Sverige
Last night I arrived back in Cardiff after just over a week in Sweden. One of the main reasons for the visit was Helena and Christoffer's wedding in Kiviks, which is a small town in Skåne where a lot of cider apples are grown. The wedding was in a small, white chapel, filled with light and situated about 30 metres from the sea.
On Sunday I finally got to hear some tracks from Niklas' new demo (due out soon), and am really impressed. Watch his myspace for more info.
During the week I finally succumbed to a visit to the Kallbadhuset (cold bath house), where you get naked, sit in a sauna, and then jump into the sea. The experience was as strange as anticipated. We Brits just aren't used to being naked and comfortable, and especially not outdoors! Just when you start to relax (while discussing theology or some such) the thought runs through your mind "I'm naked," and inwardly you cringe. Thanks to Andreas and Peter for initiating me.
I also got to visit Packebo, where Sofia comes from, and spend some time with her family. It was so relaxing to get away from the city, to walk in the woods, and to enjoy the hospitality of The Family Carlbert.
I've posted some photos on Flickr (thanks Stina for loaning me your camera)...
Friday, May 18, 2007
The Last Kiss
The Last Kiss is a phase 2 coming of age movie. Phase 1 would be the "I'm coming up to eighteen years old and 'finding myself'." Phase 2 is the 29 year old, married, or almost married crisis of "is my life now one long episode of predictability?"
It could have been terrible (and I'd read elsewhere that it was), but it wasn't. Somehow, about three quarters of the way through, it switches from angsty nihilism to something altogether more hopeful. It becomes a tale of wisdom and long-suffering, of imperfect people living out love, instead of just speaking about it, and of young learning from old. (****)
The Last Kiss is a phase 2 coming of age movie. Phase 1 would be the "I'm coming up to eighteen years old and 'finding myself'." Phase 2 is the 29 year old, married, or almost married crisis of "is my life now one long episode of predictability?"
It could have been terrible (and I'd read elsewhere that it was), but it wasn't. Somehow, about three quarters of the way through, it switches from angsty nihilism to something altogether more hopeful. It becomes a tale of wisdom and long-suffering, of imperfect people living out love, instead of just speaking about it, and of young learning from old. (****)
This week began as one of the busiest in a long time. Being self-employed allows for bouts of unchecked workaholism. Working two jobs, one self employed, can leave you with little time for anything besides work.
There are two kinds of discipline you need when you're working 'for yourself': self motivation; and, self preservation. If you are not diciplined in your rest you will, at best, find yourself exhausted and stressed out, and, at worst, end up hating your work.
There are two kinds of discipline you need when you're working 'for yourself': self motivation; and, self preservation. If you are not diciplined in your rest you will, at best, find yourself exhausted and stressed out, and, at worst, end up hating your work.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
I spent most of today asking myself "what is a vote worth?"
It all began when I woke up and realised that:
a) It was voting day, and
b) That I hadn't received my ballot paper.
I was under the mistaken assumption that a ballot paper is required to vote. At some point during the night I had also dreamed that David Cameron (Conservative) had become Prime Minister. After this nightmare I was more eager than ever to vote, and to do justice to the people who have died in order that I might have the opportunity.
The truth is you can't really put a value on a vote. You can argue as much as you like that there's no point voting, because British parties all believe generally the same thing, or that it is a huge, lumbering mechanism that rarely produces something of value, but when deprived of a vote you soon discover the value of being able to vote against someone you don't want in power.
It all began when I woke up and realised that:
a) It was voting day, and
b) That I hadn't received my ballot paper.
I was under the mistaken assumption that a ballot paper is required to vote. At some point during the night I had also dreamed that David Cameron (Conservative) had become Prime Minister. After this nightmare I was more eager than ever to vote, and to do justice to the people who have died in order that I might have the opportunity.
The truth is you can't really put a value on a vote. You can argue as much as you like that there's no point voting, because British parties all believe generally the same thing, or that it is a huge, lumbering mechanism that rarely produces something of value, but when deprived of a vote you soon discover the value of being able to vote against someone you don't want in power.
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