I'm Anna and I'm a web and graphics designer situated in Stockholm, Sweden.
Welcome to Bubblewire.net, my vault for thoughts on the web! The vault was not made for you so excuse it for being a bit personal.
My relationship with hot beverages is, some would say, a bit unhealthy.
When I can afford it I would easily buy myself a latte at the local coffee-chain at least three times a day. On my way to work, during lunch and on my way home.
At home we have a constantly refilled pot of hot tea and me and the boyfriend consumes at least a pot each every night.
And sometimes we also make coffee.
I wouldn't say that it's an addiction per se, it's morphed into more of a part of my life. Like my limbs.
I have tried a couple of times to stop this madness and slower my imminent transformation into a caffeine-addicted hobo suffering from constant withdrawal shakes and a need to angrily shout at all the local children.
I know this fate is inevitable, since that is what happens every month when I've run out of money and can no longer afford my very expensive coffee-everyday-and-forever lifestyle.
Anyway.
Thank you caffeine.
You make me human, or at least a good enough impression of one to blend in smoothly amongst them.
Love, Anna
When I can afford it I would easily buy myself a latte at the local coffee-chain at least three times a day. On my way to work, during lunch and on my way home.
At home we have a constantly refilled pot of hot tea and me and the boyfriend consumes at least a pot each every night.
And sometimes we also make coffee.
I wouldn't say that it's an addiction per se, it's morphed into more of a part of my life. Like my limbs.
I have tried a couple of times to stop this madness and slower my imminent transformation into a caffeine-addicted hobo suffering from constant withdrawal shakes and a need to angrily shout at all the local children.
I know this fate is inevitable, since that is what happens every month when I've run out of money and can no longer afford my very expensive coffee-everyday-and-forever lifestyle.
Anyway.
Thank you caffeine.
You make me human, or at least a good enough impression of one to blend in smoothly amongst them.
Love, Anna
Ok, so here I am. Trying to figure out if there's something really terribly wrong with me.
I wouldn't say I suffer from hypochondria, but I tend to become seriously alarmed every time there seems to be something slightly wrong with me.
I learned a couple of years ago that I don't feel as much pain as your regular person. I'm definitely not made from some tougher material then other people, I just don't feel as much pain, so when I do, I figure that something's broken.
Like headaches.
I don't get them, the regular ones. Sure, if I stop and feel, well, then my head hurts all the time. I've just gotten so used to it that I barely feel it anymore.
But then I suffer from really bad migraines instead. But only about ten times a year. This is really a horrible handicap though, because before it hurts I go blind. Literally. Not entirely, but almost.
So, to the point. I feel really strange, andwhatifit'sreallyseriousandIhavenoideawhattodo. And I'm all alone.
I wouldn't say I suffer from hypochondria, but I tend to become seriously alarmed every time there seems to be something slightly wrong with me.
I learned a couple of years ago that I don't feel as much pain as your regular person. I'm definitely not made from some tougher material then other people, I just don't feel as much pain, so when I do, I figure that something's broken.
Like headaches.
I don't get them, the regular ones. Sure, if I stop and feel, well, then my head hurts all the time. I've just gotten so used to it that I barely feel it anymore.
But then I suffer from really bad migraines instead. But only about ten times a year. This is really a horrible handicap though, because before it hurts I go blind. Literally. Not entirely, but almost.
So, to the point. I feel really strange, andwhatifit'sreallyseriousandIhavenoideawhattodo. And I'm all alone.
thoughts
“
14th of November
Words that describe feelings of utter meaningslessness. Sentences that are not supposed to make everything look like a whiny post about how sad I am. More words. Words that make it seem like I have any idea of what's happening to me, or why all the colours suddenly ended up being somewhat gray.
I'm not even sad.
Everything just stopped being important, I stopped being important. I'm invicible and nothing I say matters to anyone.
A monkey could do my job. Or a robot. Perhaps I am a robot.
I'm not even sad.
Everything just stopped being important, I stopped being important. I'm invicible and nothing I say matters to anyone.
A monkey could do my job. Or a robot. Perhaps I am a robot.
I never figured myself a writer - not of any kind. I fail at writing simple things, Like invitation-cards and even notes.
I also tend to re-write things.
I re-write e-mails, even at work, at least ten times before I send them. I re-write messages on IM because I feel that I fail to get my feelings through properly in text. It's always been so much easier with imagery. I could easily draw something to describe my feelings, but never write, so this little project is going to be very difficult for me, But hey, I'll try.
I also tend to re-write things.
I re-write e-mails, even at work, at least ten times before I send them. I re-write messages on IM because I feel that I fail to get my feelings through properly in text. It's always been so much easier with imagery. I could easily draw something to describe my feelings, but never write, so this little project is going to be very difficult for me, But hey, I'll try.
In a suburb to the capital of a country somewhere in the northern hemisphere.
We're in a container, orbiting far above the ground, in a perfect epicycle. There's nothing particular about any of us, except that we were all born into a society with all the means required to become successful.
The container is filled with our hopes and dreams. We're going to be orbiting on this same course for the coming three years, all of us, - together.
We will land with all the perfect preconditions.
Eighty percent of the travellers will end up spending the rest of their lives with someone else from the same container, and most of them won't even bother looking out the window to see what's on the other side of the glass.
I feel myself drifting away, and, for a moment, I'm lost in space.
I'm a satellite, I'm out of control.
They won't ever let me back inside.
Re-opening the vault, an outlet for my thoughts, my findings and my discoveries on my many many adventures.
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