Tag Archives: writing

Kenya Art Journal – 0/13

Posted on by under Artwork

This notebook has a surprisingly long story. I wanted one for years, and you can’t get them in Sweden, but I saw that they had them in a physical shop in Sarasota. And I remember thinking ‘hey, that’s where that school thing is, what if I actually go there one day and can buy one.’ And I did. I forgot about the notebook though. Until I needed a new one after a couple of months and actually found the link to the store in the old bookmarks on my computer (ah, that time before Pinterest). And I discovered that it was a 20 minute bike ride away. So I went there, it’s a GORGEOUS shop, and found a little stand with all of the notebooks from this brand. It’s weird how life works out.
And I got one. One that I brought with me to Kenya, to have as my fancy travel journal (I had a moleskine as well, for all my messy thoughts), and so I thought I’d share some pages from it over the following days.
Also, this is not a review, but let’s appreciate that this notebook literally fell into the ocean. For some unknown reason I had it, together with my bible and other notebook, in a plastic bag inside my normal bag. I really don’t know why (one of those things you can call luck or God). But when it fell in the ocean, my other notebook and bible were just a little bit damaged and this one was completely fine. Which testifies to how good it is with watercolours, you can apply as much water as you want, and the page will still lay flat.
I’m (not) sorry, but I’m just really passionate about this notebook.

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(Btw, it’s this one: http://www.stillmanandbirn.com/beta.html !)

Externally Internally Processing

Posted on by under notes

I mostly fight with ideas, wrestle with concepts. And when I do, they drip out through everything I say. It will be the perspective with which I listen to you, what I comment on during bible studies. So I walk around mentioning things for weeks, walking in circles around them, until I finally get them and actually can explain how it all goes together in a way that make sense.

Kenya Excitement

Posted on by under life, travel

In some groups I feel like I have to sit orderly in my seat, but in some I can just collapse on the floor without caring. My outreach team is that sort of group. The guys I go with on a missions trip to Kenya in a month, we hang out and prepare and feel like a family. And I feel like I haven’t been a good speaker lately, but I was gonna do a short preaching for them, for practice, and I could just relax and share my thoughts and I think I got some confidence back. It’s funny, like God knows that Kenya was not my first choice for outreach location so he surprises me by giving me the best people to go with instead.

And I started thinking about the backpack I will carry. I wrote a blog post about it more than a year ago, Here, where I said that it stands in the corner of my cabin like a promise. It’s here now, in the house I share with eight other girls in Florida, USA. I will carry it all over Kenya. And then somewhere else. And I can’t believe that this is my now now, but that backpack will also remain my promise.

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Florida mornings and full moon.

The Change

Posted on by under poetry

Nothing ever changes but I always feel like I have to be going.
Move on, get better, take steps and make sure that they’re showing.

But I am still myself.

I like abstract ideas more than I like reality.
Not as much how things actually are – but in my head – how they’re supposed to be.
When I look out at my imagined timeline I see an open future of daydreams and hope, but I don’t think about the fact that I’d have to carry myself there, like a backpack of stones,
I’d have to bring these spinning atoms, these empty doubts, these worn out bones.

I am still myself.

Sometimes I manage to get rid of it all,
all the fear and failure, every sadness, every fall
I rinse it away with new water, leave it behind in black footprints that I forget even were mine,
but then I learn the same things every time.

And in between I hide in the songs that make me wish you’d pity me,
I shut myself in and dream of being seen.
I’ll glare at you but you won’t see it because in comparison to my heart my voice will always be lesser,
because I am a hopeless people pleaser and I walk in pink hair and cute dresses.
And that’s the drawn out prelude of the end, because I am a ticking bomb,
but it’s all internal so it will never unfold.
I just have an itching soul with nowhere to explode.
I’ll slam my fists against stone cold floors because you were supposed to make me better.
You were supposed to fix me.

If you want me. You better make me better.

Still. After this, after all. I am still myself.

If you want to know why I run like this
It’s because I have fear dripping out through my fingertips.

2016.03.06

Posted on by under life

The first time I saw you guys, one of you wore these really short shorts and cowboy boots, and that’s not why I noticed you (it’s really not, shut up), but because who I’d guess is your girlfriend was sitting a few metres away from me, overlooking the sea, and you were making these weird poses trying to get the perfect photo of her. You were some of those real life tumblr persons in a city in Florida where everyone is over 60.

The next time I saw you, we were waiting for the bus by a famous beach, and you told us it’s okay, the bus here is always late. We thought we’d missed it and planned to walk back to the base. Thank you. My friend spoke to you, about how we always move in groups, the students from my DTS, and how everything looks like a cute field trip. You seemed nice, funny and sweet in that sort of self conscious way that’s relatable. And you seem happy together. I like your clothes. You were the center of different universes standing next to us, I hope you have good passions and places and people.