I write, therefore I exist

I've talked about how acting/theatre has changed my life, and I've talked about how music saved me.

Now it's time to talk about how writing affects me.

I've written since forever. When I couldn't write, I drew series that the daycare staff had to write text to. I "wrote" stories about Pokémons, or animals. Cats and foxes and stuff. I can't remember when my family got a PC, but it was pretty early, and I learned how to write on the first version of Windows Words before I attented school. I remember the first story I wrote on Words. It was called "Olle and Lisa and the Dragon" (in swe ofc) and it was two pages long.

In school I was the one with the reputation of writing the best stories. When having "free writing" everyone waited to hear my stories. In sixth grade I got a award (which was some money and fame and glory) for my stories on my graduation. I was immensely proud over myself.

During this time, I had already written hella lot of stories on the computer. Hundreds of pages. Just writing. Practicing. Horse stories, fantasy, tales, lore, you name it. I had started on my book already. I wrote 137 pages on my book as 14 years old, all of which I deleted. Fuck. But I wrote more. Another side story of my book, hundred pages. I wrote more than just this fantasy series. I wrote romance too. About fifty-seventy pages maybe of romance.

And when I was fifteen duing one week of final work exam of secondary school, did I write 60 pages. And let me fucking tell you, 60 pages in six days are crazy. Really really crazy lot. I wrote more words per day than Steven King does.

But it also killed me. Putting up with so much stress as it takes to write 60 pages in six days put me off writing for one year. But I continued. Those 60 pages got developed into 300 pages in two years, that now are a full novel.

I started writing scrips. Started off with a script of like 12 pages. Writing scripts are harder than writing novels, as they require fewer words. I contuened developing my craft.

Wrote a sequel to my book (which is still not finished, I'm up at 120 pages). Wrote longer and longer plays, 30 pages, 50 pages. Wrote three well fleshed up angsty short stories, just as a practice (but still dreaming about writing a reeeaally teenage-angsty novella collection hihi). Started writing actively on this blog, many posts a week, in another language.

I keep reading books. Keep reading stories. I keep writing.

I can't stop. I can't stop writing! It's my call. My final call. To make up stories. To write down stories. To give voices to characters. To give a voice to myself.

I write. Therefore I exist.

Theatre-things on my mind

Because theatre is like always on my mind I thought back to the times I worked as an "instructor" to children at drama school and came up with two set of skills that are crucial, so so crucial, if a child ever want to become a good actor in the future. Few children of the around 50 I got to work with was equipped with these skills, sadly.

1. Teamwork.

Teamwork is the ground pillar of any production. And it's a skill that can be perfected, but never improved to the point where a child bad at teamwork can suddenly as older become good at teamwork.

I've seen countless of small "productions/plays" where the following pattern exists: One child tries to force on the story they made up, but has failed to tell the others was the exact story is. Another child had disagreed upon the story and tries to force their own version on top of the other story. 1-2 other children stand on the stage, embarrassed and unsure of the story. Giving constructive critique on these was very hard, as there was literally nothing to tell them but "your performance sucked", but ofc you couldn't say so.

Egos are welcomed, but never to the extent that the teamwork becomes unbearable. Conclusion: Without the skill of working in teams you'll never become a good actor.


2. Storytelling

Theatre is about telling a story through a theme. Being able to tell a story, even when all fail, is crucial. Especially in improvision. Watching an improvision without a story was sooo boring, and yet again you try your best to give constructive critique.

It's incredible how few children there was that actually HAD a decent storytelling talent. And even if they had a story, they didn't have the means to actually show the story to us.



I realize that I sound like a total know-it-all-brat right now. I'm not a know-it-all. I'm just an observer, and these were the mistakes I observed the most. And I ofc didn't tell anyone their performance sucked.

A beauty of words

You wonder what I do while driving?

There are three things I do while driving, except you know, focus on driving the car.

1. I talk to myself,
almost always in English, imagining recording vlogs. Some of my posts are results of my babbling in the car.

2. I act.
This one is a bit weird, but I do voice practices, shout, repeat the same line in different ways, you name it. Stuff that doesn't require hands or movements.

3. I sing
And this is the point of this posts overall. I want to share a piece of lyric that I've been singing quite a lot while driving. So beautiful. So hauting. Perfect for my vocals. For me.

Why have you forsaken me

In your eyes forsaken me

In your thoughts forsaken me

In your heart forsaken, me oh

Trust in my self righteous suicide

I, cry, when angels deserve to die

In my self righteous suicide

I, cry, when angels deserve to die

The ending of Chop Suey - System of a Down

I revisited the place of depression

Yesterday I revisited a place that's the home of a community I'm in. This community and that place are the roots of my depression and anxiety and the very reason I became suicidal in 2016.

I hadn't been in that room for over six months, maybe more, like eight nine months.

And immediatly when I stepped into the room a wave of... complete sadness overwhelmed me. I felt immediatly hated, though there weren't even that many people I knew there. I felt like isolating myself in a hidden corner and being on my phone instead.

I didn't. The party was good. When a friend asked me how I am, I said where the answer should be "I'm fine thanks" "I'm ok". "I'm ok"?? It came out soo obvious that I felt wrong, and she's one of the few who know about the problems I had in the past. I felt like a mood ruiner.

During the break, the feelings came back. And this time I hid myself behind the coat-hangers. My friend found me eventually, and asked why I was hiding. I replied: "Because I party by isolating myself :)"

I mean, I really liked my table company and I like to sing, but there are too many underlying feelings in me for me to enjoy anything there. I took a selfie for my snapchat because I liked my makeup. Took another one. And a third and a forth. Because it seemed, in all pictures, like I was hiding the fact that I was crying. I wasn't crying, but my eyes didn't lie that I wasn't okay. I finally published one, without caring about what other people would think. Maybe someone stopped to think about my sad eyes, but I beat an horse's ass that no one did.

When I came home I felt more depressed than I've done in many many weeks. A solemn sadness, an overwhelming sadness. I dreamt nightmares the whole night. And I woke up sad. Not crying sad, but there's-a-hole-in-my-chest-sadness.

As I write this the hole is still not filled. Though I try.

This thing with sexuality part 2

Okay okay okay maybe I'm able to tell you a story.

This story is about me and my two facedness towards myself.

So let's start when romance started to interest me. I crushed on boys both from television and irl or on male animals (like Kovu from Lion King 2). And these crushes still lie within me. I still "crush" on centrain boys from animated tv-shows even though I'm 23 now. Those crushes lie close to my heart.

I had boyfriends in secondary schools and crushed on boys. But this is the time my online life started, and the online social circles that I hanged around in were heavily lgbt+-based. The outcasts.

I'd say 80% of the peeps I met through internet belonged to some sort of sexual minority. That was the norm. To be "different".

And I... just rolled with it. I never said I belonged to a minority, but I never said I was straight either. But because being in a same sex relationship was the norm online and being in a straight relationship was the norm in real life, both of them became normal for me.

I still only fell in live with boys.

Many of my friends found out they liked the same sex, and a few of them were in same sex relationships. I think I had over ten friends that belonged to the lgbtq+ spectre. My mum asked me once if I'm also one of them. I said no, because I hadn't had feeling for a girl.

I fell in love with a girl when I was 18. It was very weird. I didn't recognize these feelings at all. It felt more like "Omg I really like this person, I want to be her friend really baaad, I want to hug her and hold her and kiss her - oh, I must really like her as a friend".

Yes, even if I had a burning desire to kiss her, I STILL though about her as a friend. Because I was so deeply programmed to only like boys. It felt wrong and right at the same time and I couldn't wrap my head around it.

She later came out to me as a member of a sexual minority. I, naivly, thought we had a chance now. But she had feelings for another one. And that's when I realized I had lost her and I never told her I liked her that way.

I had lost the chance. So I wrapped up my feelings and, now starting university, left her behind. I dated a lot of guys, and 6 months later found my future husband.

The following summer was the summer I finally realized that my feelings towards that girl had been romantic and sexual. Not friendly. It was weird, but in my heart I knew it had been true. I never ever told anyone about it. It felt as something I wanted to keep to myself.

But I secretly wish that we had tried it. I secretly wish that she and I had become a couple, only for a little while, that we'd have sex and everything, and then separate on good terms so that I'd still meet the love of my life and could continue my life with him. I would've wanted to have sex with another woman. But I guess that's one bucket list thing that's never gonna happen.

The chance to try it out came and left then, five years ago.

This thing with sexuality (this post is a mess) part 1

Part 1 because this is just me rambling. the next part will be more coherent i swear

Oh, well, my take on this with sexuality. I am a hypocrite to myself, where in front of others I'm this happy talking thing knowing a lot about sexualities and being the best straight ally there is, and I even write queer characters often, while my head is filled with war about the very same things I gladly talk about.

.... why is it so hard.....
... you're a fucking hypocrite, and a liar to yourself....

Growing up all of my crushes were on boys. It wasn't anything to think about, it was natural, the norm and everything spinned around the idea of finding your prince, getting married and so on.

I won the game. I am in a happy relationship with a man, and I love him and our relationship. We're getting married soon. We'll have children someday. I won the game, and I'm happy. So so happy.

Yet there is thing one thing that I've never ever spoken about to any living, breathing person. I've never written anything even hinting about it onto any social media, not even my tumblr. This is my most well hidden secret.

I'm not straight.

But I hate the terms bisexual and pansexual. To hell with it, I don't want to be labeled as a bisexual. Is it even possible to be called bi when you've only once been in love with a girl five years ago and twenty times in love with boys during a whole life time?

Admitting to myself that my feelings were sexual and romantic five years back has not been easy. In fact, it took me one year to realize what they had been. And now, though I accepted the fact and was cool with it a few years ago already, I'm bothered by it.

The next part will tell the story about how I... noticed I'm no heterosexual in more details. If I don't delete everything because I'm a liar to myself.

Heads up! I won't post for a week now after this bc I'm traveling yaaaay

But I want to put of a really fast note that. I. LOVE. ANTAGONISTS.

I usually identify with the antagonist, especially if it's a antihero-antagonist, like, my body is ready for you!

One shots of horror

If I had a folder where all the posts I've deleted by now before posting them were, it'd be full of texts. I write onto here a great deal of stuff that I never post, partly bc I feel like shit after writing them, or because they still don't feel too relevant.

But hey, I came up with a new script idea for a shorty. Sometimes, when listening to music I come up with plays that occur in my head. I know some people imagine movies or music videos but I have for the last like six years always imagined plays where the song is the storyteller of the play. Some of the plays are all silent except the music, leaving only my expressions as the lines.

Once have I showed such a play at my drama work, and it turned out to be the hardest play I've ever done. Only expressions, no sound, no voice but the song, which was the ending of Room of Angel - Silent hill. It was hard not to laugh, because the audience were really close up (like two meters) to me, and I saw their reactions. They were horrified.  Damn it was hard, but I made it. I delivered horror to them, and damn straight was the delivery great.

Silence speak the loudest sometimes.

That was a side note.

Today I came up with another great one shot of a story about the nine levels of hell combined with the song "Final Judgement". Damn, imagination, will you shut up? No? Never, probs. It's okay. I love my one shots, but still, it's such a shame that no one will be able to see them. I do them for myself when I'm home alone, but that's about it.

Maybe I will one day make Youtube videos with these one shots. The ones I don't care if someone steal the ideas from. It would also be great practice to see myself act.

The dead online

I started to reflect over my online life the other day and this is the great analysis I came up with:

My life online started when I was eleven or twelve, when I got my first own computer. I even had  Adobe Premier on it, and having that software made it possible to make videos on that computer. My friend and I made probably 10-20 videos of the ponies we took care of and edited them, and uploaded them onto Youtube. We made those videos for strangers and I spent a great deal of time to bond and network with strangers on Youtube (in English, and I was fucking twelve, how the fuck was I able to network???) and we had dozens of subscribers. All of which were strangers to us.

My friend and I were in the end too different to share the channel and when we stopped making videos (when I was 13) I created a channel of my own. It's the same I still use, just with another user name.

Because I was used to talk to strangers on the Youtube was the step to continue networking in other realms easy. I was very active on Youtube, but also on Fanfiction.net, onto which I wrote horrible fanfictions. I talked to many different strangers, and had fun. A great deal of my social life was on the internet and for me it was obvious that I made content for strangers from other countries.

I lived for my life online when I was in secondary school. Because I felt so hated in real life, online was where I belonged. I thought. Buut let's not forget my extrovertness and my awesome social skills, so isolating myself was never an option. I just combined being online with real life interactions. And my pony ofc.

And then, 2011, I joined tumblr. Man, it's been a ride. I've had the same blog there for seven years! And god it has changed during these seven years. But there was a time when I spend about an hour just going through my feed. These days it takes about 1-2 minutes to do so, because most of the people I used to follow are inactive.

So now then? I'm not as active online anymore as 7 years ago, and I no longer deliberately make content for strangers because the stakes are sooo much higher than they were ten years ago.

And I kind of miss it. Life online was fun. It was great. Even if everything I did was a secret to my friends and family, it was fun.