Skriveblod

Gjennom årene har boksen på skuldrene mine tenkt mye. Det har gått utover fingrene som vittig skriver ned tankene som ikke henger sammen. Med litt trening får jeg dem sammen og nå skal du se jeg skriver tekster. Det er ikke veldig utenom det vanlige, men jeg er som oftest fornøyd. Dermed lagde jeg meg en egen blogg for skrivingen min. Håper dere vil stikke innom en tur og lese litt. Jeg prøver å oppdatere med noen gode mellomrom, men man kan ikke tvinge på fantasien.

Her er stedet jeg uttryker meg.

Picnic with Death

Heisann!
Fant en gammel tekst jeg liker og oversatte den. Redigerte den også litt siden jeg aldri er fornøyd med noen ting ;)

Her er linken til den nyeste:
http://writerfingers.wordpress.com/2012/02/08/picnic-with-death/

Her er den orginale:
http://writerfingers.wordpress.com/2012/02/06/piknik-med-doden/

Kos dere!

A little story for the wicked

"A 50-something year old white woman arrived at her seat and saw that the passenger next to her was a black man.

Visibly furious, she called the air hostess.
"What's the problem, ma?" the hostess asked her
"Can't you see?" the lady said - "I was given a seat next to a black man. I can't seat here next to him. You have to change my seat"
- "Please, calm down, ma" - said the hostess "Unfortunately, all the seats are occupied, but I'm still going to check if we have any."
The hostess left and returned some minutes later.
"Madam, as I told you, there isn't any empty seat in this class- economy class. But I spoke to the captain and he confirmed that there isn't any empty seats in the economy class. We only have seats in the first class."
And before the woman said anything, the hostess continued
"Look, it is unusual for our company to allow a passenger from the economy class change to the first class. However, given the circumstances, the commandant thinks that it would be a scandal to make a passenger travel sat next to an unpleasant person."
And turning to the black man, the hostess said:
"Which means, Sir, if you would be so nice to pack your handbag, we have reserved you a seat in the first class..."
And all the passengers nearby, who were shocked to see the scene started applauding, some standing on their feet."

Den er ikke min. Fant den på Facebook.

Jeg kan ikke tro at folk bryr seg om sånt. Vi er mennesker alle sammen!

What I Want

A mac and a bag I can have it in over my shoulder.
Then I can walk for miles with my camera around my neck, the computer on my shoulder and a little wallet in the right pocket. I shall walk with the stunning music I found on 8Tracks and dream. Walk on roads of fantasy and look upon this world with my glasses of amazement. Every store I see I will see. Every person I will meet.

I want to walk and find a tiny coffee shop.
Then I can sit and write. Find the words that left me for my carrier. Smells of new made coffee, mixed with the plants perfume from the window ceiling, the old wooden walls speak to me through my nose and tell tales I know no words to retell.

I want to think in a place where I can be true.
Then my inner thoughts will be revealed to myself and I can know who I am. Ideas buried under the high pressure of expectations of failure, logic, realism. Images washed away with the soap of foretold future. Believes that one cannot do what no one else has done. No one can truly believe in the fairytales.

I want to live in my head.
Only then can I complete my dreams.

Inspired by:

Tale of Dead Hearts

The wind swiped her neck gently as it went through her hair and down her back, touching the delicate skin all the way to the ground. Warm strokes from the sun warmed the long shining hair, mixing with the wind and creating a sphere with warm air, circling around the small body. Clouds came and a shiver went down her spine. Her cheeks felt numb as she rediscovered the feeling of another persons gentle touch. The bright light blinded her as she opened to find her own hands in front of her. The wind had frozen her fingers, she couldn't feel. A little kick from the moving air took her foot half out the edge of the building. With adrenalin pumping through her veins she looked upon her journey. Was it worth it?

Her head started to spin, and as she threw her head back a tear fell down the frozen cheek.

She had to believe in herself, even when no one else did. Not even those closest to her. A second tear rolled. The voices wouldn't stop. They refused to leave, as they refused to believe that she was a person. A whole person with dreams, hopes and a future different from all else. She didn't have it all planned. Her future wasn't set. Ten years from now she could be anywhere, and that disturbed them. "What do you want with our life? Don't you have any dreams?" Everyone has a dream, but not everyone is willing to admit it. Living without the final destination staring in her eyes was a dream for her. Everywhere she looked was an opportunity, a chance to change life. She could have lived that life.

The tears wouldn't stop. They ripped up her cheeks, but the pain couldn't hide the sorrow. Shining like diamonds her eyes gazed at the final destination, the goal she now desired. Arms spread, shoulder blades meeting, and eyes closed she used her last effort, and jumped. Look at how she flies through the sky. Like an angel, free from all.