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.

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!

Make It Count.

I know it doesn't always seem like it, but I am truly grateful for everything that I have.

For my families; the one I was born into and the one I've created for myself.

For the blessing of waking up every morning in our own bed with the love of my life and the most adorable cats anyone could ever ask for.

For the opportunity to live in a house I feel one hundred percent at home in, for the people in my life who refuse to give up on me even when I simply cannot be the friend they deserve.

For the rare chance to work with what I love, and what's even more rare, to be able to cut down on assignments now that my depression makes working nearly impossible.

For all of you who read my blog, write me comments and letters and make me feel so much less lonely.

I have made so many mistakes in my life, but I must have done something right to end up right where I am. Or maybe it's faith, maybe it's luck, maybe I don't deserve any of this. Either way, I'm grateful.

Sure, it's over a month until Thanksgiving, but that doesn't mean you can't still give thanks, right?

Last night, I started thinking about how lucky I am. Our stove has been broken for four days which means we've only had cold food (we don't own a microwave), as well as the heater that hasn't worked in forever - I didn't mind until now, when the outside temperature has dropped and we have to watch tv looking like we're off to a polar expedition any minute.

And still... life is pretty spectacular. I try my best to remember that, even when I eat cold pizza leftovers for dinner wearing a winter coat and woolen socks and I cry for the 10000000034576425645926892046th time about the fact that I can't call my best friend and ask her to come over and watch the latest How I Met Your Mother episode with me. Especially then. Because she's no longer here, but I am. And it's my duty to appreciate it; today, tomorrow and every single day until I finally join her. Otherwise, our time apart will have been all for nothing.

Life's too short for wasting. Let's try to make it count. [Insert carpe diem cliché of your choice here - they're all true.]

Blue Times Two.

For a 20% discount on this dress, or any other LOVE item, enter ANNIKABLOG20 at the checkout! Valid until October 13th.

Blue one-shoulder dress, LOVE. Grey knitted socks, Lindex. Orange suede wedges, Nelly.

(Photos by me.)

I did an awful lot of writing here on the blog yesterday, so I'll try to keep it short today!

I figured this was probably my last chance to wear an outfit as bare as this one before the cold weather arrives - and I took it. I wanted to create a look that smells of summer, sunblock and souvlaki: basically something I'd wear out to dinner while enjoying life on a Greek island.

To get the lip shade I knew I wanted - red, obviously, but with softer and shinier finish than I normally wear - I mixed two colors from Maybelline: I started out with one coat of "Coral Fever", then one coat of "Red Revolution", and topped it off with a touch of my amazing creme bronzer from Manasi Makeup. I usually wear it as blush, but since I wanted that sun-kissed feel, I went all in with the bronzer today - I used it on my lips, cheeks and eyelids, and mixed it with some lotion and applied it onto the collar bones and shoulders.

As you can imagine, I probably wouldn't have worn these knitted socks with the outfit, had I actually been on a Greek island. It was funny, though: I could see that the outfit looked good without the socks, but it just didn't look like me. Something was missing. I tried on the socks with the wedges sort of as a joke, and in an instant the whole look went from, well, a cute outfit, to something I would feel comfortable wearing. That's what I think is so fascinating about personal style, when you find those little things that you can use to make an outfit yours. It can be the tiniest details, and they don't even have to look good, as long as they're right for you! This time, for me, it was a pair of knitted grey socks. Apparently.

Right, keep it short. Okay. I guess I'll just watch the latest Glee episode with my kitties (my little girl absolutely loves music, so Glee is her favorite tv show - she and I really must be related!) and leave you guys to it. By the way, thank you so much for your incredible comments on my last post - I can't believe you took the time to read through all that! You're all wonderful, and you deserve the best weekend possible. You always do.

How many times must a cannon ball fly, before they are forever banned?

For a 20% discount on all LOVE items, enter ANNIKABLOG20 at the checkout! Valid until October 13th.

Navy tie-up shirt, Asos. Pleated asymmetrical floral print maxi skirt, LOVE. Red patent boots, Vagabond.

(Photos by me.)

Fall might be the season I appreciate the most out of the four, but I can't say I mind that we've had t-shirt weather for weeks now! I'm especially grateful for the fact that I can walk around bare-legged - sure, socks and tights are sort of my thing, but believe me, I'll have plenty of time to wear every pair I own out over the next... seven months. Brrrr.

I completely adore this sheer maxi skirt, and I know it will look absolutely great paired with layers and layers of appropriate fall pieces when the weather finally realizes it's October. What's not great is my imagination: I only own two maxi skirts, and they're both dark and covered by colorful flowers. What can I say - apparently I know what I like, and I'm sticking to it!

Just so you know, I'm working on more answers for the q&a - it takes a lot more time than I thought it would, but then again, I certainly don't mind writing endless amounts about myself... Self-absorbed, who, me?

My current project, which basically fills my days from sunrise to sunset, is to get my house in order. I'm sorting out old clothes and things I don't use, doing all the laundry that I've been postponing, and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. I have a theory that seems pretty reasonable: if my surroundings aren't so insanely messy, my head might get a little bit more peaceful and structured, as well. One thing is for sure - it can't hurt.

One more thing! For all of you who didn't win the LOVE giveaway here on the blog, from today until the 13th (a week from now), you can get your hands on any LOVE item with a 20% discount! (Except for things that are already on sale.) All you have to do is enter the code ANNIKABLOG20 at the checkout, and the discount will be deducted from your order.

I can hear my vacuum cleaner calling me... I'd better see what it wants. Talk to you soon!

365 days of darkness.

 

It’s been a year today and even the sky is weeping.

A year. The darkest 365 days of my life.

I went to see a movie a couple of weeks back, about a fourteen year old girl who loses her twin sister in an accident. In the ending scene, it’s been a year since her death, and everyone is smiling, laughing, remembering their sister/daughter/friend with joy. A pretty butterfly comes fluttering in through an open window, they all get excited, ”of course it’s her!”.

This is all like science fiction to me.

It doesn’t get easier. It gets harder, with every passing day. The pain is as excruciating today as it was 365 days ago, if not more so. Each day without her makes it all the more obvious that she’s not coming back.

You should have met this girl, you should have seen her light up a room, you should have met me back when I had a best friend that would be mine forever. I was so different then. Stronger, brighter, wonderfully naïve. I had the glow of someone who knew she’d won the friendship lottery and would never, ever have to be alone again.

Imagine having found that person, that one person, your person. Who gets you, who sees you for exactly who you are and who loves you endlessly because you are you and noone else.

Imagine looking forward at the rest of your life with such excitement, dreaming, wishing, making plans; safe in knowing that whatever happens, you will get through it together.

Then imagine losing it all.

Imagine spending eight months watching your one person fading away, getting weaker and more tired, but never giving up hope. Imagine holding her hand when she’s in so much pain she can barely breathe, telling her about all the amazing things you’re going to do together as soon as they’ve found a cure and she can finally leave that stupid hospital bed.

Imagine praying with all your might that you’re not wrong. Though knowing, deep down, that you are.

Imagine kissing her goodbye, telling her how much you love her and that you will see her soon, so very soon; imagine leaving her hospital room at 2 am a cool September night and then never talking to her again.

A part of me was relieved, that afternoon of September the 21st 2010, when Fanny’s older sister Lisa called me and told me it was all over.

A part of me thought is was all for the best. That she could finally rest now. We could all rest.

And then she would come back. Stronger, healthier, happier than ever.

I still can’t fathom that she didn’t. That she just kept on being dead.

We even buried her. She has a grave. The way dead people do.

And I’m supposed to move on.

My chest was torn open and my heart ripped out, my hopes and dreams and plans crushed and scattered on the ground, and I’m supposed to move on.

I wake up every morning knowing that she’s gone, and I’m supposed to move on.

I really should. Everyone wants me, needs me, to. Just live my life to the fullest and maybe now and then, when it’s her birthday or when a song comes on the radio that we both loved, I should wipe away a tear and say that wow, what we had was rare and magnificent and I’m grateful I got to experience such a beautiful friendship.

I really should. Because the people in my life all think it’s very sad that I lost my best friend and that it must suck for me, and they listen to me and comfort me the best they can and tell me to take one day at a time and that time heals all wounds, they tell me that once and twice and a hundred times but eventually it gets a bit old, nothing new and revolutionary happens really, it’s the same tears over the same girl who died of the same fucking cancer and isn’t it time for those wounds to heal soon, at least a little bit?

I know how boring it is that I don’t know how to move on. I know I’m supposed to think of Fanny with light and joy in my heart, I know I’m supposed to see a butterfly and think that it’s her and smile and feel like she’s with me, watching over me, and so on.

I’m so sorry that I can’t. I’m so sorry that I wake up, this morning just like every morning, stunned with pain. I’m sorry that when I see a butterfly all I think is that it’s a terribly sneaky insect, hiding behind its pretty wings so that noone will see what a creepy bug it actually is.

It’s been a year today and I’m supposed to move on. I’m so sorry I can’t. A part of me died with you and I’m afraid the ability to move on was located somewhere in that part.

You are too beautiful to get over.

Honestly. You should just come back. Maybe the reason I can’t move on is that I’m not supposed to. Because you weren’t finished. We weren’t done. Not even close.

I’ll be here, waiting.

Because what else is there?

 

Your Biggest Fan.

This stupid little video was recorded in the fall of 2007. I lived in a small University town and had too much going on in school to show up to an audition for a commercial in Stockholm. They asked me if maybe instead I could videotape myself saying a few lines, and I could really use the money if I got the part, so I said "sure".

Turns out looking into a camera, walking back and forth and saying a couple of sentences was a lot harder than I expected... Especially while remembering things like, ehm, buttoning your skirt in advance.

But I did get the part in the commercial (though never saw the finished result, as it was only to air outside of Sweden) - and without this video above, basically a bunch of "bloopers" and more or less awkward moments I edited together for fun, my boyfriend and I wouldn't be together today. We probably wouldn't even have met. Life sure have a funny way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it! That's a long story, though who knows, I'll might share it some day. Let's just say I'm glad I wasn't able to go to that audition four years ago, and even more glad that I took the time to edit this silly nonsense video and put it up on my blog!

PS. If for some reason you're not yet bored and want to read more about yours truly, Kylie of Memoir Mode has interviewed me for her first Blogger Spotlight feature - here! DS.

Happy Birthday, Darling.

Today is the 26th birthday of my greatest love, my best friend, my soulmate; my darling, dearest Fanny. The most loving, vibrant, bright, beautiful, caring, funny, brilliant person I've ever known.

Or, it would have been.

The next time you have a couple of dollars you feel like you could live without, please use them to save lives. There are tons of cancer research foundations out there that will turn your money into opportunities for mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, grandparents, daughters, sons, friends and lovers to keep their most loved ones alive.

There is a fund in Fanny's name at Cancerfonden - I'm not sure if it's possible to donate to this specific one outside of Sweden, and I'm not asking anyone to give a single dime, just to remember that it does happen to us. It's not the kind of nightmare you wake up from. No matter how badly you pray, wish, or hope.

Nearly 8 million people die of cancer every year. World Health Organisation claims that "deaths from cancer worldwide are projected to continue to rise to over 11 million in 2030". Please, please, please, let's do whatever we can to prevent this from happening. When it's too late, it's too late - but there are still millions of lives that can be saved.  

In less than a month, it will be one year since Fanny passed away. I'm not even close to finding a way to live without her. I doubt I ever will. But all I know is that I will keep looking, because what else is there?

Happy birthday, darling. I hope that whever you are, someone will bring you breakfast in bed; a tray packed with wrapped gifts, rooibos tea and a huge piece of delicious cake. I'm so sorry I can't be there. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry.

I love you endlessly.

(The video at the top of this post is a song that Fanny recorded with some of her dear friends six weeks before she lost the battle against her illness. I hope you'll listen to it. Because she was not only the best person to ever walk this Earth, she was also an amazing singer. And words cannot describe how unfair this life is.)

I miss you.

Black sequin dress, a gift from my best friend Fanny's mother, from her boutique Räddningsplankan. Leopard print tights, H&M. Black and white studded brogues, Nelly.com. (They're on sale, 99 SEK!) The bag I inherited from Fanny after she passed away.

(Photos by Amanda.)

Last night, I drove into Stockholm to go to a movie premiere with my little sister Amanda. The film is called "Jag saknar dig" ("I miss you") and is based on a book that was my favorite when I was twelve, so I had been looking forward to seeing it for the longest time.

The tagline on the poster is "How do you survive losing a part of yourself?" - a question that I have been trying to answer during these past eleven months.

In the movie, 14 year old Tina loses her identical twin sister Cilla in a car accident, and after a lifetime of being part of a twosome she's suddenly left all alone, forced to try and find a way to go on with her life on her own. Let me just say this: I didn't put on any makeup before I left the house. At least I know myself that well. 

To my Swedish readers: go see the film. The acting and the dialogue is occasionally somewhat awkward, and yes, it's corny at times. But you know what? It's all okay. Because it's also wonderful, made with warmth and love and it's heartbreaking, to all of us who's lost the person we were closest with in the entire world and to everyone who can't even stand the thought of losing that one person who keeps you going. Basically, it's a film for everyone who could use a reminder to cherish the people in our lives, to never take them for granted, to never let the sun set upon an argument.

"How do you survive losing a part of yourself?" I have been asking myself that every second, every minute, every hour of every day for almost a year. And I still have no idea. I honestly don't. I don't even know for sure if I want to. But I'm working on it, I'm looking for reasons to live on and for ways to make it possible.

It wasn't until halfway through the movie that I realized I was wearing a dress given to me by Fanny's mom and a bag I inherited from her after she passed away. Maybe it means something. Maybe it doesn't. But I remember too well the first time I saw that bag, when I opened the door and let her into the tiny apartment Ronnie and I were living in at the time; she was wearing her green coat and a knitted beret and those tan leather boots I gave her because they turned out to be half a size too small for me. I ooooh:ed and aaaah:ed her new bag and she showed me the gorgeous lining print inside.
Of course I remember it. I remember everything.

I HATE THAT I NOW OWN THIS BAG. I can't even tell you how much I hate this godforsaken fact.

Anyway. On to other things.

The girl who dies in the film is in love with this tall, brooding rocker guy with eyeliner and lots of hair covering one side of his face; he's in love with her too and he writes her a song (before she dies) that they play about ten times (at least) during those two hours. That would have been pretty unbearable if the song wasn't quite great. I listened to it at least ten more times in the car, driving home in the dark and the pouring rain, and I have to say it's still just as good. Come on, listen to it!

The singer (Ludvig Nilsson) plays a big supporting part in the movie, but it wasn't until I got home and saw this video that it dawned on me why I think he's weirdly hot. Like, I don't necessarily find him that excessively hot, but I knew he reminded me of someone who is so ridiculously sexy that some of that sexiness spills over onto him. Suddenly it was all so obvious: he looks so much like Shane McCutcheon (The L-Word), a.k.a. the hottest person (allright, tv character) in the whole world.

Oh wow. This post sure jumps from one subject to another with uncomfortable speed. That might be because I'm only pretending to write this in the morning (you know "last night I drove into Stockholm" and so on), but it's actually 2:16am and I'm incredibly tired. (I figured 2:16 might be a bad time to upload a post, so I'm scheduling it for tomorrow morning. Plus, then you'll think I'm up and about at 9:30, when I will without a doubt be sleeping like a baby in my bed.) The cats are already sleeping next to me on the couch, and I think I just might follow their example.

Right - today, no, technically yesterday - is/was this blog's three-month-anniversary! Yay According to Annika! Thanks a billion to everyone who's reading and commenting, this blog would already be dead and gone if it wasn't for you. I can't even believe how many people (we're talking hundreds of thousands!) have stopped by so far, and the numbers seem to keep growing for every day that passes. Thank you again for taking an interest in me and my life. Blogging does take up a lot of time that could potentially be used for something more... I don't know... cleaning/exercising/reading/guitarplaying/work-related, but the amazing friends I've made in these three months make every second worthwhile.

Fall Favorite: A Floral Print Romance.

Flower print dress, H&M. Boots, Skopunkten.

(Photos by me.)

On Thursday, only hours before I was to leave New York City, it hit me that Emiliano still had the tripod plate to my camera in his bag. This is indisputably a tiny little problem considering all the horrible things happening in the world, but it does mean that I won't be able to take outfit photos for a few days. Oh... noo! Come on now, guys, don't cry! (Hahaha, I'm hilarious, I know, I'm awesome like that.) My dear, dear friend Anna might come out here today, and I'll make sure she takes some photos, even if I have to use the Imperius Curse on her.
...
...

...right. As if I'd ever, ever, ever use one of The Unforgivable Curses. Pffft. What do you think of me?! Luckily, Anna's such a good friend, she takes outfit photos without complaining even a little bit. You hear that, Ronnie? Not even a little bit!

Aaaanyway. I thought I'd share another of my favorite outfits from last fall - since I know there has been plenty of cats and photos of delicious food in this blog lately, though not a lot of fashion.

My thoughts when I look at these photos:
1) I MISS THAT DREEEEEEESS!
2) Wow. I so wouldn't style that dress like that if I wore it today...
3) ...which I can't! Because I gave it away! I MISS IT!
4) Why did my eyebrows look so much thicker and fuller than they do now? It's not like I've used a tweezer on them since I was, like, sixteen. (No, I didn't fill them in with an eyebrow pencil. I'm terrible at doing that and I can always tell in photos if I did it or not.)
5) I totally wish I knew how to do my hair like that. But I don't. I merely improvised and, by chance, it turned out quite nicely, if I may say so myself (and I hope that by now we've established that yes, I may).
6) THAT DRESS! I miss it!

As you've probably guessed if you've read this far, I don't own this dress anymore. When I visited my dad and little sister Wendi in LA earlier this year, my sister claimed that she loooooooooved it, and because I happen to loooooooove her, I immediately said "you can keep it". Just like I do with every piece of clothing Wendi expresses an interest in. I can't help it! Honestly. Come to think about it, I believe she might be using the Imperius Curse on me! (Nope, I don't put it past her. She could definitely use one of the Unforgivables. She's one dark little creature, that one.)

Either way, I gave it to her, even though it's the most comfortable dress I've ever owned and I wore it all the time. Wendi, if you read this: you'd better wear it, like, constantly, or I will take it back! I'll fight that spell with all my might! I'll be all like, Accio dress, and you'll be like, Expelliarmus, but sorry girl, I'll totally block that one.

Okay. One more thing that I can't help thinking when I look at these photos... is that exactly one week after they were taken, my best friend in the world went to sleep and didn't wake up again. And then I didn't really feel like taking more photos of myself dressed up in nice clothes. It didn't make any sense. I guess it still doesn't, but at least I'm doing it. And that just might be a microscopic baby step in the right direction, towards some kind of future life where maybe I can't only smile and act happy, but actually feel it, too.