Sunday, February 19

What happened?

Of course we're talking about this: what happened is Sweden 'last night'? That would be Friday then. Well, le'ts see. I drank a bottle of sparkling rosé ( whole bottle, mind you, big achievement there) and sang the most beautiful songs standing in the kitchen. I have decided this is best place to sing at in my apartment, considering the shelves would somehow dampen the sound, or maybe it has a nice echo. The bathtroom has a very nice echo, but If I sing more than my normal showertime ( 20 minutes approximately) the soundpollution could be considered disturbing. Since I have such a wonderful voice, allthough loud, I take pleasure too in it's delight, just as my neighbours suffer. Thinking about this somehow brought me back to memories from a media pseudo-discussion about what defines courage? I will get back to you on that later, first Friday night report, since this is apparently essential to the entire world. Because, one persons interaction could have significance. I hear happier sounds now. So, when the bottle was empty and the karaoke session done with, I decided to contact a friend. I want to party more. As a general rule too, not just then, but then particularly. The thing with parties is that they tend to lead to sexual harrassments, especially if the girl is drunk. Then the predators hunt out their helpless prey. So these guys, three of them, sat at the same table. All immigrants: one from Libya, one from Turqey and one from Kenya. The rest of the company were Swedish women. My friend knew these people, I assumed, which she also did to some extent. I reasoned that if these women has deemed these three harmless then interaction would go smoothly. I have long enough experience to talk to these kind of 10-years or so new inhabitants to tune in to their gangtalk. Hahaha, they were so embarrassed. I made out with everyone, on and off the dancefloor. Dancing, having the time of my life, actually. Very good party night, if you create a pink fluffy cloud around the sexual harrassments. First I demonstrated how it's supposed be done. Then they all failed. If someones saliva doesn't taste ok, or the texture is wrong, it's not enjoyable, enough. Keep in mind I'm only sharing this in detail because it is very important information that must be delivered to the , I could say Trump here, would President of the Unites States sound more dramatic? We don't know why, but for the sake of "one person can make a difference"- altruism, is it an altruism? Doctrine, anyway. I got offered a job, as cleaning or kitchen personell. I didn't say no, I said maybe. Not summerjob though, because they worked with schools, so an extra job to be combined with my studies. They do take up most of my time though, so perhaps once a week, in a deserted office. Then I got her card, which later got lost, but I got her number again from the Libyan coworker that followed me home. Not because I was this time too drunk or damaged to walk, but because he seemed nice and funny. Alltough, I had to tell him to back down several times, already on the dancefloor and then at home. He got a cup of tea and then I sent him home. I didn't like his saliva. After that, well, I browsed the internet and went to sleep. So dear Mr. President, absolutely nothing happened in Sweden. Which is in itslef terribly upsetting, so I understand your concern. 

Yes, back on the real topic, the discussion about what courage is, and it's opponent cowardice. You see, when I was dragged into that mediahype in 2010, about the murders, this pseudodiscussion popped up. The news wrote that the killers act was an act of cowardice. I opposed to this, because the definition of cowardice does not fit the description of what emotional state the killer was in. Not that I know that, I could not have any way of knowing that, but I guessed, because it seemed logical. This is something I also mentioned in the talkshow. Now, I'm not so sure anymore. When you think of the concept of cowardice, the discourse surrounding it, the most common connotations are 'someone who's too afraid to act', isn't that the essence of the word? Of course, it has a wider concept than that, which involves fear. Cowardice is fear, and sometimes we act out of fear, but cowardice is a genre of fear that represents the 'being too afraid to act'- state. So basically, I'm a coward by day ( never interact with people unless absolutely necessary), but just add a few drops of alcohol and I am completely transmogrified. The guy was dancing all the wrong way too, banging his pelvis against my butt, who does that!? I'm 47, show some repect. What's wrong with these people? You can't do that on a dancefloor, it's not an accepted move. I am now also the dancefloor-police. I will watch your moves. I pushed him away several times, but he had already gotten obsessed by my dazzling looks and imagined chance of getting laid. Anyway, so here was the reasoning behind the pseudodiscussion. My definition of cowardice was and still is right. Once the survival instinct sets in, an no other option that fight or flee is left, and the fleeing option has been cancelled, the cowardice gets overpowered by biological survival insticts and can no longer be called a coward, because the creature has lost control of it's logical thinking. Cowards overthink. They are afraid. It's splitting hairs perhaps, but still. We had no time to finish this discussion properly. Are they two sides of the same coin?

No comments:

Post a Comment