Sometimes I really hate my brain, just because of the left and right halves of it being both powerful. It's both a blessing and a curse I suppose, since I really need the right side of my brain's dreams, wonderful what-if scenarios and potential future images. Especially lately. Without those, I'd be doomed. And I'm also very much in need of my logical, rational left side. Without that, I would be insane.

I just love some of the imaginations and at least somewhat plausible ideas and potential scenarios that my mind is capable of rendering. Because since I apparently do have an equally strong left side brain as well, they are actually that - potentially possible. Not always likely though, but still not impossible. And I'm a sucker for those daydreams, I must shamefully admit that.

But even so, at the end of the day, it's always the logical, rational - and boring - left side that has the power to veto and point out the flaws and unlikeliness in the dream possibilities. And that is so irritating sometimes.

In short, I hate my mind for being essentially me; A wannabe dreamer that fails hard due to his masochistic tendencies to be so damn boringly realistic and responsible in the end.

Now, I'll better go and fight my parents' too fast-growing grass...

Normally I don't post video links here - and normally I'm not watching the American Daily Show either. But I really do find this amusing in some quirky way, so...

( The Daily Show: The Stockholm Syndrome )

Now, I better go and try to do my taxes and declare that "excess of capital" (official term) they say I have.

It's spring in the air, for several days in a row! Wow.

Today's flattering moment - I bought stuff at Systembolaget (for eventual readers unfamiliar with the honoured Swedish institution, it's the state monopoly store for alcoholic beverages) and to my surprise I was asked to show an ID card; which was many years since I last had to do, I might add. I know people tend to underestimate my age somewhat, but do I really look that young now?

Anyway, I thanked the attendant for her flattering request and showed my ID, on which she responded "Åh, du är ju nästan halvvuxen." ("Oh, you're almost half-adult.") Not exactly the most expected statement, but somehow I really liked it! It's probably a very accurate description of me.

Somewhat bored. So what's better than letting my brain in free gear. Meme taken from schrogwr2. Very random first-that-popped-into-my-mind answers. See it as a free glimpse of how my mind works. Or not works.

( Click and I'll take 30 seconds of you life that you'll never get back )

It's January for sure. Lousy weather (2°C, rainy and windy), I'm tired, unmotivated to do the many things I should do, and mostly just longing for better times. Probably that's why my brain tries its best to recompensate by providing me with wonderful dreams for once. The kind that almost could be true and when you against your will wake up, you're left with that bittersweet feeling - grateful for the much needed solace it provided, but hating that in the end it was just a dream.

Yes, I have no idea why this qualified as a post either.

This has been the first weekend in at least one month that I actually have felt somewhat free. "Free" of course being a relative thing. "Not incredibly stressed" is probably a more exact description. Oh well. And no matter which it is still a case of dark November having passed over into equally dark December and all I really want to do is sleep.

( Photo dump from my camera )

Cycling is my new favourite sport in the olympics, and no, I don't care very much for the actual sport, but last Sunday when I happened to catch it on TV I noticed that it provided some nice footage of the northeast Chinese landscape. A landscape that looks pretty nice in all its lush, mountainous and semi-exotic style. So that's why I now favours it, even if I sometimes get a little irritated when they focus too much on the competitors. I want to see sweeping road footage from a distance please, not closeups of the cyclists. In fact, today when the commentators kept babbling about the silver medalist - who happened to be a Swede, but who cares, I have no more relation to him than to the Swiss who got the gold - I muted the TV for a while since it disturbed my landscape studies...

I suppose there's something highly ironic in the fact that the two persons my niece and nephew find the most entertaining and likeable ones also happens to be the two notoriously single persons around (also known as my sister's long-time friend and I).

I suppose I shouldn't be very surprised that I get unusually interesting dreams after having watched Paprika in the evening.

Actually, the dream that apparently was my main feature dream for the night was quite nice, so I'm not complaining. And I'm kind of impressed how my subconscious works - if you're my subconscious dream producer and need visuals and scenery for a distinct geographical area which you have no experience of in real life, take the geographically closest place I have been at and extrapolate from that. My mind is apparently a clever one when asleep.

As for Paprika, it was a somewhat surreal but good experience, and a good example of the kind of animated movies that only Japan can produce.

When forced to label it, I have always described my style of dressing as "casual". But after spending some time in the city and for once actually looking at people, I'm not so sure if casual is the right description for me. At least not when looking at my countrymen dressed for summer.

I know, I have this weird idea - in Swedish eyes at least - of wearing jeans or other long pants (especially if I'm in a city environment) in temperatures when most locals have switched to shorts and T-shirts long ago. But even so I was still somewhat surprised to see the very casual casual style people use now. And for most, that means very casual as in sloppy and not as in stylish casual. (And now I start to sound like I actually have a fashion sense, which feels very weird I can assure you.)

And apparently fate wanted to really drive the point through. One hour after I had made this observation I met up with my niece and my mother, and while sitting at a café eating icecream the nine-year-old asked me: "why are you wearing long trousers? And those shoes? Isn't it warm?" Point taken. And maybe it's the wrong reaction, but somehow I can't help but feel amused and rather pleased. I wonder if the label "snobbish casual" exist...