shutitdown: taking one for the anecdote

Results tagged “ikea”

Ikea romance

Going to Ikea always makes me reminisce about the days long ago when I dated a Swede. He used to take me on dates to Ikea. We'd eat at the restaurant, filling up on Swedish meatballs and lingonberry jam, and then hold hands on our way to the food shop where we'd buy herring in a tube and negerbolls.

I put up with this sort of malarkey because I had let him convince me that being an ex-pat was a life that was filled with longing: for home, for friends and most of all, for food. How hard it must be, I thought, to move so far away from home and in an entirely different country. So I agreed to eat disgusting Swedish meatballs at Ikea, and in my heart, truly felt for the poor guy. I'd go to the Swedish store in Oakland and buy him funny little Swedish candies like Plopps, and just generally try and humor his reminiscences of how perfect life in Sweden was.

Having been an ex-pat now for coming up on three years, and having tried a lot of Swedish food, I now realize what a sap he was. Moving away from Sweden and missing Swedish food is like recovering from depression and missing that feeling of emptiness.

I can't say that there's not a lot of food from California that I miss--the burritos and Korean food particularly. When I was in Dublin, I missed them badly. But once I moved to London, which is a major city (much like San Francisco) I didn't walk around like missing the food of my home country was this cross I had to bear, and one that everyone else in the world should sympathize with. (Of course that doesn't stop me from shoveling as many super burritos down my gullet as I can possible stand every time I go back home.) I've learned that these things are manageable. I will probably change my tune once I move to Asia and can't find pancetta to put in my homemade tomato sauce, but for now, I'm surviving.

By Lina on June 13, 2009 6:28 PM

A light

So I've clearly been having a very difficult time updating this site. This is mainly because I've finally surfaced from a major depressive episode that's lasted the last 15 years or so. This means I have a lot of ground to cover, and quickly, before everything comes crashing down on me again. So I've been writing and cleaning and putting together Ikea furniture and shopping and trying to get everything in order as quickly as possible. Because of course this will all result in an epic fail. If we're making predictions, I'd say it will probably be at the hands of some semi-literate dude that I didn't mean to get involved with and who breaks my heart. If the past is any indicator of the future, anyway.

I've been writing about music all over the place lately and am in the process of writing a bunch of articles right now, including one about the Egyptian Lover. I'm really excited about this one because he's so fat and amazing. Writing articles is a lot easier than editing my novel, which is basically just like flossing. I'm sure in the long run it's worthwhile but it just seems really tedious and bloody whenever I try it. I really hate editing which is why I like blogging. This is basically because I'm a lazy, slovenly person at heart. I'd signed up to take a food journalism class because my other big hobby lately, other than music writing, has been gaining weight. Over the last two days I've made bahn mi every two hours or so because I got an entire loaf of bread and didn't want it to go stale. Sigh.

All I want to do with my life is travel around Asia and get fatter and fatter. But what am I supposed to do when the money runs out? Haven't figured that one out, so am staying put for the summer, I guess. I guess I can handle one summer here if I at least get to go to Malaysia and eat a boatload of laksa at some point in the middle.

In other news, I moved out of my last flat. So I am on my fourth flat in six months. This time, I'm living with my favorite person. Me. I will never live with another human being as long as I live. Granted, moving in with a failed child star and a failed model was destined to, well, fail, but it was seriously demoralizing. I guess I'll have to give a whole post over to the two of them, but I'm still too exhausted by the ordeal. At least I'm alone again.

By Lina on April 14, 2009 6:40 PM

Repressed but remarkably dressed

My commitment and attachment issues aren't content to stay in the arena of male humans and has now extended to cities. After an eighteen month romance with Dublin, I spent this last weekend having a completely unforeseen and vaguely torrid affair with my old flame, London.

I was supposed to be in town just for the day on Friday for a meeting but after missing a flight and making a measured decision to be more spontaneous, decided to stay the weekend and come back Monday night.

I don't know what happened. I've always liked London, I've even loved London before. Over a year ago I secured a visa for myself, which was one of the hardest things I've ever done--it involved compiling over 100 pages of original documents and affidavits--and then never moving. It wasn't an easy breakup for me, but I thought Dublin was a more stable relationship; Dublin would appreciate me more.

But then after seeing London again, so dashing, so handsome, I've started to reconsider. Things haven't been going well with Dublin for the last little while. We don't have any serious problems, but it's those day-to-day issues that are the ones that I can't handle. It's the things that I initially loved that are starting to irk me. It's too small. It's too laid back. There's no Ikea. We're just not as compatible as I once let myself believe.

But then I start to wonder--is this about me or Dublin? Why haven't I lasted anywhere, settled down? Since leaving my parents' house at 17, I've moved to New York, to California, to New York, to California, to Dublin, to California, to Dublin. I've never lasted more than a few years each time. Is my inability to geographically commit an endearing foible or can I just not keep my wanderlust in my pants?

By Lina on May 29, 2008 12:01 AM

Update this.

Last night was the other Lina's birthday. Well, I suppose it was actually all day, but since I couldn't be there for the entire 24 hours, I'm only going to acknowledge the eve of the anniversary of her glorious birth. I'm primarily mentioning this as a shoutout to the other Lina, and as a vehicle to post this picture on my site. She seems to be under the impression that I only post unflattering pictures of her. Not unflattering, in my opinion, but definitely variations on a theme. Speaking of themes, I also got her a couple of things of lipgloss for her birthday, including Urban Decay's Triple-X (XXX) shine. This is the stuff that my friends affectionately refer to as "cock-sucking gloss." We also made her a shirt that says, "The most influential Swede in San Francisco," which you can see pictured above. She's looking for information on the CEO of Ikea, because if she lives in San Fran also, Lina is planning on mud-wrestling her to make sure she maintains her title of most influential Swede. All I can say is that I hope I have my video camera for that rumble.

Speaking of which, I've now completed my third video for my Video Production class. So far, they've all involved slight perversion, and tube socks. These (and sugar, spice, everything nice, etc.) are a few of my favorite things.

As of late, there have been mainly colors fighting for control of my eyelids. Blue had its heyday last year, and for the last six months a sort of purpley-lilac has been winning the battle. That's because I was eating popcorn watching Traci Lords pornos and taking copious notes on the actresses' makeup, and I decided that lavender eyeshadow was the way to go. Then, after recently reading Traci's autobiography and realizing that I was being a bad person by watching her pornos, I decided to alter my appearance to reflect my change of heart. I did this by purchasing a $3 box of glory--mint eyeshadow, which I've been layering with gold. Don't let anyone tell you that I'm not a real classy broad.

Okay, call me pathetic, but that's basically the most exciting thing that's going on my life. Therapy is exciting as always. This week I found out that in addition to allegedly needing "too much outside validation," I'm a perfectionist and a "control freak." Sigh.

By Lina on September 27, 2003 5:55 PM

hell of cool.

I was talking on the phone with Frances last night and I was telling her about my first day in California, when I realized that I hadn't yet told you, my faithful reader.

My first day in California (this time) was a momentous one. I went to Ikea with my parents and we were in the children's section looking at some flip-flops that looked like frog's feet. Two teenagers walked up and pick up the flip-flops and one of them says, "Ohmigod! These are hell of cool!"

I looked at my parents and said, "I'm home."

The end.

Actually, I'm just posting this because Ian is harrassing me about it. For some reason I don't really feel like updating a lot lately, and I think it's because I am getting NO LOVE.

Someone at my work just told me that in his high school P.E. class there was an albino boy that used to pee on the wrestling mats and then slide through it, ala slip-n-slide. I don't know if I believe it, but I sure want to.

By Lina on July 3, 2002 8:58 AM

no computer!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I live in California, and I now have a tan. Well, not really, but I got like 5 extra freckles. My computer broken in transit, as I was confident that it would. I took the whole thing apart and back together again, and when I put the ram in a different slot and started it up it crackled and then emitted a foul odor. When your computer starts to stink, you know the situation is dire. The motherboard is also fried, and I am actually pleased that this bastard has actually died. This computer has been such a pain in the ass, I keep sinking more and more money into it and it keeps fucking up. I'm on the third hard drive for it, 2nd motherboard, etc. etc.

So the problem is, I have no access to a computer. Right now I am at the public library, and while it is fun to sit next to a fat, hairy man that is humming and trying to read what I am writing (hi dipshit!). I don't think it is going to be a long-term solution. I need to get a computer, and pretty damn fast or I might end up sleeping around. Well, maybe not, but without a TV or computer I might have to go out and search for real human interaction, which is never a good thing. I'm thinking about buying a computer from Dell, just because they have a one year warrenty and apparently I can't go for more than a month without breaking my computer anyway. I can get one for $779 with free shipping and all the things I need, sans monitor, which I will deal with later. Anywho, if you like me and want to help get me online, please feel free to drop me a few bucks to lina@shutitdown.net via paypal :D, email me a letter of support. I probably won't get to write back though, because I only get limited time here at the library. :(

Apart from my computer woes, all is well. I am becoming a normal person again, and I actually leave my house. I think it might be the seratonin or something. Dunno. I went crazy at Ikea a few days ago, and oddly enough, saw one of the CHICKS ON SPEED. Crazy, man.

I got this email from null over at DGNR8. Thank god someone is concerned about my well-being.

I've noticed your run in with random squirrels. And i cant help but think about how deadly, yet cute these squirrels are.

The saddest ground squirrels I'd ever seen were part of a gang, in Dallas. They always seemed brave, at first, but if you looked past the switchblades and macho posturing, you could see they just wanted a handful of roasted walnuts. I saw a squirrel kill a man once. There was no wasted energy, just a simple lazy end-over-end sommersault and the deft pull of a sharp blade. The squirrel moved with the lazy precision of a window washer. He hit near the top of the man's neck, and by the time he reached the ground again, he was smoking a cigarette, and the man was dead.

"The ground is our mother," a squirrel once said to me. "We were born on the ground, we live on the ground, and we'll die on the ground. Ain't no thing."

Ah, but you could tell it was. It was obvious that it was a thing, and an important thing at that. More important than nuts, even. These were no tree squirrels, with their techno raves and big stylish pants.

Dallas cops asked me about the killing, but there was little I could tell them.

"He was part of the Loco Posse," I said, "and he moved like a dancer."

The cops, however, were able to tell me about the man I saw die. He'd been a biker with the Rebel Riders, an Oklahoma-based motorcycle gang. He'd been selling cystal meth to the ground squirrel community. The squirrel that killed him had reportedly been unimpressed with the buzz, but the man's associates claimed he was selling the pure stuff.

The thing is, both the squirrel and the man might have been telling the truth. These squirrels were hard.

My intentions are not to frighten and alarm you, I just want you to be aware of what you could possibly be dealing with. And even tho' we don't talk on a daily, or even weekly basis, i still lay awake at nights wondering, if those damn dirty squirrels have harmed you....

Thanks, buddy.

By Lina on June 4, 2002 9:09 PM
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