One year

A couple of days ago me and my lovely darling had our one year anniversary, we celebrated by being ill! Yay! Now it's the weekend and we're still both pretty crappy. But we love each other and take care of each other and cuddle extra much, as usual.

Being physically weak always makes me super sensitive and moody, and I end up thinking too much about small trivial things from my past. I think my shrink would have told me to be okay with thinking about difficult stuff but I really don't want to! So I end up listening to audio books, watching movies and TV shows and playing tons of games (especially the super cute Seabeard!) to drown out my thoughts.

While listening to books (the Joona Linna-books by Kepler and Mists of Avalon By Marion Zimmer Bradley) I've been knitting on a brioche scarf and matching mittens for a friend (who asked AGES ago), spinning yarn (as always) and drawing a LOT! And trying (again) to learn some Photoshop! Very rewarding and fun. Definitely balances up my sadness and moodiness a bit.

In a couple of weeks it's time for me to finally fix my tooth, an anesthesiologist has been booked and I will be in a drug-induced sleep during the procedure. It's super expensive so all of march will be in super-saving-mode. No excesses. But in a couple of months we're going to Stockholm! I'm so incredibly exited, it's not completely final yet but we're pretty sure we can make it. That means I might get to see my friend's play about Ayn Rand AND the Vivian Maier exhibition! And of course hug some of my favourite people on the planet! Yay!

Heavy days

What is it that makes certain days so much harder to get through? Could it be something as trivial as a bad tooth? Is it the antibiotics? Or the infection? The fight inside my body?

Or is it finishing The Shepherds Crown? Because now it really feels like Terry Pratchett is dead. Like The Discworld is dead. Like the portal to that place is gone and lost forever. And that place is one of my favourites. I love his last ten or so books. I like all of them but they did get better and better.

My feckin tooth. Let me tell you about it. In may, while in England, I got a crazy infection in my jaw. I went to a doctor who gave me antibiotics and told me to see a dentist as soon as I got back. I did, they immediately pulled out a wisdom tooth and gave me more antibiotics. They also told me I needed a root canal. However since I was moving to Denmark social services didn't want to pay for it.

So I moved to Denmark. I tried to figure out if I could still get the root canal in Sweden - if I paid for it myself - but I never managed to find out.

So the problem was that "me paying for it myself" meant that Chris pays. I knew that I had to find a dentist, my tooth was hurting more and more, I couldn't eat or drink anything colder than room temperature but I kept putting it off. I knew it was going to cost.

Finally I called the closest dentist. Just around the corner. I got an appointment and went in for a consultation and x ray. Yes, I needed a root canal. It would probably take a couple of go's. Fine. I came in for the first step of the root canal last week, got an injection of anaesthetics (the thing that makes you numb, not the thing that makes you fall asleep). They started to drill. I screamed. It was horrible. More injections. More drilling. More mind shattering pain. I was crying and apologising. They told me not to worry, we would try again on Monday.

On Monday morning I took a diazepam and a citodon. I went in, had 5 injections of anaesthetics (one in my jaw and the rest around the tooth) and then got to wait more than 30 minutes for them to kick in properly. Half my face was completely numb but, of course, the second that drill touched my tooth it felt like an axe hit my lower jaw. I was crying again. They stopped, because there was nothing more to do.

They told me to call my doctor to see if there was any way to figure out what was going on with my anaesthetic receptors, or something (the diazepam had me pretty lost at this point). I called my doctor and they said they could not help me at all (they literally said "this is not our problem" and I said "that is not helpful at all" and hung up). I called my dentist again and they called my doctor and then my doctors office called me and told me to come in an hour later. I slept for 40 minutes and then went to see my doctor, who talked to an anaesthetic...ologist? She told me that there was no way to find out why the anaesthetics didn't work (they had worked before, I have several teeth that have "mendings" in them) but they were confident that it would be possible to put me under (the only other time I've been under anaesthesia - the sleep kind, not the numb kind - was when I was 12 and had to pull out a tooth that hade grown out in the roof of my mouth, super freaky. The thing was that I got a double adult dose and it still took me hours to fall asleep). A lot has happened in medical science during the last 20 years, according to my doctor.

So. I'm sure my doctor told me some more stuff but I was too woozy to understand much. I went back home.

On Tuesday I didn't call anyone. In the evening I realized that I probably should have, but I wasn't sure who.

On Wednesday I called my dentist. They said that they can't do anaesthetics (the sleep kind) so I had to contact a specialist-dentist. I tried to process that information but felt confused and had no idea how to find a specialist. A while later my doctor called me (maybe she's a bit psychic?) and told me where to call and what to say. Today I called that specialist and got an appointment for a consultation for Monday. So we'll see what happens after that.

Until then I'm still in pain and my half-drilled tooth is not making me happy at all. My face is still swollen and everything feels completely horrible.

BUT! I have gotten a time at the psychiatry!

Small victories

I went to bed before three. I did an important thing. I beat my high score at a meaningless game on my phone. I finished "Enders game" on audio book and started on "Enders shadow". I really like them. I started on a realistic painting based on a selfie I took this morning. I focused too much on detail and now it looks wonky but I can probably fix it tomorrow.

Goodnight. 

The zone

My first two oil paintings took several days to complete. I started them (alternating between them to let paint dry a little between layers) on Sunday and finished them both last night. The third one I started today and finished today. The fourth one was a quickie to use up the paints left on the palette. Even though it was technically larger than all the previous ones. I'm in a frenzy. I can't not paint. Sometimes I need a short brake to not stare myself completely blind at the piece I'm working on so I knit a few rows but pretty soon I'm back to painting. Discovering oil felt like coming home, like finding the missing piece of myself, like the most fun thing I've ever done. I suddenly understand something that I can't explain. It sounds stupid I know but it's almost four in the morning and after finishing the third and fourth oil paintings I had to knit for like 40 minutes just to wind down.

I'm listening to audio books by Christopher Moore while painting and I love them. I finished welcome to night vale and the style and feeling remind me of Moore and John dies at the end in a completely delicious combination. I wonder if jdate has been recorded as an audio book. I have the actual book but there we have my 'concentration problem'; I need more than one thing to focus on or I start thinking about something else and forget what I'm doing. 

Now I really have to sleep. Can't mess up my sleep cycle again. (Or, it always ends up with me falling asleep between three and four when I don't really make an effort to keep it "normal"...)

Tomorrow I will eat the traditional bun with whipped cream and milk. It's totally weird. I'll explain tomorrow. 

The Magicians

"The magicians is to Harry Potter as a shot of Irish whiskey is to a glass of weak tea" George RR Martin said, according to the back of the book.

No. The Magicians is like a wine-fueled hangover, complete with regrets and misery and sex and awkwardness, plus REAL MAGIC, which isn't really much fun. It's painful and exhausting and powerful and very difficult. In comparison Harry Potter feels like a silly colorful children's book.

The fact that the characters (well, Josh) keeps making sarcastic jokes about Harry Potter is a sweet detail in this amazing web of people growing into bitterness and acceptance and adulthood.

On top of everything the language is absolutely beautiful.

You should read it.

New York, New York

So somehow everything I read at the moment seems to be about New York. Comics, books. I feel like I'm half there, in the city that has everything. Big and small lives in a tangle.

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles is a wonderful story set in 1938. It's shimmering like dusty diamonds, ice and cigarette smoke. Vibrant and gripping.

Octopus Pie by Meredith Gran is a funny and harsh comic about a group of people. I can't really say much more but there's a lot. Magical adventures, drunken mistakes, worries about love and money and drugs and cats.

Johnny Wander is another comic, by Ananth Panagariya and Yuko Ota. It's a biography-comic I guess? They make it about their life. It has cats and coffee and everyday stuff. It's very sweet and well made.

I love travelling and I dream about it all the time but NY is a city I never really found fascinating. It seems to have a magical magnetism but it never really gripped me. It seems too large and noisy and, well... I don't know. Not interesting? I dream about New Orleans and San Fransisco and ... Canada. I want to go back to Hawaii. Or... I don't know. The last year or so all travel has been so stressful that I hardly want to leave my room. I want to be here. I want to be here until june and then I want to get on a plane and go to Houston. And try to not totally freak out.

Garn! Och en flytt.

Jag ska flytta! Det gick väldigt snabbt från planeringsstadiet till konttraktsskrivande i nästa vecka. Det känns bra, det känns helt rätt. En tyngd lyft från mina axlar. En stressfaktor mindre.

Packade lite igårkväll och idag insåg jag ju självklart att jag ville spinna! Nu! Idag! För första gången på flera månader! Precis när jag packat ner sländan! Den där härliga känslan av att dra ut en tråd ur ett stort trassel. Eller kanske blanda lite bambusilke och handkardad ull från pappas får?

Men jag hoppar över det. Sländan får ligga kvar i kartongen. Jag kryper upp i soffan med Neil Gaimans "Fragile Things" (för att väga upp den sockersöta artonhundratalsromantiken), tända ljus, en kopp the... Och "chill"-låtlistan på spotify. (Tindrots "the och rökelse"-lista är alldeles för sorgsen!)

Idag hade jag planer, men mitt sköra psyke satte stopp för dem. Det är okej, jag har garn så jag överlever kvällen, men ingen frukost imorrn... Men det fixar sig säkert det med. Önskar bara att jag hade tagit den där promenaden. Har vart hemma, ensam, hela dagen. Det har varit vackert väder, men jag var hos Tindra igår och den här "jag-kan-bara-göra-grejer-varannan-dag"-funktionen verkar inte gå att stänga av.

Har i alla fall gullat en massa med katterna, som underbart nog pälsar av sig mindre än vanligt, så man kan klappa dem utan att se ut som en katt själv efteråt. Det kommer bli skönt att bo utan dem men jag kommer sakna dem också. De är söta.

Flytten känns som en välsignelse men när jag tänker på allt praktiskt runt den så får jag lite ont i magen.

Imorrn är det höstmarknad på skansen och det är en personlig favorit. Ska dit med mamma och Dina, och kanske får jag med mig ungarna om jag har tur.

Och min söta syster kanske kommer och hälsar på om ett par veckor!

Vilket virrigt blogginlägg. Oh well.

Sträckläst!

Kanske ser ut som en pigroman men döm inte boken efter dess omslag! Den är så jävla bra! Trovärdiga karaktärer och ett rikt språk!

Och otroligt romantisk... Hihi. "Överenskommelser" av Simona Ahrnstedt.

http://simonaahrnstedt.se/overenskommelser/

Nya böcker

Har precis fått hem "supertanten" av Elin Ek (Grynet!) och en bok om broderi! Underbart. Idag är en hemma-dag. Jobbar hemifrån och borde diska och så. Men har inte riktigt orkat sätta igång med något alls.

Imorgon ska jag ringa min läkare. Medicinen gör inte så att jag mår bättre alls. Håller på att tappa all kontroll igen. Är bara så trött. På allt. Undrar varför jag aldrig blir kallad till en psykolog? Har gått på antidepp i 2 månader... Avskyr det verkligen.

Ikväll ska vi i alla fall äta levergryta med mammas hemkokta lingonsylt. Nu ska jag dra på mig mina handstickade raggsockar och sätta igång med en rapport...

news or something

So I'll be coming to Sweden in ten days - the eighteenth of june. With my boyfriend. (Getting used to the word a bit. Even more, feeling very happy about it. He is amazing. Enough cheesiness!)

Anyways there will be giveaways of stuff, as I have mentioned, and I want to see everyone and get drunk every night and go to the beach and have bbq's and whatnot, but it's mostly gonna be sorting stuff. So yeah, now I've said that.

Bought Pride and Prejudice and Zombies today and now I'm gonna read it.

Working nine to six this week and it's SWEET.

Listening to: Richard Cheese on Spotify.

where am I?

It's been snowing today. Real snow. Our bin still has a thin lacing of snow on it. And it's been pretty sunny today, apart from the snow (and occasional hail). Really, this is not like Cork at all. Strange.

I bought Treasure Island on my way home. Seeing Treasure Planet made me very curious of it. I like the basic idea, and pirates. 

At the moment I'm making liver stew, after Mom's recipe. (Get well soon mom!!)

Listening to: Balkan Beat Box - albums Nu Med and self-entitled Balkan Beat Box.

happy ears

Best song right now: Balkan Beat Box - Joro Boro, from the album Nu Med.

Apart from loving that song I'm working, doing routers today. It's mind numbing.

I want to read. Lot's of books, right now, Robert Louis Stevensson's Treasure Island is pretty high up on my list.

Today the call center turns ten. Hooray. So does the carpet. Hooray hooray.

Nah, back to work.

sweet sugar candy

There is so much I want to do that I can't do, so much I want to say that I can't say. The frustration makes me sad and angry. And a bit passive aggressive perhaps. Or just aggressive. I don't know.

Last night Maria and I had a nice night in with pizza, cheese, wine and icecream. And Buffy, of course.

And Olof is moving in when Sara moves out. And Amelie is coming here next week. And Jojo. More of that at the house blog.

Och det spelar ingen roll om det var Bodströms förslag från början och han tekniskt sett inte är borgare. Jag bryr mig inte. Jag ändrar mig till "REGERINGEN" är dum i sitt gemensamma huvud och förtjänar bara att dö. Eller i alla fall bytas ut, snabbt.

Otherwise... Well, so much I want to do. But can't. Makes my skin electric, makes me unfocused and distracted.

Looks so tasty, tastes so sweet. Could never ever get enough.

Listening to loads of Alabama 3, just bought Puzo's The Godfather on sale and enjoying my day off, back on the couch as the slacker I truly am. Soon I'm off to town (again) to go to the bank and the postoffice and do some minor shopping and whatnot.

where does the good go

Iv'e had a serious low moodwise the latest week or so. Don't know why. Don't think it's pms. I feel tired of... something. I don't know what or why.

My only consolation is Transformers - the movie. I am kind of bummed out by the fact that no one wants to watch it with me though. They scowl and call me weird and I'm getting a little bit fed up with it. It was fun in the beginning, I like amusing my friends, but it's getting a bit ridiculous. This is who I am. I am a person who likes Transformers. (And transvestites.)

I bought books yesterday. Pretty shiny books. The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters by G.W. Dahlquist I started reading last night, and it seems good so far. Even though the authors name sounds swedish I beleive it is written in english. Very very good english. Almost to good. Almost. I almost get the feeling that the author is a little bit to obcessed by long witty sentences. But hopefully the book is good enough to survive that.

The other books I bought was The End of Mr. Y by Scarlett Thomas and The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes. All these books seem to be parts of some kind of new gothic/barrock wave... could some literary nerd please explaine to me where this comes from? Why, all of a sudden, a million billion books with suspense, mystery, bodices, wierd inventions, anti heroes and extremely cool design on the cover. Dream Eaters also have a very very fancy webpage, and The End of Mr. Y seems to have reaped great success on book blogs worldwide. (Yes, seems. I dont read book blogs.) So why? What started this trend?