Latest ten days of posting

Weblog | I don't like the word blog, it's ugly. Anyway, new content happens here. (Swedish dito)

About me and the site | Twenty-something male who likes text. Obsessed with things such as books, reality, communication, and one or two tv-shows.

Archives | Things written here since... well, 2001. Some of it is good, some is utter shait.

Books | Books read, not books written. So far I've struggled to maintain unpublished.

Photo | I like my camera and it likes me.

Links | Outwards, away, flee.

e-mail | J. Nicklas Andersson

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2001-12-25

I have nothing in common with most of my relatives except genetics. They don’t have the same interests, even marginally, and their taste in music — let’s not even go into that right now. I might be a bit autistic, because I just realised that I don’t really know how to relate and behave with them at all. I can, mostly, just sit back and listen.

These are the people I’ve meet almost every week for my first sixteen years of existence. Perhaps it started then, when I saw them less often, but I don’t think so. It happened later, I don’t know when and I don’t think you can pinpoint change to a timeframe like that. It happens in small bits, constantly and unmerciful things attach and detach to the core of personality — or if one like to put it that way: soul.

When I threw away the values of my family, those that had persisted in generations, the walls were built and some kind of barbed wire began to grow in the grass. My choices were, and are still a couple of years later, questioned because I simply don’t fall into their party line. I hope I never will, life would become so much more boring if I do.