tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9331221071933578382024-03-18T21:27:07.712-07:00A Sweet RaccoonA sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-5782263615594671252011-03-08T11:35:00.000-08:002011-03-08T11:45:56.810-08:00Hello?Hey, it's been a while. I bet you lost hope! But no. Here I am again. I think I have something worth sharing.<br />A beautiful person keeps telling me to paint more and more, let my thoughts and imagination take over and observe whatever shit spreads over my canvas. <br />So I'm just about to go for it. I have this huge canvas that's been waiting forever. It looks beautiful as it is but everybody knows a white and untouched canvas is just slightly boring. Gonna turn the heating on, put on warm socks, put all my material in front of me, make sure I have my fleece on (yes, fleece) and put some Mercury Rev because that's how I like it. I will then release all my energies, make them travel through my hands and hopefully something will come out. <br />I'd rather the result looks beautiful but if it doesn't, at least I'll be proud to have tackled my fear. Should I also precise that I will have no material to copy from whatsoever? Nope. Just me and my fucked up self. <br /><br />That's how we like it.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-63188344119463839472011-01-24T12:04:00.000-08:002011-01-24T12:17:31.941-08:00Uh?<div>Jesus, even Mac is retarded now. I give up.<div><br /></div><div>Ok. I just wrote this previous thing and then posted it, but I've just realised that I wasn't finished. Not finished at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm currently in the process of writing the learning plan for my placement. I basically need to take an approach on what and how I want to learn during my 6 months placement. That is fine. They had to give us something to write about. But the way it's done, seriously?</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm trying to know what I need to do for tomorrow, but one paper says one thing and the other one says a different one. That's because the two "teachers" that we have are so bloody disorganised they can't even agree on something for 9 months straight.</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm therefore getting annoyed on my own. Shouting. A little. And also probably my flatmate next door must think I'm a freak. As in... it just got even more confirmed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh and the laptop would not cooperate. Why can I not type something on Word and listen to Spotify at the same time without taking 2 minutes for every letter to appear? I don't know. That's probably part of the endless thing which don't make sense in life.</div><div><br /></div><div>Breeeaaathe Camille.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28V3ULu81xivOyK0qJ0kZp-nE-xoETg9Po6OGxZjOwJ9P3NLapc-0a0M4-FouQl5IXam4glXKfphBnMN_ElcZCPvupgp6gocA9t-PR9ANRtaDDPbMWvjqh4Vx5h2hZxfw2QCyHltWKffn/s1600/PANIC%2521.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg28V3ULu81xivOyK0qJ0kZp-nE-xoETg9Po6OGxZjOwJ9P3NLapc-0a0M4-FouQl5IXam4glXKfphBnMN_ElcZCPvupgp6gocA9t-PR9ANRtaDDPbMWvjqh4Vx5h2hZxfw2QCyHltWKffn/s320/PANIC%2521.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5565849065500565154" /></a>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-12139183631031239322011-01-23T15:29:00.000-08:002011-01-23T15:40:27.720-08:00Ah, Sunday.It's actually been a pretty good week end with all the necessary included. Booze, friends, jokes, drama, hugs and more. GOOD.<div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight I have been re-introduced to Last.fm. I had registered in 2008 but never really got into it. During the past hour I have been playing around with it a little and it's actually pretty sweet. Loads of cool little things that make the website worthwhile. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow will be a good day. I am going to the skin clinic to try and hunt that bitch of allergy down. I'll kill it and make it regret what it did to me. Let's do this. </div><div>They'll install patches all across my back and we will remove them on Wednesday to see what can be the cause of all this. It's like seeing someone you've met on internet after months of chatting, or finally going to see a very well rated film: exciting!</div><div><br /></div><div>Other than that, there'll be some uni work and some JAC work involved this week. Quite a lot actually. But it's OK. I'm going to see Band of Horses (BOH!) on Thursday. My week will be complete. Just in time before the weekend's fun starts again. YES!</div><div><br /></div><div>Today does't feel like Sunday. It's a very good thing.</div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-58735312932162501762011-01-20T13:21:00.001-08:002011-01-20T13:25:00.675-08:00One last thing.Oh yeah, and as I'm about to leave the perverted word of internet for the night, I cannot help but think of how good it is to be alone sometimes. Because my problem is that before I'm alone, I don't like the thought of being alone soon, but now that I am -right now, it's actually pretty enjoyable.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNwLZO_r4Scr3VY47KUYfcF8v9EtHICz2FJQZ290-dTYu2Q4JFAvkfHcIpf76CkEkoKG7XbRzKhsYZTiirPeycifMiSsjFHMiDeQi6JpA5B08kslI94-8KuJijyKme5eLO2sfdz8Xrwk4/s1600/23.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWNwLZO_r4Scr3VY47KUYfcF8v9EtHICz2FJQZ290-dTYu2Q4JFAvkfHcIpf76CkEkoKG7XbRzKhsYZTiirPeycifMiSsjFHMiDeQi6JpA5B08kslI94-8KuJijyKme5eLO2sfdz8Xrwk4/s400/23.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564382138260269330" /></a>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-30911674275896997322011-01-20T12:15:00.000-08:002011-01-20T13:15:08.381-08:00Good evening and goodbye.Hi,<div><br /></div><div>first, pictures. A few to sum up what the last weeks/months have been made up of. A bit of everything: sadness, happy times, drunk times, but most importantly many reality checks. Seems like I have been living in my own little imaginary world. Not that it's necessarily better than reality....</div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHM3s_0onnIzSuagObJyA5t1D50wHMHN98fbHJa9wjzKqY-ypWIRPDaiA6uDqvCXTgAFcjRlhp7WPXMLsPxCd3krt9SSJGsh8Wf0EECTVwcdnSAD2jEYuAYfm7gNxM48Ru0dvY5XKl3pI7/s1600/16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHM3s_0onnIzSuagObJyA5t1D50wHMHN98fbHJa9wjzKqY-ypWIRPDaiA6uDqvCXTgAFcjRlhp7WPXMLsPxCd3krt9SSJGsh8Wf0EECTVwcdnSAD2jEYuAYfm7gNxM48Ru0dvY5XKl3pI7/s400/16.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564367573919313874" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4NiycGU4QHiDqRC9p61Ov0M93H5nFEnTaAjgzio4pjPRge08S-l6VcVrjDAP0C5s3WgX8kX9oAm55yJUO2RRMhp-jPFoy_zMIzDQ0-TVjbqya4H9NW2EIx3t2UR4CsKobyKwb5Q0VKMY/s1600/13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4NiycGU4QHiDqRC9p61Ov0M93H5nFEnTaAjgzio4pjPRge08S-l6VcVrjDAP0C5s3WgX8kX9oAm55yJUO2RRMhp-jPFoy_zMIzDQ0-TVjbqya4H9NW2EIx3t2UR4CsKobyKwb5Q0VKMY/s400/13.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564367570482089026" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2ZHAIqh06hlO_BAG55Fl-FnmPqTxe8gI6W_Vt8I6V43yKTilV1-TbXUmCocOU5Y479KHBjud_uS9AGdnyNwmP0ShcAuSrluV3nfiEUaNyYZbpQFuIILXN4Z9RD0K-LZEC6wspG1x6P1n/s1600/10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW2ZHAIqh06hlO_BAG55Fl-FnmPqTxe8gI6W_Vt8I6V43yKTilV1-TbXUmCocOU5Y479KHBjud_uS9AGdnyNwmP0ShcAuSrluV3nfiEUaNyYZbpQFuIILXN4Z9RD0K-LZEC6wspG1x6P1n/s400/10.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564367564436110290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5cDm9EqfEcL4HmeTVTVdUR3nO1rMzqVP5dfBlm0k2YvikbtgAPHs1_OPHT6o8IuENlW4G2o7jMF1ratR2-CzVaKHdKChKQdwQ0QQjdMO2GHpmXV9UQbNRcm2iFWyim5STSFIB2eG_6I0/s1600/9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj5cDm9EqfEcL4HmeTVTVdUR3nO1rMzqVP5dfBlm0k2YvikbtgAPHs1_OPHT6o8IuENlW4G2o7jMF1ratR2-CzVaKHdKChKQdwQ0QQjdMO2GHpmXV9UQbNRcm2iFWyim5STSFIB2eG_6I0/s400/9.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564367561385002402" /></a><br /><div>Look at these two... All I can hope is that by the time I reach that age I will be as happy and as in love as they are.<div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInrHkJBEVhYHwDMJgJlUQ2DG6rJBrgq3EYOJ1EThkHFk8orB3H4UazWPslrbjhYem_R3ubRbncoSoBV8vcBK1sAouIWcKymLARg9m5zUmTP5Q_ILj3XkBQGu5unmLAnxveE-0TmNjldVw/s1600/5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjInrHkJBEVhYHwDMJgJlUQ2DG6rJBrgq3EYOJ1EThkHFk8orB3H4UazWPslrbjhYem_R3ubRbncoSoBV8vcBK1sAouIWcKymLARg9m5zUmTP5Q_ILj3XkBQGu5unmLAnxveE-0TmNjldVw/s400/5.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564367558925430754" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fhkrQP4ANko3nCpj4z59HKU3RtumTznKPQm5N5eQR_ziS4arlApYCNJ9ZeQlh90GkVoWED7KayrBzZG-I5b8EYoZS7cZOqRwWtUIP3zTIc7v1HD0btn4EYcL-f1iLZMevZLcHlQgvaLY/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_fhkrQP4ANko3nCpj4z59HKU3RtumTznKPQm5N5eQR_ziS4arlApYCNJ9ZeQlh90GkVoWED7KayrBzZG-I5b8EYoZS7cZOqRwWtUIP3zTIc7v1HD0btn4EYcL-f1iLZMevZLcHlQgvaLY/s400/12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564365730323594290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQl00J4c5ue_qSdgAg6t67OexJvxvDzZl_BFxpj0X_B4_1H_9Et1DkEJO2yNAF-m4Nm5pWYDR7rlse85fadFUgRdqpeapk7ATkv69blnhvchWD1YBtGuDP7a61_jo4SZZET3q9IMl1yHR/s1600/7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJQl00J4c5ue_qSdgAg6t67OexJvxvDzZl_BFxpj0X_B4_1H_9Et1DkEJO2yNAF-m4Nm5pWYDR7rlse85fadFUgRdqpeapk7ATkv69blnhvchWD1YBtGuDP7a61_jo4SZZET3q9IMl1yHR/s400/7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564365725140794226" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyV0uHphj689SD_IYzAcFXVUquMqGIqPSDKoDgxDkLjRXeb9GXNTnWP7eAJcDVI2lQUj5gimwqrBQye9xIpaM_rTK42jJ7tc_lQ4Y6ayqVolQD0mEV2FcePMEkW2Kp9ns5hkv6uqOGdhJs/s1600/19.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyV0uHphj689SD_IYzAcFXVUquMqGIqPSDKoDgxDkLjRXeb9GXNTnWP7eAJcDVI2lQUj5gimwqrBQye9xIpaM_rTK42jJ7tc_lQ4Y6ayqVolQD0mEV2FcePMEkW2Kp9ns5hkv6uqOGdhJs/s400/19.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564365717314381586" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzdLK11hYL6_bSg7oUdFSuJ6x8USA7zf3jhIPf5o6FX1BGoef9hkKyQ0cvhTU02sAXPxuaxd9aXOQoVTpAhLa0SJkNSSYxtC3P3Izghrfx-_0DK2tHLD6ef0L6V9uNanNNBh9DONwwlHJ/s1600/2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOzdLK11hYL6_bSg7oUdFSuJ6x8USA7zf3jhIPf5o6FX1BGoef9hkKyQ0cvhTU02sAXPxuaxd9aXOQoVTpAhLa0SJkNSSYxtC3P3Izghrfx-_0DK2tHLD6ef0L6V9uNanNNBh9DONwwlHJ/s400/2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564365715077150658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA4ZiCpEBYOWU7SfJeRlYRrZGRE8S3PH3YJgQXogWirG6bJW78oUOcGsEtj7z-sDTu6Ld0zG0C1kp4uAUBdeXhFsncfGl5HbDxrZAqVWLHcIWRZMsXGUekS6pttA63RUqyoOk7QHWfS3Ot/s1600/1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA4ZiCpEBYOWU7SfJeRlYRrZGRE8S3PH3YJgQXogWirG6bJW78oUOcGsEtj7z-sDTu6Ld0zG0C1kp4uAUBdeXhFsncfGl5HbDxrZAqVWLHcIWRZMsXGUekS6pttA63RUqyoOk7QHWfS3Ot/s400/1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5564365707123083426" /></a><br /><div>So yeah, it's not been all bad, and I've had some pretty awesome times. BUT, I have also realised that yes, there are many retards around. I don't know if retards is the correct word. I think I just have no idea how to express myself sometimes. Especially when the desire of expressing my thoughts is related to anger.</div><div>I'd say there are quite a few types of "retards". I do think they're all happy thought. And I also think that maybe on the other side, they think I am one too. A retard, I mean.</div><div><br /></div><div>I still don't know if it's the way some people are brought up that fucks them up, or simply the fact that that's just the way they are. I've had quite a tumultuous upbringing myself and I don't think I have turned up <i>too bad. </i>But then again, this is not for me to judge.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel I see weirdos everywhere and I cannot help but getting a bit annoyed at them. How do some people live with:</div><div><ul><li>Tight trousers.</li><li>Fuck loads of cheap perfume sprayed on several times a day.</li><li>The idea that their own country is the best and that because this country is where their friends and boyfriend are, nowhere else can be better.</li><li>A exhaustive list of principles.</li><li>No dreams at all.</li><li>No fucking ambitions.</li><li>Taking themselves wayyy too seriously.</li><li>Themselves talking rubbish instead of shutting up.</li><li>No love ready to give to the ones who matter.</li><li>No imagination to get away from our almost miserable lives. Sometimes. Day dreaming is the cure.</li></ul><div>Voila, c'est tout pour ce soir. Je serai de nouveau repartie très bientôt. Protester contre tout et rien, c'est ça mon truc. Peut être que ça prouve qu'au moins que je ne me fiche pas encore de tout?</div><div><br /></div><div>Looks like I still care...</div><div><br /></div><div>Bonne nuit les petits. Le marchand de sable sera la d'une minute a l'autre.</div><div><br /></div></div><div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-25509228641275180102011-01-12T15:59:00.000-08:002011-01-12T16:00:56.889-08:00JESUS BALLSIf you're passing by, just let me know the best you can do: a sentence including Jesus and Balls. I'm all ears.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-78087550729261496832011-01-05T01:23:00.001-08:002011-01-05T02:28:49.787-08:00Nothing newSo, ok, it's 2011. However, I have some big news for you: nothing has changed! Everything is still the same, the world hasn't changed, and everybody's little lives are... well what they were before. Crap or good? You tell me. Oh no, I'll tell you first.<div><br /></div><div>CRAP</div><div>My hands hurt and will be falling off anytime soon. Nothing new about that. </div><div>I find it hard to sleep and focus these days.</div><div>I feel too much and I'm as confused as never before. That'll always be my weakness.</div><div>I'm still bloody impatient.</div><div>Oh, but the worst and the crappiest? I over-analyse. Damn!</div><div>I get pissed off at retards. Why are there so many??</div><div>My hands. Again. Why would the clinic not answer?! What if they were literally falling off?</div><div><br /></div><div>GOOD</div><div>I still have a bunch of pretty fucking awesome friends.</div><div>I keep on discovering pretty fucking awesome music everyday and that makes me feel VERY good.</div><div>I trick myself to feel better. So yeah, I'm good at tricking my mind and good for me!</div><div>I've come to learn how to care less and enjoy more.</div><div>I create more.</div><div>I have exciting projects to look forward to.</div><div>I have exciting GIGS to look forward to!</div><div>I'm getting fitter. Not fit :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Mhmm... that was a lot of me, me, me. But then again, hardly anyone reads this, so who cares!</div><div><br /><br /><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/w6E-DMcShVA?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/w6E-DMcShVA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-49589710676915331742010-12-20T15:37:00.000-08:002010-12-20T16:03:32.787-08:00A dreamLast night I had an amazing dream. The kind of dream that is amazing but still ok to expose to others (i.e. my two or three regular readers).<div><br /></div><div>So. I was for some reason looking for a flat to move in by myself. So I went to this address in Brunstfield and knocked on the door. An old woman opened the door.</div><div>I got in the flat and here it was: a huge room with a huge bed, nice bed sheets, loads of pillows. The bed was in the centre of the living room. Maybe that means something? Lately I have been thinking about how great of a place bed is. The best place in the world. The best things happen in bed. Sleeping being the best of the bestest.</div><div>I was already impressed by this high ceiling, spacious, charming flat. It wasn't modern, the paint was crumbling down the white walls but god it just felt so homely. We then moved to the kitchen which was just as big as the first room. The cooking area just took 10% of the space or so. The rest was just empty space. And I remember thinking: "wow, imagine the great parties I could do here". It was ideal. </div><div>But the best part was still to come: a MASSIVE room just full of clothes racks and on every single hanger, magnificent cashmere jumpers. Jumpers of all sizes and colours. Jumpers with beads, pearls and sparkle. Amazing jumpers, all with this little airy layer on top of the wool -so typical of cashmere. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ah it was beautiful. The space, the bed, the kitchen, the endless clothes racks full of jumpers.</div><div>And it was only £110 a week, I remember! Surely it was worth it!</div><div><br /></div><div>When I left the flat, and after a great chat with the owner who loved me, I saw a group of four or five people sitting across the road. Art students waiting to have their turn to visit the flat. They were all so well dressed but also so very up their own arses. So when I walked down the street, I saw them entering and I remember thinking: no way they are taking away my beautiful nest. </div><div>I then woke up and never got to find out what happened. But I'm pretty sure the owner then decided to keep the flat after seeing the love in my eye. She just realised she had something so valuable, she couldn't give it away so easily. </div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-20439972460333029262010-12-19T09:09:00.000-08:002010-12-19T09:30:03.667-08:00Here comes the rageSo here it comes. The post full of rage following today's events and then some. <div>I showed up at 7.20am this morning at the airport just to sit down and waste eight hours of my day reading the departures screen. No luck, my flight was cancelled. That is of course because nobody can handle the snow and mostly because this end of year is cursed. Fucking rotten.</div><div><br /></div><div>People had been queuing for ten hours already when I arrived at the Air France desk so I thought I would go home and re-book a flight online. That was only after being told by an hostess that all the foreigners had priority over UK residents and that they had already re-booked all flights until the 24th. The lovely woman also reassured me with some wise advice:</div><div>- "You can always re-book a flight in January"</div><div>- "Well, January ain't the fucking same, is it? Because Christmas 2010 ain't happening in bloody January, ya bitch!" Seriously...</div><div>Needless to say that on my way back I did not give a smile to anyone that crossed my path. If anybody had talked to me or -God forbid, annoyed me, I swear I would have bitten. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am now at home, checking the sky high prices of the next days' flights. I don't care. Daddy better pay for that. I WILL BE going home for Christmas. Nothing will stop me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now. I need a few things. First, chocolate. Then probably a warm room, a fleece blanket, a good movie... If that is achieved, then I will have already managed to calm down a notch.</div><div>Also, friends would be handy. But turns out almost everybody's gone home. Lucky bastards.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh and if I cannot reach home before Christmas Eve then wherever it is that I find myself, I will buy Champagne. The champagne will be flowing because god knows that getting drunk on champagne makes you momentarily feel all warm and happy inside. So that's my plan B.</div><div><br /></div><div>Before that, works awaits tomorrow. I have re-taken the shift... Since it seems I'm not quite on holidays yet.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-88440793891544493552010-12-18T03:23:00.001-08:002010-12-18T03:50:19.741-08:00Nothing ever happenedNo matter how the environment differs around you, everything is always the fucking same. <div>You're the same person, with the same thoughts. New thoughts might have been created but old ones are always sneaking around, ready to jump at your throat during your slightest moment of inattention. So beware of the bad ones. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've been thinking a lot -as you can tell. It would probably be simpler if I could erase part of my memory and start from whichever moment in time pleased me. The truth is, it's not that easy. You can't force yourself to forget, just like you can't force yourself to remember. Feelings make you think in a certain way and no efforts, however devoted they are, will ever help. Ok, I'm not very devoted to that. I have a lazy mind. Oh yes, I actually do -big time. I haven't really, genuinely tried to clear up my mind.</div><div><br /></div><div>I have lost stuff that there's no way I'll ever get back. So I believe, for now.</div><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/TjN_swRdVdk?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/TjN_swRdVdk?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-57561240143282138852010-12-01T07:37:00.000-08:002010-12-01T07:54:36.685-08:00Pouce!!! Je me rends.I've definitely given up on a few things. I realized that this morning when my new Ipod/radio device rang off at 7.30am.<br />First of all, the radio. People have turned gay -fo' sho. All the music on "normal" radio is shit, guys (and girls) have turned gay, especially the ones who dress with white vests and pretend to tell girls how great they are. They probably don't even know what a girl tastes like. So yeah, the maintstream radio first of all.<br />Also, this bloody report. I did not sign up to learn how to provide people service. I do not want to provide anybody a service. I want to provide gigs: one off thrilling experiences. Certainly not food on a plate. Don't need to know all about silver service. So fuck SOM. I'll do my very best to pass, but really... this module is going against all my personal career goals.<br />I really didn't want to mention it, but the snow really? Well, in fact, the snow is good, me likes it. It's the government I don't understand. So apparently you're supposed to check on your neighboors to make sure they have "a loaf of bread, sugar and tea". How about a pack of crisps while they're at it? And this is all because apparently people in need of help are too shy to ask for it. It's not war time as far as I know.<br />Fourth? Yes, this report again. Maaaaan!!<br />Oh, I was gonna forget. One thing this weather is not doing in my favour: my creams cannot arrive by plane and in the meantime my hands might well fall off. Ah well. Maybe I should wish for that before monday so I don't have to type the report?? Mhmhm... need to think about that.<br />And finally: people. God, some people are stupid. I have given up on a few of them. Thankfully the ones I have given up on don't really matter and probably never have. The ones that are pissing me off right now at least still matter to me which I guess is a good sign.<br /><br />Positive thing? Good music will save us all.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-74767614156067028182010-11-18T12:40:00.000-08:002010-11-18T12:43:00.255-08:00Fuck this shit.Things are going nowhere. Seems like this blog is only here to take on all the shit that goes through my mind.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-69129807163995684692010-11-17T00:23:00.000-08:002010-11-17T00:24:41.852-08:00Feeling good today. Yes. Yes. Yes. Nothing will change my mind about that.<br /><br />Plan.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-8577157931725226112010-11-14T13:56:00.000-08:002010-11-14T14:24:21.219-08:00ON?I could just fill up the rest of this blog with quotes from "L'amour dure trois ans" ou bien "L'egoiste romantique". Just because there's so much truth in these books. Little sentences that mean a lot and also, so much to relate to.<br />I've recently rediscovered how to read his books. Just by opening them at any page and stumble upon a paragraph that catches my eye.<br /><br />I have also painted some more. And for the last one I let a little bit of my unfortunately very limited imagination take place. Not too sure how much I've actually managed to create, but at least I let myself go a little, and that felt much more rewarding than anything I could have copied from A to Z.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQX8KNZpO6n5lxGIuS_1K1qmdIE-lbZ-etNx2Ve3fXqiyxkAO6TnfjATooCzT8fETLUhzrD1GDk11Y6MImdw2-raKR4vga9FDQOM9NXaVewFYYn9iIcxGfHPxKsKUmq-el1ToMo1od_3TP/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQX8KNZpO6n5lxGIuS_1K1qmdIE-lbZ-etNx2Ve3fXqiyxkAO6TnfjATooCzT8fETLUhzrD1GDk11Y6MImdw2-raKR4vga9FDQOM9NXaVewFYYn9iIcxGfHPxKsKUmq-el1ToMo1od_3TP/s400/003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539531901631123874" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmB7RNXaeCozpfClcPYxpyKmu5mY7IoserDyQUgEfJmHbZFs676ADFPyTrkpnr8TLkN26WJW6vpXbvKuuThamRAesddKuiX21XmrOPjL26A5I98Pn3vGEkMYiRZoz3smQ6p_8-71az3IRk/s1600/007.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmB7RNXaeCozpfClcPYxpyKmu5mY7IoserDyQUgEfJmHbZFs676ADFPyTrkpnr8TLkN26WJW6vpXbvKuuThamRAesddKuiX21XmrOPjL26A5I98Pn3vGEkMYiRZoz3smQ6p_8-71az3IRk/s400/007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5539532288299233042" border="0" /></a><br />Also, it is sunday. Yes, it is. Surely no one can disagree on the fact that Sundays are just an absolute waste of time and negative energy, and most importantly, a huge waste of overwhelming thoughts.<br />So fuck off Sundays. This one and all the next ones. And the past ones too. God knows they've been a source of disturbance for the peaceful minds.<br /><br />And actually, yeah, I think we all have to admit that Sundays are part of the endless list of all things overrated.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-68866195532951519032010-11-03T16:01:00.000-07:002010-11-03T16:02:04.714-07:00<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Byyyyye</span>. I'm on standby.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-29768799444105158202010-10-23T04:21:00.000-07:002010-10-23T04:29:40.821-07:00Frederic, Oh Frederic.Il devait avait avoir bien raison: l'amour dure trois ans. Trois ans, peu importe comment ils se deroulent.<br />Grand amour, amour a sens unique, amour inaccompli, amour caché.<br />Trois ans: le temps qu'il faut pour se lasser l'un de l'autre, pour laisser place a l'ennui. Trois ans pour en recommencer trois autres?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopuRFy6MUaAVr4-0NDMTs14aZTFPACavRCiZaBHE4O62JLtZxIpj9u22Pmn5vZ-wv2qbznmp02nR82N2oNlMHCQE925T_ZRA_8TntvqBlA1EW1Z9fVPD95Zj-6Vl0ilIgE0bYRtWNU3B0/s1600/frederic-beigbeder.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopuRFy6MUaAVr4-0NDMTs14aZTFPACavRCiZaBHE4O62JLtZxIpj9u22Pmn5vZ-wv2qbznmp02nR82N2oNlMHCQE925T_ZRA_8TntvqBlA1EW1Z9fVPD95Zj-6Vl0ilIgE0bYRtWNU3B0/s400/frederic-beigbeder.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531202177940495570" border="0" /></a>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-13662639015023658672010-10-19T13:29:00.000-07:002010-10-19T13:52:09.412-07:00Voyage intersideral!!!!!! "Moi je, moi je"Plusieurs choses:<br /><br />Pourquoi ci, pourquoi ca. J'analyse, je tords, je decortique, je tourne, retourne, je souleve, questionne, questionne les questions, reponds et questionne mes propres reponses. Je me masturbe l'esprit. Oui oui, tout a fait.<br />J'ai mal a la tete et mal au dos. Je suis tendue et c'est ma faute. Je me masturbe l'esprit. Oui oui, tout a fait.<br /><br />Autre chose: (qui est peut etre raliée aux idees ci-dessus) Pourquoi les personnes que vous cherissez ont-elles besoin d'envoyer tant de signaux contraires? Un peu comme un "Je t'aime moi non plus" des temps modernes. Meme si ca n'a jamais vraiment vieilli... Un jour tu es ma meilleure amie, ma confidente, ma soeur. Le jour suivant c'est toi qui me met des batons dans les roues. Presque par plaisir de tout gacher. La faute n'est tout de meme pas seulement la tienne, je te l'accorde.<br />Ok, on en restera la. Je t'adore, je t'en veux, je te hais, tu m'aimes, tu me desteste, tu ne me respecte pas et puis finalement c'est l'ennui. L'indifference. Boh! Que faire quand la relation a perdu sa saveur? Je t'aime quand meme va! Enfin j'espere, sinon c'est quand meme du gachi tout ca!<br /><br />Bon ca va, ca va. C'etait le chapitre "comment procrastiner (ca se dit ca en francais?) en vers et contre tout. Dans le meme style vous pouvez aussi essayer: passer l'aspirateur (presque moins fun qu'etudier), deplacer les meubles (ca j'ai essayé ce Week End et ca marche pas mal du tout!), discuter sur FB avec les copains (oui ca c'est pas mal mais assez ordinaire), organizer son temps (ca J'ADOOORE!!): ecrire sur mon agenda, planifier, raturer, re-ecrire, blancotter. Oh oui, Oh oui!! Sinon sortir prendre un petit Dej' (un faux, pas pour de vrai) avec les copains est une solution, mais qui peut revenir chere a la longue.<br />Enfin, etudier n'est pas fait pour durer!<br /><br />Autre chose? Euuuhhh... non pas vraiment. Enough with the shit. Ah si attendez, ca aussi c'etait du procrastinage (euh.. non ca doit pas se dire ca en francais).<br /><br />Allez, c'est ca, A+ !A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-31134020178979120162010-10-19T13:11:00.001-07:002010-10-19T13:11:25.970-07:00Better get crackin'<div style="text-align: center;"><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/InK4xolg6vk?fs=1&hl=en_GB"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/InK4xolg6vk?fs=1&hl=en_GB" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-34716267311942308552010-10-17T08:43:00.000-07:002010-10-25T12:35:54.368-07:00There's no such thing.Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/Love/A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-30000632490559030092010-10-16T05:46:00.000-07:002010-10-16T13:33:56.523-07:00En ces temps miserables.No meat, no carbs, no gluten./No diet.<br />No boundaries, no dictators, no rules./No personality, no risk taking.<br />No feelings, no commitment, no love, no LOVE./No shame.<br /><br />People cannot make their minds up, so they just throw it all out there. All these ideas contradicting themselves.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-82154574422594553382010-10-07T08:30:00.000-07:002010-10-07T08:43:32.835-07:00L'eclate!I have known worse times, really. Although uni seems to be more a pain than an enjoyment this year compared to what it used to be, I really have other things to put a smile on my face.<br /><br />I will be starting a placement in March. Split placement that is. Because why do simple when you can do things in a complicated way? So I'm currently looking at awesome places that would see in me all the good things I can bring them! I sent a few emails around and will hopefully get positive returns. It's all about showing how motivated you are and I think I've done it pretty well.<br /><br />Other than that, I have now turned brunette again. Because I felt like going back to what I was before, i.e. not blond. It's winter soon, my hair was damaged and I've been thinking about it for about a year on and off so I thought "What the hell?", let's do it!<br />So I did. And I like it. I feel like for the first few days I can misbehave a little bit and if I get into trouble, nobody will recognize me anyway!<br /><br />Meeting Christina tonight for a drink in my old hood: the West End. Yes, that's right. I don't miss it but it's nice to be back sometimes. It feels like going back to the neighbourhood where you grew up. Except I didn't grow up there, I just lived there during the two first year of my life in Edinburgh. So yes, it does mean a lot.<br /><br />I'll say "laters" with this beautiful song by Grandaddy. I don't know in what kind of cave I have been living during all these years, but everyday I discover amazing bands that I had never been bothered to listen to. And for that, shame on me.<br /><br />Enjoy!<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mP7cDvY5g3M?fs=1&hl=en_GB"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mP7cDvY5g3M?fs=1&hl=en_GB" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-87168335736309601812010-10-01T11:42:00.000-07:002010-10-01T11:47:25.752-07:00Christina<b>Saviour</b> refers to a person who helps people achieve salvation, or saves them from something.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cWx55UE8IBjqxq6N0kst27RKjATbwtX3gsMFFav1urb7iY_5nuhQK8s_cuBeh3gBOq_CrPDcDpBYBx-lHwCZL30WEQq-_AsIUh-6ciA4XWlquIHgxjP2A_Oo6ySVIqtwauw1b7UXML0t/s1600/009.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_cWx55UE8IBjqxq6N0kst27RKjATbwtX3gsMFFav1urb7iY_5nuhQK8s_cuBeh3gBOq_CrPDcDpBYBx-lHwCZL30WEQq-_AsIUh-6ciA4XWlquIHgxjP2A_Oo6ySVIqtwauw1b7UXML0t/s400/009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523151038635892962" border="0" /></a>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-24777581054245470312010-09-26T10:47:00.001-07:002010-09-26T10:48:03.826-07:00Ah, wait... I have something lame to say:This being said, I AM BLOODY HAPPY.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-89425494034818791672010-09-26T10:10:00.001-07:002010-09-26T10:46:33.678-07:00Catch upHello. It's been a wee while since I have written. Things have been going pretty sweetly. I mean, yes, they have. But, there's a but: I realised something. Whatever the situation you're in: good or bad, you always find yourself problem to worry about. Sometimes you do have worries and that's just the way it is. And some other times all is beautiful, you get what you were hoping for and then you just make up your own worries. Just because people do love feeling miserable somehow. People love moaning and getting this warmth in their tummy, synonym of stress and impatience. And by people I -of course-also mean myself. Actually, I'm probably top of the list.A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-933122107193357838.post-10964931289406826962010-09-03T05:34:00.000-07:002010-09-03T05:35:30.537-07:00Guess what they're thinking about...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMpQvytKBzUlSW1gqIXyWQfGsAFcrQieaK56RiufbyCUv4tqSYIU9iVAFlHYgBi-i1l3axcCSA3-o5bp2Rud5FtJO_fmqOJqZfR130uH0_R-83Jc6UTkrMFB9ItvtCQG3jF7eNuqzG94f/s1600/wolves"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512664878902259170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 218px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguMpQvytKBzUlSW1gqIXyWQfGsAFcrQieaK56RiufbyCUv4tqSYIU9iVAFlHYgBi-i1l3axcCSA3-o5bp2Rud5FtJO_fmqOJqZfR130uH0_R-83Jc6UTkrMFB9ItvtCQG3jF7eNuqzG94f/s400/wolves" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>A sweet raccoonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07037169079463049796noreply@blogger.com0