<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351</id><updated>2012-01-23T23:54:39.924+01:00</updated><title type='text'>perfect fuck-up</title><subtitle type='html'>like everyone else</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>182</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3885068548320744425</id><published>2008-08-16T18:01:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T18:05:04.635+02:00</updated><title type='text'>the end of an era</title><content type='html'>I've decided to stop writing here, I think I'll write more somewhere else but more secretly. I don't want this page anymore and  I'll copy, read and delete it soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest I don't think anyone reads this anymore but if you are, good bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3885068548320744425?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3885068548320744425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3885068548320744425&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3885068548320744425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3885068548320744425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/08/end-of-era.html' title='the end of an era'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1836837647770221233</id><published>2008-07-23T05:32:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T05:43:35.818+02:00</updated><title type='text'>?</title><content type='html'>You knew that the thing I was most afraid of was that you would leave me. So why did you tell me you wouldn't while you were thinking about it?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1836837647770221233?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1836837647770221233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1836837647770221233&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1836837647770221233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1836837647770221233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-post.html' title='?'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5564121231417806521</id><published>2008-07-16T21:13:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T12:47:32.552+02:00</updated><title type='text'>sometimes when I have no words, I let others speak for me</title><content type='html'>.&lt;br /&gt;I cut your nails and comb your hair&lt;br /&gt;I carry you down the stairs&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to see right through from the other side&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to walk a trail with no end in sight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the moment we believe that we have never met&lt;br /&gt;another kind of love it's easy to forget&lt;br /&gt;when we are all alone then we do both agree&lt;br /&gt;we have a thing in common this was meant to be &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;you close my eyes and soothe my ears&lt;br /&gt;you heal my wounds and dry my tears&lt;br /&gt;on the inside of this marble house I grow&lt;br /&gt;and the seeds I sow will grow up prisoners too&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the moment we believe that we have never met&lt;br /&gt;another kind of love it's easy to forget&lt;br /&gt;when we are all alone then we do both agree&lt;br /&gt;we have a thing in common this was meant to be &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;now where's your shoulder&lt;br /&gt;what is it's name&lt;br /&gt;what's your scent&lt;br /&gt;say it again&lt;br /&gt;if it goes faster can you still follow me&lt;br /&gt;it must be safe when it's on TV&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I raise my hands to heaven of curiosity&lt;br /&gt;I don't know what to ask for&lt;br /&gt;what has it got for me?&lt;br /&gt;the others say we're hiding&lt;br /&gt;it's as forward as can be&lt;br /&gt;some things I do for money&lt;br /&gt;some things I do for free&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                       the knife&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5564121231417806521?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5564121231417806521/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5564121231417806521&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5564121231417806521'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5564121231417806521'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/07/sometimes-when-i-have-no-words-i-let.html' title='sometimes when I have no words, I let others speak for me'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4713770850498969964</id><published>2008-06-21T21:35:00.005+02:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T22:12:03.897+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so happy I could die, that I got you...</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I get kind of amazed of how life is and how things turn out to be. I haven't  wrote anything here for a long time. I haven't had the time and energy. I've just been struggling to cope with my everyday life, my exams, my different homes and all the feelings I've had for the boy mentioned in the last entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turned out to be good. We definitively have had some ups and downs along the way but still, it worked out fine, it actually did. I don't believe in love forever anymore and sometimes I'm just totally scared but it's all ok and that is what matters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can't get over that feeling of wonder that I get everytime I meet an amazing person who let me into their life and give me a part of themself. It's small things that just makes everything silent and still and gives me somekind of peaceful happiness and satisfaction. I really love that feeling and I hope that things like this will happen to me my whole life. The love and things I've given and received from the people who have entered my life the last year is such a gift and I'm so grateful for all amazing people around me. You are truly loved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4713770850498969964?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4713770850498969964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4713770850498969964&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4713770850498969964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4713770850498969964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-so-happy-i-could-die-that-i-got-you.html' title='I&apos;m so happy I could die, that I got you...'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6230456892869428818</id><published>2008-04-27T15:47:00.004+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T16:02:18.778+02:00</updated><title type='text'>lovely morning</title><content type='html'>Had an amazing morning. Woke up with a bunch of friends and a cute boy and had one of those really nice breakfasts you dream about. Tea, juice, fruit salad, fresh bread and so on. We sat all over Snörets place and ate, talked and smoked. I really like my friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had to go to work but I actually skipped the first hours and came in late. Not good for the record but god how nice for me. And now I sit here with my phone and computer and make money. I'm gonna have some coffee and a cigarette soon and think about how lucky I am at this moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6230456892869428818?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6230456892869428818/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6230456892869428818&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6230456892869428818'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6230456892869428818'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/lovely-morning.html' title='lovely morning'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8739291407914976580</id><published>2008-04-26T15:39:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T15:47:25.142+02:00</updated><title type='text'>no time for writing</title><content type='html'>Lot of things happen right now and it's too sunny to sit inside by my applegirl so I spend my days out in the grass with ice-coffee and friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And things in London looks good, I may have a nice place to stay and maybe even som chances to work as a vet-nurse. I just have to pass the small exam that qualify me for the work here in Sweden.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8739291407914976580?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8739291407914976580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8739291407914976580&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8739291407914976580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8739291407914976580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/no-time-for-writing.html' title='no time for writing'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1252421844694105984</id><published>2008-04-24T00:20:00.006+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-24T00:35:50.274+02:00</updated><title type='text'>rant</title><content type='html'>Gud, blir så trött på den där Hanna Fridén! Man ser henne överallt hela tiden, och i onsdagens Metro så var det en ny artikel om att hon bytt över till Metrobloggen. För att säkra sina siffror så har hon nu utlyst en skitfjantig tävling där man kan vinna en ful jävla t-shirt som hon skrivit bajs på en massa gånger. Jag fattar inte grejen! Ett dagisbarn kan rita bättre än så, och har bättre humor! Och vad är grejen med allt bajssnack egentligen? Tror hon att hon är häftig och provocerande eller något? Nä, fyfan, fattar verkligen inte hypen kring Fridén.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, I'm sick and tired of this Hanna Fridén! You see her everywhere, all the time and in this wednesdays "metro" it was an article about her switching over to their ****-site. To make sure people will visit her new site she now runs this shitty, ridiculous competition where you can win a ugly fucking t-shirt on which she've written poo-poo on a lot. I don't get it! A kid can do a better painting and they have much better humour. And what's up with all the talk about poop? Does she think it provoces anyone? No, fuck this shit, I really don't get the whole hype-thing around Fridén.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.metrobloggen.se/jsp/public/permalink.jsp?article=19.2343979"&gt;read more here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1252421844694105984?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1252421844694105984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1252421844694105984&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1252421844694105984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1252421844694105984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-just-to-win-t-shirt.html' title='rant'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6351058315369193384</id><published>2008-04-18T17:17:00.002+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T17:23:33.960+02:00</updated><title type='text'>calm again</title><content type='html'>For the first time in months I don't feel completely stressed out by school which feels so good. Yesterday was all afternoon in the sun with coffee and cigarettes and my lovely friends. We didn't even had anything to study since we only have had one lecture about nothing and something goatish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today it's all the same, I'm in beloved Stockholm, hanging out in Snöret's apartment. I've cleaned a bit and now I drink ice-coffee, smoke and read some  *****. Life's back to normal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6351058315369193384?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6351058315369193384/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6351058315369193384&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6351058315369193384'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6351058315369193384'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/calm-again.html' title='calm again'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-444269976655936198</id><published>2008-04-15T14:10:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T16:51:10.724+02:00</updated><title type='text'>gallons of coffee and dead animals</title><content type='html'>Now I've spent the last three days at "Asis", it's the building in school where we cut up dead animals and learn about practical anatomy. It could have been hell since we have to learn so many things but my friends in class are amazing. I love them so much and they've made it all to a long nice hang-out with a lot of dead animals but also a lot of coffee in the sun, millions of cigarettes and sweet things to eat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we all passed the practical exam - we're so fucking good!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-444269976655936198?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/444269976655936198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=444269976655936198&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/444269976655936198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/444269976655936198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/gallons-of-coffee-and-dead-animals.html' title='gallons of coffee and dead animals'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1654770600746687602</id><published>2008-04-12T16:39:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T16:46:06.684+02:00</updated><title type='text'>latte and relief</title><content type='html'>I had latte with Shirley today and it was lovely to see her, as always. And, as always, she was a bit heartbroken but this time I think it'll work out fine. It seems like she met someone who's nice and like her and whom she can cope with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yesterday I was at the vet-clinic where my friend Caroline works and it was so much fun. I learned a lot and most important, she thaught me how to give injections and how to put a permanent needle into a dog-leg. Fun, fun, fun - I love sticking needles in animals hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, on my way home from the clinic I might have gotten the best news of the spring. I actually passed my big exam in physiology with four points! I'm so happy I don't have to redo it that I don't know what to do. I'm so relieved.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1654770600746687602?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1654770600746687602/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1654770600746687602&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1654770600746687602'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1654770600746687602'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/latte-and-relief.html' title='latte and relief'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6357986564061899552</id><published>2008-04-08T23:32:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-18T16:38:46.376+02:00</updated><title type='text'>waste of space</title><content type='html'>I haven't been in my dorm-room for ages but I had to go there yesterday to clean the kitchen and whatever. It feels kind of pointless to do it when you haven't been around but wtf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Came back tonight though 'cause I'd invited my friend Robert over so he could see the place. We had loads of coffee and cookies and a really good time and he liked what I'd done to the place. The thing is that I really like it too but there's still something that makes me feel like I don't want to be here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had spent some days in C's apartment where I lived when I moved to Uppsala and I like it much better there. I don't know if it's the area, the building or maybe just the town that make me feel a little bit uneasy all the time. I'll have to figure it out and change it until after the summer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6357986564061899552?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6357986564061899552/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6357986564061899552&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6357986564061899552'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6357986564061899552'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/waste-of-space.html' title='waste of space'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7891388948057884422</id><published>2008-04-05T10:35:00.003+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T11:22:29.681+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm in love with myself</title><content type='html'>I love this sun. Even if it's a bit windy today it's still kind of warm in the sunshine. I drink coffee outside work and smoke menthol cigarettes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It reminds me a lot about last year when everything was horrible and wonderful at the same time. It reminds me of J and the fact that it was a year ago I met him and he secretly started to fuck me around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I think about how it was such a relief to come back to London now without the risk to accidently bump into him. I think I'm more or less over him and the happiness in that feeling is like being in love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sad thing is that when I don't feel that much about J anymore I feel kind of stupid for giving it all up for him but still, I also remember how it felt back then and how it was so much in my heart that it'll almost stopped. And I can't believe I misjudged him so much when he turned out to be so freakish. I guess I was naive and somehow I like myself for that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7891388948057884422?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7891388948057884422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7891388948057884422&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7891388948057884422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7891388948057884422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/im-in-love-with-myself.html' title='I&apos;m in love with myself'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1090042239842065929</id><published>2008-04-04T17:54:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T10:35:06.823+02:00</updated><title type='text'>première in the window</title><content type='html'>I really hope spring has arrived for good this time. It's so nice that's finally a wee bit warm and that you can enjoy all your coffee outside in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today it was the first time we could sit in the sun in the window in Snöret's apartment and have a proper coffee. We smoked and talked and she questioned me about some osteology-stuff I have to learn for school. And we also played our game "you-have-to-choose-somone-to-fuck-that-just-went-off-the-bus" and that can be amazingly fun sometimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1090042239842065929?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1090042239842065929/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1090042239842065929&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1090042239842065929'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1090042239842065929'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/premire-in-window.html' title='première in the window'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3020193456886803441</id><published>2008-04-01T15:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T09:59:12.616+02:00</updated><title type='text'>spring</title><content type='html'>I sit in the sun with my friends from school and drink after-lunch-coffee. I feared a big come-down when I came home but until now it have been alright. I just have to start up my study-part so that I don't fuck it up again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so grateful for my friends, they're my only hope in the evil town of Uppsala. And even if I miss London I still feel good sitting here in the sun, talking with my friends and enjoying life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3020193456886803441?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3020193456886803441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3020193456886803441&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3020193456886803441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3020193456886803441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/spring.html' title='spring'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4785483831755208333</id><published>2008-03-31T17:54:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T09:43:08.313+02:00</updated><title type='text'>latte in earl's court</title><content type='html'>I drink latte all the way if I can, I really like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Met up with my sister who's back from Spain just in time for our flight back home. Had some latte and a pizza at a restaurant in Earl's Court and I got the chance to hang out a bit with her date who seem to be really nice. And she had a good time and likes him a lot so I hope it all turns out to the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And maybe I've sorted out a place to live this summer. Asked Jessica if I could stay at her place for a while and if we could share her room. I'll only stay for a month or two and it's such an effort to find a place of your own and I really like the apartment she lives in. And it'll give us both a lower rent for a while. If it's just ok with her flatmates I guess it's a deal. Yey!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4785483831755208333?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4785483831755208333/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4785483831755208333&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4785483831755208333'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4785483831755208333'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/04/latte-in-erals-court.html' title='latte in earl&apos;s court'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1469558542727294562</id><published>2008-03-30T19:54:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2008-04-05T09:14:09.737+02:00</updated><title type='text'>afternoon tea</title><content type='html'>The coffee today became afternoon tea instead and we had some home-made cakes and lovely company by some of Jessica's friends. I'd met so many nice people this weekend and most of Jess' friends are for real and sometimes that's hard to find in London between all kisses and smiles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1469558542727294562?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1469558542727294562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1469558542727294562&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1469558542727294562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1469558542727294562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/03/afternoon-tea.html' title='afternoon tea'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2203768005340801436</id><published>2008-03-29T20:41:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T21:37:16.457+02:00</updated><title type='text'>evening coffee</title><content type='html'>Jess have this little italian coffepot that makes really good coffee and it's the perfect size for two small cups if you share. Had it after dinner tonight cause I slept all day and just went up for a bit of breakfast. Came home around 8:00 this morning after TT, a good afterparty and a lovely walk of shame in the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peter played one of my favourites the last thing he did at TT yesterday and it was all this dancing and amazing people and sweet candy. Lovlovelove!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2203768005340801436?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2203768005340801436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2203768005340801436&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2203768005340801436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2203768005340801436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/03/evening-coffee.html' title='evening coffee'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6928172862853853867</id><published>2008-03-27T16:30:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T20:40:35.836+02:00</updated><title type='text'>latte@1001</title><content type='html'>It's really springish here in London and today it was warm and sunny. Drank latte with Remus at 1001 on Brick Lane. He's really nice and kind of different from everyone else I know here (but in a good way).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just love to be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6928172862853853867?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6928172862853853867/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6928172862853853867&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6928172862853853867'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6928172862853853867'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/03/latte-1001.html' title='latte@1001'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3097576952650491733</id><published>2008-03-26T19:45:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T20:33:35.992+02:00</updated><title type='text'>it's just too expensive</title><content type='html'>Waited to board our flight from Arlanda and had their weak and utterly expensive coffee. My sister had a beer instead since she was kind of nervous to meet her date. Felt good but a bit tense because of the flight and maybe we were both on the same level.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it all went well. He waited for her at Heathrow and when I'd made sure everything was fine and that he had no intentions to sell her to slavery I hit the underground and went to Jessica's  place for some tea and a good nights sleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3097576952650491733?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3097576952650491733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3097576952650491733&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3097576952650491733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3097576952650491733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/03/its-just-too-expensive.html' title='it&apos;s just too expensive'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5755072160504795676</id><published>2008-03-23T14:13:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-23T14:32:51.363+01:00</updated><title type='text'>short update, coffee's soon back</title><content type='html'>Oh, I'm so lost. Have had loads of coffee but no time to write here for ages. Was sick, went out to the Island, skipped school a lot, studied a wee bit, tried my best but I wasn't really in the mood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Results: kicked ass with the microscope, passed the histology exam but most likely failed my big physiology exam. But to be honest, I really don't deserve to pass it, I know nothing about the physiology of our domestic animals so it would probably be good for me to redo it. Moment of truth: april 10th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I have spring break because it's easter and today I'm working. Tonight it's the Island again and some days of rest and nice time despite the ice age that now have come to the archipelago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And on wednesday: London again and this time I'm going with my sister who's visiting her Goa-date (and we all hope she's having more luck with London boys than I had). Ohh, and I can't wait to get trashed, meet my friends and dance all night long. It's gonna be amazing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5755072160504795676?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5755072160504795676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5755072160504795676&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5755072160504795676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5755072160504795676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/03/short-update-coffees-soon-back.html' title='short update, coffee&apos;s soon back'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1802191538973591539</id><published>2008-03-05T23:37:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T23:46:09.215+01:00</updated><title type='text'>no coffee</title><content type='html'>I've been kind of busy lately and now I'm really sick. My stomach hurts like hell, all my joints as well and everytime I try to stand up I get all dizzy and it feels like I'm gonna faint.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That means no coffee today, just loads of water and tea with a lot of dextrose in it (to give me some energy). I've tried to eat a little but my stomach kills me when I put food in it. Maybe I should try a hint of ice cream?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also feel awful, it's only one and a half week until my histology exam and two weeks to the exam in physiology. I'm sick and can't study since I'm sleeping all the time and I don't wanna be here in the evil U-town and I just feel miserable and wanna cry. I feel so sorry for myself and even if I know that it's not a really big deal I still wanna go away and come back when all is good and my stomach is nice to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1802191538973591539?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1802191538973591539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1802191538973591539&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1802191538973591539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1802191538973591539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/03/no-coffee.html' title='no coffee'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4289602296565647234</id><published>2008-02-26T23:13:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T23:29:37.309+01:00</updated><title type='text'>wending machine coffee</title><content type='html'>I bought a 5-SEK-plastic-cup-of-coffe in school today and it reminded me so much about the spring two years ago when I took this course in environmental science at the University of Stockholm  and met my best sailing-friend, Nina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The taste of the instant coffee, the feeling of the warm, plastic cup in my hand just switched me back and I remember us sitting in the sun outside school, drinking coffe and smoking. It was a good spring and still I wasn't really happy since I just wanted to go to vet-school instead. Now I'm in vet-school, drinking similar coffee outside school, smoking in the light rain and I'm not happier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a different girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4289602296565647234?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4289602296565647234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4289602296565647234&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4289602296565647234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4289602296565647234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/wending-machine-coffee.html' title='wending machine coffee'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-644472345331822025</id><published>2008-02-25T23:45:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T00:40:15.243+01:00</updated><title type='text'>lecture latte</title><content type='html'>I sat in school today and had the first lecture of the week. I drank a quite nice latte I bought in a petrol station on my way to U-town. I wasn't sleepy, I payed attention and it was actually an ok moment and I realised that it was the first time in weeks I actually felt I had some energy in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess something is going my way. Finally.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-644472345331822025?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/644472345331822025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=644472345331822025&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/644472345331822025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/644472345331822025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/lecture-latte.html' title='lecture latte'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7636008356438141717</id><published>2008-02-24T23:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-26T00:10:25.672+01:00</updated><title type='text'>the schedule from hell</title><content type='html'>H came over yesterday and we hanged out a bit and he stayed over the night. It was really good but sad because we miss each other so much and both feel kind of lonely and still, I know that it wouldn't work out - at least not right now. And I feel bad, not really because I broke up with him, I mean I had to do it, but because in a way he's much more lonely than I am and I don't want him to be. Even if I feel lonely sometime I still have so much things to do in school and I have all these new friends and my family just around the corner. He hasn't and I know that it makes him sad sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But we had a nice breakfast and sat for a while, drinking coffee and smoking and talking before he went home. It was nice and in a strange way it felt a little bit better. Maybe we comforted each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the afternoon I sat down and made the scehedule from hell. I'll start tomorrow and I'll study like a mf for three weeks and then I can be happy and go on holiday. I  had coffe and a smoke and wrote down everyday until the exam and counted my hours in school and then wrote down how many hours I'm gonna be in school and how many hours I'll have to study beside that. From now on it's 9 hours at least 5 days a week, one day completely free from anything evil and one day that I'll maybe just study half the day or something. And the best is that I can delete one day each evening and then I'm gonna be one day closer to my spring-break, my trip to London, the summer, the rest of my life and so on. This feels good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7636008356438141717?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7636008356438141717/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7636008356438141717&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7636008356438141717'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7636008356438141717'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/schedule-from-hell.html' title='the schedule from hell'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3297324692082879864</id><published>2008-02-23T17:59:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T19:00:03.222+01:00</updated><title type='text'>home-made lattes</title><content type='html'>Me and Snöret made our own lattes today and sprinkled them with amaretto. Then we had a long talk about my life right now and the fact that I feel so unmotivated and in some ways fell back in the J-hole when he made a move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm angry with him now but in a more normal way since I'm not particulary in love with him anymore and I feel like I eventually will see him as just another person that have been in my life. Maybe I'll even be able to meet him and just have a normal relation to him, like he's anyone but I think I have to be careful, right now I'm not sure that I could resist him and maybe I would just fall again. And I really don't wanna do that, it would totally not be worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel a little bit better now. I called in sick today - it feels like my cold never wanna leave me - and have spent the day just chilling and talking to Snöret. Now she's going to the snail-nest for some sugarcubes and I'll start to study. I just have to do it and I don't think I ever will feel like it so I better just start and get it over with. And I really would be happy if I could pass the exams before spring-break, I think a lot of things will be better after that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3297324692082879864?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3297324692082879864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3297324692082879864&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3297324692082879864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3297324692082879864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/home-made-lattes.html' title='home-made lattes'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8942510255853742273</id><published>2008-02-22T21:38:00.002+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T22:12:24.795+01:00</updated><title type='text'>latte in the window</title><content type='html'>Forgot my bag in U-town which meant that I unfooortunately couldn't study at all today so I had latte with Snöret instead. We're at a new place called Lola's and it was ok latte, nice pasta and an amazing window to sit in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside it was sunny but really windy and we sat there in the window, looked out at the people walking by and planned to go to New York. I really hope we could make it and now we got the official invitation from our friend Rodger and with a good financial plan which literally means I have to live on pasta the rest of the spring I could make it. Especially since I wanna stay the rest of the summer in London after the trip to New York. But it would be so much fun that I think it's worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8942510255853742273?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8942510255853742273/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8942510255853742273&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8942510255853742273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8942510255853742273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/latte-in-window.html' title='latte in the window'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8207879940310645297</id><published>2008-02-21T23:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-22T21:38:35.296+01:00</updated><title type='text'>tea on the balcony</title><content type='html'>Today I wanna highlight the cup of tea I drank just before I went to bed. I had an ok day that became shit when I came home. I just couldn't do anything. Not study or whatever, I just sat in my room and cried, tried to sleep a bit and wondered what to do. Decided to go back to Stockholm and skip my class tomorrow so I packed my things and left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It felt so good to leave the evil U-town and on the train I felt exhausted but at least I didn't cry anymore. Went home to my brother and his girlfriend and had tea and sandwiches with him and my mum. It was really nice to have some quality-time with the family even if we missed dad who's in the hospital waiting for his operation (he have had some trouble with his carotis communis dx).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My bro showed me this user-friendly music-program called Live and I got some inspiration to do my own murmur-electro. Before we went to bed we sat on the balcony and drank the last tea and smoked and it's a really nice view over the neighbourhood there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I really miss that apartment, we had a really good time living there together.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8207879940310645297?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8207879940310645297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8207879940310645297&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8207879940310645297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8207879940310645297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/tea-on-balcony.html' title='tea on the balcony'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7406306103166677596</id><published>2008-02-20T22:57:00.003+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-20T23:14:05.565+01:00</updated><title type='text'>the theme</title><content type='html'>Now I picked a theme. Since I can't steal my brothers breakfast-thing I choosed another one, similar but still good. I'm gonna write about my coffee of the day. I drink coffee in some form almost everyday in so I think it's a good one and if it isn't coffe it's something like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can start with telling you about my best cup of chocolate in Edinburgh. Me and Emma found this amazing little french café near the Circus Place and they made the best chocolate I've drank in all times. We also had some nice soup and after that we sat outside in the springish sun and had a cigarette. Emma smoked too since she was on vacation and we both enjoyed it big time. Edinburgh was a lovely city with some nice shopping, a lot of good cafés and clubs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can also tell you about my not so nice cup of tea when I came home, checked my facebook and realised that J finally had confirmed my pending friend-request (about three months too late). I don't know what his problem is but it's like he just can't let me go away in peace.&lt;br /&gt;I was so relieved knowing that he was on the other side of the Atlantic and that he never would fuck with me again but then he's not only making me a friend on face-book, it seems like he's coming back to Europe as well. Why can't he just stay in Brazil and have a shitty life with his bitchy ex and leave my hair alone?'&lt;br /&gt;My only comfort regarding this is that it feels like I won a small but sweet victory and that this won't be enough. If he want me as anything he better put in much more serious effort than just confirming me as a friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7406306103166677596?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7406306103166677596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7406306103166677596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7406306103166677596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7406306103166677596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/theme_20.html' title='the theme'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-241334710951598291</id><published>2008-02-13T18:03:00.004+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T18:13:22.949+01:00</updated><title type='text'>off we go</title><content type='html'>The beginning of the week have had it's ups and downs. I actually managed to study a bit on Monday and it was a sunny day with a hint of spring in the air so life wasn't all miserable. Yesterday I jumped my friends horse and got some practice for the competition on Saturday and was out a quickie on the Island to pick up some stuff. Also met up with my lovely little sister and we talked a bit about our trip to London. It's gonna be fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was all flimsy in school, slept during lecture and sat in the sun and had coffee and cigarettes with my friends. It was a good day but I didn't study at all. And now it's an hour left until we go to the airport to head off for Edinburgh. Both me and E are kind of excited about the whole thing so I really hope it's gonna be a good trip. I'm coming back on Sunday and when  come back to school on Monday it's exactly four weeks left until our next exam so then it's gonna be no more slacking. Hopefully our little vacation will give us some energy and motivation back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-241334710951598291?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/241334710951598291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=241334710951598291&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/241334710951598291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/241334710951598291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/off-we-go.html' title='off we go'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3479790055954534389</id><published>2008-02-10T22:46:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-10T23:10:29.345+01:00</updated><title type='text'>boring fuck</title><content type='html'>I feel scattered as I always do nowadays and I pretend that I don't have to go to school and study like a mf tomorrow by staying in Stockholm tonight. Now I drink some tea and smoke while I wait for Snöret to come home from work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just sick and tired with everything right now. I know I have to really make an effort in school because my exam (as my sister reminded me of today) is only six weeks away but I just don't know how to get the will and energy. I'm even fed up with all my friends and probably most fed up with myself and I really don't want anything anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And my theme goes to hell since I can't come up with something better than my brothers breakfast-thing and he wants to keep it all for himself so I don't really know what to write. I don't wanna write here just when I need to whine about how pissed/sad/out of energy I am, I need to this site to something nice and interesting that could be more of a diary than it is now. Today it's just a diary of my bad days and I want the good ones here too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3479790055954534389?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3479790055954534389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3479790055954534389&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3479790055954534389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3479790055954534389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/boring-fuck.html' title='boring fuck'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6196890663788739084</id><published>2008-02-08T17:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-08T17:21:09.098+01:00</updated><title type='text'>theme</title><content type='html'>I'm thinking about a theme for my ****. I really like to write here but all my posts are just scattered, random and I need something to write about that put it all together. I've been thinking about doing the photo thing but it's too much work and I think it could be too personal, I don't want to show things in my life too much. I'm even a little bit worried about putting out a pic of myself but it's not that obvious who it is so I'll give it a try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I should steal my brothers old ****-theme, breakfast. He had an amazing **** last year and wrote about his breakfast and at that time he was in London and we didn't talk that much so you kind of knew what he was doing by reading about his breakfast. I really liked it and it's a shame he don't do that anymore (or maybe good if he'll let me steal the theme).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6196890663788739084?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6196890663788739084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6196890663788739084&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6196890663788739084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6196890663788739084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/theme.html' title='theme'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2727986753976467362</id><published>2008-02-07T21:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-07T22:08:03.965+01:00</updated><title type='text'>hatehatehate and killkillkill</title><content type='html'>I don't know what's wrong with me, all day I've been pissed about almost everything so I actually left in the middle of my last class just to go home and just don't be around people. I'm even irritated at my friends that normally are the people who keeps me going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no energy, no motivation whatsoever (despite me going to London and everything) and I really need to study, I can't do this so much longer, it will come back and fuck me around, I know this and still I don't know what to do about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My only comfort is smoking and I was suppose to give that up ffs! And I eat bad things even if I shouldn't. I really wanna loose some weight so I try not to eat fucking cookies all the time but it's hard and weirdly enough I rather smoke than eating something sweet. And Amy and Emmy are all about how they have to work out and get thin and it fucks me up even if I don't want to, I mean, they aren't even half as fat as I am. Ok, I know I'm definitely not fat but compared to them I have some more kilos to loose and I fucking hate to work out. I have to find a way to train myself that isn't boring like hell. I'm even thinking about a hint of anorectic living but when I'm hungry I get so angry that you don't even wanna be near me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate everything today and I think that the thing I hate the most is that I hate everything. Fuck it, I'm gonna smoke some more and do nothing useful and go to bed too late. I mean, right now it feels like there really isn't a point with anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2727986753976467362?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2727986753976467362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2727986753976467362&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2727986753976467362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2727986753976467362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/hatehatehate-and-killkillkill.html' title='hatehatehate and killkillkill'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-299888151436295181</id><published>2008-02-06T21:59:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T22:56:04.690+01:00</updated><title type='text'>mixmaxmjaupaw</title><content type='html'>Oh, what I should have studied tonight but my computer is almost back after the horrible tea-party* so I had to celebrate with some internet-updates. And right now it feels like I already know some of the things we are reading about and I passed the first exam so I'm not that motivated.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I booked a flight to London which means I have to study like a mf until spring-break (or at least that was the deal I made with myself). I'm going there for a long weekend int the end of march and then it's almost a year since I went there for the first time, I wonder what that means?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I was so low I almost felt sick and we had to cut up male animal-genitals, not the dream, so I just went away, sat down anywhere and had a cigarette instead. Don't know but I feel strangely empty/sad-but-not-depressed/out-of-energy. I need to find a way to regain my strength.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I also wished I had one of those funny and up-dated ***** that people read all the time and love but I guess I can't write all the time about everything and when I really feel like I need to write it's beause I'm not that happy or need to get something out of my head.&lt;br /&gt;And most of the time I'm so brilliant with my friends that I don't have anything left for this site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*At least a half cup of tea all over her, after 48 hour on a towel she's working but still have somekind of light shades in the LCD on her right side.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-299888151436295181?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/299888151436295181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=299888151436295181&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/299888151436295181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/299888151436295181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/02/mixmaxmjaupaw.html' title='mixmaxmjaupaw'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5160687346270532225</id><published>2008-01-31T23:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T23:51:37.374+01:00</updated><title type='text'>last weekend</title><content type='html'>Still in no mood for studying and I haven't even looked at the EKG-thing we're doing tomorrow but I've had coffee with a friend, looked after C's cats and talked to Jessica by skype since I don't have any batteries left on my cell. We planned a trip for me to London in late march and I don't really got the money but I just have to go. With a booked flight I just know that my energy will come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm off to Sthlm tomorrow, we're going out with some people in my class and I'm worried I really gonna need a plan B to be able to flee because there are some serious freaky elements that are joining us. I'm not even sure I wanna be seen out on the street with some of them but wtf, maybe it'll be nice. We're going to this electro club and it sounds promising but it'll be hard to beat last weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last friday I first met a lot of nice people on a party, got wasted on some amsterdam-shit so Sebastian had to follow me home and then on saturday I was at Tech-Noir in my amazing pink lashes and met this cute english guy who turned out to be a member of Sisters of Mercy. We went to an after-party and I had a really good time but it's a fucking shame that the only real good-looking man you meet is a damn rock-star that you really can't do anything with if you don't wanna feel like a groupie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5160687346270532225?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5160687346270532225/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5160687346270532225&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5160687346270532225'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5160687346270532225'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/01/last-weekend.html' title='last weekend'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1935144666951106596</id><published>2008-01-31T00:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T00:45:24.883+01:00</updated><title type='text'>back for a while</title><content type='html'>I guess I'm back for a while. So fucking sick of school that the only thing I've done this week is staying up far too late and falling asleep in school. I'm sick of U-town but love my room more and more. It's the place to be if you have to be here and with my pink bed-wall, new table and lovely scented candle from muji it's soo nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I just can't motivate myself to study or even care about school right now and since I've got next exam in march there isn't really anything to push me either. I just don't wanna be here in this boring town wasting my life away looking at histology pics of respiratory organs. I'm dying of boredom...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J is more or less out of my head now and I now feel entirely good about the fact that his so far away I never will see him again. Hopefully I'll have enough money to go to London during spring-break and for once just focus on having a good time dancing my ass and head off. And I think I've decided to go there this summer, I have to go away and do some nice things that have nothing to do with school or anything here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know when I'll write here next time. I need it in a way but most of the time I'm just to busy to take care of my head and even if I know I have to I just can't find the time and peace.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1935144666951106596?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1935144666951106596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1935144666951106596&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1935144666951106596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1935144666951106596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/01/back-for-while.html' title='back for a while'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7307662690252143639</id><published>2008-01-24T22:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-24T23:08:27.736+01:00</updated><title type='text'>pause</title><content type='html'>It's an good year so far. I really am more creative nowadays and I have much more fun. What I haven't had is time to write here but be patient, it's been less than a month and I'm still adjusting to my new life. I'll be back eventually and then I hope it's good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until then I'll listen to this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bIucZB4IlDc&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bIucZB4IlDc&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...and watch this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7FKPoVNtmK0&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7FKPoVNtmK0&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7307662690252143639?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7307662690252143639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7307662690252143639&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7307662690252143639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7307662690252143639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/01/puase.html' title='pause'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1777958093130167018</id><published>2008-01-01T16:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2008-01-01T16:54:07.189+01:00</updated><title type='text'>more creative</title><content type='html'>I'm at work and soon I'll be out on the Island but first I have to leave the keys in our old apartment (ooouuuääää) and sit on the bus for an hour (zzz).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a really slow night yesterday but still overslept (fucketifuck) and I have a cold and feel really tired but I'm also kind of happy.&lt;br /&gt;Been reading a lot of ***** and other things today (have been a slow day) and I got some inspiration. I'll try to make my **** a little bit more interesting too, not only whine about being sad or empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like to promise things on new year but I try to be much more creative in 2008 and really take some time off the boring school and just reinvent me and myself. I'll try to be even more of a fuck-up this year but a damn happy one with a lot of colours all over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1777958093130167018?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1777958093130167018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1777958093130167018&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1777958093130167018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1777958093130167018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2008/01/more-creative.html' title='more creative'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8919495465493114357</id><published>2007-12-31T21:06:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-31T21:29:11.860+01:00</updated><title type='text'>happy new year</title><content type='html'>So, it's new years eve and I'm in my 2nd home in Stockholm all by myself. And still, it feels good.&lt;br /&gt;Didn't get much sleep last night and I've been working all day so I'll probably fall asleep before midnight but I don't really care. NYE isn't that important to me and I have some bailey's ice cream, a drink, loads of cigarettes and Skins season 1 on my computer. If I just had a joint my live would be fulfilled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I should write something about the past year but so many things happened that I don't even know were to start. It have probably been the most overwhelming year since I was born but fuck, I survived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope for a much better 2008.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8919495465493114357?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8919495465493114357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8919495465493114357&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8919495465493114357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8919495465493114357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/happy-new-year.html' title='happy new year'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6205384948896762038</id><published>2007-12-28T01:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-28T01:41:36.537+01:00</updated><title type='text'>sugar rush</title><content type='html'>Can't sleep and I just finished the last episode of Sugar Rush and I already miss it. It's one of the best I've seen and I'm totally into girls now, or actually I'm into anything cute obviously since I made out with a nineteen year old sweet boy outside the petrolstation the other night. I was so happy and drunk and I'd seen him before and I really think he's cute so I just went to him and asked him if we should kiss and he said yes so I just kissed him (unfortunately he had left when we came out again but wtf).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can feel some energy and happiness come back to me but I really have to make some amazing plans for this summer so I have something to think about when school fucks with me too much.&lt;br /&gt;Right now I'm torn between stay home and put some serious effort into sail-racing and spend all my time out on the sea or go to London, get a shitty job, dance my ass of and go to Brighton and look out over the sea. It's a fucking hard decision.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6205384948896762038?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6205384948896762038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6205384948896762038&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6205384948896762038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6205384948896762038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/sugar-rush.html' title='sugar rush'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8739073411867052404</id><published>2007-12-27T20:55:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T21:23:22.672+01:00</updated><title type='text'>back in the city</title><content type='html'>Back in Stockholm and for the first time I just wanted to stay out on the Island. I had such a good time out there with my family during christmas and I slept like a kitten, made some candy and just chilled and ate a lot of good stuff. I'm also half through with season 2 of Sugar Rush and I love it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I also have a good time here in the city. Yesterday me and my brother were out with Remus, Gurkan and Pajjen and had some beers and I really like them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully G and my brother will get their lazy asses off to Uppsala and paint some nice things on my wardrobes. I have to move all my stuff this weekend and I'm not happy about it but I'll make my room as nice as possible so I at least will be happy in one little piece of my new evil hometown.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually feel really bad about going back there and to school, I don't want to study anymore and I don't want to go back and live there but I guess I really don't have a choice.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8739073411867052404?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8739073411867052404/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8739073411867052404&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8739073411867052404'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8739073411867052404'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/back-in-city.html' title='back in the city'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-844437805698259700</id><published>2007-12-27T02:28:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T02:36:10.172+01:00</updated><title type='text'>gone</title><content type='html'>Just found out that J went back to Brazil and probably will stay there for good. It feels like the end of the world but it's also a really big relief. It's definitely over forever and when he's not in London at all I can go back there and just be myself. He will not be there anymore and the ghost he is in my head will disappear faster when I know that the chance/risk to meet him when I go there is gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels weird but it's probably the best that could happen.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-844437805698259700?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/844437805698259700/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=844437805698259700&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/844437805698259700'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/844437805698259700'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/gone.html' title='gone'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7298280005132477836</id><published>2007-12-20T23:19:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T23:29:19.140+01:00</updated><title type='text'>...</title><content type='html'>now that I'm alone I feel the lonely brokenness&lt;br /&gt;of all the wicked avenues I've ever sold my love on&lt;br /&gt;all these moments of meekness and trembling subsided&lt;br /&gt;I'm the outright abandon of this orphan child&lt;br /&gt;home is on the highway living on soft bread and solace&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm waiting for nightfall or a solar eclipse&lt;br /&gt;and to wake up half empty only to be filled again with mourning&lt;br /&gt;he's my evil shadow dove, my black Palamito&lt;br /&gt;can't break him like a diamond skull, I can't seem to do so&lt;br /&gt;can't just rob him out like the mob used to do so&lt;br /&gt;like memories of porno and tearstains and tobacco&lt;br /&gt;o it's a mini disastro bigger than the ice age&lt;br /&gt;don't know if baby dinosaurs maybe could live through it&lt;br /&gt;or Indians and butterflies what's crushed is my spirit&lt;br /&gt;oh I fear it is too fragile like fall leaves burn like paper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always knew I would spend a lot of time alone&lt;br /&gt;no one would understand me&lt;br /&gt;maybe I should go and live amongst the animals&lt;br /&gt;spend all my time amongst the animals&lt;br /&gt;and on the tracks I would go they lead to the sea&lt;br /&gt;to be amongst the animals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;oh I'm just a fall leaf something simple and shy lie that&lt;br /&gt;that's how my heart lies down beside the sidewalk&lt;br /&gt;like an empty restaurant filled with perfume and balloons&lt;br /&gt;I sit and entertain the bisarro ghosts of my soul&lt;br /&gt;his name still lingers maybe lactates on my tongue&lt;br /&gt;perhaps I'm just teething for a foreign fallen destiny&lt;br /&gt;miserable but mine, I look like his mother&lt;br /&gt;or Sophia Loren in an old fashioned movie&lt;br /&gt;slow motion I cling to my child desperate for love&lt;br /&gt;one day soon my brother died, made me remember all the&lt;br /&gt;subordinate feelings I cast aside&lt;br /&gt;maybe I had lied when I said I was ok&lt;br /&gt;just getting along like a little song that stops to sing and say&lt;br /&gt;"wild willow, windy winter won't you blow through me my whole eternity"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always knew I would spend a lot of time alone&lt;br /&gt;no one would understand me&lt;br /&gt;maybe I should go and live amongst the animals&lt;br /&gt;spend all my time amongst the animals&lt;br /&gt;and on the tracks I would go they lead to the sea&lt;br /&gt;to be amongst the animals&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cocorosie&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7298280005132477836?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7298280005132477836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7298280005132477836&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7298280005132477836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7298280005132477836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/blog-post.html' title='...'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-849216485798438274</id><published>2007-12-20T14:40:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T14:47:39.962+01:00</updated><title type='text'>soon...</title><content type='html'>Tomorrow I have my exam and I've already started to chill. I study, but not that hard and I have to go downtown to buy the last gifts now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I pass the exam I do and there's no point having a heartattack about it now. But I really want it to be tomorrow afternoon so I can start my christmas holiday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll not read anything about biochemistry, I'll just watch tv-series, listen to all my lovely new music, be with friends and family and eat chocolate. Yeyyeyyeeey!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-849216485798438274?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/849216485798438274/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=849216485798438274&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/849216485798438274'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/849216485798438274'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/soon.html' title='soon...'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1247434629977397594</id><published>2007-12-15T09:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T09:22:47.163+01:00</updated><title type='text'>all work and no play makes me cry</title><content type='html'>I'm at work now and it's lovely and slow and noone calls so I can have coffee, read Nöjesguiden and just chill out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I was so sick and tired of school I almost cried and I felt like I had absolutely no energy left but then I went home, packed my things, studied a little bit and then went to Stockholm. Today and tomorrow I'll work and hang out with my family and some friends (god knows that haven't happened in a long time) and not even think about school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have felt really stressed out about the  whole thing and this night I actually woke up from a nightmare about molecules and that is not ok! I hope that I'll be back on monday with some energy so I can study like hell and pass the exam next friday. And even if I don't pass it's not worth to make it if you are crying all the way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1247434629977397594?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1247434629977397594/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1247434629977397594&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1247434629977397594'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1247434629977397594'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/all-work-and-no-play-makes-me-cry.html' title='all work and no play makes me cry'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7554773659063914667</id><published>2007-12-13T23:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-13T23:33:59.641+01:00</updated><title type='text'>promise</title><content type='html'>I'm so not inspired to study and learn things about cancer so I just drink tea, eat gingerbreads and have a smoke instead. Maybe I'll jinx myself and invite god to put an ctrl C on me but I don't care right now, I need something to keep me alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I have a new nice thing to long for - me and one of my best friends in school, Emma, are going to Edinburgh in february. We booked our flight yesterday and we're going there on somekind of annual International Vet School Competition. We'll ride their horses in some basic dressage and jumping and afterwards there is dinner and party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've never been to Scotland or Edinburgh so it's gonna be so much fun. I also hope to get a chance to do some serious networking that will help me to get a job in England this summer. Anyhow - it's good to do things abroad since I'll leave Sweden as soon as I get the opportunity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I fell asleep on the couch, not good but my friend called and woke me up and we had some dinner and wine so at least I was outside the apartment once today. It was so nice to hang out with her, she's almost twice my age but still a real kick-ass girl. She's facing the same problem I've dealt with the last year but it's harder for her since she have kids and much more things to take care of. I encouraged her as much as I could and comforted her and said that it's fucking hard but still such a relief when you've done it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as my sister says "2007 is a bad year that I've given up on, I'll just wait for 2008 to come and it's better be a good one." I hope she's right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7554773659063914667?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7554773659063914667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7554773659063914667&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7554773659063914667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7554773659063914667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/promise.html' title='promise'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8612815877458975031</id><published>2007-12-11T23:52:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-12T00:16:23.931+01:00</updated><title type='text'>movies &amp; music</title><content type='html'>This is an order!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go and see: The Golden Compass&lt;br /&gt;I have never seen such an amazing fantasy-book actually become a movie almost as good as the original. It's almost better than "The Lord of the Rings" and I can't wait until the next one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oj61Q5KPues&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oj61Q5KPues&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buy/download/listen to:&lt;br /&gt;Coco Rosie - The Adventures of Ghosthorse and Stillborn&lt;br /&gt;I have loads of new and lovely music in my iTunes but this is almost the only thing I listen to right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eaarYY62_BQ&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eaarYY62_BQ&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coco Rosie - Rainbow Warriors&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8612815877458975031?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8612815877458975031/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8612815877458975031&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8612815877458975031'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8612815877458975031'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/movies-music.html' title='movies &amp; music'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1357200187839081267</id><published>2007-12-11T23:27:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T23:51:17.563+01:00</updated><title type='text'>up to date</title><content type='html'>Haven't been writing here for ages but I'm just too busy right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so much to do in school, we have our last exam next friday and I still haven't a clue about genetics or cancer. Spend most of my days with my notes or books but I feel kind of confident anyway, I think I can pass this one - I only need 60%.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not gonna move to my room until after the exam and it feels good to be able to focus entirely on school the last weeks even if it's gonna be boring to move during the holidays. I totally look forward to christmas and it's gonna be amazing to have some totally lazy days out on the Island. It feels like I can't even remember when I was there the last time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw, the date was good, he was nice, cute and interesting enough. Sent him an SMS maybe half a week after and asked if he had some free time to see me again and he still haven't answered so I guess not... I would say that people that don't even bother to answer calls or SMS should go and die.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy I'm not in love (and I would say that even if I sometimes still think about J it's more and more with nothing else but a slow and subtle sadness over that the person he showed me first don't exist in my life anymore).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1357200187839081267?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1357200187839081267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1357200187839081267&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1357200187839081267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1357200187839081267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/12/up-to-date.html' title='up to date'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1166200118302595257</id><published>2007-11-29T00:53:00.001+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T00:53:27.253+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I kick ass</title><content type='html'>I'm back in my beloved Sthlm and have spent the evening in my old apartment with H and my brother that came by for dinner and a quick coffe (I love him so much and it breaks my heart that we don't see each other more often).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's late and I had a plan to study a bit but I lost it here when I catched up on some unread ***** and started to order gifts for christmas. I don't have much money but luckily you can find amazing books in second hand stores. But I don't panic over christmas (or anything) anymore. I'll just chill and take it easy and probably it's just good for my ass to eat a little less food this month (like I did last month).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And right now I'm not even nervous about my date tomorrow. If he don't like me he can go fuck someone else. It feels good to be self-confident.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1166200118302595257?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1166200118302595257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1166200118302595257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1166200118302595257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1166200118302595257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-kick-ass_29.html' title='I kick ass'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1575156186155448015</id><published>2007-11-28T22:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T01:02:50.040+01:00</updated><title type='text'>islands</title><content type='html'>Exactly two years ago I was living on Iceland and longed for home so much I cried almost once a day. But every morning I woke up and put on the tv in my room and almost everytime I saw this video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/doc1eqstMQQ&amp;rel=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/doc1eqstMQQ&amp;rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know why but it really comforted me and now when I only remember the lovely things about it and sometimes long for being there again I like to watch this and feel a part of that Island in my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And of course I got inspired by Jonas.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1575156186155448015?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1575156186155448015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1575156186155448015&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1575156186155448015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1575156186155448015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-kick-ass.html' title='islands'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2738039365033870739</id><published>2007-11-27T02:08:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T02:13:22.606+01:00</updated><title type='text'>advice please</title><content type='html'>I have somekind of coffe-date with a law-schoolguy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What to wear and what to do?&lt;br /&gt;Haven't been on a dateish thing in almost ten years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2738039365033870739?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2738039365033870739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2738039365033870739&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2738039365033870739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2738039365033870739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/advice-please.html' title='advice please'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1604891620547433793</id><published>2007-11-26T03:12:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T03:24:40.760+01:00</updated><title type='text'>superstar-dj, here we go</title><content type='html'>Had the most amazing night yesterday. Me, Karin and Michael in my class played records at a party we were throwing in vet-school and it was so much fun and we got a lot of cred for the music. Today I've actually been reconsidering my choice to become a vet, maybe I should just drop out and be a kick-ass-techno-dj-girl instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I think it's good to have a back-up plan and that's why I think I'll stay in school at least until I get my international breakthrough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So tomorrow it's all about genes and DNA again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1604891620547433793?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1604891620547433793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1604891620547433793&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1604891620547433793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1604891620547433793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/superstar-dj-here-we-go.html' title='superstar-dj, here we go'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3648565222844263687</id><published>2007-11-24T03:10:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-26T03:12:00.072+01:00</updated><title type='text'>everyone else in the world</title><content type='html'>You'll have to stand perfectly still&lt;br /&gt;You'll have to close your eyes&lt;br /&gt;And when I am finished&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe you can go &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else in the world&lt;br /&gt;Would love me by now&lt;br /&gt;Would love me from day one&lt;br /&gt;But not you &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else in the world&lt;br /&gt;Would love me by now&lt;br /&gt;Would love me in a crowd&lt;br /&gt;But not you &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;False promises of love&lt;br /&gt;Still promise love&lt;br /&gt;You'll get what you want&lt;br /&gt;When you just want what you get &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else in the world&lt;br /&gt;Would love me by now&lt;br /&gt;Would love me from day one&lt;br /&gt;But not you &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone else in the world&lt;br /&gt;Would love me by now&lt;br /&gt;Would love me in a crowd&lt;br /&gt;But not you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Stina Nordenstam)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3648565222844263687?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3648565222844263687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3648565222844263687&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3648565222844263687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3648565222844263687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/everyone-else-in-world.html' title='everyone else in the world'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1642385893673977467</id><published>2007-11-22T21:39:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-22T21:57:02.158+01:00</updated><title type='text'>yey</title><content type='html'>I passed the exam with an inch so now it's just me and my books until christmas. I'll never be that unprepared again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1642385893673977467?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1642385893673977467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1642385893673977467&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1642385893673977467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1642385893673977467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/yey.html' title='yey'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7514659152098062900</id><published>2007-11-16T14:17:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-16T14:21:52.282+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I'll not be sad, I'll study like a mf</title><content type='html'>Life's slightly better and I'm beyond being stressed out. I'm gonna study as much as possible this weekend (which means I can't go out to the lovely Island and it breaks my heart) and if I pass the exam I'm gonna be happy and if I don't there's always another chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it's bone, cartilage and molecules all day long.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you on tuesday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7514659152098062900?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7514659152098062900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7514659152098062900&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7514659152098062900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7514659152098062900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/ill-not-be-sad-ill-study-like-mf.html' title='I&apos;ll not be sad, I&apos;ll study like a mf'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5318488624805386941</id><published>2007-11-12T15:09:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T15:32:09.025+01:00</updated><title type='text'>act sober (or sober act)</title><content type='html'>I've changed in so many ways the last six months and mostly I feel like it's a good thing but I'm not always sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have partied more during this period than I have in most of my life and sometimes I feel like I have been doing it too much. Of course, it's ok to be kind of decadent as a single (as Karin told me today) but I don't think that's the reason why I do it and lately I've had this feeling that I actually just want to get wasted to get released from everything in my life right now and that scares me. I had some rules and I ignored them and sometimes it feels like I don't know myself anymore and that scares me even more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I made this decision today. I'm not gonna drink anything for at least a month or so. I don't really need it and if I need it, I totally need a break from it. I get too used to it and I don't want that and I can't handle myself. I have to take care and make my life happy without escapes and I have to find myself for real and how could I possibly do that when I'm lost in wasteland?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for the record, it's not like I drink everyday or even several times a week but I find the way the parties are in school a little bit unpleasant and I find myself getting drunker than I should just because of that (and just to stand them) and I don't want it to accelerate. And then we have LDN but to be honest I don't really see that as a problem, I can leave it like that as long as I'm careful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And since I'm utterly unhappy right now, booze will definitely not make it better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5318488624805386941?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5318488624805386941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5318488624805386941&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5318488624805386941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5318488624805386941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/act-sober-or-sober-act.html' title='act sober (or sober act)'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4007737318486816019</id><published>2007-11-12T14:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T15:07:58.689+01:00</updated><title type='text'>utterly unhappy</title><content type='html'>I'm home and have to study but all I can do is cry. I don't know for which reason I cry, there are too many and I feel so lost. I wish I could put everything in my life on pause and leave it there for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe it's just H or J or everything or whatever. Maybe it's just a chemical hung over since my massive drunkenness this weekend or maybe this is the time I go from slightly to completely mad. I don't know and maybe I don't even care. I just want it to go away so I can do my homework.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4007737318486816019?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4007737318486816019/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4007737318486816019&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4007737318486816019'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4007737318486816019'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/utterly-unhappy.html' title='utterly unhappy'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3528674072625086284</id><published>2007-11-07T22:25:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T22:32:51.715+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I wanna disappear</title><content type='html'>And I try so hard to go on, keep up some kind of work, see some lights and not feel like boredom but it's so hard. I know it's just to start it all up and studystudystudy until the exam but I am so slow. I don't wanna be here, don't wanna go to school and I don't even wanna think about me moving in less than a month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just want to go away and come back around christmas. With a passed exam behind me. And oh, surprise - someone moved all my things. Thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3528674072625086284?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3528674072625086284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3528674072625086284&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3528674072625086284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3528674072625086284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-wanna-disappear.html' title='I wanna disappear'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7712617593083170695</id><published>2007-11-06T18:54:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T18:58:41.500+01:00</updated><title type='text'>go away</title><content type='html'>I'm just fucked and a totally mental mess, depressed and about to catch a cold.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm trying to pick myself up but nothing seems to help. My energy is size zero and I have so many things to do. I need a PT for my life and some seriously heavy uppers. I fall asleep all the time and I can't have it like this anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life, please go away and leave me alone!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7712617593083170695?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7712617593083170695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7712617593083170695&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7712617593083170695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7712617593083170695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/go-away.html' title='go away'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-293737941175303109</id><published>2007-11-04T13:32:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T14:05:00.734+01:00</updated><title type='text'>parliament square</title><content type='html'>Don't know what I'm feeling right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went out last night with amazing V and her friends since her boyfriend were one of the dj's at HootchyKootchy-club. Had a great time, met the lovely Lady Oscar and it was a lot of unrestrained people there. The club had a slightly Londonish feeling and that felt good 'cause I miss going out there so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Went home with a random guy and had sex and I don't know what that was all about. He was thin and cute enough and a ok fuck. I came and fell asleep, didn't really care about him but come on, that's how men do it all the time.&lt;br /&gt;I don't feel bad about it at all but I could as well have went home by myself. At least I did the single-one-night-stand-thing but it was not really interesting. We didn't have anything in common and I wasn't sorry when he left without having breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The depressing thing with the whole situation was that I thought about J all the time and actually felt a little bit guilty about it. I shouldn't because I know he doesn't want to be with me and he obviously don't even wanna be my friend despite all the fancy talk about me being amazing everytime we meet. I think his problem is that he don't want to seem like a bad guy and therefore act all nice and sweet when we meet and can't really admit that he don't want to be with me at all. And then when I leave it's easy for him to just ignore me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate when people do that and I really don't understand anything that he had done since he stopped being my beloved boyfriend that I would do anything for and just turn in to this other strange person I don't even know.&lt;br /&gt;I told him when we met the last time that I saw him as two persons and that maybe he could be a third one for me that actually were someone I knew and could start to like again. Maybe I'm wrong but it seems like he's just that second person and I don't like the one he turned out to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I shouldn't feel guilty about being with others and I definitely shouldn't wait for him but I still have him inside me, fucking up all. I'm not gonna call him or anything and if he want a part of me again he really have to prove himself and sadly enough I don't think he's gonna do it. And I'm so sad for that becuse the first J was the most amazing one. And maybe too good to be true.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-293737941175303109?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/293737941175303109/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=293737941175303109&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/293737941175303109'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/293737941175303109'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/parliament-square.html' title='parliament square'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3735854212395163400</id><published>2007-11-02T15:47:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T14:26:02.891+01:00</updated><title type='text'>waiting around to die</title><content type='html'>I had this big backlash the other night and were really sad about everything. Sat outside M's apartment, smoked and listened to music and looked at this cold, dark autumn sky and felt like nothing made sense at all. M  came out, hugged me and was just as you want someone to be when you are in that state of mind. He really is one of the best  people I met lately and it feels like he truly understand that inexplicable sadness that come over me sometimes (probably because he's all the same).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the next day we went to school, sat and studied and I hanged out with some of the people in my class and I started to feel better. I sat in the school-cafeteria thinking about how things really weren't all that bad and that eventually everything would be alright. And M came back from the toilet and told me the exact same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it felt like a great comfort because there are so many times you feel like a fuck-up and like there's no point with anything. But then it always gets better, it all turns out to be fine and you survive and feel good about life. And that's what makes you going.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3735854212395163400?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3735854212395163400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3735854212395163400&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3735854212395163400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3735854212395163400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/11/waiting-around-to-die.html' title='waiting around to die'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3408688650624904228</id><published>2007-10-31T20:15:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T20:37:07.303+01:00</updated><title type='text'>a french love</title><content type='html'>And you think it's over, that it's ok and that you can handle it. And then you get caught and it's like you can't breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you realise it's pretty fucking far from ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3408688650624904228?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3408688650624904228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3408688650624904228&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3408688650624904228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3408688650624904228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/french-love.html' title='a french love'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8115967989701339009</id><published>2007-10-30T23:34:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T00:13:41.004+01:00</updated><title type='text'>room with a view</title><content type='html'>Now I've got my own room but aren't really happy anyway. It seemed like a strange house yesterday when we were there trying to check it out but hopefully I'm just paranoid and everything will work out fine. I'm moving in there next month and finally I have more or less my own little home here in Uppsala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Point of no return (at least until next summer).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8115967989701339009?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8115967989701339009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8115967989701339009&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8115967989701339009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8115967989701339009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/room-with-view.html' title='room with a view'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2182695547162678750</id><published>2007-10-29T01:23:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T01:24:07.817+01:00</updated><title type='text'>from my subconscious</title><content type='html'>I have so much sadness inside me and it always gives me an overflow when I have had a nice couple of days. I'm so lucky and grateful for most of the things in my life but still I have those moments when my heart gets all empty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't know why but if two and a half years of therapy and a lot of experience and practice don't make it go away I think it's gonna be there for the rest of my life. And I never really get used to it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2182695547162678750?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2182695547162678750/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2182695547162678750&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2182695547162678750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2182695547162678750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/from-my-subconscious.html' title='from my subconscious'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2809696210917867641</id><published>2007-10-28T22:57:00.000+01:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T01:10:38.740+01:00</updated><title type='text'>I had a back-up (yey)</title><content type='html'>I thought that I had lost everything when Lyra's first daemon died but luckily I was wrong. Snöret hadn't erased the files I saved on her computer so I only lost two months of pictures. Now I'm at her place and I'll do a Lyra-rehab, transfer my files and copy her iTunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made my life much more easy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2809696210917867641?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2809696210917867641/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2809696210917867641&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2809696210917867641'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2809696210917867641'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-had-back-up-yey.html' title='I had a back-up (yey)'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4861328131803158302</id><published>2007-10-26T00:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-26T00:49:58.274+02:00</updated><title type='text'>against the flow</title><content type='html'>It only took a couple of days to get my dear apple-girl back but I had to pay 2000 SEK just to realise when I came home that it's still trashed so now I have to bring it to the store again. And they couldn't save anything on the old disk, everything is gone but hopefully Snöret's got some of my photos stored on her apple so I'm not devastated anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I haven't really been in a computer mood this week. The thought of building up my iTunes to it's former grace just makes me wanna die and some fucker with 2000 days took the room from me and I have no money left even though I got them today just because all the things I had to pay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My life is not a flow of diamonds right now but I guess I'll manage. And I find comfort in the fact that I'm going to Stockholm tomorrow to make myself up and show M my beloved city, friends and family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And obviously some people think I don't like anyone in my class but that's not true, I like some of them and some of them I even love. I'm not all bad you know. Just sometimes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4861328131803158302?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4861328131803158302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4861328131803158302&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4861328131803158302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4861328131803158302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/against-flow.html' title='against the flow'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-9149730926799131826</id><published>2007-10-21T15:04:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-21T15:30:38.927+02:00</updated><title type='text'>please get well, sweet little apple-girl</title><content type='html'>Still haven't left M's place, been here since friday but today I have to go to Stockholm because I'm working tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are a bit slow after the weekend. Had a marvelous friday night with the entourage and fell in love with amazing Kristina in my class. She's the best and if I move to the room we can have tea all the time since she's living in the same hood. And today I said yes to that room so we'll see tomorrow what happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday it was just dinner but wine and going to bed late killed the cat. A moment ago I flooded M's bathroom when I took a shower and my stomach feels like a  black hole so now it's food and travelling on the schedule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a grey an melancholic day and the fact that my lovely apple-girl probably suffers from a big harddisk meltdown doesn't help.  It'll cost me at least a London-trip to fix and to save all the things on my old hard disk and I won't get it back in two or three weeks . I'm lost without her and I don't know how to cope with things alone (but to be honest it's probably good for me with a facebook detox).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But still, I feel alright.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;J isn't the ghost he used to be, my entourage gives me love and cuddling and I'm starting to get used to the thought of me and H having separate lives. It's ok and I like the fact that M really don't care if you're all cheerios. He's a bit like me and it's nice to just hang out with people like that. I told hime yesterday that he's one of the best things with vet-school and I can't highlight enough how true it is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-9149730926799131826?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/9149730926799131826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=9149730926799131826&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/9149730926799131826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/9149730926799131826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/please-get-well-sweet-little-apple-girl.html' title='please get well, sweet little apple-girl'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4567475825498039612</id><published>2007-10-19T13:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-19T13:37:09.289+02:00</updated><title type='text'>my worst nightmare</title><content type='html'>I haven't been home that much and some days ago my lovely apple-book broke somehow and now I'm devastated. I'm gonna go to the doctor with her this afternoon and I hope nothing is seriously wrong. Both for her sake and for mine - I don't have a security back-up for anything and we talk one year of perfectly built iTunes, photos from the last two years and a whole lot more. &lt;br /&gt;Please, please let her be ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So that's why I've been a boring fuck and haven't wrote anything interesting for a week. The week started off bad and I didn't want to do anything (as you can tell) but now it's become better and better. I'm more or less back on track and studied a lot yesterday. I also did some practical training in the university's small animal hospital this week and it was really nice and interesting (and I can't wait until my five year here is done and I can work as a vet).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I also got an offer to rent a room for students and it's in a really nice neighbourhood with old houses, lovely gardens and it's kind of near the center of the town. I think I want it and I'm second in the line for it so I've a good chance to get it but we'll see. I have to decide before sunday but I'm pretty sure I'll say yes.&lt;br /&gt;It's gonna be so sad not to live with Cissi anymore but also a little bit nice to have a place of your own. The only bad about the room is that you have to share kitchen and bathrooms with five others but hopefully I'll manage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But now I have to clean my part of the apartment, take a shower and wash my hair, pack some things and go with my comuputer to the doctor before I go home to M with my vet-entourage and get drunk as a cat.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4567475825498039612?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4567475825498039612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4567475825498039612&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4567475825498039612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4567475825498039612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-worst-nightmare.html' title='my worst nightmare'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3696876660406891992</id><published>2007-10-15T18:58:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T19:00:20.936+02:00</updated><title type='text'>yawn</title><content type='html'>I'm so tired and it's only monday. I don't wanna go to school, don't wanna do anything...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3696876660406891992?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3696876660406891992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3696876660406891992&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3696876660406891992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3696876660406891992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/and-voices-of-madness-from-my.html' title='yawn'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-775023410483390086</id><published>2007-10-12T00:37:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-12T00:46:12.806+02:00</updated><title type='text'>up &amp; running</title><content type='html'>Have been up and running since monday, mostly studying and eating amazing dinners with M.E.A, my fabulous entourage from vet-school. Went to my therapist on tuesday which was really what I needed and I also rebooked her in three weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really like writing here but sometimes school fucks with me so much I really don't have the time. And this weekend it's the Island that is the shit. Me and my brother with more or less frekvent partners a.k.a. the kids are all going out there to help the old parents to clean out the attic. Could also be really nice with some silence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as usual it's too late and my head is spinning so now it's just over and out and the bed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-775023410483390086?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/775023410483390086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=775023410483390086&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/775023410483390086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/775023410483390086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/up-running.html' title='up &amp; running'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2551661953591172194</id><published>2007-10-08T23:14:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T23:35:23.946+02:00</updated><title type='text'>maybe I could be yours, maybe you could be mine</title><content type='html'>I try to keep busy and try to spend time with friends because then I won't have to think about myself and how I feel. Everytime I have time to stand still I just feel sad. I know it's ok and I know it's been worse before and I know it'll be better eventually but it's still so hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so sad because I realise that nothing really changes. I am the one I am and no matter how hard I try I'm still a person with a lot of feelings and when the bad ones hit me it's not ok, not at all. It has become easier to cope with and I know myself so much better now but still, why can't it just leave me alone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also so sad for losing and leaving the love in my life because now it's much harder since I'm all by my own. And I won't find anyone to be with until I'm over H an J and god knows how long that will take. I hate being alone even if some may say that it's good for me. But I don't see the point in spending my days alone when there must be someone out there that wants to share things with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2551661953591172194?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2551661953591172194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2551661953591172194&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2551661953591172194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2551661953591172194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/maybe-i-could-be-yours-maybe-you-could.html' title='maybe I could be yours, maybe you could be mine'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1937891309497519561</id><published>2007-10-08T00:01:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-08T00:25:56.544+02:00</updated><title type='text'>confession and comfort</title><content type='html'>Sometimes people ask me why I write here and often I tell them it's like a nicer diary. And they question me and blame me for being exhibitio- nal and maybe I am. But I really like to see my words published on this site, I like the way it looks and before, when my diary was a book and I had to write things down by hand, I just got bored after a while and stopped. This **** is the first diary that I've continued writing for a long time since the age of fifteen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know not many people are reading this and to be honest I don't really care. Especially not if my friends are because I've realised that the more people you know that read what you write, the more you have to think about what you write. And you start to censor your thoughts and words. I try not to do that even if I know that people I know read it but it's difficult. You want people to read but you don't want to care about them.&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's also a reason to write in english, you can get readers from all over the world and then the chance that they'll know who you are is smaller. And more people can find it interesting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I'm also writing here because I hope I'm not totally alone and that there are other people who think about and feel the same things as I do. And that they find some kind of comfort in or enjoy my posts. If only one person read this site and feel like he or she isn't alone anymore it's worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because that's exactly why I read what other people are writing. I want to know that I'm not alone and that I'm not lost in this world of every- thing. I find comfort and joy in reading what other people think about life or whatever. And it helps me through my own life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1937891309497519561?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1937891309497519561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1937891309497519561&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1937891309497519561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1937891309497519561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/confession-and-comfort.html' title='confession and comfort'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2305607264787677030</id><published>2007-10-07T22:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T22:40:29.876+02:00</updated><title type='text'>useless</title><content type='html'>Ohh, I'm not doing anything that actually makes sense. Should have studied but didn't. I just feed my addiction to facebook and drink coffe with friends. And spend my savings on shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fuckfuckfuck, I'm so useless right now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2305607264787677030?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2305607264787677030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2305607264787677030&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2305607264787677030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2305607264787677030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/useless.html' title='useless'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7700433737046416704</id><published>2007-10-07T17:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T22:04:06.915+02:00</updated><title type='text'>obsession</title><content type='html'>Jessica was supposed to come and visit us this weekend but she missed her flight. I really miss her and London and I also just found out that Peter, one really nice ex-boyfriend is living there now. And also, I need some proper clubbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It made me obsessed with finding a cheap no-ryan-air-ever-again-flight to London before Christmas.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7700433737046416704?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7700433737046416704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7700433737046416704&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7700433737046416704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7700433737046416704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/obsession.html' title='obsession'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7769104316786537645</id><published>2007-10-06T20:28:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T20:46:13.056+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I find comfort in facebook</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I had one of those times out when you wonder why you bothered at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shirley came by Snöret's place and we had some drinks and smokes, got a little wasted, went to Esque where the music was amazing and the people wasn't and it was still quite early so we left. Shirley just had her mind set on Spy bar so I just had to follow her since she had the cash and it was boring fucks from start. And no good music or cute people, the cutest guy I saw had a shirt outside his pants and his whole looks said "I'm so casual 'cause I don't have a tie" and I guess I wouldn't have anything in common with someone like him anyway.&lt;br /&gt;And people were all over and finally I just got pissed off with everyone (I tend to be like that if nothing good ever happens on a night out) and just took the bus home. Sometimes I really hate people in general.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I've been trying to mend myself and become in a better mood but I'm not sure I've succeeded but I guess I'll notice in half an hour when I'm gonna go out and meet my friend Anna for a drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least I've had a nice and slow day. I slept as long as I needed, had breakfast for an hour while reading the paper. Sat down with my computer, a cup of tea and some cigarettes and fed my addiction to facebook and catched up on some *****. I became happier because my friend Giovani had written to me and one of my ex-boyfriends found me and I really like him so we started a nice long-time-no-seen conversation. And then I remebered, there are a lot of nice peolpe around the world and we like each other and life is kind of good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I don't know if it's good or bad that facebook comforts me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7769104316786537645?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7769104316786537645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7769104316786537645&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7769104316786537645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7769104316786537645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/i-find-comfort-in-facebook.html' title='I find comfort in facebook'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-9140572660558779999</id><published>2007-10-05T20:32:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-07T03:07:56.491+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm so happy I could die, that I've got you</title><content type='html'>Now me and Martin are officially best friends and he's the cutest and loveliest ever (ok, the one who knows me know that this is just me falling in love with a new friend but right now he really is). The best thing is that we get along well when we study together and that he take notes from the lectures just like me and also that he likes to take long walks. And as I wrote before he's the best cuddler and also my runway-coach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What else do you need in life?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-9140572660558779999?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/9140572660558779999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=9140572660558779999&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/9140572660558779999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/9140572660558779999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/im-so-happy-i-could-die-that-ive-got.html' title='I&apos;m so happy I could die, that I&apos;ve got you'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1218175537317529695</id><published>2007-10-05T20:07:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-06T20:17:58.196+02:00</updated><title type='text'>ready for biomedicin take-off</title><content type='html'>It have been a lot to do this week but it's alright. It's kind of interesting and even though some of our teachers aren't great it's still ok. And it's gonna be hard work all the way, they're taking off fast and will definitely not slow down so see you around christmas...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1218175537317529695?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1218175537317529695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1218175537317529695&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1218175537317529695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1218175537317529695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/ready-for-take-off.html' title='ready for biomedicin take-off'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2624963993368785481</id><published>2007-10-03T23:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-04T00:32:38.702+02:00</updated><title type='text'>too much of everything</title><content type='html'>Too much to do, too much to learn and too many people to spend time with. I have to sleep sometime so I'll go to bed now. I'll catch up here later. Just wanted to make myself sure that I'm alive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2624963993368785481?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2624963993368785481/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2624963993368785481&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2624963993368785481'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2624963993368785481'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/too-much-of-everything.html' title='too much of everything'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5804875808623908619</id><published>2007-10-02T00:06:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-02T00:09:09.062+02:00</updated><title type='text'>sunday morning</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/RwFvmn7Q48I/AAAAAAAAADU/MM0eKEMmDQ8/s1600-h/DSC01167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/RwFvmn7Q48I/AAAAAAAAADU/MM0eKEMmDQ8/s320/DSC01167.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116493361012859842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you have to go up really early a sunday morning after only a few hours sleep and then see this it's almost worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5804875808623908619?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5804875808623908619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5804875808623908619&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5804875808623908619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5804875808623908619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/sunday-morning.html' title='sunday morning'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/RwFvmn7Q48I/AAAAAAAAADU/MM0eKEMmDQ8/s72-c/DSC01167.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1948869455691789951</id><published>2007-10-01T21:26:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-10-01T23:06:43.385+02:00</updated><title type='text'>my lovely lifesavers</title><content type='html'>I really had an amazing weekend and mostly because of the lovely trio Amanda, Emma and Martin. I spent a lot of time with them and it was massive partying, coffe-drinking, candy-eating and chilling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I spent most of my hours with Martin since I slept at his place two nights and he at mine one night. He's one of my best classmates and a really lovely and cozy person and the fact that he's gay makes it easier to cuddle a lot without second thoughts. I totally need someone like him right now and hopefully he need me too so that we can become great friends.&lt;br /&gt;Even though I know that I like him a lot and that he likes me and we talked a little about relations and how we are I'm still afraid that he'll leave me in some way. I've always had this fear of being abandoned and I know it's a fucked-up thing from my childhood but it's still there, deep down in my subconscius and everytime I meet a new person that I really like I have to fight it. And it's not like J made it better.&lt;br /&gt;I've realised this weekend that I'm much more careful with my feelings and to let people come close. I hate it but I have put up somekind of pro- tection and it makes everything even harder. I wish I was totally sure about everything but I'm not and when I really like people I also really care what they think and that makes me feel like an uncertain little girl again. Fuck what, I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of J, everything felt better with that whole issue and I started to feel fine about it when he suddenly called this saturday. I didn't saw who it was and just answered and I couldn't hear anything but people talking for a minute and checked the number and felt like shit when I realised it was him and then he suddenly came to the phone and we talked for a bit and he said that his phone must have redialed my number by mistake or something.&lt;br /&gt;It was all very strange and I don't know what to think about it but now I'm back at square (at least) three and I don't really like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And today our new course in biomedicine started and it was a really flying start so now we got no time to take it easy anymore. Now we also know how we'll feel for 5,5 years. It's one weekend of calmness and then just loads of new stuff to put in our heads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Amanda, Emma and Martin will be my lifesavers in vet-school and I hope that I have the energy to be theirs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1948869455691789951?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1948869455691789951/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1948869455691789951&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1948869455691789951'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1948869455691789951'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/10/my-lovely-lifesavers.html' title='my lovely lifesavers'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8725831356011451801</id><published>2007-09-30T23:31:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T23:43:28.020+02:00</updated><title type='text'>all is full of me</title><content type='html'>I'm there again. At the point when I don't know what to go or do. I don't know how much of myself I should give and how much I should keep for myself. In some ways I hate to get to know new people that are really nice because I can't handle it. And almost noone knows about this because I don't tell them. And a lot of the times when I've been completely honest people have left me and I don't want that to happen because it tears my heart apart. It's like I destroy things just with the way I am and still I think it's only H that have had the courage to stand up and take all that's me. Or maybe he just got used to it slowly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8725831356011451801?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8725831356011451801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8725831356011451801&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8725831356011451801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8725831356011451801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/all-is-full-of-me.html' title='all is full of me'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6028766866373041256</id><published>2007-09-30T17:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-30T23:31:13.287+02:00</updated><title type='text'>home-free</title><content type='html'>I'm pretty sure I passed my exam and I've had a free weekend with nothing to read or learn. And it were a good one with nice people to be with and sweet things to do and I've had some rest even though I haven't had that much sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's not enough. I need more. As usually.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6028766866373041256?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6028766866373041256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6028766866373041256&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6028766866373041256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6028766866373041256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/home-free.html' title='home-free'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6229746207566837420</id><published>2007-09-27T21:45:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T22:16:52.012+02:00</updated><title type='text'>...and the voices of madness, from my subconscious, singing songs of sadness...</title><content type='html'>...and it's still there, trying to get me but today I've been so busy all day that I've been able to run away. I know a lot more about bones and I think I can pass the exam tomorrow. I bought chocolate, bananas and gonna make loads of coffee to bring and afterwards I'm gonna be free for a whole weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone in my class are kind of obsessed to get so drunk as they possible can afterwards but I'm not sure how good it is for my mood right now to drink a lot. Maybe I just go home and cry even more (or I'll have the time of my - so far quite boring - Uppsala-life).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should probably take a shower and go to bed right now but I know myself. I'm gonna sit here in front of the computer for an hour or two, then maybe take a shower and then have some tea and a cigarette (and maybe I'll get caught by my feelings and cry a bit), read a while and then maybe fall asleep. I just hope I'll dream something nice the few hours I actually will be asleep.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6229746207566837420?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6229746207566837420/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6229746207566837420&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6229746207566837420'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6229746207566837420'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/and-voices-of-madness-from-my.html' title='...and the voices of madness, from my subconscious, singing songs of sadness...'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5378272315805204495</id><published>2007-09-26T22:41:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T23:13:57.576+02:00</updated><title type='text'>saeglopur</title><content type='html'>And I try so hard to be happy but I really can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to go home and take care of the cats and the best and worst thing to do when you're on the edge is to drive alone when it's almost dark outside. I had this amazing moon on one side and the descending sunset on the other and a light mist and I drove by the airport and saw all those planes depart to places I want to go. And already in the car, miles from Uppsala, I started to cry and when I came home I pushed it away as long as I could by doing everyday stuff but it always comes back to you. It always does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wonder if the thing I miss the most is someone to give all my love and feelings to. I haven't been in a situation like this for a long time. It's so strange to have all this love and things to tell inside of me that noone really wants or cares about. The problem is that it leaves me anyway and just vanish into nothing. I feels like my heart gets thinner and thinner untile there's nothing left of me and I don't know how to stop it. I don't know how to make it come back to me or to replace with something that will help me survive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm afraid I will perish and become totally empty and lost because even if I hate all those feelings I have now it's still better to have them than nothing. I won't let that happen, I won't let anyone take away such a big thing of me but I really don't know how to stop it and that really scares me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5378272315805204495?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5378272315805204495/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5378272315805204495&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5378272315805204495'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5378272315805204495'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/saeglo-pur.html' title='saeglopur'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2529637851197976447</id><published>2007-09-26T11:43:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T13:12:54.740+02:00</updated><title type='text'>happyhappy please</title><content type='html'>It's the first time since I started working today when noone calls and still, I don't start to study for the exam - I write a post here instead.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mood is kind of frail right now, I feel ok or sometimes good but it can change in seconds. I feel free and happy and then suddenly I get caught by something and my mood dips. I don't know why and I don't want it like this but at least I have an meeting with my therapist soon and I really need it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I really should stop whining. I realise that nothing I write here is nice to read right now and I really must find and highlight the good things in life. If I don't I'm gonna be one of those bitter cunts that call to my work and whine over nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So from now on - only happyhappy thoughts please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2529637851197976447?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2529637851197976447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2529637851197976447&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2529637851197976447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2529637851197976447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/happyhappy-please.html' title='happyhappy please'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4184303097481876554</id><published>2007-09-25T23:30:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T00:37:25.929+02:00</updated><title type='text'>dreams and memories</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a dream or in a place of memories. I have big troubles coping with now or today and I spend hours thinking about the past or planning the future. And it's even harder right now when I have a lot of good (and bad) memories and a lot of nice (and evil) things to look forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really need to live a little bit more for the moments right her and right now. I need to appreciate my life and myself just in this second. I'll try to practise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4184303097481876554?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4184303097481876554/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4184303097481876554&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4184303097481876554'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4184303097481876554'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/dreams-and-memories.html' title='dreams and memories'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-7467294807625237714</id><published>2007-09-25T19:15:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-26T00:30:12.136+02:00</updated><title type='text'>no batteries left</title><content type='html'>And just when I had decided to really look for things to take pictures of everyday and found some really good things to shoot, my camera ran out of batteries. It's so me right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But if it had worked I would now have put out a pic of a little boy on the underground carrying a bouquet of red flowers half his own size and a really nice sun over the roofridges at Söder. I sat there in the evening sun having coffe and blueberrypie with Snöret and my lovely brother who just came home. It was wonderful to see him again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I feel ok now, sat on the underground with Lily Allen in my ears and watched out the window and felt calm and not too bad inside. A big improvement from the last days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-7467294807625237714?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/7467294807625237714/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=7467294807625237714&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7467294807625237714'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/7467294807625237714'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/no-batteries-left.html' title='no batteries left'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3845356350354097137</id><published>2007-09-24T23:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T00:26:49.184+02:00</updated><title type='text'>home sweet home</title><content type='html'>I'm at the place were I feel most comfortable right now. The apart- ment I shared with H in Stockholm is still my home inside and I love to be here. And of course, I also have our two lovely cats here which is really cosy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I actually have some moments when I feel really good. I had a moment just an hour ago when I was going from the underground to the apartment listening to music and I felt so happy and cool and life suddenly felt worth something.&lt;br /&gt;But then after a while it's like I wake up and face reality and re- member the things that are fucked and then I just dip down again. I don't know how to cope with that but I really want to be able to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And of course, I talked again with my sister and she's a really sweet cupcake and I love her. And watch this - I can come up with more - tonight is my lovely brother coming back from Berlin and that's gonna be sweet as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are a few lights in my dark alley of pathetic western-world- problems.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3845356350354097137?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3845356350354097137/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3845356350354097137&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3845356350354097137'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3845356350354097137'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/home-sweet-home_25.html' title='home sweet home'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-811376953103257257</id><published>2007-09-24T16:44:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T00:07:51.410+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I need more cheerios</title><content type='html'>I passed the exam, feeling slightly better. One done, one to go.&lt;br /&gt;Home in Uppsala now, waiting for Cissi to come home and pack her things so we can leave (she's off to Italy and I'm going to my beloved Stockholm).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kind of emotional exhausted and tired of myself. And I feel things have to be more cheerios in my life or else my few readers will kill themselves because everything here is so depressing. I'll try to make things better (if I only knew how).&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-811376953103257257?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/811376953103257257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=811376953103257257&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/811376953103257257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/811376953103257257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-need-more-cheerios.html' title='I need more cheerios'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-6815745930236696858</id><published>2007-09-24T13:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T19:27:28.074+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I don't look on the bright side of life</title><content type='html'>My life is not that much better, had some awful nightmares and woke up feeling like it was the end of the world. Tried to comfort myself with coffe, cigarettes and a call to my sister but even though it helped a bit it's still a fucked up day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Luckily my studying yesterday was successful, now I understand a whole lot more about embryology and I think I can do ok on my practical exam that I'm gonna do in 45 minutes. The problem is that when life feels like shit and I have days like this one I couldn't care less about anatomy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But tonight, off to Stockholm and hopefully that will get me in a better mood.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-6815745930236696858?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/6815745930236696858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=6815745930236696858&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6815745930236696858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/6815745930236696858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-dont-look-on-bright-side-of-life.html' title='I don&apos;t look on the bright side of life'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5961074125345386941</id><published>2007-09-22T23:48:00.001+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-22T23:49:05.241+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I wish I wasn't mad anymore</title><content type='html'>I really don't know what to do with myself. I'm having one of those horrible days when J is inside me all the time and just fucksfucksfucks me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's ok and sometimes I really don't care but I still have times like this. Some people tell me that it was just a fling and that we never really knew each other and I guess that's a way you can look at it but why is it so hard then? Why can't I just forget about everything and go on with my life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And at the same time I'm so pissed off with myself that I just couldn't be happy with H. He is the fucking best and I just wished that I loved him madly but I don't and we can't be together until death do us apart because it's not perfect and then it's not fair.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just sit outside my parents house on the Island, smoking and maybe crying a bit, watching the bright stars in the sky and think about the same thing I've been thinking about a long time now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I hate it because noone can tell me why life's like shit a lot nowadays.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5961074125345386941?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5961074125345386941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5961074125345386941&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5961074125345386941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5961074125345386941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/i-wish-i-wasnt-mad-anymore.html' title='I wish I wasn&apos;t mad anymore'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1482620597687120395</id><published>2007-09-21T15:34:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-21T15:51:15.663+02:00</updated><title type='text'>all work and no play etc</title><content type='html'>It's just school, school, school right now so Amanda took me and Emma to the opening of a new restaurant in Söder (Stockholm). It was a free bar so today I feel a little bit tired even though my massive headache from this morning luckily have left me alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was wicked and we got really drunk and had a lot of fun and met some strange people at the first place but then we went to Pet Sounds and met some really rude people who thought that we disturbed them at their table.&lt;br /&gt;It was fucking bullshit because even though we were drunk we still had manners but they didn't and after a while Amanda got so pissed off so she called one of the guys cunt and he fucking deserved it. The funny thing was that the waitress talked to us and everything was ok (no hard feelings etc.) but when we were going she came to us and said we had to leave because her boyfriend said that we had called him a cunt. Nice timing of her since we were leaving anyway hahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm working today (or actually I'm finished, I just sit here to **** on my work computer) and maybe I'm gonna meet Amanda for some studying after this and I really can't decide if I should go out to my parents place on the Island or just stay in Stockholm and study, study, study.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To be honest I'm now happy over my trashed arm because otherwise I should have worked this weekend and I really have to study for the practical exam on monday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, off we go with Dyce and some bones.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1482620597687120395?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1482620597687120395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1482620597687120395&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1482620597687120395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1482620597687120395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/all-work-and-no-play-etc.html' title='all work and no play etc'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2000679693449747898</id><published>2007-09-18T23:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T21:31:42.005+02:00</updated><title type='text'>goodnight</title><content type='html'>Went to school 7:30 and came home 23:30. I'm so tired I almost can't sleep. But now I know everything about the anatomy of the urogenital organs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yey.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2000679693449747898?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2000679693449747898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2000679693449747898&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2000679693449747898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2000679693449747898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/goodnight.html' title='goodnight'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-5256993844041866651</id><published>2007-09-17T23:08:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T23:38:51.163+02:00</updated><title type='text'>vet-school fucks me everyday</title><content type='html'>Slightly better than yesterday even though school was exhausting. Had a nice talk with Ulf and Karin in my class after the dissection and it was so nice to sit in the sun, smoking and having some coffe and a good talk about things in school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Karin figured out that we want almost the same things, like study abroad and when we've graduated do the North American Veterinary Licensing Examination (NAVLE®) that gives you permission to work in USA. I'd really want to be able to work all over the world since I definitely won't stay in Uppsala or maybe not even in Sweden.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm done here I'm gonna move to England, live by the sea in a lovely cottage with an amazing person that will love me and make me happy. And I'm gonna sail and do a lot of vet-stuff. I can't wait (but don't tell anyone because they all want me to take care of their animal here in Sweden).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't study tonight but at least I went for a walk, washed my clothes and unpacked my bag. And of course I'll put myself to bed too late (as always). Fuck facebook etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thanks for yesterday H. You are the sweetest and best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-5256993844041866651?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/5256993844041866651/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=5256993844041866651&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5256993844041866651'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/5256993844041866651'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/navle-and-escaping-from-sweden.html' title='vet-school fucks me everyday'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-8061731795697993304</id><published>2007-09-16T23:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-17T00:05:18.697+02:00</updated><title type='text'>I just wish things were different</title><content type='html'>I really do.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-8061731795697993304?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/8061731795697993304/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=8061731795697993304&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8061731795697993304'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/8061731795697993304'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/blog-post.html' title='I just wish things were different'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-3710255056907532368</id><published>2007-09-16T01:52:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-16T01:59:04.853+02:00</updated><title type='text'>morvern callar</title><content type='html'>I take an emotional break, cry a bit and have a cigarette. And then I move on to the next one and afterwards I feel free again. I feel like it's ok and that I'm gonna be fine eventually.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's still surreal and I wonder if I ever will figure out how to mix the two parts of me but at least I sometimes have the energy to try to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's why I love movies so much. They put me in different moods and they can really help me get going. Or falling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it's one of my choices of drugs. A quite healthy one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by the way - the book by Alan Warner is even better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-3710255056907532368?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/3710255056907532368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=3710255056907532368&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3710255056907532368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/3710255056907532368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/morvern-callar.html' title='morvern callar'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2570494068250885604</id><published>2007-09-15T22:53:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T23:19:03.725+02:00</updated><title type='text'>requiem for a dream</title><content type='html'>I went back home to the apartment and everything was fine and then I watched this movie and now I can't stand anything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes (or most of the time) I feel like I have this dark hole inside of me that noone can see or know about. Maybe it's my destructive youth or my former depressions that created it, who knows, but it feels like I have this split personality. One part of me is so strong and have this bright future and will do just fine but the other part just feels so fucked up that I really don't see any point in trying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the thing is that not many people know about this and not many people care. And I know I'll manage just fine by myself but I don't want to be alone. I want someone who want to share all the things in life with me and I want someone perfect. I still have to stop myself when I think that I should call him and tell him about the amazing things that happened. I think sharing is the thing I miss most about not being in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if I know I can't be with H anymore it's still a huge hole in my heart were we used to be together and that hurts so much and I feel so lonely (in some ways I still love him so much). I just want things to be good and wonderful like they were back then. I just wanna be happy and satisfied with the times that were but I'm not and I'm so sad for that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I still miss J in so many ways that it tears me apart and even if I know I won't give him more energy he's still in my head and heart and drains me. I hate that and I hate everything about it and sometimes I really wish I had never met him.&lt;br /&gt;And sometimes I just want it back, I just want to be in the sun in Brighton, looking out over the sea and share it with someone that loves it as much as I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I feel like I will never be happily in love again and that scares me more than anything.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2570494068250885604?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2570494068250885604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2570494068250885604&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2570494068250885604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2570494068250885604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/requiem-for-dream.html' title='requiem for a dream'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1136540736210349617</id><published>2007-09-15T13:27:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-15T13:40:34.209+02:00</updated><title type='text'>home sweet home</title><content type='html'>Kom hem igår och var helt slut överallt och det var så skönt att vara hemmehemmahemma i sin egen underbara lägenhet med de sötaste pälsbollarna och den skönaste sängen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Behövde inte vara moraliskt stöd på Shirleys äventyr och vara bara hemma och gjorde inget alls. Var rätt låg men sedan kom Cissi och Caroline förbi en sväng och muntrade upp mig. Inte så mycket att de lyckades få med mig ut men tillräckligt för att jag skulle kunna gå och lägga mig och känna mig rätt ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jag och Cissi pratade om ångest-saker som framtida boende, hennes hästkurs och J. Kanske fortsätter vi att bo ihop i Uppsala om hon blir kvar i närheten och i så fall kan vi få en soft lägenhet mitt i stan med hjälp av hennes tusen års kötid hos Uppsalahem. Det skulle kunna vara ett alternativ till Stockholm men då ska det vara en gorgeous lägenhet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angående J har jag inte hört något från honom sedan London och jag har definitivt tröttnat. Jag var ganska tydlig med vad jag vill ha om vi skulle vara vänner och eftersom han uppenbarligen inte vill/kan/har tid att ge mig det så wtf. Jag mailade min nya adress till honom så om han hör av sig så fine men jag tänker inte längre lägga någon energi på att vi ska hålla kontakten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And regarding London I have wonderful Jessica there anyway so I can go there whenever I want too. And we're talking asap.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1136540736210349617?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1136540736210349617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1136540736210349617&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1136540736210349617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1136540736210349617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/home-sweet-home.html' title='home sweet home'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-2873509450176926669</id><published>2007-09-14T18:57:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T18:57:15.802+02:00</updated><title type='text'>ontogenes, my ass</title><content type='html'>Tillbaka på SL, glad i hågen med en helg i Stockholm framför mig. H är på kryssning med sina ryska hoes så jag har lägenheten för mig själv och vaktar katterna (får väl dra hem några lettiska hoes för att toppa honom haha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bestämde mig för att jobba två dagar den här helgen eftersom allt med skolan kändes så bra och under kontroll förra veckan. Det var innan vi fick 300 nya benknölar att lära oss samt ett stycke härlig embryologi fylld med tusen celldelningar, lager och utvecklingsfaser som kommer att vara en stor del av tentan om två veckor. Vi hade fyra timmars attackföreläsning nu på förmiddagen och typ alla satt som fågelholkar. Jag kommer inte att satsa på detaljkunskap i alla fall, det är ett som är säkert.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Känns rätt bra att vara tillbaka och jobba (förutom att jag antagligen borde plugga istället men om jag har tur är det ingen som ringer ikväll och jag kan lära mig 300 benknölar). Jag behövde verkligen en månad ledigt, nu är jag jättetrevlig mot alla i telefon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Och ikväll tvingar Shirley ut mig på nå jävla date-äventyr i vanlig ordning och jag var svag och sa ja fast jag börjar jobba nio imorgon bitti men wtf, det kan nog bli trevligt ändå och det är väl lika bra att försöka roa sig när jag är i Stockholm, jag lär ju ändå inte plugga när jag kommer hem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-2873509450176926669?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/2873509450176926669/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=2873509450176926669&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2873509450176926669'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/2873509450176926669'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/ontogenes-my-ass_6288.html' title='ontogenes, my ass'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-1419927470333491121</id><published>2007-09-13T23:50:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T19:03:24.995+02:00</updated><title type='text'>teleporting</title><content type='html'>Jag kommer på mig själv med att gå runt i en dvala när jag rör mig i Uppsala. Jag försöker på något sätt att inte känna efter hur det känns eller är. Allt är ju rätt bra hemma för där finns Cissi, katterna och så pluggar jag en massa eller läser. Det känns inte som om jag är i en ond stad då.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Likadant på skolan. När jag väl är där är det väldigt trevligt och jag trivs bra och mina klasskompisar är bra och det känns inte heller särskilt dåligt. Ofta har jag till och med sjukt roligt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Men så fort jag börjar tänka på vart jag är eller måste ta mig mellan de två ställena får jag ångest. Jag antar att det är något jag kan öva bort om jag vill och att jag kan vänja mig. Men jag vet inte om jag vill.&lt;br /&gt;Jag vet inte alls vad jag vill och jag funderar sjukt mycket på om jag ska förlika mig med Uppsala och försöka hitta ett schysst boende och bara flytta hit och bita i det sura mongostads-äpplet eller om jag ska flytta tillbaka till Stockholm och ta att det kommer att kosta mer och äta upp mer tid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ahh, jag vet inte. Det jag helst vill ha är ju ett billigt boende i centrala Stockholm och en liten teleportör som släpper av och hämtar mig vid skolan varje dag.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-1419927470333491121?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/1419927470333491121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=1419927470333491121&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1419927470333491121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/1419927470333491121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/ontogenes-my-ass.html' title='teleporting'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2578249561928269351.post-4606840502118153029</id><published>2007-09-12T20:33:00.000+02:00</published><updated>2007-09-14T16:01:32.762+02:00</updated><title type='text'>water sniper</title><content type='html'>Jag borde plugga men istället sitter jag och läser alla länk-******* som jag inte hunnit läsa förut. Jävla Schulman-familjen tar ju typ timmar att läsa om man inte kollar dem så ofta. Men nu är jag nästan klar. Jag hinner inte med flera, det tar för lång tid och jag prioriterar som en sjuåring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hannes försöker ligga på datorn och ska ha sin äckliga lilla nos med rutten andedräkt i mitt ansikte hela tiden. Och så fort man inte ger honom uppmärksamhet 24-7 så blir han som en ADHD-unge - förvisso sjukt söt och man tycker ju om honom värsta mycket men ändå... Ibland vill man bara döda honom. Häromnatten jamade han varenda gång jag somnat så att jag vaknade igen, vi ska köpa en vattenpistol som jag kan skjuta honom med uppifrån min säng (mohahaha).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ibland önskar jag att jag kunde göra likadant med alla jävla studenter och cyklister i den här staden. Och vår basgrupps- handledare.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2578249561928269351-4606840502118153029?l=perfectfuckup.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/feeds/4606840502118153029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2578249561928269351&amp;postID=4606840502118153029&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4606840502118153029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2578249561928269351/posts/default/4606840502118153029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectfuckup.blogspot.com/2007/09/water-sniper.html' title='water sniper'/><author><name>Liza</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_UTFGUjgZwOg/SrHlZe3rTsI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/4p3qDihS-FY/S220/DSC03826.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
