Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.) (lantichristo) wrote,
Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.)

February Ramblings ...

And who’s to say I still have it?
Maybe I lost it. Maybe I never really had it.
I am completely empty the last couple of days.
So drained by my needy family that all I want to do is go home and be quiet.
Avoid all human contact, in fear of being forced to explain simple things a couple of hundred thousand times.

I unplug the phone, turn off my mobile, make me a nice cup of tea and I turn to my notes.
There I sit looking at my writings, trying to make sense of it all, put it together, tear it apart … but no result …
My brain just sits there in my skull like a grey blob of rotten ice-cream.

Suddenly, the bloody phone rings … What the fucking fuckaroo?
Ah of course. The "wife" came home from work so he HAD to plug the damn thing back in.
He says: “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
I say: “No?!” (while rage boiling in my brain) ….
“But it IS for you … I can see the number” he says a tad irritated.
“Well why don’t YOU answer it and say I’m not here then?” I reply angry now.
“You know I don’t like to do that”  He breaths out disappointment.
I look at him under my shadow trying to avoid the homicidal images and reply: “And you know I don’t like people!”
A small pause ... He laughs and says: “Ok-ok my little misanthrope don’t answer the phone then”
At that point I am thinking: "oh fuck off"  but I say: “You bet your ass I won’t”

What IS it with people and their bloody need to answer the fucking phone EVERY fucking TIME it fucking rings?!!! What is it? Are you expecting a call from David Bowie motherfucker?
If it is fucking important they will fucking leave a fucking message.

It might be rude ... but HEY, who said I am the epicenter of politeness!?
I do not CARE if you are fucking calling me. When I have "alone time" you are not relevant.
And besides … I am not curious at all.
I, almost always, wait until the corridors in my building are totally empty when I want to go out. I do not care to see my neighbors.
I listen behind my door and if my neighbors are out, I wait until they are fucking gone.
I really don’t like niceties.  (even though, believe it or not, I am VERY nice).
I hate elevator time with strangers.
I do not look when people fight on the streets.
I don't eavesdrop when people talk (unless they are very loud and in my face)
I do not chit chat with the cashier at the supermarket.
I do not answer the fucking phone!

Most of my day I want to be quiet.
Maybe that is why I talk so much when I’m with friends. I stay too many hours in silence.

When the phone rings and I AM in the mood to answer I have to say my name really loud two times before I answer because I need to wake my vocal cords and avoid sounding like an intoxicated frog.
People should learn to text more and call less. <= angry face
9 out of 10 times if I don't answer the phone means it is on mute!

But what was the point of this entry?
I don’t remember. Today I finished my pen. And I cannot write in my regular diary. I have this thing … I can only write with a particular pen …

But now I feel it is maybe the day to drink some wine again … I might be getting to the stores soon …

… I am just rambling here ...
Perhaps I should change my Journal from “Everything goes to Hell … anyway!” to “The ramblings of a rambler” or “Eternal Ramblings of a Rambling Mind” or “Gone with the Ramble” or “Dawn of the Rambling Ramblers” ... etc

Aw I’m hungry now.
I’m off to fix my closet.
Yes, it is a long project.
That skeleton in there is making a crazy mess.
Everyday I tidy up and every night it’s like a bordello in there.


Tags: alone, dear diary, friends, rambling, writing

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