Personal loss

The connection between what I create and how I feel is so closely knit that I can’t function properly without creating. Those of you who’ve known me for a little while know that I recently lost someone who was closely linked to my family. R was not a family member but so close in my heart that his departure was a significant loss and a terrible blow to my wellbeing.

I would describe myself as a positive person, I smile constantly and take great pleasure in the little things in life like climbing a tree, watching the sunrise, and getting lost while out walking. But sometimes a mood strikes me and the silly things can’t lift my spirits, no matter how hard I try.

I haven’t been on this earth a terrible amount of years and I would never want to compare what I have been through with anyone else but I think I can fairly say that it’s not been the easiest. The only people I call my family is my parents and my brothers and despite how dysfunctional we all are we can stand to be in each other’s company. The rest of my relatives are just connected to me genetics, not by love or closeness and I do not talk to them. I’ve found myself in relationships marred by mental and physical abuse and managed to get out of it with the majority of my soul intact. I’ve encountered drugs and violence in so many forms that looking back at it I feel like I should be at least twice as old to have had time for it all. It feels surreal to know that over ten people that have played a significant role in my life has died, only half of them by old age and/or sickness.

Death is an inevitable byproduct of life, it’s the only thing we can ever be certain of. I don’t mean to be morbid or depressing, I’m only trying to reassure myself that it’s natural and it’s one of the few things that we all have in common.
The loss of a person you love, is on the other hand one of the most unnerving and emotionally disturbing things one can go through. A sudden void, the lack of a voice and a presence. An event that you can never be fully ready for, even if the person is diagnosed with something mortal. There is no preparation.

Creativity is a complex thing. It’s fickle, fragile, forceful, fascinating, foolish and other fantastically suitable adjectives, not only those starting with an f. Creative is defined as being “marked by the ability or power to create” according to the Merrian-Webster dictionary.
My desire to be creative went away when R passed away. I still created things but I didn’t write any songs or stories, I didn’t sing and I didn’t draw. I kept away from the ways I usually pour out my feelings. Most of all I escaped into books, into the world of literature, where all things are imagined and if it gets too sad or scary I could just close the book and rest. I felt the need to press pause and get over the shock before I could process anything.

I’m ready to write now. I’m ready to sing. I’m back, with another hole in my Swiss cheese heart but I’m also stronger than ever.

Thank you for the support, it meant the world to me.

My 10 favorite singer/songwriters - Part One

These are 5 of my 10 favorite singer/songwriters, as before in my lists, they are in no particular order. They are not the only musicians I look up to, like listening to and admire but merely a few of the many I see make an incredible contribution to the way I view how music should be.


1 David Bowie
He has successfully written songs in more genres than I thought it was possible for an artist to do. Multi instrumentalist, painter, actor, producer and much more... No matter what he endeavors, he knows his stuff.

2 Alanis Morissette
From Canadian pop-star to world wonder. In my opinion she has a song that corresponds to every feeling I have ever felt. Honestly, there are only two songs of hers (since she stopped being a Canadian pop-star) where I can’t say, this song is about me... And that’s a lot of songs to take to heart.

3 Freddie Mercury
Queen - Do I have to say more? Even if I don’t have to, I will. Freddie Mercury was a genius. He not only had a voice with tremendous power, he also had an ear for producing. He revolutionized modern recording as we know it today by inventing ways to make his creative ideas possible. A true perfectionist who was never afraid to do what he believed was best for the songs he was working on.

4 Dolly Parton
I have to admit I’m not specially fond of country music, but Parton is on this list because she is one of the most amazing songwriters ever. She has written over 3000 songs (almost 600 of them listed with BMI) and plays at least ten instruments that I know of. She more than rightfully deserves her place in the Songwriters Hall of Fame.

5 Trent Reznor
The heart and brain behind the industrial rock project called Nine Inch Nails. Industrial rock is surely not everyones cup of tea from what I gather but Reznor has done so much more than taking care of his own career He also happen to be a big fan of David Bowie and Queen, just like I am.

What's in a name?

I’ve been thinking a lot about names. All my life actually. When I was just a little girl I didn’t see my name as something very significant, not until I started school and people, mostly kids my own age, remarked on how unusual my name was. I had already heard the story many times.

My mother had decided, at the age of sixteen, what her daughter would be named. She loved those names so much and she kept them in her heart for years. She got her first child when she was 24, a boy. He got strong, traditional names. One name from our mother’s side of the family, one from our father’s side and his first name from a very intelligent and industrious man that founded one of the most successful companies in Swedish history.

A year later they got another boy. He got two names from our fathers side of the family and my father suggested the name of his beloved, departed uncle, Bernard, for the first name. My mother cringed, she couldn’t name her son after a dog, so they chose another name that just felt better.

Two years later I came into the world. My mother was devastated, the names she had in her head for so many years just wouldn’t due. Two of the names were too common to have as a first name, all the girls the same age as me had those. The third name was her first name, so that was out of the question.

My father, who wisely enough thought it best to not interfere in the matter of my name, called me Q-ball, because of my lack of those downy little strands of hair my brothers had been sporting at birth. So Q-ball I was for a few weeks. My mother, horrified over the suggestion the midwife had given at my birth (and got the entire ward to call me while we were there,) tried desperately to find a suiting name.

The search was intense; books were devoured, friends were asked but nothing felt right. One name searching sessions took my mother to go through her records (yes, real records, not Compact Discs) and she found it. In between her countless albums of Stevie Wonder and the queens of disco lay a humble album with a smiling woman. I had a name.

There’s a feeling of identity in a name. Just imagine being called something else for an entire day.
I have many nicknames, pet names that my friends and family have given me. I have had occasions where I’ve used a different name, not because I don’t like my name, just as a part of a social experiment (long story.) I also avoid using my real name on the Internet but that’s more of a safety precaution.

I wonder how much a name forms you into the person you become. I got a few jeers and snide comments but I would never say I was bullied because of it. I’ve only met one woman with the same first name, she was thirty years older. I know there are more of us out there, but they’re all considerably older than I am. Did the fact that I had a very unusual name affect the way I looked at myself? I’ve always been singing, I can’t remember not doing it. Did the fact that I was named after a singer have any subconscious effect on my choices of education and career? To answer myself I say, no.

No matter how many different names I have had I’m still the same little Q-ball, although I must stress the fact that I have more hair on my head now.

My kind of poetry

Friday I'm In Love lyrics - The Cure

I don't care if monday's blue
tuesday's grey and wednesday too
thursday i don't care about you
it's friday I'm in love

monday you can fall apart
tuesday wednesday break my heart
thursday doesn't even start
it's friday I'm in love

saturday wait
and sunday always comes too late
but friday never hesitate...

I don't care if monday's black
tuesday wednesday heart attack
thursday never looking back
it's friday I'm in love

monday you can hold your head
tuesday wednesday stay in bed
or thursday watch the walls instead
it's friday I'm in love

saturday wait
and sunday always comes too late
but friday never hesitate...

dressed up to the eyes
it's a wonderful surprise
to see your shoes and your spirits rise
throwing out your frown
and just smiling at the sound
and as sleek as a shriek
spinning round and round
always take a big bite
it's such a gorgeous sight
to see you in the middle of the night
you can never get enough
enough of this stuff
it's friday
I'm in love

And I don't care if monday's blue
tuesday's grey and wednesday too
thursday I don't care about you
it's friday I'm in love

monday you can fall apart
tuesday wednesday break my heart
thursday doesn't even start
it's friday I'm in love

Procrastination

Today I didn’t get much written on my book, I could tell you that the reason for my blatant negligence was something noble like...
- I was serving food to the homeless
fun...
- I helped proof-read Tarantino’s new script
or otherwise valid...
- I got arrested and had to wait for someone to bail me out

Unfortunately this was not the case today. I was merely procrastinating my time away, reorganizing my sock drawer in system of color*, making a display device for my necklaces** that before was kept in a big jar tangled up and I spent much time gazing out the window hoping for some ideas.

One of my favorite words in Spanish is mañana - that can mean both “tomorrow” and “an indefinite time in the future.” It’s only natural. I like doing things in my own time, smell the flowers and sleep in in the morning. I don’t care much for stress and obligations, deadlines and A.S.A.P.s

Procrastination is a beautiful word that was concocted in the 1540’s from Latin procrastinationem "a putting off.” *** Wikipedia informs me that such behaviour is a “mechanism for coping with the anxiety associated with starting and/or completing any task or decision.” But I don’t feel anxiety... Maybe I’m more properly classified as lazy. But at least I’m lazy and happy about it.






* & ** Photographic evidence can be provided at request.

***procrastination
1540s, from L. procrastinationem "a putting off," noun of action from procrastinare "put off till tomorrow," from pro- "forward" + crastinus "belonging to tomorrow," from cras "tomorrow," of unknown origin.

Wednesday Musings

My dictionary says

“ Muse n.
1. Greek Mythology - Any of the nine daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus, each of whom presided over a different art or science.
2. muse
a. A guiding spirit.
b. A source of inspiration.
3. muse A poet.”

The original Muses were from Greek mythology. They were goddesses or spirits who gave inspiration. Much argument and discussion about the number of them has gone on through the centuries. Three, five or nine. How many the “correct” amount is doesn’t feel like an urgent question to me, but most people seem to be of the opinion that there are nine of them.

There are so many things and people that inspire me to write. I have written notebooks cover to cover filled with songs about the things I see happening to those around me. It’s my way of processing the surrounding world. My way of trying to understand why people are the way they are and through that figure out how I can change myself for the better. Most of the songs I write are far from great, but every now and then a melody attaches itself to the words in a very special way and it feels just right, I feel blessed. Those instants make it hard for me to see it as my composition. I was merely there at the right moment, in the right state of mind, to scribble it down. The sensation that it came from somewhere that wasn’t of my conscious thought is so strong that if I didn’t know better I would have guesses it was nothing but pure luck.

My muses are usually my closest friends and family, who are most of the time unaware of the inspiration I find in them. Everything I write has a root in reality, I wouldn’t be able to write anything remotely interesting if I just pulled it out of thin air with no reference to my surroundings, my feelings, my dreams and my past. The question of if what I’m writing is a literal or metaphoric rendition of events, I will leave that unsaid for the time being. I think interpretation is half the fun of any kind of art and I wouldn’t want to ruin it for you.

Despite all this, I will try to make my ramblings here on the blog a little clearer than my songs and stories, let you know when I’m making things up so you know when I’m trying to keep a dialogue. I’m an old dog stuck in her habits, trying to learn this new trick called blogging.

Thank you for the inspiration

Marriage of the minds

Me and my friend sit together somewhere nice. We tell people that the discussion came up somewhere nice even if it actually had been three in the morning after a party, some things are just for the two of us to know. We discuss our hopes and dreams and notice common ground. We discuss books and music and secrets that we’ve never shared with anyone before.

Suddenly this story takes form, we both sense it in the air, something that needs to be told and we want to share. So we get it out in the open, we’ll write a book together.
Soon all our friends know we’re writing companions, they wish us good luck and hope they will get to go to the book launch, some secretly hope it goes in the trash and pray that we’ll fall out and start fighting over names of characters, where the story is going to take place etc, before we’ve even get our first chapter together.

But we stick to it. We have our disagreements and nights of staying up talking. Maybe moments of tears over the other persons stubborn ignorance to the obvious. We have many lyrical and enthusiastic moments of total compatibility. Thankfully most of the latter.

We see some of our writing buddies break promises and deadlines, get jealous if they talk to other writers about creative ideas, run over each other for the leading position and being the one in control. After a while they stop writing, stop talking and go their separate ways.

Finally one day, after what seems like an unnecessary amount of planning, me and my friend stand there at the launch party. I feel sick and want to hide. I can’t take the press or all those people watching. I can’t believe it is actually official, we will share this book together, for the rest of our lives. But then I see my friends face and know it is all worth it.

Agatha Christie once said “I've always believed in writing without a collaborator, because where two people are writing the same book, each believes he gets all the worries and only half the royalties.”
I believe it takes as much openness and will to communicate, to write a good book together with someone else, as it takes to have a successful romantic relationship. It takes someone special to find the right connection. Maybe Christie knew something I don’t or maybe she never met the right person to share her creative ideas well enough with.

My life, my languages

Since this is one of my first blog posts here I thought an introduction was in order. I am a song writing/tune singing, amateur novelist and wannabe linguist. People ask me what I do for a living and to be honest it’s not easy for me to give an answer to that. Most of the time I answer that I’m a singer/songwriter, because that’s what I have always been and always will continue to do until the day someone decides to press mute (and then I will continue anyway).
To pay for my bills, on the other hand, I do various translating jobs and have just got involved with a small business to be their official photographer of online goods.

I was born in the north of Sweden in a little house in a big forest and has to days date moved 14 times, a fact that I blame on my traveling ancestors. My native tongue is Swedish and thanks to the Swedish educational system I started learning English at a young age and quickly became proficient in this. I was not terribly gifted in school so I was happy to discover that I was at least good at music and English. I also started studying German and Spanish but quit both classes for various reasons. Let me just say that a bad teacher can severely ruin the pleasures of learning.

After the normal run of school years I was tired of homework and exams and decided on a sabbatical year. I worked teaching little children to paint and sing and spent my days reading stories and playing, which was fun until it got to the end of the day and I had to go home to an empty apartment, without any friends, in a town I didn’t know. In hindsight the year passed quickly but I know it felt like an eternity. With my sabbatical year finished I couldn’t wait to get back to studying and I thirsted for singing something else than “Twinkle, twinkle” all day long. I applied to a Rock Musicians College and got accepted after auditions. Another year passed and I applied to study abroad, English speaking places only. I got accepted to two very good universities but chose the one in Scotland since they offered one-on-one instrument tutoring.

The following is complicated but please bare with me. I managed to understand the Scottish accent and got my diploma in Music Performance. I got myself a boring job as a switchboard operator for an international computer company, just so I could make enough money to get away from the constant rain I had endured during my years in Scotland. By a series of fortunate consequences I moved to France. I didn’t know a word of French before I arrived here less than two years ago and now I’m close to fluency level of understanding and speaking but in writing things are a little slower. But I am still learning and I enjoy it tremendously.

I’ve always found languages very interesting and my dad always told me that people will listen to you if you speak in their own language, both literally and metaphorically. I call myself trilingual plus extra and I try to constantly learn more in as many languages as possible. I’m not sure, but I suspect my love for languages is closely linked to my firm believes of the notion that music is a universal language that can speak straight to our hearts.

There you are, the factual me. If you want to learn more I guess you’ll have to stick around and read as I update.

Tack, thank you and merci for reading.