On the road to somewhere

This time next week I will be in the hands of those who'll decide about my future, on the coast of northern Finland. I'm starting to build up this nervosity in the gut but I'm mostly quite excited about it.

Now then, who ruined this first?

It seems as if I am doing everything except the things I should be doing. I'm so tired of myself, I keep saying "yeah I need to shape up, can't go on like this forever" but still I don't. I don't change my ways, and maybe I never will? Meh, dunno.

Anyway I am going out for a walk and a big thinker about the absolute idiot that I am, then will I spend my time finishing this book I've started, I need to get it done with since I guess it's what I'm running from. Although there's a shitload of things I am running from at this point.

I'm such a downer, this is all a massive downer and mess. Sorry for this all you beautiful people out there. I really don't know why any of you keep clinging on to this fantastically hopeless page, but I have to say I am thankful.

Unknown land

I have to admit that I am afraid of what's to come, scared to death, just because it's unknown. I've come this far, and I have to say that I'm proud of myself, I'm really fucking proud of myself. But still, I'm worried, worried to the point of letting the stomach twist and turn, inside out, upside down. I feel dizzy writing this, and my head is still a mess.

Can I do it on my own? I have to do it on my own. At this point my hands are shaking.

Everything will be fine, right? I need to calm the fuck down, I tend to get too worried too soon, and I know everything will be fine. Nothing's written in stone yet, and I've come this far! They want me. I shouldn't let my dreams slip through my fingers that easy, I'm going to fight, and I'm going to win.

But I have to admit that I'm fucking scared of being on my own over there.

Geniussss Jamie T! Even if I hate clowns.

I ran out of time, I ran out of dreams, and now I'm in great trouble as it seems.

Give me something new! What do you want to know about me? Do you have something you'd like to share; a nice blog, an awesome song/album, a band I've completely missed out on, a great poem? Hit me with your rhythm stick.

*

She came to visit "the blue berk" today, that's what she called me. We took all of my tea and put it on the kitchen table, had a hard time choosing. Didn't really know how much tea I actually own; it's a lot I promise you.

Took a walk around the block aswell together, she moved out last week and doesn't live as close as she used to. I miss her, I miss that she's not around and that she's not as available as she used to be. She used to come 'round for tea or even dinner quite often but now I'll drink the tea by myself.

And also, the blues has come to an end, going back to completely black sometime soon.

Ain’t got time for suntanning, baby, I’m as cool as ice. Might pursue a career as a rapper? Got the bling, just need time to do my own thing. Nah, don't think it's a thing for me, though.

This little mate crawled cross my window yesterday; he looked quite lost but I guess he thought I looked lost aswell.

Two more from the roll, taken with my Holga a year ago.

The smell of new books and stinking malls

So I guess we're still alive...

Spent the day with dear mother, we went for a drive and ended up in a mall, looking in shops. Quite boring not to be outside on such a beautiful day. (The weather was perfect; not too hot, but still not cold)

I bought another notebook, really need to stop doing that since I've barely started writing in my Moleskine.

Remembered why I hate malls again; all the terribly sad children, all the tired parents and my mood after we've spent two hours in that stinking hot tin can.

*

I'm quite pleased with the book however; it's got the softest cover, in faux-leather, perfect size. It is lined though, so no drawing, might go insane. I'll just have to put my pen on anything else (haha might start drawing on paper napkins like I always did before) and put it in the book. Yeah I'll manage. New books and paper smells amazing, too.

A while back someone wondered how I sound when I sing, well here it is. I'm definitely not the best at singing, my guitar sounds really bad and it's not the whole song, but I enjoy doing it so I do it anyway, hah! Ignore the fact that I look bored as hell, too, but I don't quite like being recorded. Some time in the future I'd like to go to a vocal pedagogue, to develop my singing technique.

lilacs, apple blossoms and cocaine

I'm following small roads I've never walked before; it's quite exciting, not knowing where you are. Some of the pavements are so narrow I nearly hit my head in some branches hanging from low trees, I don't really mind though. I quite like this part of the year; the smell of lilacs flowing through the air and the pretty apple blossoms.

Listening to music, (pretending I'm in a music video as always; yes I do these kind of stupid things) I'm looking up at the sky, lip syncing to the current song, not noticing the surprised old lady walking the dog across the road - she must think I'm mental. This particular road is fantastic, with lilac bushes on each side of it, resting in the shadows of some tall oaks.

I break off a small twig from this apple tree; there's these wonderful blossoms at it, in the sheerest white and pink I've ever seen. At the time of my crime an old geezer drives past me at his bike, looking rather hard-mouthed. He stares at me, as well as I stare at him. I regret taking the twig for a while, even though the tree isn't actually standing at anyone's land.

When I get home I read the news; Peter Doherty jailed for six months for cocaine possession. My feelings are mixed - I'm both worried and relieved. He is a person I look up to (everything he has done), and my mind is with him. It is such a shame that those persons who seem to be some of the most intelligent, great-minded musicians and beautiful souls, have to waste it on drugs.

I will forever think of Peter Doherty when I see apple blossoms from now on.

A few days ago, in the freezer behind frozen meat, peas and other things, I found a roll I had forgot all about. I was unsure of the content though, but sent it to my developer anyway.

Today I got the photos back. Some of them are just shit (I must've left the camera in the B mode...) but some of them turned out good.

Here are the first three, taken with my Holga exactly a year ago.

Play me another blues and put me to sleep

There's a lot of things that occupy my mind these days; specially the fact that I've grown weary of the total obsession with material things and money. I can't bear it anymore; it has to stop. Explain to me why we have to be so dependent with money to socialize.

Other than that I can't seem to understand some people's acts anymore. I want to tell him
"Behave, behave, sir! That's not the manners of a gentleman!" I've told him off before but still he's in every corner of my life, surrounding me, not with the slightest insight of what I might think of it.

Also, she's always nagging, almost every day the past week "do this, do that, get a job" et cetera, I know I'm lazy and I should do something about it, but her nagging is such a downer; if there's something I hate it's applying for jobs.

Been trying to work at a song; however as always I have no patience at all. Still struggling with barre chords nine years later, I feel as if I haven't put enough effort in playing guitar.

A cuppa tea and some honesty to go with that, thanks

Blank pages filled with words without meaning, my head is another universe, a cup of tea all over my journal;

she thinks she doesn't deserve these friends she's got, but in fact she earns them more than anyone. People don't know you but they act like they do and that is what makes my head hurt. Just wanna shout fuck right off if you don't mind, you should stop trying to fix everyone else's lives because that doesn't make you a better person, mend your own pieces instead, fix that broken heart of yours, don't spill it all over me. I don't know you and you don't know me, even if you think you do.

Dishonesty is a cruel thing; if you mess around with it you will surely get a kick in the head. I try not to kid around when it comes to those things but I guess sometimes a lie is necessary.

We should begin with "hello" and end with "fuck you", like we always do.

So, I've made the decision to start write in English - how exciting! I'm letting the whole world peek inside my world, the strange ideas of an absent mind. The question of course is, how many of them will find their way here?

However, that's not quite the point of this blog (can someone please invent a new word because the word "blog" is quite horrid! Also, I don't genuinely think of this as a blog). Of course it's pleasant to get response about the things you achieve; but it's never required.

I think an introduction is in its place. I don't think I've ever introduced myself properly here, so it's about time!

My full name is Erika Eriksson. I've had a lot of comments regarding the name; the most popular is "Were your parents high?". I quite like my name though. In spite of everything, it is who I am. (Anyway, it's easy to remember)

I look like most people do; I've got two arms, a set of legs, a pair of eyes, a nose and a mouth. I think of myself as quite ordinary, not pretty, but not ill-looking either. I don't like to go to the hairdresser's, they always cut off too much hair or you end up with a haircut that's not even near what you wanted from the start. Last time I felt I had to cut my hair, I let a friend of mine cut it in my bathroom.

The thing I hold closest to my heart is music, I don't know what I would do without it. Most of the time, I am listening to something. I enjoy alot of it; from African traditional music, British indie, new weird America, northern soul, ska, garage, freakbeat, folk music, post rock, punk, to new wave and even further. I see no boundaries, only fantastic musicians. I also know how to play guitar and I'm able to sing.

I am a rather creative person. I draw, paint, take photos and try to make music at times. At high school, I majored in art, and I'm currently in the process of applying to a photography education at a school in Finland.

That's a bit about me then. Let's see how this goes!

Time to tell the whole world.

Let's try to do this in English, I think it's about time to.

Om att skriva.

När jag gick i högstadiet så skrev jag noveller, dikter och massvis av annat i anteckningsböcker och egentligen på allt möjligt som jag fick tag på, servetter, reklambilagor och kuvert. Det är inte mycket som finns kvar tyvärr. Älskade svenskalektionerna och läste ut böcker i takt med att jag bytte kläder.

På gymnasiet hatade jag min svenskalärare, vilket resulterade i väldigt kassa betyg.

Jag skriver inte lika mycket som jag gjorde för fem år sen, förutom i min dagbok, eller vad man ska kalla det. Gillar inte termen "dagbok". Jag skriver inte bara i den, jag samlar dikter, tidningsklipp, foton, och små teckningar. Anledningen till att jag inte skriver lika mycket har väl med att jag inte tycker att jag är bra på det. Min vokabulär är inte speciellt stor, och jag har inte många tjusiga ord att fylla ut mina texter med. Ibland kan det hända att jag skriver en dikt, men det betyder inte att jag tycker att den blir bra. Jag bara skriver den för att det känns rätt, eller något i den stilen.

En annan anledning är att jag inte tycker svenska är speciellt snyggt eller fint att skriva på. Jag föredrar engelska, och det blir ju så klart svårare då det inte är mitt modersmål. Sen så tittar jag mycket på andras texter och tänker "så där vill jag också skriva, det där är fantastiskt!", men lyckas aldrig få till det som jag vill.

Vad föredrar ni; skriva eller läsa?

I have a friend I've never seen, he hides his head inside a dream.

Cinnamon girl.

Önskade att jag fick se ut lite så här i sommar, med utsvängda jeans och fina träklackar. Min favorit är dock det vävda armbandet, så väldigt tjusigt och lite som de gamla gitarraxelbanden.

I never held emotion in the palm of my hand.

Dikten utan namn.

Du ringer - förklarar att du är på väg hem
ja du vet ju hur dom är
ja dom ville ta ett glas vin till
Men du, försök att inte vara så grinig
säger du och jag svarar att
jag har tråkigt, jag har tråkigt

(men du vet inte att jag har tråkigt för att jag är ensam)
Försök att vara lite glad
Ja ja jag försöker så gott det går
Låt det inte påverka någon annan
Nej nej
(jag ska stänga in mig och ni behöver inte prata med mig)

Hej hej vi ses snart
Jag smackar tyst med tungan,
himlar med ögonen och
lägger sedan på telefonen
Där är tystnaden igen

Lägenhetsinspiration.

Alla bilder från Weheartit.

Sex & drugs & rock'n'roll

För er som inte har sett den fantastiska filmen om Ian Dury - ni borde verkligen göra det.

Reasons to be cheerful.

Gårdagen började så otroligt dåligt, men slutade i glädjetårar och lycka. När jag tog in posten så hade jag nämligen fått brev ifrån Finland, närmare bestämt Novia som är skolan jag har sökt till.
Ladies and gentlemen, jag har blivit kallad till urvalsprovet den 7-8 juni och det känns så otroligt, nervöst, galet, underbart, lättande och mest av allt så jävla amazing. Min fina mamma ställer upp som chaufför och vi passar på att ta en liten roadtrip på finska kusten, och jag tänkte packa ner Sommarboken och läsa den under veckan i Finland - borde passa helt perfekt.
Men det nästan finaste är att Kim också har blivit kallad!

Blurred lines.

When I'm with you.

Brighton Rock.

Kom just hem ifrån stan efter att ha sett Brighton Rock, något som har varit mycket efterlängtat. Tyckte verkligen om den, även om den var lite annorlunda än vad jag hade tänkt från början! Det är svårt att slå fel när det gäller välklädda sextiotalsmän och brittiska accenter.

Liquidator.

Wind up dream.

Du kan inte anta att jag ska förstå om du inte förklarar.

Rebel girl, you are the queen of my world.

Businessmen drink my blood, like the kids in art school said they would.

Pretty things.

Vackra saker på väg hem till mig! Men det blir köpstopp nu, skärpning så att jag inte slösar alla pengar innan London... Det skulle ju vara just snyggt.

Under my thumb, a siamese cat of a girl.

Alltså, de är ju för fina. När jag skaffar katter (och då menar jag inte de där flotta Perserkatterna som min kära fader och hans missus föder upp, utan hederliga, sjukt söta bondkatter) så ska jag döpa en till Mr Jones - dels på grund av Brian Jones och dels på grund av Ballad of a thin man av Bob Dylan (Because something is happening here / But you don't know what it is / Do you, Mr Jones?).

Sedative.

Akvarell och bläck.

She expressed herself in many different ways, until she lost control again.

I/II

Detta är en av de två presenterna som jag köpte till mig själv, en svart fedora med brett brätte. Fick den på posten idag och den kunde inte vara mer fantastisk!

Lola.

En söndag i Taxinge.

Vi åkte ut till Taxinge där vi fikade och tittade på mysiga djur. En trevlig söndag, helt enkelt!