G’day! I’ve been re-reading the 4-Hour Body to be able to sleep and so far it’s working out great. Had three naps today, studied, worked out, did my laundry yadda yadda….
There are things you know make you happy – and yet you stall them. But you feel sort of hollow and weird without them. So I’ve started going back to the basics of what makes me happy. I like being coziness. Knowing in the moment that I can trust the person I’m spooning with. I like eating really delicious sorbets and mousses. I like watching Barcelona play, even when it’s not the Clásico. I like memorizing the grammatical structures of beautiful languages. I like reading German books out loud without having any idea of what I’m saying. I like dancing in my underwear. I like swimming in the rain.
Oh, the sweetest things.
They really are that simple.
Stockholm, November 2011
Copenhagen, July 2011.
Barcelona, October 2010.
Some days, you just know you’re looking good.
There’s really not much to say about last night. We ate at Art. I devoured a beef medallion with fries sans vegetables.
Confidence shone through last night. Highest level of scandalous suggestions, compliments and marriage proposals to date, felt nice.
Emilia had an unquestionably gorgeous dark lip color.
Then we drove in the party van to Qué Pasa… yet again.
We had heard that they were not letting anyone from the Swedish school in. So some degree of worry was among us.
But of course we got in, because we know the staff and managers. But I felt sorry for the rest of the school who froze outside at times. Jameson and Cuba Libres. Remixes of Teenage Crime and Levels.
A nice, subtle evening.
Some drama with fighting and whatnot. I stayed out of it. And then after some girl-talk, I slept in Emilia’s room. And I SLEPT. My theory is affirmed! At the moment – I need to sleep next-to someone I feel safe with in order to enter sandman. Come to think of it, I remember having this problem when I was younger as well. Not being able to sleep and then asking mom to hold me. I then went to sleep in a matter of seconds and then she went to her bedroom when I fell asleep.
I should have people just hanging out in my room until I fall asleep. Or get Jojjo to bring me my giant Pooh Bear bear to cuddle up with. Oooh she’s coming in three weeks!
A lot happened in these past 24 hours. We’re headed out hit Nairobi’s nightlife once again… So this will be a quick post.
Circumstances have reaffirmed my belief that us young adults, are those who have, are and always will be the greatest game changers. Older people who haven’t done things with their lives will always tell you you can’t do something because that justifies their choices of non-action. But I’m going to take action. And my naivety is as most weaknesses are – my greatest strength. Except for alcoholism. I don’t think anyone can use that as a power.
Oh yes I am. Ann posted new pics of me to facebook yesterday and I realized I’m like Rusty from Ocean’s Eleven; constantly eating but somehow in good shape. My auntie once said fatkarma would probably hit me after the teens and I would suddenly just bloat like a balloon.
But fatkarma hit me the other direction. I eat exactly the same as I did before (if not more) and my structure is getting slimmer yet curvier in a nice way at the same time. Feels weird. Might have an impact on my thyroid and whatnot, but feels nice on the outside. The same goes for alcohol. Visibly I might be fine, but some shit is bound to make my liver work harder.
Oh I miss darling Agnes. And Italian gelato artigianale.
In Nairobi, Nairobi, Kenya.
omg you people make me facepalm.
madrid stood no chance of winning, not tonight nor any other night against barcelona – especially not in the camp. and girls, ronaldo isn’t even that good looking. look at piqué – now that’s a real lady boner. also i hate you lucky bastards who don’t need to stream it on kenyan internet. and happy birthday to Xavi – this clásico is his 666th game for barca
MAN OF THE NIGHT: ALVES
Pedro, Piqué, Puyol, Fabi, Xavi. Lady boner galore.
NOSOTROS TE QUEREMOS; MOURINHO QUEDATE!
“Take care of you Mourinho, we love you!” This was the Camps song of the night. We used to sing “sal del banquillo” but I think I prefer this new hit. The big question is still if Mourinho really is leaving Real this summer. Considering rumors of fall outs with defender Ramos and striker Ronaldo, it is getting evident that Madrid’s team spirit isn’t up to par with him on top. Alves’ goal was the best, and the second best of the night was Abidal and his victory dance (0:28 in the video).
Epic victory dance
Cesc head-to-head with Xabi. Enjoyed that a lot.
The Piqué-levels in my life are too low.
Oh, Barcelona. You make me so happy and yet I make far too little time for you. But when I do, my heart sings with almost every move you make.
… more like why I don’t make “what I wore today”-posts. Today I wore a plain white tee that I got courtesy of Amsterdam Airport for delaying my flight. I got the jeans from a friend who bought it in a hippie-store in SoHo. I got my earmuffs and phone from one of my best friends. And the heels are from Mr. Price, a low-price convenience chain in Kenya.
So, unless you feel like going through all that ^ to dress like me – I say we stick to nice pics of what I ate/saw/did.
IF I were to make such posts it would be underwear, because I do wear some mighty interesting underwear. (Think top and bottom mixtures of Marvel Comics, Victoria’s Secret Pink, The Cookie Monster and Agent Provocateur). That would be nice… Also, I feel no matter what I wear – I look better in my birthday suit
Breakfast by the pool: Swedish Kladdkaka with whipped cream…
In Mueang Krabi, Krabi, Thailand.
Original postdate: 18/12/2011 @ 18:11
You should listen to this whilst reading this post.
We woke up in our quaint bungalow. After some lemon juice and club sandwiches, the eccentric German that is our host, Ollie, gave us a pamphlet with activities. In terms of beaches there were two options: Coconut Beach – a near-by beach, easy to find, in walking distance, easy option. And then there was the Secret Beach. Hard to find, 20 minutes by bicycle, then some mountains, then some more mountains and then a cliff and then you need to find a rope that leads down there from one of the shrubberies. With tidbits in the instructions such as “you won’t think it’s there, but trust me – it’s there!”
So of course, we went to the Secret Beach.
Call something a secret anything and people will be interested. I guess that was one of the great marketing strategies of THE Secret. I think I’ll just start calling everything a secret. No one knows I have a secret blog at marshmallownipples.com for example… You want to click it, don’t you? Just to see if it’s true. Anyways, after riding the bikes until we were disgustingly sweaty we arrived to this:
I couldn’t remember the last time I saw something this beautiful. I couldn’t remember the last time I rode a bicycle. I couldn’t remember the last time I was this happy. You see the cliff there? I sat there for a good 20 minutes thanking everything for being so awesome. Hippie-level 98. And then we swam and were silly. And then I asked Filip to take some nudes.
And then a crab stole my ring. I leaned back against the cliff. I dropped my ring in a hole. And then I tried taking it back but the hole was guarded by a crab who cut my finger in defense. True story.
Schneaky pictures are very sneaky. Probably the only picture I have of him that’s normal. Except the schneakiness.
I had a dream last night. You were in it.
I flew from Nairobi with a random outgoing girl called Efva Lagerton or something. She had big curly almost fro-like orange hair. Very tall and skinny. I told her I had no idea where I was supposed to go once we arrived – so she offered to let me stay at her apartment. Which turned out to be a very upperclass version of the Paper Street Soap Company. Smelled like Chanel No. 5 and wine – warm from so many upperclass kids walking back and forth in there. High ceilings, chateaux-like design and these giant rooms with the haute couture clothing in piles or giant beds where people just lied down in their drunken states.
I didn’t belong.
And then I saw you in the corner of what used to be a dining room that was now a shisha-gathering and I asked Efva if you were [name]. I tell you we should take a walk immediately. No affection, no endearing “I’ve missed you”s, no nothing. We just walk out. It’s quiet and I talk about guy-problems (that I really don’t have, I’m just really bad at making girl talk).
Anyways, the dream ends up with us standing in the corner of main street. You look at me weirdly. You kiss me goodbye on the cheek. I kiss you goodbye back on the cheek. Come on – we can kiss on the mouth – we’re friends! Ha-ha. So we pretend kiss. And then we pretend kiss some more. Until we’re just kissing. You stop. You look me in the eyes and tell me how you feel about us.
I catch the next flight to Beijing with Efva, somehow my new best friend. On the plane, she asks me what happened. And I tell her I felt nothing. Such a relief.