Monday, October 31, 2011

Some things just can't wait.



It's past midnight, and I've officially made it through another year. No 27 Club for me. Pheeew! When I went to the grocery store earlier tonight - a three minute drive - I was sure a car would come crashing into me at any second, or that a meteor would fall on my head, or that I'd slip on some wet leaves and break my neck or something just as random and unnecessary. I could even see my mom yelling at the doctors at the hospital; "she can't be dead! It's her birthday, you can't let her die on her birthday!". Yeah, I know, I've been watching way too much Grey's Anatomy. Way, way, way too much. But still, would have been pretty ironic, don't you think?


Anyway, that didn't happen - big yay for that! It's now 1 a.m., and 28 years have passed since I was born. Happy Halloween to all of you, and Happy Birthday to me. Let's wish for 28 more!

Sunday, October 30, 2011

The Answers, Part 4: The people I love.

Part 4
Girlfriend, wife, mother?
Family, relationships, love, you know the drill.


How did you and Ronnie meet? How long have you been together, and what do you think/hope that the future will bring?
(Asked by Malin, Ana Martins, Jasmine and Bella Stephens)

Ronnie and I met through work, in December of 2007. There is a long and complicated - and yes, quite romantic - story behind it, and the only reason that I feel uncomfortable telling it is that we were both in other relationships at the time. Out of respect for the people that got hurt, I'll only say this: sometimes love can be just as painful as it is sensational, but when you know it's right, there really is nothing to do but to follow your heart.

My hopes for the future is that I will start to get better, feel better, so that I can eventually live the life I wish to live. Today, I feel like both Ronnie and I are biding our time, waiting for this storm inside of me to settle. I dream of getting married, of starting a family, of going back to work; I wish so badly that I will be able to be the person I truly am, underneath all this. That I'll have a life that is not shadowed by the dark clouds of depression. Those are my hopes for the future.


Photo from Flickr


I'm just curiuous - are you and Ronnie engaged or planning to have a wedding? 
(Asked by Agnès, Nastassja and Nina)                 

No, we're not. He's not too crazy about the idea of getting married, and although I completely respect that, it doesn't change the fact that I would absolutely love to be his wife. I'll try to explain why.

To me, being in a relationship is about constantly choosing eachother. It's about waking up every morning knowing that you have options, but still deciding that you're right where you want to be. And that's beautiful - but it's also exhausting.

By getting married, you're saying: I've chosen you so many times, and I'll keep doing it every day, but I don't need to. I know I could change my mind in some distant future, just like the sun could set one night to never rise again, just like I could wake up one morning and have turned into a giant Gregor Samsa-esque insect, but I really don't see that happening. The person I am will never stop choosing to be with the person you are, but today, tomorrow and every other day I will spend less energy on choosing you and more energy on loving you. Because I've already made my choice.

I want that. Sure, I want the white dress and the big party and the shared last name, but none of that matters compared to what it would mean to me to fall asleep every night knowing that we've decided to be a team, a unity, a family. I don't need to consider my options. I know they're there, believe me, I've tried them on and they didn't fit. Nothing in this world is perfect, I'm not expecting perfection, but they say that when you find true love you'll know. And I know.

So, no. We're not planning a wedding. We might never plan a wedding. But I'll never stop hoping that he'll start to look at marriage the way I do, and until then, I'll wake up every morning knowing my options and still decide I'm right where I want to be.

Photo from Flickr

I would like to know how you feel about having children some day? Is there a plan or do you feel it's way out there in the future? How old do you want to be when you have your first kid, and what would you want their names to be?
(Asked by Olivia, Kajsa and Nastassja)

There is nothing I want more in this life than to have a child. (Or four.) I wish I was already a mom, but as it turns out, it doesn't really happen just because you feel like you're ready. Actually, it's really icky - you have to engage in something called intercourse for it to work, and I'm sure not going to try that! Sorry, bad joke. No, honestly, I'm hoping it will happen soon. But as for right now, these dreams have to wait, since I'm going to have cervical surgery on Tuesday and there will be three months before I get to engage in any of those sweet baby-making activities. After that, we'll just keep our fingers crossed and hope that our babies think we seem like good parents and that they are ready to bless us with their presence.

We do have names that we really like, but I feel like writing them on the blog would be a little bit like jinxing it, you know?



Has it affected you in any way to have a famous mother? Does it still? 
(Asked by Sara)

Yes, absolutely. For you who don't know, my mother is a writer, and quite well-known in Sweden. That fact has definitely affected me in lots of ways - none of them good.

I guess it would have been a lot easier if I hadn't chosen to follow in her footsteps and strive to become a writer as well, but I really didn't have a choice. I started writing stories when I was four and it's the only thing I've ever wanted to do - I couldn't change that just because she became very successful during my teens. Even though I knew this, I tried to choose a different path - for a while, I studied to become a teacher - but there was no fooling myself in the end. Writing is who I am, and I had to go for it.

What happens when you have a famous mother is this:
1) People talk behind your back. The say that you're spoiled, stupid, fake, shallow, self-centered; that you think you're all that, that you've been handed everything on a silver platter.
2) Random people come up to you and say the rudest, meanest things, hoping for a reaction that they can laugh with their friends about afterwards. Oh, and it doesn't really matter what your reaction is, they'll just make something up that sounds better when they tell the story.
3) Once people find out who your mom is, they'll start treating you completely differently. Since they don't normally tell you who their parents are, neither do you. So when they do find out, because they always do, they'll not only forget everything they know about you and start seeing you as this whole other person - they'll also be furious that you didn't tell them right away, they'll feel cheated and humiliated and start hating you.
4) If you ever, ever mention your mom, people will think you're bragging. Even if they ask you about her.
5) Actually, it doesn't matter if you mention her. Everything you say will be considered bragging.
6) If your life hasn't been that great, you should never talk about this, because everyone will think you're lying. How could you have anything but a perfect life if your parent is occasionally on tv, right? Even if that parent got famous when you were already grown up? No, you're just looking to get attention. So keep quiet.
7) There will be countless forum threads and blog posts stating how worthless your mother is, you'll hear people on the subway saying how much they hate her, how ugly she is, how everything she does is a piece of crap. And no matter how much you love your mom, the only thing you can do is put your headphones on and walk away, because if you say something, you'll only make it worse.

What happens when you have a famous writer as a mother and you choose writing as your career as well is this:
1) Every word you write will be compared to the words she writes.
2) Whenever you get a job, everyone will think you got it because of who your mother is. It doesn't matter if the people who hired you doesn't know that you're her daughter. It doesn't matter if you're great at what you do. You'll still sit alone at lunch.
3) If you had good grades in school, it's because of your mom. If you have a university degree, it's because of your mom. Come to think of it, everything you do and everything you have is because of your mom. Oh, this is not true? You never asked her for help, wait, you specifically did not ask her for help because you wanted to be sure you deserve to be where you are? YEAH RIGHT.
4) The hateful, taunting forum threads and blog posts will now not only be about your mom, they will be about you. They will state as facts that the only reason you got to publish a single syllable anywhere is that you have your mother's last name. And no matter how much you know that this isn't true, you'll still lay awake at night wondering: but what if it is?



Yes, this all sounds extremely bitter, and I'm sure many of you will think I'm overreacting. And the truth is that I don't feel this way anymore. I've grown older, I've stepped aside, I've stopped caring so much about things like career and what people think or say about me. But this is what it's been like for me, and believe it or not, it has been hard. It is hard when people don't see you for who you are, when they won't give you a chance, when they refuse to get to know you. I've had people in school come up to me and say things like "I see what you're dealing with, and I know it's not the same, but I've had a similar experience. My whole life, I've been compared to my older sister who was the smartest kid anyone had ever met, and she was beautiful and popular and every time I'd get a new teacher, their faces would light up and they'd say 'oh, you're Sarah's sister!', and then I knew I'd disappoint them." And sure, it's not the same, and yet it is. You should get an opportunity to be yourself, to not be compared with others or judged because of things that have nothing to do with who you are as as person. It doesn't matter if your parents live in the fanciest house in town and you grew up with a lot of money, if everyone knows your dad is an alcoholic, if your brother is in jail or a Nobel prize winner. That's only one circumstance, one of the millions that make you who you are. Just like you shouldn't be judged by your ethnicity, sexual orientation or disability. If people won't see beyond that and get to know the real you, then that's their loss, and you deserve better. We all do.

It's just been really weird for me. My mom is my mom. She wasn't always famous, and I didn't even realize that she was until I was 21. When I was in high school and people started seeing her name in the paper, my friends already knew me, and they might make a friendly joke about it. That's all. After graduation I left Sweden for a few years, and when I came back, suddenly people had formed an opinion of me without even meeting me. My mom didn't change because she started to write - and sell - books, and I certainly didn't change. The only thing that changed was other peoples perception of me. And that affected me. It made me not trust people, it made me scared, confused, somewhat paranoid.


But - all that said, I could never have asked for a better mother. My mom is the most loving, caring, ambitious, sweet, funny, intelligent, brave, passionate, hard-working, talented person I have ever met, and I'm not just saying that. She truly is. And that has shaped me in so many more ways than her fame ever could. I have her to thank for everything good in my life, for making me believe in myself, for making me realize that I deserve to be loved. She raised me to speak my mind, to stand up to injustices, to go my own way and never conform or pretend to be someone I'm not.

Though a part of me does wish she'd never become famous, I know that it was necessary for her to reach out to as many people as possible, and her words and thoughts are way too important not to be read by the world. She will always be my biggest inspiration and I am so proud to be her daughter.


Where is your boyfriend from? 
(Asked by Bella Stephens)

Ronnie was born and raised in a small Swedish town called Falköping. He moved to Stockholm when he was 18, but his family still lives there, and he's still great friends with the guys he grew up with. I can sometimes get a little bit envious of the fact that he has a home town, where he can walk down the street and stop and talk to every other person ("that's my friend David's dad, she worked in the school cafeteria, he was my soccer coach when I was eight, I had the biggest crush on her all through my teens"). When I go into Stockholm, I feel nothing. I don't think of myself as having a home town at all, I have nowhere to go back to. This is not about self-pity, I just think it seems nice. You know, to have left a place nine years ago and still think of it as "home".


Photo from Flickr

Have you ever been pursued by a girl to have a relationship? Weird question, I know, but... One of my very good friends wants to have a relationship with me, but I like her as a friend, not romantically, and it's frustrating... 
(Asked by Anonymous)

I don't think any of my friends have fallen in love with me - not that I know of, anyway - but I sure have fallen in love with a friend. Plenty of times, actually. If you're certain that you're not interested in anything but friendship, that's not your fault, just as her feelings for you isn't her fault. All you can do is tell her that you adore her as a friend, but that you don't feel the way she does. It doesn't matter if it's because you're not interested in girls or if you're simply not romantically interested in this particular girl; the outcome is still the same: you can't be together if only one out of two wants that kind of relationship. If you're lucky, your friendship can still survive, though it might need some time to repair itself.

Unrequited love is always frustrating, painful and terrifying - especially if the person you have feelings for is your friend, since you then risk losing someone you care deeply about on so many levels. You tell me that she is a good friend to you, and I truly hope that you two can work this out and stay friends, because good friends are hard to come by. If she has not been in a relationship with another girl before, I'm sure this is a very difficult time for her, and it does put you, too, in a situation that isn't easy to deal with. Just let her know how you feel. Let her know that she can talk to you, that you're here for her as a friend, but that you understand if she needs some time apart to figure things out. I wish you both the best of luck.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

Please Stay.


Right now, my motto is "less blogging, more living". And a lot more loving.

The guy I'm crazy about is here with me for two days, two hopelessly short days, before he has to go back to being a fancy film director on the other side of the country. (From what he tells me it's quite far from fancy, but whatever. I'm sure he's just being modest.) And I am doing my very best to be a supportive girlfriend, I am, but this house is too big for only a girl and two cats. Too quiet. It's a family house, it needs laughter and hugs and boisterous arguments not to feel empty and hollow. But as I keep telling myself: It's temporary, it's not forever, he'll be home soon. It could have been so much worse.

So, as I'm sure you can imagine, we're trying to make the most of our time together. He's leaving again in less than twelve hours, and then I'll be all yours again!


Friday, October 28, 2011

Fiercely cuddly.


I'm really sorry to burst the bubble here, folks, but the truth is that I didn't actually prance around in those vinyl leggings all day. Why would I, when I could wear these exquisite cotton floral print pyjama pants instead?

The cats tell me I look fierce in them. Fiercely cuddly. And I value their opinion profusely.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

The Daredevils.

Dark brown faux fur jacket, H&M. Sheer purple shirt, "Annika", Monki. Black mini skirt, Weekday. Black vinyl(ish) leggings, Johanna Vikman. Black knitted headband and black harness boots, Nelly.

(Photos by me.)

I always thought this type of headband didn't work for me. Can't really remember why - something to do with the shape of my head, probably. Actually... now I'm starting to think that maybe this is the kind that I never managed to look good on me (which sucks, since they're soooo pretty!), and I just got those two mixed up. That's probably it. Because these knitted ones seem to look perfectly fine.

Ah, I used to wear these leggings all the time back in 2007. They always were the greatest conversation starters - it happened at least ten times that old ladies at the bus stop asked if they could, ehmm, touch them. "Such an interesting material!" Oh stop it, they were cute old ladies, not perverted. I guess they're not "in" anymore (the leggings, not the old ladies; old people never go out of style), but we're not supposed to care about that, are we? I thought they were quite fierce with this outfit, that might have turned out a bit too nice with a more plain pair of tights.

Remember when I told you that my favorite store Monki has named a shirt after me? Obviously that's not true, but they did name a shirt Annika, and of course I had to have it. And here it is! I put on the blouse and then created the outfit around it, apparently trying to channel some sort of 70's and 80's glam rock vibe.

Don't know if you noticed, but I'm not wearing red lipstick in these photos! Way to shake things up, huh? A pink/purple shade it is, oh yeah. Feeling all adventurous. A real daredevil. Come to think of it, that's probably what I'd call my glam rock band. The Daredevils. Our music would be just as awful as our band name, but we'd wear killer stage outfits!



Wednesday, October 26, 2011

About that girl in my photos.


Something about this photo reminded me of Anna Karina, the most beautiful woman in the entire world. I know it sounds terrible to say that about a photo of myself, but in my defense, it doesn't really look like it's me in the picture!

I generally feel strangely detached from my "photo self". I can scrutinize a self portrait and find it pretty, beautiful and sometimes even sexy (weird, I know) - it just has very little to do with me. I don't know if it's my years of modeling that has created this detachment, all I know is that I see my photos as images created by me, featuring me, and yet I'm not the one being portrayed. Not really. The woman I see when I look in the mirror, that pale person with tired eyes, that's Annika. She's me. The one in the photos... She's someone I dress up and play with, like I doll whose face I paint to look a certain way and ask to express a specific emotion. I don't identify with her.

And that's why I can say "she reminds me of Anna Karina in this photo!", and still not walk around thinking "hey, I'm all that, I look a bit like the most beautiful woman in the world in a picture". But then again - if I did think that, I probably wouldn't tell you. :)

Am I making any sense at all right now? I'm not, am I? Okay, I'd better stop, then. I'm sort of freaking myself out.

The real deal.

You Take My Breath Away.

Red coat with faux fur collar, Ida Sjöstedt. Mustard beret, Monki. Blue tights, H&M. White socks, Lindex. Black boots, Urban Outfitters. Loch blue 15-inch leather satchel, The Leather Satchel Co.

(Photos by me.)


The rays of the October sun beg me to wear color, color and more color. And I obey.

Can you believe this blog has reached a thousand followers? I for one can't. I thought it was quite unbelievable when I reached a hundred, but this... Wow. I'm amazed, honored and practically speachless. Which doesn't happen very often, as you might have noticed. Thank you. You take my breath away.





Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Hit me like a ray of sun.



I am simply blown away by how talented this guy is.

My friend Anna and I were watching the Swedish version of Idol on Friday, curled up on my couch with the katz, and when this performance came on... We hadn't really noticed Robin before, but now - If I had been 14 years old instead of 27 and 359 days, I would have written him at least twenty love letters by now. Just because of the way he sings "it's written all over your face". It sends shivers down my spine every time. Seriously.

Blue Like That.

Loch blue 15-inch leather satchel from The Leather Satchel Co. Fluffy kitty, Biianka, who brings so much joy to my life.



Welcome to my wardrobe, you beautiful thing. I really hope you'll like it here, and I promise I'll take such good care of you.


Sunday, October 23, 2011

To call for hands of above to lean on.

Navy leopard print collar coat, River Island/Asos. Black bowler hat, Monki. Leopard print tights, H&M. White patent boots, Doc Martens. Red leather satchel, The Leather Satchel Co.

(Photos by me.)

Bloggers always write "I have the best readers in the world!". I'm sure they think they mean it, and who can blame them for being wrong? They obviously haven't met you guys. Because you are the best readers in the world. If there was a blog reader Oscar you would win, hands down, kick everyone's ass! Thank you times a billion for your support. I have no idea what I've done to deserve all of your kind words, but I'm not going to question it: I'm just going to accept that it's a true blessing.


To prove to myself that I can still put on clothes and lipstick and even smile, well, I did just that. I even put my hair up in some kind of a faux bob. It came down after a while, since I only used two hairpins (laaaazyyy), but it looked sort of cute while it lasted. If I may say so myself.


Baryshnik kept me company while I took the photos, and he decided that the view was better from the tree. Unlike Biianka, who's great at climbing up but not so much down, he's an awesome tree climber - he leaps from branch to branch like an oversized squirrel. A positively adorable oversized squirrel, I might add. 


I always think that I have no fall- or winter coats whatsoever, but the truth is that I have so many it's actually ridiculous. It's just that they are all, without exceptions, black, red or navy. It's like I'm physically unable to buy a coat in any other color. I really want a camel one, one in a deep burgundy and one in a dark emerald green, and trust me, I've been looking for years - it's just that whever I find one I really like, they also have it in either navy, black or red, and then I end up getting one of those instead. Poor me. This is such a huge problem! No wonder I have to be in therapy every Tuesday!!! (Ha... ha... ha.)

I just now realized that my love for the colors red, black and navy is pretty visible in this outfit. I feel like especially red and blue items are always begging me to be matched with eachother. And who am I to say no? They do look fabulous together!