Post Immigrant stress syndromes

Not going out for 3 days, body trying to adjust.
Feeling the most desperate need to make a home out of anything.
Not wanting to write because it feels complicated.
Not wanting to deal with complicated feelings.
Waking up in the middle of the night feeling overheated and stuffed.

Feeling lonely in all kinds of simple situations, like realizing the fact that:
I really really do not think that people and things that most seem to view as awesome and kick-ass
are anything much at all.

I saw A Straw man with a pumpkin head on a porch during my walk yesterday, and that put a smile on my face. The skin around my cheeks was strained, as if smiling was a bit unusual, maybe it was those three days as a troglodyte. Except during sex, I smile during sex sometimes.

I need to work soon (but my body is a troglodyte!), so that my geek can work less, his work hours are insane. But I also must finish my degree, and all this must work out. (trooogloodytee...)

anyone knows who'd wanna hire a troglodyte? Mind you, that's literate and educated troglodyte to you ma'am!

I still get confused, after 2 years of in and outs of this country, about the numerous American flags in people's gardens...it's just unswedish. We don't flag. That much. Although there is nothing wrong with it I guess, so in the spirit of this fact, shortly before my departure to the US, I bought a key ribbon thingy with Swedish flags printed on it, and from Sofia I got a miniature Snufkin (a character in Tove Jansson's Moomin books of Swedish-Finnish origin) to hang on it. So, yeah, I'm advertising.

I don't really know what my visceral needs are, but I suspect that when I start working I'll stop yammering this much about vague things, and more about the wage-slave realities of life.

So, ok, if you've read this far, why don't you do this for me:

If you have anything to say to the person who posts this, say it to them. If you love them, tell them. If you hate them, tell them. Whatever you have to say to this person, even if it's something you're having trouble saying, if the person posts this entry, say it to them. You may never have the chance to again, so just do it. Screening comments, so go ahead. Or be anonymous, if you want.

I tagged this from a number of people. Generally I think anonymous comments are chicken-shit, but now I might need a shock, a pep-talk, something troglodyte-subversive or maybe just a GOD-SMACK! (ey lizardek?)
It's screened and I've allowed anonymous comments again, so git.

Happy Halloween!

It turns out that I, when I've washed my hair and am dripping wet, in an old bathrobe, look very much like the creepy girl from The Ring.



particularly when I don't have any contact lenses in eyes.
I scare myself.