A different kind of journey

I started blogging as some kind of journal to my nearest and dearest, for them to be able to know what I was doing when around and about in the big world. Never really thought much about it, but I quickly realized that I enjoyed it. Anyone who knows me also knows that I take no greater joy than in the sound of my own voice. Many a time have I been told to shove a sock in it, many a time did I continue my endless monologue to no one’s pleasure than my own. So, now I kind of let my endless blabbering enter the digital age, and thus, entering an era of democracy. Because if you don´t care about what I have to say, you are more than welcome to stop reading.


Enjoying the written word, yes. But I don´t really have anything to write about as my life is an exceptionally dull and boring existence. But during a few hours in a car with J on route to the old hometown to celebrate the youngest brother as he finished school a discussion arose. In the car with me I had besides J two fine young men that was travelling north for the same reasons as J and myself, and both of these fine young specimens of Swedish meat where (are?) blogging. And as it turned out, they had also read some of my blog posts, and enjoyed reading it. Or so they said anyway. I complained about the two factors keeping me from keeping blogging, time and substance. Time is not really an issue, as J told med the last night. “Prioritize”, she said, so that’s what I am doing right now. But then, substance. That shouldn’t be a problem since 95% of all blogs lacks all form of substance and are only a mindless self-masturbation in the younger generation’s strife for attention and self confirmation. So, if I don’t want to write about what I am wearing at the moment (leather thong, chaps and a gag-ball), where I took a cup of coffee (Bar Centro and Da Matteo are the only places worthy my time) or what hip party I went to the other night, then what the hell am I supposed to write about?
Well, as it turned out I could tell one or two stories about life in that car that both of my fine friends got a bit excited about. “That’s the type of shit you should write about!” they both yelled. So I will. We will see what happens, maybe my blog will rise and fall with this single post, but in the time to come I hope I can squeeze at least one or two stories out. Having stayed sober for almost 27 years (not any more though) a lot of the stories will probably not be my own, but still. A good story is a good story. And what makes a story is the way it’s told.

I was also thinking about doing some updates about my life since the last time we spoke. I came home from Nepal in the middle of April. Being promised a steady employment during the whole time I worked at my last job, but never seeing anything of that kind coming my way in the end, I ended up unemployed. Loving parents helped me with the first rent. I am not the kind of person that sits about waiting for stuff to fall into my lap, so I started looking for different kind of jobs. A bit of luck and a bit of ambition helped me out and exactly two weeks after I came home I was standing on the assembly line at Volvo´s factory in Torslanda outside of Gothenburg. Building cars. My first time ever as an industrial worker, and I was a part of one of the most well known industries in Sweden, and kind of a legendary place in the town of Gothenburg. Gothenburgers (Gothenburgians?) builds Volvos, and Volvo in many ways, together with the port, shipyards and oil industry, built Gothenburg. As I was slaving away at one of the toughest lines in the whole factory, building V70, V60, XC70 and XC90 at a steady pace, I was also totally broke. This got me to the social service or the first (and hopefully last) time in my life. I had already borrowed money from my parents, and since the money from Volvo would take another month I had one month where I would not get anything. Long story short, this time I got what I needed and the rent could be paid. Another month on and I got the biggest salary in my life so far, and I was able to pay 10.000SEK to my parents in one go. I lasted two months at Volvo, as I got the steady job I was hoping for, in the commune. Not on my old job though, but at a new place. As it turned out, it was a better job, better colleagues and better pay. Kind of a win-win. So, that’s where I´m at. It’s a home for people with psychiatric illnesses and physical disabilities as a consequence of that. For example, people with depression an schizophrenia who tries to commit suicide but doesn’t really succeed, and so on… Happy days.

During this summer I have really worked my ass off. First at Volvo where I had the evening shift, meaning I left at 14.00 and came home at 01.00-02.00 Monday-Friday. Didn’t meet anyone but J for two months. Then, I started this new job, working every other weekend and a lot of evenings… Not doing wonders for the social life either. But it has been good, since it has forced me to focus on the few who really counts. Apart from that I have been in J´s summerhouse three times, my grandmothers summerhouse twice, in J´s hometown, in my hometown two or three times, I partied until I dropped in Amsterdam with F and F, and I even managed to get down to Malmoe last weekend. So, it has been a very hectic summer. Not a lot of time on my own.

Apart from that, there was a brake in to J´s apartment when we were sleeping there. I came home from Volvo totally knackered in the middle of the night, forgot to lock the door and some asshole came into the one-room apartment when we were sleeping. Took nothing of real value, but stole small stuff that adds up and more than anything else violated our privacy and integrity more than I would have ever imagined. Months of insecurity when being alone followed for J. Months of guilt for not locking the door followed for me. Then, a sunny Saturday in September we decided to spend the weekend in J´s family’s summerhouse, about an hour from where we live. Said and done, bags are packed, a brothers car borrowed and off we go. First, we are going to spend a few hours in the wood with a friend. Also said and done, we watch the shadows grow longer sitting on the rocks aside a Swedish forest lake, speaking about the stuff you speak about sitting in such a place, watching the sun turn the country to gold.
After an hour or two we turn back to the car, parked in a public car park with forty or so other cars a mere five hundred meters away. Right hand passenger window smashed. J´s bag with all her stuff in gone. The exact same things as she lost last time were gone again. Cell phone, keys, wallet with credit cards, cards to her school and gym, clothes, pens, drawings from all or time together during this hectic summer. A look in her eyes telling me “I can´t fucking take this shit again”. I never feel sorry for people (or, I do. But very seldom). But I could not feel anything but sorry. Of course we didn’t go to any summerhouse, the weekend was totally ruined. As we drive back I hit the brakes as I almost run over one of her shirts. The burglars, travelling by car had spread all of her belongings along the route they used to escape, leaving her underwear laying on the road together with a book, her pens and a few other items. The important stuff though, of course remains to be found. Calling a locksmith in the weekends isn´t cheap. Getting your stuff organized again, and trying to cope with the loss of your belongings isn´t always easy. Finding positive energy from you weekend when you have to get up at 04.00 in the morning to drive your brother to work in the morning, then drive 60km to get a new window and put it in before driving back is close to impossible. That was a shitty weekend. No doubt. Thanks for listening

Well, that’s what I have been doing since the last time I wrote. We´ll se what I come up with next time.

Den eviga resan fortsätter.

Enda anledningen till att jag skrev på engelska under min resa var att jag stör ihjäl mig på att inte kunna använda å ä och ö. Det ser så sjukt fult ut att det estetiska fick ge vika för det praktiska och bloggen blev engelsk. Jag måsta säga att jag är glad och hedrad över hur många som faktiskt läst det jag skrev. Jag skrev bloggen för att jag tänkte att min familj och mina närmsta vänner skulle vilja veta vad som händer och då är det enklare med en blogg än att skriva samma sak till alla (fem-sex) personer som kanske undrar. Men nu var det ett par fler än så som läste. Dessutom var det några av de som läste som kommenterade, dels på bloggen men också i verkliga livet. Och det kändes märkligt bra. Men så är det väl, positiv feedback kan man ju inte få för mycket av.

Så jag tänkte fortsätta skriva lite. Det folk sa om det jag skrev var att det var väldigt långt, och att det var på engelska. Så då tänkte jag så här. Jag skriver både på engelska och svenska och både långt och kort. Så nu vart den ett långt inlägg på engelska, då kör jag en sammanfattning på svenska. Om jag skriver någonting på svenska, så kör jag en liten sammanfattning på engelska. Anledningen att jag skriver över huvud taget är ju dessutom egentligen bara att jag gillar att skriva, så som sagt, orkar man inte läsa förstår jag det. Jag orkar inte läsa annat än ingresserna på någonting på internet ändå. Ibland kan jag till och med tycka att Aftonbladets löpsedlar blir lite väl detaljerade och analyserande.

Som jag skrev i texten ovan så har det vart en riktigt hektisk sommar. Jag kom hem i april och var arbetslös trots planer om annat. Men jag tog tag i saken och efter att jobbat extra några dagar på vad som skulle komma att bli mitt nya jobb hamnade jag på bandet på Volvo i Torslanda. Riktigt galärslavsjobb. Man slet som en liten bomullsplockare, och då jag hade kvällsskiftet mellan 15.24-00-12 så var jag hemifrån varje måndag till fredag mellan kl.14.00 och 01.00-02.00. Det gjorde naturligtvis underverk för mitt sociala liv. Det verkade dessutom göra underverk för hela skiftets sociala liv eftersom det enda man kunde göra innan jobbet var att gymma då alla andra var i skolan/på jobbet och pengarna man tjänade hade man ju ingen glädje av så det enda man kunde göra var att köpa en stor bil. Så resultatet var att halva kvällsskiftet på Volvo såg ut som serbisk maffia, den andra hälften var bara hålögd. Att bara träffa sin fru och sina barn på helgerna vägs inte upp av att få ut 24.000 kronor efter skatt.

Jaja, slit och släp. Trotts det han jag att börja träffa J igen och åka till hennes föräldrars sommarstuga att par gånger, åka till min mormors stuga två gånger, åkte till Hemstaden typ tre gånger, åka upp till J´s hemstad en gång, festa bort vett och sans i Amsterdam samt äta smaskigt käk i Malmö. Så still har jag inte suttit. Dessutom har jag/vi lyckats bli inbrottade inte mindre än två gånger under sommaren. Mycket tråkigt, mest för J som blev av med exakt samma saker två gånger. Men det är en så sorglig historia att den får ni läsa om på engelska.

Annars fortsätter resan. Avbrott och avstånd. Man har ett par stigar som man försöker följa och det kanske inte alltid har varit så att jag förstått att när man avviker från den ena stigen så skapar man avstånd till saker och ting. Ibland tror man att avstånden är större än de faktiskt är och man kan bli positivt överraskad. Sommaren har varit hektisk och gått precis så fort som somrarna gör. Men det har varit en lärorik tid, både för mig och andra. Det kanske dyker upp mer om det i framtiden. Nu ska jag inlemma mig i ledet och rusa till jobbet. Hoppas resten av din dag blir bra.

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