I need to do the dishes
So after I post this I will get my butt in the kitchen
And donno play some humbug and get the kitchen nice and clean

Also I need to go running but my stomach hurts
but how will I then train to be able to run 42 kilometers in just about a month huh
How guys



cool stuff i guess

there is just this feeling about sundays

I took a picture in the elevator mirror at 4.23 last night. I suppose I was in bed a little before 5. 

At nine I woke up and thought oh no hangover but not really. I only had a few beers. So finally a night where I more or less drink responsibly (of the few nights I do happen to go out). Other things made me feel as if the night had never happen.

I must have not made any sense when we finally got in to babel; a guy who worked there came up to me and said things about water and sitting down and I just held on to Sidney and said "it's cool I'll be with my friend" and I think the guy said "well we'll keep and eye on you" and so it felt as if I was watched all night. I was just so thirsty the whole time. I remember thinking "just a few more songs and I can get some water" or "you cant possibly die from dehydration tonight sofia". Also I focused more on how hot and thirsty I was rather than the music and the act. Must learn to not be so gone so that getting a jacket in the garderob or whatever isn't a difficult task and so I can dance and enjoy music without being that one person with a jacket in the middle of the dance floor. I mean I guess it was cool but I wish I could do it all over again. But that's not how it works and the present moment is the only one available and well I suppose I need to think about the things I do and their impact on my well being and happiness and whatnot. 

Glad we went last night. But hard to let go of stupid past and remain in present. 

Its stupid to regret not having taken a selfie with this one guy. 




some tickets

second or third or whatever day of the year

watched some cheesy movie with mom and the deep deep feeling of längtan took over my chest

i miss having an email in my inbox with a pdf file of a flight to somewhere unknown
maybe even somewhere ive been but
somehow still full of new experiences
or perhaps old ones, ready to be re-explored

must travel
must go see new places


Things I like

-oven roasted parsnips 
-oven roasted sweet potato 
-fresh water in the morning
-oven roasted carrots 
-reading for hours in the morning
-Geordie shore
-dark beer or whatever it's called
-not smoking 
-putting a fire on (obviously in a fireplace)


Today i finished Bridget jones's diary

And I cannot help but think and write like she does. 

Tired, must sleep. 
Hungry, must sleep then eat.




1. My dad is most likely moving to Mexico for an extended period of time and I don't know how I feel about it. Maybe I'm numbed by the fear that I won't actually see him very often or maybe I've accepted that he simply has another life and he can leave me behind if he wants to. ( :( )

2. Today I technically ran my first long run in prep for my first full marathon later in the spring. I'm very excited. I loved training for the half-marathon I ran in San Francisco, and I needed another big race, so I signed up for Paris last night; hopefully I can book a place to stay before it gets more expensive than it already is.

3. Thinking of it now, I will actually really miss my dad.

4. I need some money.



I've started using semicolons; have you noticed?

Somehow my actions are narrated in my own head when I know I need to write. I've been narrating for a while now, so here you have me.

I've been awake since a little before three; me, who thought I had finally won the battle over this stupid jet-lag. I think I woke myself from light sleep, therefore I felt quite rested and not sleepy when I opened my eyes. I clearly remember what I was dreaming: I was telling someone about the time I had really done my face in falling over a car, bruising my nose and hurting my lips, and how Peter had manged to get it all on video. As I raised my arm to show it on my phone, I woke up.

Perhaps it was because my room was so light? I hadn't shut the blinds like I usually do; unlike the U.S., streets are very well lit here, specially in central areas, and since my room faces a big intersection, there's quite some light shining in, even at night.

I must've rolled around in bed for a little while before I decided to check the time. I kept telling myself; "don't look at your phone, try to sleep". But I felt so awake. I don't understand how this happened, my jet-lag seemed to be getting so much better; I didn't wake up in early hours yesterday or the day before (although I was waking up rather late). I gave up, checked the time and was surprised that it was still so early, I had hoped that it was at least five or so, but it was not even three. I heard someone get up and use the bathroom; someone, because I can usually tell who it is by the sound of their feet against the wooden floor. Today I wasn't so sure; both Mom and Alex wear slippers inside and whoever it was who got up was bare foot; heavy, slow, sleepy, tired feet. My guess was that it was mom. But maybe it was Alex. I guess I'll ask later today: "Who got up last night to pee? I couldn't tell from you footsteps".

Alexander once (or maybe twice, I'm not too sure) told me that his dad (or perhaps it was his mom, maybe even someone else) had told him to drink a glass of milk and a banana if he couldn't sleep (to be honest, Alexander was always having trouble sleeping when we were still together, so I'm not entirely sure this technique works (if it even works at all)). I have eaten a banana and drank a glass of milk countless of times ever since he told me, but today I was hungry and not too keen on a banana (even if I love bananas). Mom bought me a box of Paulúns oatmeal mix with delicious diced dried apples and cinnamon at Överskottsbolaget yesterday, and so I made some of that. Absolutely perfect on its own with cold milk (yes, I know, I need to stop drinking milk). I poured myself a glass of cold water from the fridge and took my bowl of oatmeal and the glass back to my room. Sitting on my bed, I ate my oatmeal and drank my water as I scrolled through Instagram.

It's been a few hours since then; I read "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" for a while till somehow I got hungry again; I have in fact now eaten two bowls of Paulúns with cold milk and it's as of now 5.36 in the morning. I put on spotify a few paragraphs into this text, but it's hard to find music to fit the mood of now. My "sad" playlists have beautiful beats and lovely voices, but I'm not sad, and not very eager on feeling the way I always do when Bon Iver and that sort of music plays. Right now it's Veronica Maggio's Sergels Torg but it's not hitting the spot.

I shall finish this by playing music that makes me think of you, Raúl.




and somehow i have managed to think of you a little too often since i last saw you.

i will miss you most.

i love you, my oldest friend.