Looking at the hot bass players plectrum I caught about a year ago at a concert at the Roskilde music Festival, googling how long dead skin cells lasts and wondering if maybe some of him were still left on it, I can now officially call myself incredibly unusually bored this sunday evening. 

Much you can say about swedes, but they sure have a beautiful country. I am spending a couple of days up here alone while writing a huge school assignment. Right this moment I just finished and with a cup of coffee I am now enjoying Feist's pretty voice infront of a well lit fireplace. Right now, I like fall more than normal. 

- And Im sorry. No offence to swedes. I like swedes. Its just that in Denmark we make a lot of jokes about them, and I'm sure they do the same about us danes.

And they also have funny hair.

Goodnight!

Song of the day: click -> Thomas Dybdahl, U

I just carried a Harry Potter marathon through with my good friend Jonathan. 18 hours straight. It was hard and I admit Jonathan had to slap me in the face a couple of times during the last movies because I fell asleep, but we actually did it! Watching all the movies in a row is a whole new and different experience wich I highly recommend,  if you, like I had, have watched the movies to many times individually and miss some new perspective on the Harry Potter universe. A bit nerdy perhaps, but I thought it was worth it. I worshiped Harry Potter, it was my religion when I was 10 years old, and since I've never carried an actual Harry Potter marathon completely through, I kind of owed it to my younger self, I figured. So now that can be scratched from my list of things to do before I die.

Credits to Frida Kahlo, the woman who manages to pull off the monobrowed look. 

I am amazed, surprised and just a nip inspired by her. Perhaps that is something worth trying? I doubt I would pull it off with such class as she does though.. So I probably shouldn't and leave Kahlo with the title as the woman with the classiest monobrow. Bravo.

Watching "Jersey Shore" and feeling relieved by realizing how perfectly normal my life is.

Things I have to do/achieve/experience before the day I die (so far):

- Visit all of the world’s seven wonders

- Be fifty, single and fabulous

- Go parachuting

- Be background dancer or singer for Beyoncé

- Climb a mountain to the very top

- Visit all continents within in a week

- Have a conversation with Patti Smith

- Get a tattoo

- Sail the ocean 

- Walk a catwalk

- Watch all Harry Potter movies in a row

- Meat Michael Cera

- Make career in art

- Write a book

- Ride an elephant

- Go rock climbing

- Give a successful public speech

- Go on a road trip in the USA, visiting all of my relatives.

- Break up with a boyfriend by throwing a martini in his face saying “Dirty martini, dirty bastard” with a sassy voice and then walk fabulously away in high heels. 

- Succeed “the dragon”

- Run a marathon

- Paint a great piece of art

- Bake myself as a cake

- Own a walk-in-closet

- Go diving for treasures

- Visit a gold mine

- Be remembered, when I’m dead

- Play a piece by Debussy on the piano

- Visit the Skt. Peter’s church in Rome

- Learn a fourth language fluently

- Own a grand piano (Steinway, for instance)

- Be in to places at once

- Take a bite of the world’s hottest chili pepper

- Have sex on top of a grand piano

- Play a part in a TV series

- Be someone’s role model

- Find Neverland

- Be a radio host

- Be the weather girl

- Live long-term somewhere else than Denmark

- Pull off a shorthaired look

- Watch Earth from space

- Fly a hot air balloon

- Be in a moshpitt for real

- Try one of Candy Megastore’s huge gumballs

- Visit all the states of America

- Dance with Channing Tatum

- Beat a world record

- Grow old with someone

- Write a song

- Drive a motorcycle across countries

- Build a house from scratch

- Shake hands with Obama

- Learn the entire Amelie soundtrack on the piano

- Preform at Roskilde festival

- Be a toastmaster

- Kiss Justin Vernon

- Ride a fire truck

- Ride an ambulance

I am so hungry!

The time is 20:36. I'm sitting in my room listening to 'claire de lune' and 'La Fille Aux Cheveux De Lin'. That Debussy guy is really on to something. This melancholy music makes me think about getting old. I don't know why. Perhaps because the music makes me picture myself sitting as an old lady in a little hut in a forrest looking into a fireplace with a cat on my lap and a husband with a great beard sitting by my side. I can't wait to get old. Old and clarified. Having experienced it all, found myself, seen what there was to be seen, tasted what there was to be tasted.

Things are going to get pretty wild. 

They changed blogger, so I no longer know how to post songs. This is a shame, because I have so much music to share! But now I have made a list and if you are having the bit of ekstra time, listen to these:

For the morning hours: "Godmorgen", Analogik

When you cant sleep: "The End", The Doors

Alone friday night, because no one wants to go out: "Brown Sugar", D'Angelo

Getting ready for party: "Ain't Nobody", Chaka Khan

Home alone cooking: "I know you know", Esperanza Spalding

For the dish wash: "Cold war", Janelle Monáe

For the sunny day bike trip: "Friday I'm in love", The Cure

For the workout: "Tightrope", Janelle Monáe

Feeling fine: "Mack the Knife", Ella Fitzgerald

When you are in a hurry, this song makes you do things faster: "St. Thomas", Niels Henning Ørsted Petersen (NHØP)

For the constellation looking: "If Venus was a boy", Björk
Suitable for any happy occasion: "Bohemian Rhapsody", Queen

Feeling angry: "Free money", Patti Smith

When its dark outside: "Minnesota WI", Bon Iver
In love: "For once in my life", Stevie Wonder
Home at 4am drunk: "Babe i'm gonna leave you", Led Zeppelin
For the gardenparty: "Black Magic Woman", Santana
Alone on the dance floor: "Still believing", Eran DD
Walking down the street, wearing shades: "Money", Pink Floyd
Driving long distances in a car: "Evenings Child", The Savage Rose
For the hangover: "I'll Kill Her", Soko

Today I will bake these. 

This is me today. Tired as never before. 

 

Back from vacation.

To weeks of pendling between france, switzerland and italy. It has been nice.

I have gained 2kg from all the great food and my skin now has the same color as milk-chocolate (almost).

But it feels so good to be back though.
There sure is nothing like the good old danish ry-bread, rainy weather and egg-salad.
no no no. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63KB-EJKdyI

I wonder why the time won't go by any faster and what I am still doing inside reading. Almost everyone I know already are free to go, but I'm still stuck here with my stupid books. With one exam left, fucking one, my longing after summer vacation is growing by every second.
ksdlfhkjdhfiuehbhvhjsdl984hjksf fuck this. 

Them girls 8)

Due to prom-night-hangovers the only thing 

I have accomplished today, is playing piano. 

Caffeine is good. It makes me do ridiculous things much faster and with greater enthusiasm with a huge smile on my face. I should really begin to stop.... Tomorrow.  

Sitting on the top of Copenhagen. Drinking a cup of coffee to the stunning view across the rooftops of our humble little city, I am spending my afternoon doing my homework for Monday's school day.  “Illum’s café” on 4^th floor is where I’m at.

“An evocative café experience worth exploring” a persuading sign outside of Illum read, which enticed me upstairs towards something new, instead of going the good old second rate cafés as usual. From the reviews and other recommendations I have received on this café, I finally decide to try it out. So here I am, packed with positive expectations, waiting to get blown away by this evocativeness. But evocative wasn’t exactly the first word entering my mind, when stepping inside the room of Illum’s highly reputed rooftop café. 

A clinical, overly-modernized decor with an intense red colour dominating the view of the room interferes with my brain and catches all my attention. The room reminds me of an art gallery, where you aren’t aloud to touch anything, and barely dare to breathe. The waiter escorts me to a little table by the window and creates a formal atmosphere by his following “What can I help you with, madam?” and “yes you may certainly have a double latte, madam”. His face is expressionless. His questioning feels impersonal. It all just seems like a part of an over-practiced routine, his boss told him to do.

15 minutes past my ordering, the coffee is served. A tiny cup is placed in front of me, containing of what looks like 5 sips of coffee, for which I paid 60 kr. for. I sip the coffee and this is where the strong feeling of disappointment really takes off. The hideous decor, the robot waiter, and the waiting time, I can deal with. But when my 60 kr. coffee is served tepid and mild, when ordered hot and strong, that’s where the shit hits the fan. Even though I’m a fairly open-minded person, one shouldn’t be messing with the quality of my coffee. That is a very sensitive spot of mine. A cup of coffee that expensive should be bringing a café experience of exquisite excellence, with sublime service and a coffee so well tasting that it deserves a space in my diary. With coffee that expensive, I certainly expect an “evocative café experience worth exploring”. And yet I still sit here, receiving the quite opposite. Fuck this. 

Tuesday afternoon, 

a coup of noodlesoup and 

a whole german paper to be written.

See you on the other side. 

"Dear Astrid, thank you for your help yesterday. I would like to commend your general work effort lately which have been excellent. It is a pleasure having you as aspirant here at Baresso. Have a nice monday!" fucking woooooooooooooop :) :)

I miss my sister. I really do. Miu.

This is me and her, when we were 4 and 6 years old.

Now we are 17 and 19, and she have moved, which I can't stand.

This is so great

Tuesday

Sitting in school. Realizing that I should be working harder. Knowing that it is not possible right now. Feeling tired and hungry. Looking at the time, which says a quarter to 11. Feeling empty. Noticing the nervous laughs coming from my fellowstudents, probably uttered with a hope of scoring easy points from the teacher. Laughing to myself a bit. Listening to lecture about the doric column problem without really listening. Caring less and less. Wanting to go to stakehouse right now, but having to wait to the end of the day. Looking forward, looking so so forward to the eternal french fry refill. Getting even hungrier. sldkfjsdlkfsjdæfjioæieuwrosd fuck this.

21.02.2012 is the same backwards. crazy shit.

Vacation is nearly over, and Im wondering where it went.

I have accomplished just about nothing,

but that can hardly surprise anyone.

Everyone is busy tonight,

so I think I will leve them to their dooings,

and go dine with my uncle,

who just flew in from Iraq.

Have a nice saturday evening.

.

.

.

.

Bach did it btw. Listen to this.

Time = 22:05, monday the 30.

Hunger status = Full, Energy status = Tired, Top daily accomplishment = getting out of bed, Goal of tomorrow = getting out of bed, Craving of the day = grill cheese sandwich. bet tomorrow will be the same, Song of the day = Terrible love, Birdy, because of the snowy weather. Leg = hurting from all the dancing. poor me.

Now = chilling in my room looking to the left.

How about a tall glass of I don't give a fuck?

I don't care, if this is hipster. I love her anyway. Birdy, everyone.

A fucking genius without limits.

If he weren't dead, I would marry him.

Niels Henning Ørsted Petesen everyone.

I just realized, that I have had this blog for over a year. What Up.

I am sorry.
Since I started blogging my urge for making one of those really meaningless selfcentered blogposts has been growing. When I read other peoples blogs, I hate those posts, but when you are into blogging, and are out of ideas of what to post, it is hard not to. So here it comes.
The most egocentric blogpost of nonsense I have ever, and will ever make.

Its name is At Home on a Sunday with my Cosmic Love, my Florence and my Machine. It is about what I normally spend my Sundays with: crap. Enjoy.