Awkward

I like people. This isn’t a lie, but I wouldn’t admit it in public. Someone might get the wrong idea. That I’m social and charming, but this is almost never the case. I’m too nervous and I fidget and I’m a complete mess inside, besides, I never know how to fit in with strangers so I mostly just sits there. Quiet. Alone. But even so, it’s nothing personal. I just can’t relate to people I don’t have anything in common with and if I don’t know you, your interests just won’t exist. Not really. Because how can they?

But you can say “hi” and I’ll appreciate it, breaking the ice has never been my forté. There’s always water underneath. Dark, cold water ready to drown you. If others break the ice, then I can stand there on the shore and be safe and dry. Hopefully you’ll find some of the things I say funny and not insulting. I really gets uncomfortable when people do that face when I say somthing I find funny. Like I’m an idiot and should drop dead, preferably somewhere else than on their living room carpet. “But you can joke about anything!” I’d argue, but they mostly don’t agree. “Not about that,” they’d say looking like I’d groped their dead cousin at a wake. Some people…

Anyway. I take photos, and draw, and watch TV-series, and listen to This American Life. I tries to make music too, but apart from writing lyrics I’m not that good and to my big regret I can’t really sing at all. So I mostly just listen to others efforts. Yes, I’m that Nicklas. “Hi.”

(Other sites I’m on.)

re: the coffee

While we sat there, suddenly the room was filled with all these people. Neither of us knew where they came from, the room, previously nearly empty was full. People couldn’t sit, they had to stand by the walls. And then we heard it.

The Christmas songs. Elsewhere in the room three people dressed in Santa outfits sang Christmas songs. One looked deeply ashamed, one played the accordion like a man not possessed but with a feeling anyway. The girl though. She looked possessed. By the Christmas spirit or drugs, I don’t know. But she was scary. It will haunt my dreams, and let me tell you, I don’t need them more haunted. I got haunted up to my neck.

I just wanna go back to the blue room…

So after a while I always withdraw and leave the room. (This is me not figuring out how to start and tries to begin in the middle. It failed. Let’s try that again.)

Christmas. You can tell it’s that week already. Not because of the lights in the streets, the blinged up trees or the decorations in the windows — professional windows or amateur windows, the tramp-lamps are all the same. No. It’s that from now until a few days after new year’s eve, I feel kind of astray. Even though, like on Christmas Day, when there are lots of relatives around I feel lost, I don’t fit in. At all. It might be something wrong with me, but after a while I always withdraw and leave the room, letting the relatives and family take care of themselves. Laughing. Having fun.

The solitude isn’t really a choice, even though it might seem like it. But if I can help it, I’d rather choose to be alone by myself than in the company of others. It’s more proper somehow, and not so sad and pathetic. It is by far the most harrowing time of the year, but I don’t dislike Christmas and I like the snow (when we have some that is, give me snow! This is Sweden for fuck sake, polar bears in the streets and penguins eating the babies and all that). So it’s not Christmas’ fault, even though it tries a bit too hard sometimes. I can’t even blame the people, so it must be me. Some mental flaw — or a defect if you will, a horrible mutation — that makes me bored, alone and miserable with a calendar precision that’s downright uncanny. As they say in the X-Files promos: “I want to believe.” Believe that it might not happen the next year or that it will pass like a flu. But that seems more and more unlikley. So it must be me.

A slightly more upbeat thing: here’s an old drawing of a snowman.