One day at the time

Right now I’m pretty tired. The third day in as many days that I’ve worked the closing shift. And I’ve got to work tomorrow all day as well. My brain is tired right now. I’m tired. But also very content. I’m happy to be alive. I Love my job. Today have been a mix between cleaning up in the Fantasy-Sci-fi-Horror shelf, so that I next week can start on the whole project of going through the other shelves and pick out the good stuff that have gotten to some other shelf when it shouldn’t. Nobody have really done anything in this genre the last few years. So I’m doing it.

I’ve also been working on the booksale, a whole years collection of books that have done their duty on our shelf. We can’t throw it all away when we need new space, so apparently, a whole week of the year, we sell it of at a low price, and we use the money for new books. A few at least. We sell them REALLY cheap. But working with that involves a lot of dragging dusty boxes through the basement and heavy lifting. Worked there for about 3 hours today.

But the best today was when I got to talk to an old lady who grew up in Japan. That was awesome. We talked for 30 minutes about the food, the loss of the language when we don’t have the opportunity to use it here, Japanese popular culture, and things we miss. Love it that the conversation was both in Japanese and Swedish.

The rest of the evening I’m going to try reading for a while. But I think the bed does have the advantage on me. *yawn* But first I’m going to listen to an old favourite. I loved the first time I heard it, and whenever I’m happy and in a Japanese flow I always end up humming to this tune..

Reciting, Reflecting, Reading, Reacting. Love.

Found out this morning that April is the month of Poetry. Or maybe I did know it before. It felt like old news, but I hadn’t stopped and reflected on it before. I did so this morning, and yeah, it kinda makes sense, I’ve been listening to a lot of poetry these last couple of weeks. Here is one.

And then I got to work. Read a few stories in preparation for tonightst big event where I was supposed to read a few aloud to the few that dared to stop life and sit down and listen to something. I had loads of stories from different books prepared, but in the end, only had time for two. Not that it seemed to matter. I can keep the ones I didn’t have time to read until the next time. Because there will be. But next time, the theme will be about travelling and discovering. It’s going to be great.

All in all, it’s been a great day. A bit of slow morning, and then work. I missed it for those few days I’ve been away. I like going to work because of awesome colleagues and interesting people and tasks. And just because Tennant was the guy reciting this morning, when I discovered that the poem month was nearly over, and I have the biggest crush on him. Here is something else.

Homecoming Queen

I got home last night. Nothing to eat, so got out and got some food. Found Teapot on a bike, stayed to chat and gossip for a while, but then I got home (again) and what a glorious feeling. Being in my own place, it is pretty spectacular. I curled up in the couch with a cup of tea and just enjoyed being home last night. I unpacked part of my stuff, but then I got no further.

I loved being in the big apple, saying hello to mum, watching the cherry blossoms in the park with friends, sitting in the sun and drinking tea with another, it is a good life. But at the same time, I missed my flat where I’ve got my stuff where I like them. Where I can run around a whole day in pyjama. Where I can sit and read in the couch for how long as I want to without my sister waking up and deciding to watch the telly. I love how my flat actually doesn’t get up to 30 degrees because it’s sunny outside. Mom loves the heat, and the house is designed around that. Which makes me sweat just thinking about it.

I love my mothers garden where some new treasure may always be found. I love the chaos that comes with a mom who got a million things on her mind, a husband who loves technology, three siblings and a dog. Things never stop happening. And there is always something going on, something giving of sounds, something moving. The kitchen turns into a mess with a five minute window, Mom’s cooking leaves me breathless, and I just sit there soaking in the love that surrounds the whole house. But I kind of like my own space as well. I love having a quite corner where I can sit and read without anyone disturbing, my own bed, at mom’s place I’ve got a couch.

I don’t think I’m complaining, but rather, I try to show that love both styles of life. Both the hectic chaotic life of family that never stands still. And the simple, slow life of a librarian who loves to spend evenings in the sofa with a book and a cup of tea.

Ying and Yang. Balance. *Bows deep*

Mother nature.

Spent a few days up here in the big apple with family. In itself is kinda awesome. I’ve had time to rest and relax. Being bathed in the love only family can give. I’ve read 2 books, one old, one new. Both really good. I’ve gone for a walk in the forrest with mother and her dog. I’ve gone visiting the churchyard and said hello to family and friends on the other side. I’ve woken up early, gone to bed with wine spinning my head. I’ve gotten sunburn and my neck still hurts. I’ve talked for hours with Boobie (a friend, not the body-part).  I’ve sat in the hidden oasis of a buzzing part of town. I’ve eaten ice-cream in the sun, and meat from the grill with potatoes and love. I’ve teased my siblings, and hugged them alot. Miss them even if I can’t wait for them to grow up and do grown up things instead of running around and annoy the hell out of me. I’ve had my fingers in the dirt and felt the power of the earth and Mother nature. I’ve hug my little granny and sung songs of praise both to the Lord, since he managed to be the first christian Zombie. Rejoice!

I’ve eaten until I’ve hardly been able to breath. I’ve drunk loads of wonderfull wine and beer. I’ve bought books and spent a wonderful morning in my favourite bookshop, just being happy for being alive. I’ve sung even more songs of praise to the alcoholic beverages as a part of an oral tradition that we have in Sweden called Nubbevisor. I’ve helped mom with a waterfeature in her garden.

I have a few things left to do before I go back home to my small town. I stll have to meet another one of my friends. We are going to exchange books, I get back some of mine, and she’ll get some others of mine. I might help my mother again with the waterfeature, re-arrange the whole thing instead of just trying to path and mend. I still have to try to find my Enigma (yes, another friend) and see if she is available for a cup of tea. I’m still going to just be thankful of my wonderful family, and the very relaxed but catastropich chaos that reigns supreem in mothers house. I love the dishwasher and her cooking. I love that I can be here and don’t have to care about going for walkies with the dustbunnies back home. Even if the dog here does fill the same position.

The journey begins.

It’s time now. Time to go home. Or rather, go back home to visit family. Easter and all. I’m going by bus, and apparently a new co-worker, let’s call him The Clone, because we have one already at work with the same name, is going to be on the same bus for other reasons.

 

Things I need to Do before I Go

Water my plants
Make bentou
Pack a bag with stuff I need
Make my bed
Eat breakfast

Things I DON’T need to DO before I GO

The last dishes
Write a post on the blog and waste time
Decide what books to bring (I’m going to buy many many MANY books up there)
Watch another episode of Sliders

The plan is to have a plan tomorrow.

I’ve been having the best day. Long, but still great. There have been some palm-readings, some tarot-readings. Paintings and making my hair stand on edge, and I still have to brush out the mess. But I’ll do that tomorrow. Right now I’m tired and since I’m getting up extra early tomorrow, I deserve to not do it tonight.

I’m nearing the end of book 4 in the Harry potter suite. Listening at bedtime, as a alarm-clock, and when I cook or putter around in the kitchen is great. I’m going to be away for the weekend and visit family. If I could chose, Easter would be abolished. I just don’t get it. I love the candy, but I love candy all year around and don’t wait around for it to eat as I want. The bunnies and eggs doesn’t make sense. But I love the tradition about the witches. But that’s only because I love the magic.

And here is something that’s been stuck in my head all day.

On the subject of poetry and crying.

I’m not one of those who believes to think I know anything about music.I’m not in tune with whatever the kids listening to today. I don’t get most of the modern music. It’s just not my thing. And my thing is a lot. I love how a song played on two cellos can make my eyes mist, and how getting tickets to a concert with a favourite composers could make a whole summer. Music is meant to touch something in you. Otherwise we wouldn’t listen to it. Otherwise we wouldn’t spend so much time searching for that perfect sound.

Ignoring the signs. Reading the future.

I’ve been getting signs all weekend. There might be a cold in my nose and a fever in my head. I even got chills at work today. Sniffling. Sneezing. Snoozing. Being a Zombie. Naah. I ain’t got no cold. I’m healthy as a horse! I’m going home to my family over the weekend, I ain’t got time for being sick! Ain’t nobody got time for that!

I feel it’s kinda ironic that I’ll be a witch at work tomorrow and have the station “reading the future” where I’ll be looking into children’s palms and showing them the magic of tarot. I might even have a crystal ball, and I hope to be able of considering having a cup of tea next to me, to read the tea-leafs. And ignoring some signs.

I’m going for the look.

Hands dyed red of beets.

I’ve been pretty sluggish all day, amused by the simplest things. I’ve gone on a short walk about in my neighbourhood, found my local library and talked to the nice lady in the Asian food shop as I giggling gathered Pocky and ginger-snacks to me. I was proud of my five read books, and then I went and found another 4 to bring home with me. One less then when I started this morning, so I guess points for that?

The last hour I’ve been boiling and scrubbing beets for my warm beets salad with goats cheese I’m going to bring to work tomorrow. I really tried with the gloves first, but couldn’t really get a good grip on the skin, and every beet took forever to skin. So I decided to try without the gloves, and yes, it did go much more smoothly and now my hands match my Pink sofa quite nice. Good of me to do this tonight and not tomorrow. At least I’m going to have another shower and do stuff with my hair before leaving the house tomorrow. That should hopefully take some of the colour out. Otherwise I’m going to get teased at work. Have to shut them all up with my awesome cooking then..

Note to self. Buy better gloves if I’m to do this again.

Teapot came around with a small bookshelf I asked if she could buy for me at IKEA, it being 1 hour away by buss, and she going there yesterday with her mother. She did, and came around with it today. Saying stuff about being inspired by my flat and my taste for the unusual. Made me blush with all those kind words. I’m not sure I live in the prettiest flat, because I can still find things that bugs me. But happy that someone else find as much pleasure in it as I do. I’m one of those people who functions best in surroundings that reflect beauty and reminds me of all the beautiful things in life. Like my passion for books, religion, food, geek stuff. How a pot of tea can be all that one needs after a long day at work. My home should give me a sense of peace, of belonging. And it’s going there.

Now I’m going to bed, hoping to finish the cleaning of the kitchen tomorrow, so that it’s done by Friday since I’m going up to visit my family in the Big Apple. I still need to do the laundry. Only 2 pairs of clean socks left. Need to buy new shoes that doesn’t eat socks.

Here is a song about socks. Because.

Poetry, a thing for brave.

I’ve never gotten the idea of poetry before. It’s never been my thing. Maybe haiku, because they are short and wonderful and I’ve got two tattooed on my body with maybe more to come. I fregging love Basho.

But poetry, as a thing, no, I never. And I think I’ve discovered the secret behind it. One shouldn’t read poetry. One should only be read poetry. To listen to it. to hear the meaning and the tones, it’s like music. Reading them from a book it’s just words on a paper. Whilst read by someone for you, they are filled with emotion and does have an impact on your soul.

Take a moment.

or two.