One of the pure joys of  studying for your exam is to use all of your precious time on all the crazy shit on the world wide web. And especially this thing called Facebook. The pure of all evil – the biggest and most powerful terrorist I’ve  ever encountered. A whole new world.
In this Facebook there are apparently hidden messages as well – a whole new language. Oh the horror of technology and the internet. When you finally have settled with the fact that it’s hard to be a human in this world, it’s even harder to be a cyberhuman on cyberspace.
I’ve recently found out of this while surfing on Facebook. Surprise, huh? Oh well, there is something called “poke” – and if you where thinking the same as me, you are almost on the right track actually. Did you know that to poke someone on Facebook is to flirt? I didn’t, but it sure explains why ugly, old bastard strangers (and of course speaking of guys here) are poking me all the fucking time. Fortunately just cyperpoking, but oh boy how they wished they could poke me in other ways as well. They just look so piggish, and in my mind I can’t understand why THOSE guys think that I EVER could be a little interested in them? I really don’t. Do they think if they poke me I would let their meat poke into me? That is just silly, guys. A little tip from me to you.

You will get a hell of a lot more by watching porn than poking random girls on the Facebook. Just saying… Use your time sensibly instead and if porn doesn’t work for you anymore, there is hookers as well….

…..that’s pretty much  how my week have been so far, and last week. All this exams nonsense is going on my nerves. I just wanna write and travel, go for long walks, see so many documentaries, wank to Hank Moody, play with my rabbit Charlie Knox-Drake, read Bukowski and buy dresses, but I can’t. The whole week the conversations I have had with myself has sounded like this: “When I’m done watching porn, I will start writing on my assignment”, and then replace porn with food, movies, more food, parties and sleeping.

Geez, will it ever stop? I guess we have to wait and see. But now I’ll eat some more and then I will look at my exam.
As if.

Was it you or was I just in love with a feeling? A feeling that made me feel again, feel something. I guess I’m never going to know now, or would I ever know for sure? Do you ever know if you are in love or in love with falling in love? It makes me wonder if you ever fall in love with a person or you just fall in love with yourself – with the emotions taking you as a hostage and making you feel all those fucking wonderful things, turning you into a complete nut-job.  But if that was the deal, why is it just that one fucking annoying person of all the rotten fishes in the almost dried-out sea, who causes you all of those wacko feelings? Is it just timing, you, the good wine, something indefinable or just desperation? A desperation for feeling human again, for feeling life?

Maybe that’s why we drink. To feel anything. We drink more than ever before and we love it. We schedule drinking in our fancy day planner – that’s how import it’s become to get shit-faced regularly. We drink to socialize, we drink to fuck, we drink to get away, we drink to feel. How pathetic have we become? We should just kill ourselves now instead of trying to live this thing called life. We have killed the purpose of it and like Christians aim to heaven, we aim to our drunken illusions. We fled to the drug and alcohol haze instead of enjoying what we have, and frankly – why should we?

In the end we are all just fucking refugees, believe it or not.

Have a good day…….. ha ha.

I don’t believe in life, I believe in you. I don’t believe in emotions, I believe in alcohol. I don’t believe in myself, I believe in makeup. I don’t believe in the future, but I believe in the end.

And a fucking good morning, folks! The sun is shining and yet it still feels like it’s nighttime.

I got pretty shit-faced last night; oh the horror and moral hangovers. I can’t stand them. Maybe I should just leave my phone home the next time and risk getting lost. Seems like a safer bet for everyone.

I haven’t been out for a while now, and tonight I have to say goodbye to my dear Bertrand who’s leaving Denmark for six months. It’s a casual get-together, but as always I have gone all in with the makeup, the hair and the dress. When you have looked like a sick and goddamn ugly person for a whole week, you can’t help get a little crazy when you finally are ready to come out in the dark. I sure do look like a skank, but a good skank. A sofisticated skank.

yeah, I’m a total sucker for that hat….

So three days later I’ve finally woken up from a seriously good drug haze. How can you not love anesthesia? And things are looking differently, and you are probably wondering how.

I can start by saying that my room looks quite clean after my parents visited me. They nursed me after my surgery. Imagine angry little persian girl stuck in a dorm room with her angry little persian parents. The outcome: pretty damn good and no blood at all! We didn’t even think about killing each other…. maybe one time when my dad snored the shit out of me and my mother, but then she kicked him in the head, and he stopped. The next day he hurried out to buy us earplugs so he wouldn’t get a serious head injury of all the kicking.  That’s a man in action folks.

Holy shit! I’m still sleepy and not able to finish this post at all. So let’s make this a part 1. Michael Pitt is waiting for me in his dreams.

Oh, they are calling for me now. See you laters peeps!

Though I could use a helping hand on monday. It will be my first time to get operated and waking up all alone. No stressed out dad looking straight into my face with 2 cm distance. No mom checking my temperature every 5 seconds and force-feeding me and no sister to keep my parents away from a distance, so I don’t feel the urge to kill them. I’m gonna miss that, I already miss that dysfunctional family a bit much..