Springful signs

They are all here, the signs of spring. Even in Sweden. Many are still stubborn and unable to appreciate them. My psychiatrist was reluctant to let me reduce my medication dose just yet, claiming that it was still boring winter, and how he thought it was best to wait another few weeks. My colleagues from warmer latitudes refuse to love the continued chilliness, and my boyfriend gets terribly annoyed whenever it snows still.

Now, I will tell you what I keep on telling my psychiatrist, colleagues, and boyfriend. It is possible to appreciate this season, be happy about the snowfall and the ice on the streets. This climate and time-point is no reason to wait with medicational reductions. Right now, this, this is the best.

Everything is in front of you, you have everything left. It is like the friday evening, you have the whole weekend left at your disposal. It is only very early spring still (calendar-spring starts tomorrow), meaning that you will soon experience another lovely spring, slowly creeping on you. The first time the sun feels warm on your cheek, the first time you can sit outside for more than 10 min without freezing, enjoy all the pretty spring flowers, see the buds on the trees wanting to become fresh green leaves, the first time you can bike to work without your coat, have an ice-cream, enjoy a barbecue etc. All that is left for you! All good things are still in front of you, how can you not be happy? Why not take the chance to enjoy the last snowflakes falling, it is so pretty and magical.

And look at my photo, just taken a few hours ago in my garden. What do you see? Boring snow, or a true sign of approaching spring? How can you not smile when you see little yellow flowerheads forcing their way up through frozen ground and an persistant snowflake layer? If they enjoy the temperature, why can't you? They feel the mild increase in temperature, the longer and brighter days, and how the snow is losing the battle of the grounds. Can't you? It is friday evening, enjoy it while it lasts!

Cat visitor

Cute cat is currently at his brother Obidobi playing, fighting and checking out the birds living in that area. The reason for his absence is a forced presence of one of my sisters' cats. The one-year-old Oriental Shorthair cat Mint (see picture). He is my own cat's antithesis. They are both cute of course, this should be noted, and both are cats, but this is about as much in common as they will ever have.

Mint is the cuddliest cat you can imagine. He wants to be in your lap / on top of you / in your armpit while you're sleeping etc. Cute cat, well, he just wants to do his stuff. Sometimes he can sleep next to me in bed, but as soon as I accidentaly kick him in my sleep, he seems deeply offended and leaves. Mint would never do that. I don't know what it would take for him to bugger off. He does get quite offended too when I roll over him in my sleep, but he just gets up, and makes a "mjeeee" (his version of 'meooow'). When I have settled down again, after having been woken up by something creeping out underneath me making a weird sound, he cuddles up again in my armpit / on my arm / very very close to me. Whenever I sit in my sofa, Mint is instantly on my lap. Whereas cute cat, on a good day, might offer me an ascew glance from the top of the bookcase. Cute cat loves water, while Mint flees it. Cute cat is sometimes trying to get outside at any price, while Mint refuses to leave any warm place for a cold and snowy outside.

But they are both great and lovely cats, in their own way. Mint is forced stay at my place since he is very horny at the time. Although, which I am greatful for, he behaves nothing like cute cat did during his crazy-period. Mint does not mark urine territories, or shout like a maniac (or in a way that turns you into a maniac). But what he does is bite my sisters small cat, Aron, as soon as he makes a tiny move. Mint also hump the little tiny Aron. Not very nice behaviour, so Mint was forced to leave Aron alone until his masculinity has been removed (scheduled for tomorrow).

It is nice with a visitor, eventhough I miss cute cat a lot. It makes it easier, though, to know that cute cat is in the good company of his brother. Mint seems to like it here too. Here is a lot of flowers for him to eat, and throw up again. Which he seems to entertain himself with. You'd think that a cat would catch on the first, or second time he eats something that makes him hurl, but No! Eating green stuff, like grass, is unfortunantely (now when he is trowing up indoors) just a way for them to alleviate per oral removal of ingested hairballs. Being the pedigree Oriental Shorthair breed cat he is, it is not good enough for him to throw up his hairballs / grass on the wodden floor, a flat area which is easy to clean afterwards. Instead, he likes to throw up on the carpet in my sitting area (twice, so far), carpet in the bathroom (once, so far), or on the carpet in my kitchen (thrice, so far). But today, his vomit placement won all awards for most unnecessary surface to put your sick on; my nice quality 120-euro wool blanket.

Those breed cats, they sure know how to make everything in a sophisticated way, even vomiting. I wonder if there actually is an official award for vomit placement, do you know?

Crowd frenzy

Today, I feel so relieved. Lighter, somehow. I went with some friends to a concert in Copenhagen yesterday. At "Parken". It is a huge stadium with seating for 40 000. At the concert though, only one short side, and most of the two long sides of the gallery were used. So at least 25 000 seated spectators. But as compared to when they have football (am. soccer) games there, now also the whole lawn was used for standing spectators. Me and my friends stood just behind the first delimitation, maybe 50 meters from the stage. Inside the first limitation were 4000 people standing. And behind it, easily another 20 000. The only time I have ever seen that much people at one time before was at a hanabi (firework-festivity) in Tokyo.

At least 50 000 in total, in one huge arena. It's just so much people. At one place. I am glad no vengeful person decided a plot of terror against the danes there and then. So 50 000 people out that night. Probably 50/50 swedes and danes. In one place, viewing one stage, listening to the same music. But what? Have you guessed it yet?

I will give you a lead. The prejudical image of the typical fan is; dyed black hair, black clothing, leather. Is it some heavy metal band? No. The continued leads are; assymmetrically cut hair, and white tie.

Yes, electronica. Yes, Depeche Mode. I can't tell you how brilliant it was, for this you had to have been there. And hopefully you all were too, or have some plan to catch them at one arena or two throughout their tour.

Just imagine, a crowd screaming at the top of their lungs
"....rrrrrrrrrreach out, touch faith", over and over.

And for you to be a part of it. It was worth all the money, all the feet- and lower back-pain, all the audience wrestling, and all the 9 hours spent getting there and back, for 1.5 hours effective Depeche-time. It was just amazing, and I urge you all no to miss their tour!

Melty men cometh

Last weekend I visited my friend I originally met during my period of dorm living 5 years ago or so. We have been good friends ever since. This january when she graduated from medical school she and her boyfriend moved to another city to start working as an MD. How grown up! She is now living with her boyfriend, who is actually also her fiancé, in a house on the country side. She is very grown up, and only one tiny year older than me. Scary. Anyway, as I was saying, I visited her and her fiancé last weekend with my sweet boyfriend. We had an excellent time together. We stayed there over the night, and played boardgames and hung out. There were plenty of snow all around their house, and we came up with the excellent idea of making snow men. The brilliant result is free to view in the picture above, one of the few proofs that this activity actually took place. Within 1 hour, the head had fallen off my friends snowman (the one on the very left), and the top snowman on her fiancé's mutated snowman had crashed (the one on the very right). Also my sweet boyfriend's snowman had fallen over, not surprisingly from the leaning state it was in already when it was recently finished in the picture (guess which one).

However! At the end of the day, one snowman was still standing. One, and only one. Mine! Moahahaha. I am the snowman champ! I had no idea about me possessing those talents. It was years ago since I made an attempt at snowman-building before. Then I was younger, and also most likely extremely less talented in the art of forming snow in solid ways.

But I guess I shouldn't brag with it too much. I am not so sure I acutally am that talented now anyway. Just a little more talented / lucky than the rest of the lot. My snowman was pathetically melted down and sad looking the morning after too. But look at them standing there. Proud and tall. And heavy, I tell you!

I love snow!! (that comment is about as swedish-being as it gets)

Feline grooming behaviour

Cute cat is a clean cat. As all cats, he was designed to keep himself clean through daily bouts of grooming behaviour, i.e. licking himself all over. His rough tongue is used as a brush, and sorts out all tangles in the fur, while the saliva cleans of fattyness and general dirt. It is rather amazing that cats spend 30-50% of their awake time cleaning themselves.

However, last week I thought that cute cat had a bit fatty fur, and also something dandruff-looking in it. He usually has a very very nice fur, so my report of his fatty/dandruffy fur is probably exaggerated. But I thought I had never washed him before, and I know sometimes it is necessary to wash your cat (if he has rolled in syrup etc.), so I thought it could be a good experience for him.

He was not happy about it. Not at all! He showed me that he still had a potential emitting those awful cries he had in his horny-period (before the... you know what... snip snip). I am glad he is not using them anymore, although I was rather surprised that he was still able to scream that loudly. I assumed his reduced testosterone-levels abolished the ability to deep dark loud screams, but I guess I was wrong. I couldn't finish giving him his bath myself actually. My sweet boyfriend rinsed him with water and added soap as I hold on to an ever more frustrated cute cat, trying to scratch his way out of my grip. Eventually I managed to soap him up, rinse the lather off, and sweap him in a warm and dry towel. But before long he managed to get out of the towel, and ran off, wanting to dry himself through the rather unusual drying-method of licking oneself. I continued trying to dry him, and off and on he let me, but he seemed to prefer taking care of business himself. I avoided laughing when he came out of the bath, but it was hard. Just look at him! How funny and sweet can one get?

However, it wasn't all that funny and sweet when I the following morning woke up at 5 am, from him throwing up a rather decently sized hairball. I guess licking your whole fur dry will cause mild to heavy unavoidable hair swallowing. Ick! I am so glad I am not a cat. Hair in mouth, blurk!

Happy brain

A couple of weekends ago I was sitting counting cells in the dark humid microscope room at my lab. All weekend, click click on the counter. From early morning until late afternoon, click clickety click. On the sunday afternoon I started to get fed up with it, but kept on working hard with the impending finish line just nearly within sight. Clickclick click. I listened to a swedish author reading from his short-story-collection " Från Dr Klimkes horisont" (Håkan Nesser). A very exciting collection of short stories, and a very good aid to keep myself active, and my brain to refrain from going offline. I was really into one of the stories, when suddenly I felt a sting of going crazy. It was sunday, afternoon, at the lab, I was more or less all alone, apart from the voice of the author keeping on letting me in on his very exciting story of the two couples in Venice. And then, out of nowhere, a cell was suddenly smiling at me. I looked, and had to look again, while a loop of "am I crazy? I must be crazy! no I am not crazy" was repeating in my head. And a third look confirmed the first sight, and also informed me that I wasn't all crazy (apart from the 'working on a sunday'-part). The cell was smiling at me. When work was slower last week I took the chance to take a cute picture of it in our very advanced confocal microscope. And I am not crazy am I, it is smiling, right?

Some are of the opinion, though, that it looks like the scary mask from a scary movie, and others say the mouth looks like a heart. I guess it is up to the eyes of the viewer to decide. But to me, it is happily smiling. This despite being inside a formerly epileptic brain. For those (if any) neuroscientists out there, the cell is an Astrocyte (a type of glia, non nervecell, of our brains), double-labelled with S100b-GFAP. But for all others, isn't it just a very cute thing? A smiling cell. And isn't it exciting that it can be so easy to determine if a cell is happy or not?

I wonder what the cells in my brain looks like right now. I feel happy, but am I really?

Scrabble influenza

As I revealed yesterday, I am back on the weak track. I have a cold, and feel generally slower and unenthused. However, when I tried to get some sleep on my new pretty sofa, all I could think of was how I wanted to play some online Scrabble.

I have a friend that has been playing this online swedish Scrabble at www.betapet.com since forever, or well at least since a year or two. She has at times seemed rather addicted to it, and told me how much fun it is, how nice people hang out there, and she has made a very nice friend there whom she goes to visit from time to time. Finally on sunday I let her convince me that I should set up an account (free of course) at the site, and start scrabbling myself. And now, I just can't seem to get enough of it, and use it as a way to reward myself for another good day being up and around.

There are at least three things that I blame the addiction on;
1.
They have a rather (for me) complex ranking system, and after every game you get a new ranking depending on the difference between your and your opponents pre-game rank, how many points scored for word tiles throughout the game, how much time spent thinking on your next move, and how many tiles you and your opponent have at the end when the game finishes. So there are many aspects to regard throughout the game, and especially when choosing opponent (what rank he/she has). My current ranking is 968 or something, but I swear I will improve! You get ranked 1000 when you start, and my friend has 2300+, and soon I will kick her scrabbling arse.
2.
You can change the settings for your Scrabble board/game: random positioning of score fields (x2 word/x2 letter etc.), you can position the score fields yourself, or have them in the default position. You can also choose between 5 different intensity levels of the game (the time allowed for each move and whole game).
3.
Finally, there is the honour aspect of getting all your white letter tiles out on the board in one move, i.e. to do a "roll" (swe. Rullning). I am not sure about the technical term of this Scrabble phenomena in english, but maybe some Scrabble fan out there can let me know? For this "roll" you are rewarded an extra 50 points, and the honour of having the fact posted on the site, e.g. when I did it for the first time yesterday on the front page it said something like 'Vigor have rolled Fransos, for 72 points'. Vigor is my alias at the Scrabble site (and also the true name of cute cat), and "fransos" is the swedish word for a french guy.

So as you see, all the addictive aspects of the Scrabble site lies within the site itself, and no guilt can be put on me for being addicted. I am a victim, an hopelessly lost Scrabble fan.

Sick...

...again.

I stopped working out two weeks ago since I had an evil cold with throat nastyness. It didn't turn into anything, and on thursday last week I went back to the gym. It was tough, as it is when you haven't been there for a while, but saturday felt better, and yesterday felt excellent. But this morning, I woke up with an vicious headache, runny cold and general stiffness and random pain in my body. Damned it.

Me and cute cat will try to get some good sleep, seems like we need it.
Tomorrow I must feel better.
Will tell you all about it then.
'til then. Take care.

Wedding cat

A good friend at my lab is getting married in August this year. I have the honour to be part of the most important part of the whole wedding. To help make the dress. Well, it is at least rather important that the bride wears something, right? Something nice, right? Who, in his or her right mind, won't comment on the beauty of the bride in her white marvellous dress?

I have prepared a testdress from a pattern, drawn based on a twenty-or-so measurements from her body. She was here on saturday and tried it on, and adjustments have been made to make the dress stick like glue to her chest, without feeling unconfortable or like it is falling of. The dress is going to be strapless you see. Now I need to adjust the pattern, and then finally, I can start cut in the real dress fabric! It is with a kind of fearful delight I look forward to cutting up her very expensive beautiful textile, pretending that I know what I am doing, and promising to turn it in to the most memorable dress of her lifetime. Well, well. I have been known to put on an act before. I hope she won't be reading this =).

I am not sure though if I will be allowed to cut out the parts anyway. Cute cat has a very distinct opinion when it comes to fabric, and in what purpose they ought to be used. In his mind, fabrics that I lay out flat, is an invitation for him to swirl it up and put himself in the very middle chewing as hards as possible on it. But I guess, if there wasn't a cute cat watching the gates of dress making, anyone could do it.

On my mind

Some things get stuck on my mind, and just keep popping up. Like this very small incident two days ago.

I was ready to leave for work. I had packed my bag, and went out to get my bike. As I locked the front door and turned around, I spotted the very small fuzzy thing lying on the ground. It was a small sparrow lying in the snow. Dead and frozen. Some of its blood had dyed the snow around. I looked at it, and looked away. Went to get my bike, and went for work.

Throughout the day, my soft mind was continuously reminded about the little bird, and how I just left him there and walked away. When I came home, I parked my bike and immediately took the frozen little ball of feathers, dug a shallow hole in the flowerbed, and put him down. I pushed over the dark brown soil, and pushed over one of the spruce brances covering the wintery flowerbed and took a deep breath. I had done my "duty".

But even so. It doesn't seem like the "leaving the dead bird behind" was what bothered my mind. At least not only. Because I have continued thinking about the little one. Now without guilt for "leaving him there, dead", but with a bit of sadness actually, for the poor bird. And what a shame that he wasn't allowed to live anymore. And a bit of anger for what stupid cat killed him. But also with a realisation that is what happens in an animal life, but still. Some sadness. How sensitive can one be?

Offensive behaviour

Isn't it horrible, all the scary consequences that have risen from a few drawings in a Danish newspaper? I guess it is true what they say, the cliché, a picture can say more than a 1000 words.

I understand that those drawings offended many people. A beloved prophet wearing a bomb as a hat, implying he is a terrorist, that the religion sprung from him is terroristic, and that all worshipping the religion are terrorists. I now realise that also, the mere act of drawing the prophet is offensive, bomb or not. But as non-worshipper of religion, it should be noted I am by no means prohibited to draw any prophet. I can respect any religion without necessarily obeying its set rules. For any individual, it is impossible to follow all the rules of all religions, to make sure you respect every single other person. An individual can only live after his/her own rules, and not try to obviously offend people, like putting bombs on other people's brilliant role models. I understand people demonstrating, looking for an excuse for the bomb.

However, I can't understand the minds of people using methods of terror (burning flags, houses, killing/hurting eachother) to demonstrate how they aren't terrorists and deserve an excuse for others implying they are. But these people are of course only a minority. Other people offended by bomb drawings (than those showing it through acts of terror) do deserve an excuse. By the drawer, and maybe also by the editor in chief of that newspaper, but not by Denmark as such. That this happened in Denmark does not say that this is the fault of Denmark. There are other people in Denmark (and the rest of Europe), many other people, that do not draw bombs on prophets' heads. Other people that now instead get offended by their embassies get burned down and their flag is being burned for reasons they have absolutely no part in. Why start a childish spiral of continued offensive behaviour? And why, why, offend all survivors and non-survivors, and relatives of survivors and non-survivors of the horrific holocaust, by now announcing a drawing contest for the best holocaust illustration? Why bring in danish people in general and the holocaust into the discussion, could it get more randomly offensive?

Pet love - part II

I often compare experiences I have with cute cat to those mothers report having with their kids. When I refer to my cat in this context, it is often lauged at, or frowned upon. But what is really the difference? When both kids and animals are small, you notice changes almost every day. Progress in learning; if it is a new baby facial expression, or a kitten learning to fetch a toy. Progress in communication; a new baby sound, or a new kitten mjau. Progress in physical properties; a baby sitting up, or a kitten jumping higher. Or increases in baby weight or kitten weight. Showing fear, happiness, anger, etc. Your worry when bringing them to the doctor / veterinarian and something might be wrong, or turns out to actually be wrong.

What is really the difference at this stage between a baby or a kitten?

Pet love - part I

I love my cute cat. I know most of you have already figured that out, but it can't be said enough. I think about him so often when I am not around him. Wondering how he is doing, wondering what he is up to, and thinking about how much nicer it would be for him, and also for me, if we were together instead of apart. I dream about him all of the time. Seriously at least everyother night. Sometimes about him alone as adult like now, sometimes as him as a baby cat, sometimes of him and a whole bunch of more cats just like him, and sometimes about just him and his brother. Sometimes it's nice dreams, but often dreams where I can't find him (and dream and wake up in panic and stress), or dreams where I find him dead or dying (and wake up really really sad). Spontaneously, you might find it kind of silly and strange that I care so extremely much about him. Living in a society like the one we live in now, where little consideration is taken to the pain and sadness people who lose their pets, it is often found silly or strange to care so intensly about your pets. It annoys me. Seriously.

Recent studies have actually shown that the pain and sadness a person can feel when losing a pet, can be just as intense as the sadness a person can feel when losing a child.

Do you believe it?

To be continued...

Behavioural alterations

Many people go through more or less complete personality-changes as their glucose levels drop, or when they are stressed, or when they are tired. Although trying my very hardest to control my temper and patience, and although I consider myself a calm and relaxed person (normally), when tired and sometimes also when stressed, I can't quite manage to keep myself toghether. Today was my last day of lectures on my compulsory PhD course. I was so tired, and the classes were so slow. At 1.15 pm I had had enough, and felt I had to leave, which I did. Exhausted, tired, and somewhat disappointed in myself for not having stayed the whole afternoon (until 4), I went to the lab to pick up my things. I heard someone shouting 'Sara!' when I passed the door to the lab area, the lab assistant wanting to ask me something. I felt in no mood or shape to talk to anyone, or help anyone with anything, and couldn't restrain an annoyed grunt, which she definitely heard, since apparently she had started running after me (which I hadn't noticed, since I hadn't turned back towards the door yet). She didn't show any response to my grunt, but I felt so bad for it. I didn't mean to make her feel annoying or as she was disturbing me. I helped her answering the question she had, but still I felt so terrible.

This topping off having listened to one post doc-candidate, wanting to start working at our lab, presenting his work at a lunch seminar just ½ hour earlier. He was uninspiring, seemed very insecure, and unable to satisfyingly answer questions raised by the audience during/after the presentation. Afterwards I talked to a colleague, who rose the issue that we don't welcome our post-doc candidates properly, and how annoyed he and another colleague was that we still don't have a proper web-page, how we should have a welcome committee when a new person is invited to the lab etc. And I just felt so tired. I love my work. Or I like it at least. But it is too much 'blah' surrounding everything; random applications, unnecessary paperwork, confusing organization, and a general feeling of dizziness and unstability.

I left to go home, but first I needed to pick up some stuff (buttons for my cardigan, pretty colourful cups I had seen a few days ago, some stuff for the cat, etc.). So I walked around town (my bike is broken), tired, longing for arriving home, so I hurried. Relieved to come home and having another 1.5h until my friend would come and I had to be nice again, I went to the basement to pick up my laundry. Then the neighbours boy came down, talking and being cute and happy. And I just felt boring and tired. He asked if he could come in, and I just couldn't say no. So I hung out with him, all the time feeling how I wanted him to be quiet, calm down and go home. And just felt worse. Then my friend showed up, and he went home.

We had a good time, just relaxing hanging out, but all the time I couldn't help feeling bad. Feeling how I had snapped at my lab assistant, how I like my work but hate everything around it, and how I just wanted to sleep and lower the pressure on myself again. Relaaaaaaax!

Now I am on my sofa. Alone, apart from cute cat next to me purring. This might do the trick actually.