Ziggy played guitar…

I don’t post much on here anymore, mostly because I get the outlet I need for whatever I wish to say elsewhere. Usually in this funny little thing they call real-life. But now there is so many thoughts on my brain, that I felt like saying something here for a change.

Those of us who live in Europe could this morning wake up to the devastating and shocking news that David Bowie passed away on Sunday 10th of January at the age of 69. Furthermore, we learned that he had battled a publicly silent battle against cancer for the last 18 months.

I first got introduced to the wonderful collection of music that Bowie had to offer, nearly ten years ago, at the age of 13, when I heard “Life On Mars” for the first time. And how do you react to music at the age of 13? It’s different for everyone, I’m assuming, but I reacted largely with my senses and found myself loving the song, mainly because I couldn’t ever remember having heard anything like it. In addition, I remember being impressed by the lead vocals.

The following spring of 2007, having turned 14, I watched the movie Christiane F. for the first time, a movie for which David Bowie had the soundtrack, and I fell even more in love with the music (focusing as much on that as the actual movie, for better or worse).

And then the music just lingered in me, not unappreciated, but not wildly paid constant attention to either, for a long while to come. I learned some new songs, added them to my music collection and listened to them whenever I felt like it. And then my best friend started developing an obsessive interest in classic rock about a year ago, and my passion bloomed.

And thus followed a spring and summer of the two of us drunkenly screeching the lyrics to everything from “Suffragette City” to “Heroes”, horribly off key, on quite the regular basis. Yes, we went hoarse, and no, it didn’t sound pretty.

So as you can well imagine, it was true for me, as I assume it has been for many, that I always lived in the illusion that David Bowie was, in fact, rather immortal. Throughout my youth and early adulthood I have found myself in astute adoration of the legacy he has provided us with, both on a strictly musical scale, but also as one of the many faces of the sexual revolution. How he broke boundaries in his sleep without even trying.

When I only a few days ago or so learned that he had released a new album, I was thrilled and promised myself I would listen to it soon. I have yet to. School got in the way, work got in the way, you name it. Last night I actually was planning to, but then I fell asleep. And woke up these news.

It’s a tragedy, and I am still in shock, still processing. I probably will for a while more. Today I will probably play his music on constant repeat. Tomorrow I might start crying as I listen to “Space Oddity” for the eightieth time that day.

But some day I know I will celebrate his legacy more than I will mourn his presence. Because that is what the truly great legends do to us, in the end. That is why and how they are never forgotten. Because we celebrate them even long after they’ve gone.

And David Bowie will be celebrated for a long time.


Here I am again!

It’s been almost a year (give or take a few months) since I was last spotted on here, and as you may or may not know (those one and half people who still pay attention to this blog), I have long considered just leaving this blog for dead. My literature-blog, is much better, seriously. No one gives a fuck about my life or political views, and they shouldn’t either.

But I always seem to come back to it. And I do now, too.

So what has happened since last time? Well, I started my third and final year of college, I got a part-time job, which is awesome, and… Yeah, that’s basically it. That’s really it. I turned 22. Big deal. Oh, and the supreme court ruling! Given how this is a semi-political blog (albeit about issues that shouldn’t be political), I felt it correct to mention this.

What you can expect now, though, compared to what you may or may not have earlier, is a few posts coming up from now on. I do have a few ideas, and even more things going around in the world infuriating me, or just engaging me otherwise, so stay tuned. Or don’t. Whatever you prefer.

Peace out!

Love, Ida.

12th of December: Wrapping Paper or Gift Bags?

That is an odd question.

However, I will answer it, ’cause what else am I here for? I prefer wrapping paper, because it’s much more exciting. You usually see where the gift bag comes from, which ruins a bit of the surprise, and there’s just something about the feeling of unwrapping something. I am very much used to wrapping paper, so I might be biased in this case, but whatever? I am never pretending not to be biased, so…

11th of December: Your Favorite Christmas Tradition

Come to think of it, it saddens me that I hardly keep any Christmas traditions anymore. There are a few things I always do at Christmas: Watch Christmas movie, drink mulled wine, suck on candy-canes in the more tasty way… But any direct traditions we haven’t had in my close circle as of lately.

However, we do have one that I greatly appreciate, and that is our family tradition on Boxing Day. On this day, I visit my maternal family, and it is always nice to catch up with them. I still get along with my cousins very well, and the food is always amazing.

That must be my favorite current Christmas tradition.

10th of December: Favorite Holiday Smell.

My all-time favorite holiday smell, has got to be the smell of gingerbread dough. My grandmother (you must be fucking bored – all my childhood memories have to do with my grandmother, but whatever) always made gingerbread from scratch and my mother, my siblings and I used to come over to her place to shape them.

And the smell of – not necessarily the cookies, but the dough – was so heavy in the air that I still remember it clearly, even though it has been five years since the last time we made gingerbread together.

9th of December: Easiest Person to Buy For.

The easiest people to buy for, are almost always those who actually provide you with specific wishes. In my case this year, the easiest person to buy for is my mom, as she has done just that and did so quite early this month. I have a few friends as well who aren’t difficult in that department.

It varies from year to year, but in my case, the easiest people to buy for are usually those who can provide me with a concrete list of wishes, or just one or two concrete wishes.

7th of December: Most memorable Christmas.

There are quite a few Christmases that I remember quite well, so I will mention them all: The Christmas of 1995, since that is the first Christmas I can remember experiencing, the Christmas of 1998, because that was the first year we spent at my grandparents’ place, the Christmas of 1999, considering that was the first time I started crushing on a guy, the Christmas of 2007, which was special for so extremely many reasons and marked the end of a pretty fucked up year, the Christmas of 2008, but maybe only because I started jamming out to Christmas carols in October that year, which made Christmas two months long, and the Christmas of 2010, considering that marked the passing of my grandmother… These are the most memorable Christmases for me, and it is hard for me to ascertain which one was the most special, as they were all so in different ways.


This is a picture from a less memorable Christmas, the Christmas of 2005. Here you see my brother, my brother, me, my grandmother (may she rest in peace) and my little sister. Merry Christmas.

6th of December: Wooden or Plastic Tree? Why?

Wood, for sure! Mostly because of the smell, and the nice way it stings my fingers when I decorate it. It’s the little things. I doubt I will ever have a wooden tree of my own when I move out, though. Seems too much stress for me to bare with. I have a small one in plastic now, though, that I have had since I was two years old. Of nice quality, that one! But yes, I most certainly prefer wooden trees as opposed to those made of plastic.

5th of December: The Best Christmas Present You Ever Got.

It comes clearer to you as you grow older, that the best gifts that you can remember, aren’t necessarily the ones you considered the best ones when you were younger. Speaking from a somewhat shallow perspective, though, my grandmother spoiled us rotten when she was alive. She took our wishlists into clever consideration, analyzed them, asked my mother which one of the toys we had listed was the biggest, most massive and most expensive, and then she went out, and bought it. Briefly spoken, the biggest, hardest present was always from her. Now that she is gone, however, I also have come to cherish all the jewelry and clothes she bought me. I still have a woolen sweater she bought me for Christmas the year I was sixteen, and it’s nice to still be able to wear something she bought me.