I have three or four friends usually messa any time in half and point out that it was far too long since we met, and we should not try to make a push now, how does it look for you next week? And I always answer variations on the same theme: absolutely, feel free, I can anytime.
Then there is silence in the phone. Until another six months have passed. And then the same thing happens again.
It is not my intention to raljera with these friends. I myself have friends that I behave the same way. I don't think that they are a hypocrite in the slightest, but that they really want to be seen.
at Least that idea considered. But then happens apparently nothing when it should be executed. Things run together, as they have a tendency to do.
I was on the so-called holiday in the sun and la where the brand of a Danish young family and something that was repeated several times each day, namely, that the children pestered about ice cream and/or soft drinks and because it was still vacation said their parents okay then, and it was carried into snajdiga glassarrangemang and soda with ice and lemon slices. But when the ice cream and soda stood where the children were curiously indolent and only got in maybe a quarter of it as they so ettrigt had requested, and sometimes they forgot to remove it altogether.
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I wondered what it could be. If their glasstjatande most was a vague feeling that we are ”children” and, therefore, the nags we about the ice cream because it is that ”children” do. Despite the fact that they were moderately hungry at the where the ice-cream. Or did they constantly have a kind of nervous confirmation that we are on vacation and that the usual rules do not apply?Photo: DPA/TT
Then the idea came again: it was the idea of the ice cream they sought after. Not the ice cream itself.
I began to recall times in life when I have achieved professional triumphs, or what to call it. Different expressions of the concept of ”success”. Prizes, scholarships, accolades. Often I have wondered that in the midst of all the joy also been a strong whiff of sadness.
about the same thing there. To the grief paws in among the champagnekorkarna is a reminder that it's not been a triumph in itself as I suktat after, but the idea of it.
I don't know what I'll do with these thoughts. If they are an expression of a constantly ongoing self-delusion; that time and again convince themselves that there is a case there, and if you work hard you will achieve it. And then there will be something significantly to change in one, and you will see yourself and the world and the people in it with new eyes. But the change will rarely happen, at least not at just those målsnörena, but possibly during the fight to get there, or somewhere else.
People who are so scared of their ideas that they never dare to try them does not seem particularly at ease either. They are sitting in their idea, while the days flow past.
the Thoughts if the gap between the idea of something and the implementation of it has started to recur more and more often, and they go to apply on so much so that it goes around in my head and I don't know if I should shoo them away or welcome them; if they lead into an immersive darkness or the light. Or not either. Or both parts.
Perhaps the whole of life: that as a young man to create an idea of how you want it to look like. Then should the idea be implemented, and then becomes something else entirely. And even disappointing, perhaps, is not due to the implementation of their idea on something sloppy or bad way, but just that it was completed. As if the best had been if it had not been there.
so scared of their ideas that they never dare to try them does not seem particularly at ease either. They are sitting in their idea, while the days flow past.
All of this deppgökande may just be the price we have to pay for that one was born with an imagination.
And I look at the dog that stretched out beside the couch and wonder if he really is so here-and-nuig and freed from the ideas that it claims to. In the same second that I shed together the computer he will lift his head and stare expectantly at me. And God knows what ideas flowing through him at that moment. Ideas about the meadows, skogsmöss and bitches. Or friends he had not seen in a long time.