One day older

Tomorrow I will be one day older than today
and one year older than last year
and 23 years older than when I was born.

Fair enough…fair is enough

After an intense start to this year; moving, searching, moving, unpacking, constructing (built half an IKEA-catalogue in my new flat) a stubborn flu and finally, starting to study, a lot of things began to suffer, my weight for one…and my shape as well.

So today I went to the gym, got myself a good deal, new program and health check every six weeks; meaning I will actually be able to read my muscle increase (as opposed to just feeling it). All values were good, but my general shape was fair, according to their unproportional scale (and no, it was not I who gave that denomination to the scale, but rather the trainer, who said she never ever gets any one on the top of the scale).

Fair enough I thought, I’ve been out of rhythm for a while, away from exercise and movement. I’m in fair shape, which only leaves room for improvement. Improvement is encouraging…and encouragement is motivating and motivation is just what I need to pull this semester off.

Fair is enough, because it can really only get better.

Somebody hit the lights?

Early evening view from my livingroom window...

...I London

Lars Winnerbäck säger det bäst...

Här är alla lika övergivna
Ensamma, synd om oss
Här går man inte runt och hälsar på
man måste ringa först
man måste boka tid
man måste skynda sig
man måste skärpa sig
man måste komma in
i Stockh.... eller nej förlåt: i London
en stor stad...som alla andra

Jag går inte långsamt längre, vem hinner det?

A midnight runner?

I’ll try to paint the picture. Knee long, thin coat tied at the waist, large trousers, weighty boots and a hat with earflaps. Quite a tall, well built man running up the street and rounding a lamp-post and then continuing running down the street again. It looked heavy, like a child in oversize shoes. I really wonder what in the world he was doing, but I guess that’s just your average, normal midnight runner…

This is just a different carnival

I am in London, back in academia. In Cádiz there is a carnival. And here I am, breathing literature, eating words and dreaming news-headlines. I already have a crooked middle finger on my right hand, because I write so much. Achievement is the goal; focus is the mean, ambition the fuel. My bookshelf is a fiesta of information, in my head it’s still mostly chaos.

Carnival is a celebration, before the harsh reality sets in, before joys are sacrificed. Cádiz was my carnival even without a grand, collective dress-up party. But I am feasting on knowledge… so for me this is just a different kind of carnival.

Put on your dancing shoes…

Today it is definitely an art walking down the streets of London and pure comedy seeing people’s approaches to snow. It’s either a deeply troubled face trying to find the least wet way across the melted snow on the roadside, or someone with a deep crease of concentration on their forehead (trying not to fall) or, the last, and most pleasant alternative a person with a childishly happy smile pasted across the visage.

London is quiet and empty and closed; like a car-free Sunday (highly unlikely in any other weather). But today there is snow…and more snow.

So we are waiting for it to stop, for the city to get up and running again. And I want to sign the contract to my new flat. Snow is stopping me from doing that as well. The new landlord is stuck outside of the city and we are stuck waiting. It’s my destiny to wait, even though I have no patience. The world is telling me to wait. Please God, I promise not to forget to appreciate what I have once I have it. I even appreciate the thought of it.

But snow is to calm you down, and slow the pace, stop running for once. Ok, I give in, I’m passive (whatever that is?). I put on my dancing shoes and walk the streets of London….because there is nothing else to do.