Caden Cotart: I don't think you should tell her she doesn't have blood...

It'll make sense tomorrow

Let's pop another blog post just because I am feeling genuinely happy and content right now and I don't know when that feeling will come around again [whine whine, desperate meta meta]. Fuck it. Let's jot down a few happy thoughts before they slip, nothing artistic, just basic thoughts. I got a compliment today from a dear friend slightly out of nowhere and I'm glad it wasn't delivered in person because I caught a glimpse of my face in my mirror across the room and it was bright red. So just jotting it down here - warmest feeling I've had in a long time. On another positive note, whatever I may have formerly expressed about the new Skyrim add on Hearthfire, I'm really excited about it. Whatever new for Skyrim is great for me. Just great. Following up on that, I've been thinking a lot about getting tattooed lately and I thought, what more suitable than the Skyrim logo? I mean hey, it's Skyrim, it's a dragon, it's gaming, it's grand. So yeah. Considering that. As my job goes, the owner of the shop, I think, is slowly realizing that opening an ice cream shop in mid August wasn't the best idea because we have just around three-four-five costumers per day and he is just losing money on having it. Today I had one - one - costumer in six hours. It is difficult as hell to look like you're doing something productive for six hours when you only spent about five minutes scooping ice cream. I'm just hoping that when he makes the cuts, I won't be the first to go. But back on the positives: I attended the massive Coldplay concert yesterday. Not because I really like Coldplay but because my dad had a ticket and it was free so why the fuck not? And really, even though I can only sing along to two-three songs, it was all worth going alone to experience the show. There was just bright lights and giant glowing balloons and confetti and fireworks everywhere. Everyone wore these wristbands that would then light up during the show in different colours. That's 40000 people each with a bright light attached to them. It was honestly breathtaking. So thanks to dad for that one. Back on the meta plan, this feels like writing a damn diary. Which it kinda is. 4pi3jtefoij4qrwek. Noone cares. Well. That was just emptying my head a tad. Thanks to Jack for a mention and three great hours, robbing me off my sleep. Thanks to Alexander for that damn compliment, man. That is just so okay. HNNNNG. Thank to, by the way, Amanda for telling me when to shut up and go home at the right time. Thanks to my mom for giving birt- okay, stop it now. Just stop.

NERDgaSM

So I'm on the live chat with 1200 other biches, desperately tweeting @jacksfilms to get my little touch of my pt. greatest inspiration. 10 minutes or so into the chat, he goes "My mom think's you're handsome" and my heart stops. My tweet. "Says Arhren-ahrern-ze Andersen on Twitter, thank you, appreciate it". Heart still stopped. I've hung around online for three hours, chat still going, heart still isn't. I'll be able to live on this high for days, weeks. Six weeks. Till my Tobuscus hoodie arrives. I feel like such a YouTube whore. But I am. But it's not a bad thing. It's what makes me happy really. It's one of the few things that get me excited lately. YouTubers talking about... themselves. And their stuff. Being hilarious. And I get awfully excited about shit that doesn't matter but at least I can keep a conversation going with my little brother. And I'll stay up all night and drool over these live chats and nerdgasm over hearing my own name. It's okay, I reassure myself. It's okay. It makes you happy. And if it helps anything - nobody reads your blog or cares either way.

Don Draper: Let me ask you something: What do women want?
Roger Sterling: Who cares?

knif you and spry you with bullits

Jeg har brug for at blive trukket lidt ned på jorden. Jeg er blevet rigtig god til at gå helt op i en spids og løbe rundt i cirkler, til jeg har fået blæst noget så langt ud af proportioner, at jeg er ved at kaste op over det. Jeg vågner op klokken ti og tripper rundt i huset til klokken halv fire, hvor jeg skal på arbejde. Intet produktivt kan foregå, fordi jeg skal afsted. Nervøsiten stikker i brystet og vibrerer i føddere, selvom der intet er at være nervøs over, jeg har været der mange mange gange nu, jeg kan jo godt finde ud af det. Det er abearbejde. Jeg forsøger at undgå at starte alle mine sætninger med 'jeg', fordi ingen skal tro, at jeg er selvoptaget. Der var fire 'jeg'er i den sætning der. Slap nu af. Jeg lover min mor at udføre helt enkle husholdningsopgaver som at tømme opvaskemaskinen og at støvsuge i stuen, men jeg ligger på min seng og ruller rundt med møl i maven og kan ikke foretage mig noget konkret. Ikke engang på mine fridage. Jeg kigger konstant på uret, som kravler mod klokken seks, og så kommer hun hjem, præcist som hun havde sagt, hun ville, og så har jeg intet gjort, fordi jeg havde travlt med at holde øje med uret. Og jeg har intet lavet. Intet produceret. Intet at huske dagen for. Jeg skal ned på jorden igen med hjælp fra de ting, der er mine for øjeblikket. Foals hjalp med at sætte mig igang med at skrive nu, mere pludder der ikke skal læses af nogen, fordi det ikke har noget formål og heldigvis heller ikke behøver at have det. Jack hjalp mig i en time i dag med at grine og hæve humøret og med at få mig til at føle mig som en del af noget vigtigt. Toby hjalp mig i nat ved at synge for med mig. Det var vist nok en drøm.  Godt jeg ikke skal stå til ansvar for nogen eller noget. Og jeg skal ikke bekymre mig om at gøre noget forkert. Eller skamme mig. Her, i hvert fald. Men jeg skal på arbejde om en time og halvtreds minutter. Trippe trippe trippe.

I was about to suggest that very thing

Nu havde jeg efterhånden fået et behageligt forhold til at kalde mig selv "arbejdsløs" (ikke rigtig, faktisk, hvis nogen spurgte, så var jeg ikke arbejdsløs, så var jeg "lige blevet student"). Det fik jeg ikke lov til længe. Fordi, for helvede, jeg har sguda fået job i en isbutik. Inde i byen endda, på Enghavevej. Isbutik/tatoveringsfjerningsklinik, endda. Så nu skal jeg til selv at tjene penge. Helt tosset. Lille mig. Ansvar og sådan noget. Men nu ser vi, det skulle gerne være ret ligefrem. "Har du noget erfaring i isbranchen?" "Nej, det kan man ikke ligefremt sige." "Det er okay, det har jeg heller ikke!". Så det går nok. Og endnu vildere, standbyplads på film- og mediefag på KU. Det er direkte latterligt. I de godt to år, jeg har været opsat på at komme til at have med film at gøre, har det altid heddet sig at "hvis man dog bare kunne komme på KU, så ville det ikke være så indviklet", men det har aldrig været inde for rækkevidde. Specielt ikke efter 4 i SRP'en. Men så var det der sgu alligevel. Og Rune, det søde væsen, vil gerne slå skinkerne sammen med mig i en lejlighed i København. For helvede, hvor blev jeg lige voksen meget hurtigt. I lyset af det har jeg i dag siddet og set fem afsnit af Project Runway og spillet fire timers Dawnguard, spist mors hjemmebag og liiiiige kunne tage mig sammen til at stikke tallerkenen i opvaskeren bagefter. Det der voksen. Jeg skal no blive det. Det kommer jo nu.

Robert Graysmith: Does anybody ever call me names?
Paul Avery: What, you mean like retard?
Robert Graysmith: Yeah.
Paul Avery: No. 

liginamite

I'm watching my girlfriend sleeping. Not in a creepy way but I'm not tired at all so I'm just watching her. Okay, perhaps a tad creepy. Jack (is a nerd, J-Jack is a nerd, J-J-J-J-J-Jack is a nerd, nailed it) hosted his weekly live chat today, it begun around eleven and my girlfriend open-mindedly accepted that I really wanted to join, not knowing that it would go on till 1.30am. I think she fell asleep quite quickly but it was sweet of her to watch along next to me for a while. Several times during the live chat, she woke up and rolled around, ending almost on top of me which made the 'be silent and don't laugh because she might wake up'-thing a whole lot harder. Right now her knee is pointing straight upwards which I cannot imagine to be comfortable at all even though it looks kind of glamorous. She even has her hand strategically placed on her chest, keeping the blanket up and blocking me from taking a peek. I wonder how she does that. Just a minute ago, her elbow was pointing straight upwards as well but then she made some kind of pig-noise and now she's on her back. It's oddly fascinating.  It's almost like she knows I'm staring at her. But then I doubt she'd snore like a pig. And WOWOWOW now she did that zombie thing again where she wakes up and stares at me but doesn't reply when I ask her if she's awake. It's like she sees right through me. So creepy. WELL. Time for sleeps. Before she consumes my brains.