Tag Archives: los angeles

The Vagina take-over…

Warning: extremely sexual content. A lot of piss-takes too. I may have gone on a rant. Sense of humor needed to read.

Hold your breaths guys – the vagina take-over is here. You must have heard about it? It’s been whispered about for generations and now it is finally in full bloom….and I find it blooming ridiculous.

I like cocks. Vaginas too. The two combined all the better. If we are to refrain from sexy metaphors: yin and yang baby. I think it was discovered thousands of years ago. It didn’t stop them from repressing women though, which really meant they were suppressing their own theory. And then there was Mao and then things really went tits up (they needed more tits, let’s face it…). Some countries are still behind when it comes to equal rights. Equal opportunties. That’s not cool. Equal’s great. It’s when people talk about superiority and not superiority within one field (let’s face it: men have more muscles and women are more emotional), but overall superiority, I find it weird.

If you think about it: no woman is a woman without a man and no man a man without a woman. And in that I believe lies an ancient truth. Together we create life. It is when we are in balance with one another that magic is created.

In general in life it is when our energies are out of balance that trouble is created. When we are unaligned with our own energies we are out of whack. When one power tries to outrule another there is conflict. And sometimes we abuse our power. Don’t tell me you can’t manipulate men with sex – you can. And those men that haven’t learnt to control themselves…they fall foul for their own want of female energy (sex). In cities like Los Angeles there is plenty of proof of men getting ass and no happiness. They can’t hear their own heart for all the shagging.

As a woman I’m no better than most men – I have been floored (quite literally) by male force several times. As I need an incredibly high dose, it’s not so easy to floor me, but when I get floored, I get floored. I tend to date A type personalities that have enough energy to floor half the world and usually do too. And that’s my weakness. I didn’t always listen to my heart. Not until this year did I start listening to my heart. And oh boy was that different. I value heart connections over getting floored these days…but I’d like to get floored by my heart connections…

It’s the same as a need for power – people chase material power (a very male energy) because it’s a strong force, just like sexual energy is a strong force, but as with so many strong forces it’s often mis-used and abused. Balance is what is needed. You can find your own inner power, as well as your masculinity or femininity (and remember: one always contains a drop of the other) – that is huge, but that comes from being in tune, not by trying to overtake someone (basically: not from ego). And when you turn all your male or female charm on someone, that’s by design. You aren’t using your power on everyone, only the one person your heart belongs to. In the same way you will use your own inner power for the greater good, not to conquer the world for the sake of power alone. Because you can. Most people get floored by power, in whatever form.

For years male energy ruled the world and that wasn’t too cool. Then came the female revolt and it seems it’s still happening, but as with so many other things they stroke back by trying to turn the cards in their favor: by becoming the leading force of the world (or in plain English: they want to prove they are now better than men, superior. Sometimes they try to do it by becoming men though, which gets even more confusing.). Now I don’t know about you, but it would scare me if women alone ruled the world. Too much nailpolish.

To me this battle between the sexes is becoming ridiculous. We are different. The beauty lies in learning to understand one another and co-creating a world which suits us all and to stop abusing our powers. You may be able to reach various positions by use of sexual energy alone, but I doubt you will be happy there. I doubt you will be happy abusing any kind of power. An overdose of anything can only go to create trouble. Balance is the key.

We need one another. And I doubt that you will tell your son or your daughter that one is superior to the other. Balderdash.

What can I say? Love-make it forward? That must be the ultimate balance between the energies right? Lovemaking. Not sex, but lovemaking. Yummy world baby, yummy indeed.

If this ever became the norm again it would be high time for a vagina revolution…



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I feel like a change…maybe I should become a lesbian???

Cover of "Sex and the City: The Movie - E...

Sex And The CITIES…

Warning: sexual, potentially funny content.

I mean, it’s like anal sex: whether you’ve done it or not you are screwed. If you have done it you are a slut, if you haven’t you are frigid. On the other hand, if you screw men, you have men trouble, but if you screw women you don’t get to screw men. Like Charlotte said in SATC – my vagina would be depressed. I mean it’s like life is this constant frustration. Unless of course you find Mr Right who gives you no problems and you get laid for the rest of your life by the greatest shag around, that keeps getting better. Naturally I don’t need men to be happy, it’s just so much easier if someone else carries the shopping for me, rubs my shoulders at night and keeps my vagina happy. And of course you could do just the sex, but that’s like saying you want one piece of chocolate, when really you want the whole bar.

And then there’s the question of what city to live in. In LA everything is totally awesome and in London nothing’s too bad, which kind of sums it up right there, apart from the fact that even though LA is awesome London has everything awesome in it. It’s like that bitch that has Mr Perfect inside her, whereas lovely gorgeous next door is shagging a somewhat alcoholic, fame obsessed nobody with too big a car and an even bigger ego.

My choice of cities feels like my choice of dream marriage: on the one hand I’d love to drive to Mexico on a bike (OK, the man driving, me on the back), get hitched in really high heels and the sexiest skimpiest dress on the planet, drink tequila all night and have my honeymoon in oblivious bliss to the world, high on chocolate, sex and chili. On the other hand I would love a fairytale wedding in France with a hundred people, or more and a honeymoon which is the deepest spiritual journey on the planet, connecting my soul with my husband’s. I always figured I could get married with the aid of tequila first and then do the proper vow once I’ve grown up enough to handle the pressure and need a bit of a lift in my every day life. I mean weddings tend to perk things up. If nothing else you can argue with your mother in law five times a day.

My choice of ideal wedding is kind of like marrying an Angelino v.s. marrying a Londoner (who’s preferably of exotic breed – you need a house in the sun and some HOT blood if you are to survive that town): with the Angelino you feel sure they will file for a divorce and make you a millionaire, whereas with a Londoner it may actually last forever. I guess it depends on what your priorities are.

Life is confusing. Like you want the bad boy and the romance and the skyscrapers and the open fields all at the same time and bohemia and luxury. Like snow and 80 degrees farenheit.

So time for a change? Well the lesbian thing is outruled by logic: I can’t take prozac for my vagina. Marriage ain’t gonna happen anytime soon, so that’s outruled too. That leaves moving cities. Well, who knows? I don’t. Maybe I should just try a new pair of shoes first? Prada, Prada… Where’s my sugar daddy when I need him??? Or at least a bad boy with a pure heart???

“The universe may not always play fair, but at least it’s got a hell of a sense of humor.” – SATC

Miranda Hobbes: If he goes up your butt, will he respect you more or respect you less? That’s the issue.
Taxi Driver: [to Carrie] No smoking in the cab.
Carrie: Sir, we’re talking up the butt. A cigarette is in order.
Samantha Jones: Front, back, who cares? A hole is a hole.
Miranda Hobbes: Can I quote you?
Samantha Jones: Don’t be so judgmental. You could use a little back door.
Charlotte: I’m not a hole.
Carrie: Honey, we know.


There’s a reason becoming a lesbian is out ruled by logic. Or men. Like this.

Image Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/507780926715996033/


Filed under Humor, sex, Uncategorized

Being in love…

Have you ever fallen in love? So madly, irrevocably and irresistibly that it is simply unforgettable? I have fallen in love twice. The first time I was nineteen years old and I was traveling the world with a backpack. It was certainly not love at first sight. I kind of stumbled into love. I don’t know when it happened, not really. I just kind of wandered the streets and then one day I realized how happy I was. How attached I was. How high I was every day on that feeling of totally embracing something. Something so gorgeous you could almost cry, but you’d rather laugh. To this day I get tears in my eyes thinking about it and we all know by now that I’m not a crier.

The second time I fell in love I was twenty five. This time it was very different. I’d heard rumors. So I didn’t think I’d ever fall in love. The rumors weren’t all that good you see. Then, of course, events happened that made me want to find out for myself. And maybe because I was at a dead end, I simply decided that I was going to do it. Surrender to something new, something different. It was different, that’s for certain, yet it felt so familiar. Like I’d come home.

You know, I don’t know what made me fall in love with Paris. Maybe it was the alleyways around Les Jardins Du Luxembourg. Maybe it was the smell of fresh croissants in the mornings in Montmartre. Maybe it was the view of the city from Sacre Coeur at night. Maybe it was all the fresh markets, or sipping wine by the Seine, or my fav crêpes place, or Shakespeare & Co., or the sunrise by Notre Dame, or the big hand in the park by Les Halles, or the Christmas lights on Champs Elysees, or the sight of Le Louvre at night…I just don’t know. I do know that I still get tears in my eyes when I think of Paris. I miss her. A lot.

L.A. well, L.A. was so different, so unexpected. I thought I’d hate it, but when I met some nice people from here and my best friends said she was moving over here, I decided I’d check it out. I was certain I wanted to get out of London. I love L.A. so much, sooo much. It feels so obvious…like dah, you idiot, of course this is your town. The kooky places in the hills, the palm trees, the colorful flowers, the waves, the mountain tops…all the crazy artists and ego maniacs, mixed with health fanatics and spiritualists. I’m a sunshine girl. Although I’m all pro thunderstorms and the occasional snow storm, I like to wear a bikini, or at least a skirt and a top, 90% of the time. And they make movies in this town, they make magic. Well, at least one in a hundred has some magic in it. I’d like to believe in that magic. In that beauty in life.

I watched a movie today called Strictly Sexual, an indie flick, you can find it on Netflix. It was set in L.A. In the hills. It was a nice movie, but somewhat lacking in logic, like you know, when it lacks the glue to hold it all together. I really did enjoy it though and it made me think of L.A. and Paris…my two loves.

Have you ever been in love? What was it like? Did you stay in love, or did you change your mind?

L.A. life…but that’s only part of it…

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Journeys into the unknown…

As you may know by now journeys are to me a way of living – they rejuvenate me, they make me smile, they…they are where I feel at home. As soon as I get stagnant in a place, I, too, get stagnant. Of course, I would like a base though and for now I’d like that base to be Los Angeles, because I do love this town. I was just an hour ago walking home with my best friends (last night with the gang) and the hills were covered in fog (June gloom), the lights up there still penetrating the darkness and glittering in an orangy, homey kinda way. The palm trees looked duller than normal in the fog, whereas trees that were lit up looked mystical and more noticeable than ever. Everywhere you go there are flowers in LA – bright pink and purple seem to be around a lot. It’s a beautiful place. Nothing like cobble stone streets in Paris, but naturally beautiful. They say that your home is where your heart is and mine’s between La France and LA.

As I stood packing just now, I was looking through a bunch of necklaces and I wondered what memories would be attached to them by the end of the trip? What events will be associated with a certain necklace, or a certain bikini…I mean, dress? Then I went to check my computer and realized that tmrw. night I’ll be having dinner in Chelsea as a friend has put me down for that. It’s quite normal when you live in London of course, but when I was acting a chick from Chelsea a few weeks back I would never have guessed that I was going there this summer!

It’s fascinating how we know so little about what tomorrow will bring! When vacating I guess the sensation grows as you actually think of tomorrow as a complete unknown (well almost), rather than a routine with potential interruptions. Of course some days really shake us up, even when we are living our routine life and expect another day like the rest. I guess I was just never one for wanting another day like the rest in that many aspects, but then again, I live a pretty habitual life for most of it, I just never saw myself in a nine to five. You know what’s so great about movies? You get to live like a gypsy.

I think sometimes we get so caught up in our own patterns that we forget to ask ourselves what could be possible? I may be one for the road, but that too is a pattern and sometimes, because of how I use it, a curse. It is strange to start questioning the way one lives, because one takes it for granted (so what’s there to question?) but sometimes it opens doors that lead to fabulous paths. That’s when one realizes that one has lived in the gutter all one’s life without even stopping to look up at the stars. Once we see the stars we are bound to move toward them, but before we know of them, we are content to keep living as we always have.

Today I was complimented for my nose. Now that’s a first. Apparently I have one of the top five noses this guy has ever seen. He said it reminded him of a cloudy day in Scotland and that’s the one place he really wants to visit. He got green with envy when I said I’d been several time. I love Scotland, I just disagree with the weather. Anyway, point being: my nose. Who could have ever imagined? Rainy day in Scotland (and he actually pulled off making it sound poetic too!!)?

There is a man who was fabulous with metaphors, his name was Milton Erickson. He was a most remarkable fellow. To illustrate what I was just talking about, I’d like to use one of his teaching tales from the book The Teaching Tales of Milton H. Erickson (as much as I remember of it – I just lent the book to a friend).

Erickson asks one of his students what the possible ways to get from the chair they are standing by to a chair in the other end of the classroom? His student tells him that he could walk, jump, jump on one leg, crawl, hop from chair to chair, walk on his hands, do cartwheels… Erickson replies that he, personally, would walk out that door over there, take a flight round the world, do a couple of extraordinary things, and walk in the other door and walk over to the chair.

Why expect the ordinary when you could be expecting the extraordinary? And why not take time to sip the dew of life, whilst you can? There’s an adventure in every drop!

Beautiful LA, beautiful Cali camping trip, Hello London and Virgin forever…I mean, you gotta see each day as a Virgin opportunity!!! (Did I just come up with a slogan for Virgin? Someone call Branson and let him know he should know me!!)


Filed under Inspiration, Joy, Liberty, Life, Love, Motivation, Personal Development, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized

I’m Swedish, blonde and…in your bed???….

The standard question I get when I meet someone is “Where are you from?” After they have guessed every English speaking country in the world, I will have to confess to the fact that I am Swedish. If the person I’m talking to happens to be male and somewhere in between the ages of 18 to a 100, a smile will invariably light up his face as he repeats to himself easy to get into bed Swedish, eh?” Yes, Swedish, and not so easy to get into a parallel position, but until he figures that out, I might as well enjoy his efforts.

If you, on the other hand, want a bloke to melt for you, all you really have to do is to talk about how you celebrate the summer solstice – an ancient celebration of fertility where we make a giant dick (maypole) out of flowers that we dance around and at night eat strawberries and drink vodka (it’s one of the few pagan traditions the church did not manage to relabel. For example – in Easter the Swedish witches still fly off on broomsticks with their cats to dance with the devil and en route they hand out candy to children, but somehow we are also celebrating the resurrection of Jesus). For the sake of good luck you are then supposed to roll around naked in the morning dew the next day (never mind the fact that we pick seven flowers in silence at night to dream about whom we will marry, that would put him off…marriage should never be talked about by women. You simply wait until he is so desperate to keep other men off your ass that he decides to marry you.). After that he will believe you are the answer to all his prayers (when he discovers that you actually have a brain too, he will be singing hallelujah).

Dancing around a dick…I mean maypole…

N.B. All photos in this post were taken by me, please don’t use elsewhere without permission. Thank you!!!

Apart from our reputation of being sexually liberated, the Swedes are known for: Ingmar Bergman, Abba, Roxette, Björn Borg, herring, Ikea, H&M, Volvo, Zlatan Ibrohamovic (we went to the same school, never noticed him, but I met someone in Morocco who knew him…) and other sports people whom I don’t know of. And of course, Tiger Wood’s wife. Poor thing. Sex rehab. And he’s not even Swedish!!! (No, we do not make watches and chocolate. That’s SWITZERLAND.)

When it comes to Swedish stereotypes there is a brilliant book called The Xenophobe’s Guide To The Swedes from which I will now quote freely:

Svårmod: a dark melancholy born out of long winters, high taxes and being stuck far out on a geo-political and socio-economic limb. They brood a lot over the meaning of life in a self-absorbed sort of way without ever arriving at satisfactory answers. (…) All this svårmod makes the Swedes very self-conscious and socially awkward. When two Swedish individuals meet for the first time, there are actually four people present: the two visible persons, plus their invisible alter-egos who stand close by and criticize every word and every gesture. Only when the acquaintance is well established do the alter-egos move to the sidelines, albeit still shaking their heads.

Undfallenhet: You may call a car rental firm to say the studs are missing from the winter tyres and that, as a consequence, you are unfairly exposed to the risk of having to pay for any collision damage. To this the rental agent is likely to reply: “Never mind having to pay for collision damage. What about your personal health and safety?” It’s a response that takes all the fun out of complaining. (…) Being aggressive is considered a macho thing in many Western cultures. In Sweden it’s viewed as a handicap. (…) Undfallenhet is not to be confused by cowardice. Sweden has long stood firm on its conviction regarding matters like apartheid and dictatorship.

Lagom: “just enough” or “in moderation.” Lagom permeates Swedish life. Economically it has enabled the nation to find the middle ground between Capitalism and Socialism (Progress and Humanity). In manufacturing, lagom discards gold-plated designs in favor of optimum solutions. Socially lagom puts conformity before excellence, tempers extreme personal wealth and poverty, and leaves the Swedes irksomely at peace with themselves. (…) When something is said to be “lagom good” it actually means it’s the best.

In the battle between idealism, heroism and common sense, the latter always wins.

Patriotism: The Swedes sneer at public manifestations of patriotism, conveniently forgetting that the blue and yellow Swedish flag is everywhere to be seen. (…) Swedes are not patriots in the usual sense. Victory monuments come in the form of rune stones rather than bronze statues. Ask them what link them to their native country and they will hold forth, not about government, history, or culture, but about deep forests, smiling archipelagos, crayfish served with aquavit, and flower wrapped maypoles. For Swedes the national flag is primarily an eye-pleasing backdrop. Rather than rallying people to war, it invites them to a picnic in a meadow.

Being rich in Sweden has never been easy. As Ingmar Bergman found out, even millionaires can have difficulties making ends meet when income tax is levied at 102%. But even after taxation, the filthy rich remain merely filthy in the eyes of the not-so-rich, who themselves are far from poor. Manifestations of personal wealth have always been  frowned upon in Sweden, based on the assumption that for every winner there has to be a loser.

Religion: there is a saying that all Swedish people are born free, but taxed to death. Until 1996 all children were born into Lutherian faith. These days they are allowed to choose their own faith. Those who have not opted out show their Lutheran piety by attending church on at least four occasions, namely for their baptism, confirmation, wedding(s) and funeral (I might add here: and the 6-12 or so times you have to attend mass to get confirmed. Ahem. I mean, amen. Swedes are still religious though – we celebrate nature and whatever force created it. Some call that pagan.)

Money Matters: The Swedes truly understand the joy of giving and taking. They give as much as they take, neither more, nor less. (…) Restaurant bills are divided up evenly after meals (not equal shares, but each person pays for their own food). Ulf and Ulla out on a date are equally intent on settling their score evenly. A foreign observer of scenes like these could be forgiven for thinking that the Swedes are pathological skinflints. The truth, however, is that they load becoming dependent on other human beings through indebtedness in any shape or form. Accept a gift and one feels obliged to reciprocae in kind. Receive a favor, and expect to be called in at a later date. (I would say it’s a sense of fairness. Right be right. This can also be applied to dating rich people: then they pay for you, until you make your own millions, then you pay for them and believe me: if you are Swedish you will remember to pay back.)

Women and Men: The stereotype Swedish woman is beautiful, opinionated and speaks three languages. She has a strong aesthetic sense and her attitude to sex is accommodating. While single she travels the world and samples the local climatic and climactic delights. Once married, she invariably has a career and keeps her own money.

The average Swedish man is seen as being shy, taciturn, submissive, sentimental principled, reliable – precisely the sort of male companion the Swedish woman covets as the father of her 13/4 children. He is Mr Fixit (if you don’t know how to handle a hammer, just forget it). He is basically a loner and is happiest at work, on the ski slope or at the country cottage which he is constantly rebuilding. (I kinda like outgoing social type of guys that radiate warmth from a mile away, but maybe that’s just me???)

Swedes congratulate themselves for having been first in the world to achieve total equality between the sexes.(…)

By international standards, Swedish women have always been highly emancipated. In the days of the Vikings, only a woman dared tell a warrior what a corny oaf he was. (…) Nowadays, members of the Women’s Movement are campaigning for men to sit down when urinating, their point being that men have been flaunting their anatomical advantage for much too long.

One thing Swedish men and women have in common is a curious diagnostic to human relationships. Social, as well as sexual, intercourse techniques are analyzed and compared in great detail – along the lines of “How was it for you?” and “How can we improve it next time?” (In stark contrast to Californians’ attitude of: if it’s bad, let’s say it’s good. Problem solving? Are you kidding me? I’d have to confess to there being a problem? That’s a sin, no? Tell everyone they are great and if they aren’t – just never talk to them again. Whatever you do – just never say anything negative.  Sneaking out the backdoor is so fucking Cali and to a Swede – so fucking confusing. I’m thankful to be here, I’d just be thankful if I could learn to understand them too…)

Children: The statutory maternity leave is 12 months at 80% of the mother’s most recent salary, plus another 3 months at a reduced rate (you can take this out any time from the child is born until s/he is 8 yrs old, you also, kids or no kids, get 5 wks of vacation every year, plus general holidays). Since nearly all couples have parallel careers, it is up to the mother and father to decide who stays at home with the newborn child. (…) Spanking a child – even one’s own – is against the law in Sweden.

Hospitality (and honesty): The Swedes stake out the limits of their hospitality in no uncertain terms. They assume that you will do the same. So when you tell them to come and see you anytime, they will do precisely that. And if you protest that they are leaving much too soon, they’ll stay on to keep you company. It’s a square, square world. (Unlike Cali, where everything’s a bit fussy around the edges. How do you know when someone means what they say if they only tell you the truth 50% of the time?)

The taboo subject: The Swedes consider themselves the most broad-minded people on earth. They boast that only in Sweden are you free to discuss absolutely anything, be it sex, money, incest or euthanasia. Don’t take their word for it, though, because generalizing about nationalities (other than the Norwegians) is definitively out. Swedish people love to criticise about their own country when amongst themselves; but when a foreigner enters the room, suddenly Sweden can do nothing wrong. (Mark my words, I warn thee.)

Anyone who’s wondering what really make the Swedes tick need look no further: it is coffee. (The coffee shop culture in Sweden can be summed up by saying: a café in every corner. We don’t hang out. We go for coffees, or rather a “fika” meaning coffee and something to eat with it.)

Drinking: It is often said that the Swedes have a drinking problem. (…) As a matter of fact the Swedes consume less alcohol than most other countries in the EU. (…) The Swedish government is defying EU law by restricting the sale of spirits. Outlets are few and far in-between, open late, close early and mask the whereabouts of liquor by displaying everything but spirits in their windows. Citizens who do manage to find one are charged exorbitant prices for anything stronger than wine. (This is why Swedes get drunk when vacating in the Mediterranean and buy all their spirits in Germany.) (…) Another deterrent is the stiff penalty meted out to anyone caught driving a vehicle with even an extra molecule of alcohol in the blood. One hapless driver, who was pulled over and breath-analyzed seconds after swallowing a rum-filled chocolate, tested positive and was driven away to a police laboratory for tests. The tests showed no trace of alcohol in the blood and the driver was acquitted, but only after agreeing to pay for the test as well as a fine for wasting police time. (Of course they do not count how much home-made spirits are in circulation, only deaths and blindness caused by these every year. Just a note.)

Obsessions: A great deal of emotion is associated with childhood memories of summers gone by. It has to do with the taste of wild strawberries and the smell of freshly cut hay, listening in bed to the cuckoo at dawn (in the south dawn is around 3am and sunset around 12am), catching crab with fish heads on a string, and watching the fishermen tar their hulls. The Swedes are the world’s greatest nature lovers and will spout about it until the cows go home. (…) The Swedes have a dream: to save nature from man. This is more than just a vision – it’s as close to a passion as the Swedes ever get.

Leisure and pleasure: The Swedes indulge in sport for leisure and sex for pleasure. (…) President Eisenhower once noted in a speech that there was a country in Northern Europe where moral standards had fallen to an all time low. The subsequent avalanche of American tourist upon Swedish soil left little doubt which country he had in mind. The visitors were not disappointed for they returned home with photographic evidence that the Swedes swim naked whenever they think nobody’s watching (and who has less morals: the person watching or the one thinking s/he’s alone with nature?). (…) In the 18th century Linnaeus studied the sex life of plants with such intensity that he became known as the Peeping Tom of Botany. (…) It is true, however, that their attitude to sex is largely unencumbered by taboos. The Swedes, like the Dutch, believe in easy natural sex as a way of resisting unnatural forms such as prostitution, incest and child abuse.

Cinema: Sweden has a lot in common with Disney World. On the surface people seem to lead a carefree existence in a fairy-tale paradise. Underneath is a whole different world, which is out of bound for most visitors.

If you didn’t get enough – buy the book. I laughed till I cried, but then I am Swedish. You may have an inferior sense of humor.

On a very Swedish note about nationalities: I find being Swedish an asset. I love my home country and feel lucky to have been brought up with some of the values over there. Like people still know how to use a hammer and a sewing machine. Common sense still exists and I like the idea of progress combined with humanity, not one over the other….and don’t even get me started on saving nature from man. I also left for a reason. I just didn’t feel like I was “only that.” I am more than just a Swede. I am a human being. And so is every other person, were they born in the fires of hell, or the kingdom of heaven. No one probably wish to be born in a country, or part of a city, labeled by the rest of the world as dangerous, or nasty in any other way. Nor do people probably grow up wishing to become criminals. Beneath it all: human. People can only see life for what they know of it. Show someone love and they may end up lovable.

Also, I don’t like everything from my personal past. I am sure the Germans today don’t love Hitler either. What good is there to say that the Vikings were warriors? I am not a warrior, well at least not in that sense. Maybe we can learn from the past, but to boast about it? Nor do I agree with all the politicians in Sweden. If someone said that because I’m Swedish I would be like Gudrun Schyman, I would, oh man, faint. And I mean Americans are supposedly against communism, but their greatest financial debt is supposedly to China. Not to mention Swedes being against apartheid and dictatorship in SA and Chile, but neglecting it in Russia (too close for comfort???). There are contradictions everywhere. I love many Swedish values, I get disturbed by seeing all the homeless people in LA (someone told me they amount to a startling number of 160,000) and the segregation between rich and poor (paying to go to school? Please, shouldn’t children at least be equal? How can they become great if they aren’t given a chance?), but I still prefer to live in LA. I am a funny mix and so are probably most of us.

Californication “…little girls from Sweden dream of silver screen quotation…” – Red Hot Chili Peppers


Filed under Humor, Life, Men, People, sex, socializing, Society, Thoughts, Traveling, Uncategorized, Women

Who’s on your walk of fame?..

When living in LA, sooner or later, you will meet someone who, during a conversation, slightly lowers their voice and says “Actually, I know so and so.” So and so of course being one star, or another.

Network = Net Worth, is an old saying and I believe it is very true. However, if you have nothing to offer your network, you are unlikely to get any net worth from it. What’s more, I think that the part of your network that isn’t all that famous might very well be worth much more than the part that is.

Who do you value the most in your life? Is it the star whose phone number you have, or your partner in crime (…life that is)? Is it your high net worth business contact, or your business partner? Is it the hottie on the billboard, or the hottie in your bed?

Sometimes when people lower their voice and tell me of a star they know, I want to lower mine too and whisper: “That’s so nice. I have some cool contacts too. The most important one is standing right in front of you. Then I also know my best friend, my sister, my dad, my business partner and a whole bunch load of other people who totally rock my world and actually return my phone calls.” (And to that I would like to add, in a west coast accent and high-pitched voice: “Isn’t that like totally awesome? Like it’s just so cool – it’s beeeyoooond!!!”)

Get me right – if Richard Branson offered to coach me in business, or Scorsese offered to coach me in directing I’d potentially faint from excitement, because I have a lot of respect for them. It is very cool to be surrounded by people whom you respect, but if you respect someone on a billboard more than you respect your best friend, you might want to think again. After all, I hope that there’s a reason why you chose to surround yourself with the people you have in your life.

For sure I’d be happy if certain people I look up to became contacts of mine, but until the day they have looked after me as many times as the people in my life have now, until the day I trust them as much as I trust my current business contacts…well, they might be stars, but they aren’t stars in my life.

The same is very true when you have a crush on someone, or really want to be friends with someone who just don’t treat you very well, or simply have no interest in being around you. How many times have you obsessed about a man, or woman, who simply didn’t give a damn? Like seriously? I might break the world record… Those people aren’t stars in my life though, so instead of obsessing about them, why not focus on treating the real stars in my life to my full attention? What you focus on expand. Sort out the bad stuff, but focus on the good stuff.

Keep building your network, because the more trustworthy friends and business associates you have in your life that truly believe in you, the likelier you are of being looked after at all times and given opportunities that have been presented to them, so treat them for what they are: stars. (Oh, and if someone has Branson’s number, please pass it along. A date with Di Caprio would be much appreciated too…and one with Gerard Butler, please, whilst at it…lmfao.)


Filed under entrepreneurialism, Hollywood, Joy, Life, Love, Men, Networking, Personal Development, Relationsip, socializing, Thoughts, Uncategorized, Women