Let your life be a prelude to the festivals of eternity

I can't post about last week without writing about my grandmother. Wednesday last week my Finnish grandmother was buried back home in Jönköping. It was strange waking up Wednesday morning knowing they had already had the ceremony. She died in her sleep just a few days before I left for the states. As if by grand design I happened to be home for a few days to visit my parents and went to see her the evening before she passed not knowing the importance of that casual visit. Although it was unexpected her passing was peaceful and  the day was peaceful and full of love. We gathered as a family, feeling a stronger love and gratitude for eachother, the life she had lived and the lives she had made possible for us. I got to say my goodbyes then and I will always be grateful for the opportunity I had to be home with my family to say goodbye to my mommo even though I missed her burial. 

Mommo was and is one of the greatest examples I have of a strong fearless woman. She worked hard all of her life for her own sake but especially for her family. She inprinted on us the importance of education, hard work to get what we want and to not let people stand in our way but especially not to take anything for granted. To always remember the important things. She was firm but generous. Strong but caring. A boss lady indeed. 
 
When she heard about me travelling to the states this summer she thought it was a great idea, a fun adventure to enjoy. She encouraged me to keep a journal of my travels, to write everything down so I would remember these times for the rest of my life. So I could take the lessons I learn with me. Something I wish to do with all she has taught me.
 
Now she is free from pain and suffering and although the thought of her not being there when I go home is heart wrenching I firmly believe I will see her again. And until then I will be a part of her legacy, this beautiful legacy that she has created. The life I'm living is to a great extent possible because of choices she made and at times the incredibly hard life that she survived. I am because she never gave up. Because she never looked back but always forward. Until our reunion she sits in my back bone reminding me to stand tall, and in my heart telling me to take courage. 
 
 
Tills vi möts igen, mommo <3 
 
 
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I hear my mother's voice in my head.

So I hear voices in my head on a regular basis.
 
Mostly it's my mother's voice reminding me of things or commenting on things I should or shouldn't do. I realize that sounds bad but really it's not in a negative way at all. Just in a - I know what my mum would say in this situation kind of way. It happens now and then but I've realized lately that there are a few specific situations that occur regularly where I ALWAYS hear her voice. 
 
1. Whenever I reheat food in a plastic container.
By far the most significant situation is whenever I put a plastic container of food in the microwave. EVERY SINGLE TIME I can hear my mum telling me that I shouldn't heat plastic as it releases toxic gas when heated. I don't know why that has stuck with me but it has and it means that every time I bring a homemade lunch to school or work I can't help but think of the toxins I'm putting in my body before I eat my reheated food. I also concider buying glass containers for a short moment until I quickly dismiss it. EVERY TIME. And then I quickly forget about it until next time I heat food in tupperware. And yes, whenever I can I try to not heat my food in a plastic container even though I have never fact checked her opinion. But you know, mother knows best.
 
2. When I cross the road with my hands in my pockets.
I have this memory of me as a child crossing the road with my mum. I must have been around eight years old or something as I was old enough to not want to hold my mums hand while crossing this small road. I remember putting my hands in the pocket of my jacket, a red jacket with cool patterns on. I remember my mum destinctively telling me to take my hands out of my pocket so if I tripped I could catch myself with my hands and not fall on my face. I of course refused. I think you can all figure out exactly what happened next... I fell on my face of course. On. My. Face. In the middle of the street. So much for street cred.
 
I still remember the humilitation and anger, not only about falling over and strangers seeing it but also about my mum always being right. Even when I was trying hard to be cool and grown up.
 
So now when I walk with both my hands in my pockets while crossing the street I hear my mums voice. Most of the time I remove my hands from my pockets as a precaution, having learned my traumatic lesson so many years ago. (I would also like to take the opportunity to insert that this is something to follow even when walking in stairs. Especially if you're in the library at your university with people walking behind you. It may create an awkward situation if they walk past you without saying a word as you panic to pull your hands free and protect your face just before hitting the steps. Yep. Just a tip)
 
3. Whenever I catch myself having "bad manners" at the dinner table.
Those who know my mum know that as the proper english woman she is she has very good manners! She was always reminding us as children to say please and thank you and to eat properly. Today I'm very grateful for those reminders, when I was younger- not so much. But still, if I catch myself talking with food in my mouth, chewing with my mouth open, sipping a drink loudly, having my elbows on the table or even sitting with my legs up- I hear my mum asking me to eat properly. To this day I still hear her voice when I put my legs up while eating, even when I'm sitting by myself in my own flat. I can't turn it off. And I still feel slightly rebellious and pleased as I sit there on my own eating with my legs up. Yes I am obviously a wild child. #adulthood
 
 But hey, I'm not complaining, because my mama's the best. 
 
 
 
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The blog of my life. A third of it at least.

Since restarting the blog again a few weeks ago I've been looking through some of the old posts and been half shocked. Deary me. The things one can find on here! It's like a mini film about my life. From only my perspective with only things written about me or things that interest me and with a million pictures of me. Sounds like a super exciting film doesn't it?! If you answer yes to that question you are most likely a creeper (if you didn't already know you were one- well, now you do) who wants to kidnap me and cut me in tiny pieces because NO is the correct answer- it would not be an exciting film, it would be extremely onesided and boring.
 
It's almost a bit disturbing when I think about all that I've written here, some of it pretty personal. It's a good thing I'm a very open person in real life as well and would tell you everything anyway if you asked. I'm also trying to convince myself that it has helped keep up my interest in writing, photography, webb-design and so on. How true that statement really is we we will never know.

December 2007, 15 years old and taking very flattering pictures of myself....(click on the picture to enlarge my beautiful face)
 
I started as a hormonal 15 year old with a lot of feelings and thoughts. Which I obviously still have a lot of (hormons included) as I am not a robot but I do like to think that I am a slightly less dramatic and easily offended at 22. It followed me through my little emo periods, times when I've been hopelessly in love, happy, when I felt like no one understood me, real excitement and a lot of normal every day thoughts about mundane things. The blog is mostly just filled with long posts about insignificant and rather uninteresting things. I'm pretty good at things like that. I have a lot to say about everything and can write an essay about nothing in particular. Ordbajsa as we say in Sweden- "Word pooping" One of my many useful talents.
 
 
December 2010.... 
 
The blog has followed me through the past seven years with a couple of years of silence in between. The design of the blog has changed almost just as much as I have (and it would be changing even more right now if I still remembered how to do it).
 
Even the main focus, direction, of the blog has changed from time to time. I had a period when I tried real hard to turn it into a fashion blog. Not much to say about that, I just don't know much about style or fashion. It include a lot of pictures of me wearing clothes and making different but equally awkward poses. 
 
I've also had periods where it became more of an amateur photo blog, oh and do you remember my brief attempt to become a Vlogger?! Goodness me. All filmed with my phone and edited poorly in windows moviemaker. Let's just say those videos are best hidden where they are! I was pretty proud of them at the time though.
 
Many times I've also wanted to make it more of a politcal and thought-provoking blog but I usually erase that thought before I make anything of it. The time, effort and need for correct information is just not worth the bother. I have to do enough of that in school.
 
 
 December 2011
 
All in all, this forum has followed me through all stages of life and now it's come with me to Stockholm. Wouldn't feel right otherwise. This is my little online journal without a real need for a label. I just put up whatever I feel like in the moment. The one consistent thing about it is that I am the one who updates it. So here it is, open for every friend, relative, creeper out there to read and follow. I still get worried that it's the narsisistic and attention seeking part of my personality that keeps me coming back here and wanting to make sure no one forgets about me. Either way, here it is- vague, half serious, half ironic and very, very much about just me. You're welcome. ;)
 
To those of you who have followed me through all these years (ni vet vilka ni är damer), I apologize for some of the things you've witnessed here! Thank you for caring and encouraging my weird need of sharing my thoughts! Much love to you.
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