so i couldn't pull it properly and ended up missing train by 2 minutes; black luggage proceeded to break all its wheels; next tickets on train cost something like 250sgd for the cheapest; next available bus ticket was just 90sek=about 20sgd, but would depart at 3.45am and station closed at 1am so i faced pleasant prospect of waiting in subzero temperatures for 2h45mins (even the staff were alarmed and asked me if i had anywhere to go-- she sounded genuinely concerned that i would catch a cold, which honestly touched me); went out in complete defeat and unthinkingly helped a romanian man with his luggage, but he turned out to be mildly insane and insisted on catching a non-existent "autobuss" to romania-- an autobuss which was either a bus or a train or a plane, judging by the various "whoo whoo" noises and flapping motions he made at my head. no he didn't speaking a word of english, yes i tried to ask the station people for help, no he was not cooperative and just screamed at them or cut random people's queues or got angry at me for not calling a random number he gave me on my phone (when i had something like one sgd's credit left and no money to buy anymore, AND my mum to contact tomorrow AND mark to find since my luggage was still homeless at bergshamra). then drunk guy decided to make my life complete by breathing sour alcohol all over me and scaring me half to death; i felt like a complete shit when i let him take confused romanian guy off to find the "autobuss" which he'd insisted he knew the location of but which i DEFINITELY knew he didn't know the location of, not as inebriated as he was if he could hit on a hobo-looking stressed out stumpy chinese chick when he was surrounded by leggy swedish blondes. but i was just so exhausted and in pain at that point that i just wanted to curl up on a bench and stone until i had to go out and curl up in the snow and freeze.

here, have an eyeful:
not the clearest picture, but the stuff on my calves-- shins?-- are not shadows, they are bruises. and i have them on both arms too but i needed one hand to hold the camera.

but that shitassed night turned incredible, even though it still took a world of pain before it got there-- mark finally picked up on my 83rd call and it turned out he'd fallen asleep, not gotten drunk or murdered or run over by a car (all of which I'd thought were distinct possibilities). it took forever until i managed to find him, and dragging a screwed-up piece of 15kg luggage and your 12kg backpack through heavy, disgusting, beginning-to-be-slushy snow is not a piece of cake. i was ready to collapse with relief when i found them, and THEM it was-- a whole bunch of students from Lund, including the indomitable Amy, AND Mark. we ended up camping in a night kebab store instead of the casino as Mark'd originally intended and then I had help schlepping my luggage back to the station AND company on the way to the airport in the form of another Singaporean girl from Dalarna who Amy and friends had met in Kiruna.

Somehow things just work out :D

Oh and the next day was another nightmare because my phone ran out of credit firmly and I ended up being unable to find my family in Rome and having to drag my luggage all the way to my accom after waiting about 2 hours for them and not being able to contact them and being desperate enough to email, use Starhub and Singtel SMS and consider slamming my head on the table in morse code for S.O.S or "where the effing hell are you effing assholes" before my mum suddenly showed up in the doorway of the computer room and screamed "THERE YOU ARE". it turned out they'd waited like 3 hours for me, going without lunch and wandering termini station like mad, only to give up and go back to collapse upon beds and eat cup noodles, only to enter the room and find my bag and jacket and scarf thrown all over a bed and dash about looking for me since I was obviously somewhere in the building.


okay i didn't mean to go on and on and on but once i got started i... well, got started. it's like when you're carrying crap-heavy luggage once you've started moving you don't stop you know, or else it gets even worse when you pick it up again.


anyway, look what i found in my post-return-clean-the-damn-room-up-so-i-have-some-space-to-breathe:










i miss my Feste, my Olivia; even Aguecheek (i do think that smiley had quite a winsome touch).

hello Singapore! hello to crazy people who call me and say they're near my house (only they're not, they're at changi PRISON omg what was the insinuation huhuhuh) and ask me for directions and force me to come out of my house dressed in skanky tee and fbts smelling and looking like crap from a whole day of wiping 12 years' worth of dust out of the rafters and throwing three million things out, and then proceeding to abduct me and go on a joyride for food only to realise hot damn we both have no sg currency and to drive me home and try to parallel park before slurping boiling hot ayam noodles down and dashing off home again. hello to my miserable dog, which is suddenly the size of my thigh (eh i've put on weight but that basically means my dog got skinnier) because apparently my maid decided feeding the dog was an extraneous duty, secondary to rooting out a completely unwarranted shade of paint so that the living room is now bilious yellow instead of the orchid white which my mum and sis picked out and which is languishing in the backyard now or something; my miserable dog, whom i've been feeding as much as possible so that he will actually have energy to do the first thing i wanted to do when i came back to sg-- go to the park and play frisbee with him (yeah, it wasn't so much a "what do you want to eat first when you come back to sg" as "what you want to do first"). hello to blessed tarmac, i can't wait to meet your surfaces in running-shoed-feet; hello to rollerblades that i am sure have rotted and are falling apart but which i will test anyway first thing tomorrow today; hello to time to lose the four-now-three-kg i put on in sweden (it's more than that because i lost muscle mass, not just gained fat-- ARGH HOW TO RUN 21KM LIKE THIS YOU TELL ME HOW HOW HOW); hello to crazy boiling heat that's making me long for sentosa; hello to dance classes(!!!) as soon as i can muster up the courage to go; hello to goddamn showers that turn from lukewarm to boiling hot even when turned to the coldest setting; hello to a city where the sun never seems to set; hello to not getting hit on by random foreigners who are apparently blind to the fact that i am fat and ugly; hello to the opinions of otto fong, which i have to say i agree with, if grudgingly; hello to wandering out in shorts and still feeling hot, to a night i know the chinks and crannies of; hello to FRIENDS, whom i have missed sorely, and to birdsong i can recognise in the mornings, and oatmeal breakfasts, and cycling, and the promise of twenty-ten.

and hello to the sudden unquenchable longing for snow I have acquired, snow and a quieter world than this, snow and a lonelier place than here.

No matter where I went, my compass pointed west. I would always know what time it was in California.

As I know, Astrid Magnussen. As I know.
Posted at 5:49 AM