So, I decided to go out tonight. Oh, how wonderful, me and a few friends hanging out at the bar, yay! Wrong. Nobody cares about me hardly as much as I care about them and/or the rest of society.  I don’t mind this whole ad populem act as much as I mind te awful practice of excluding the individual.

I myself, not being a fascist, like to take care of myself as well as my surroundings, and when I’m not happy, I start a vicious cycle.

Problem number one. I quite honestly have no friends. I have acquaintances. It’s the most awful way anyone could ever end up. It’s as if I’m completely detached. Is there any point in even trying to be a part of it all? I never was, not for one second, I don’t recall.

Example. A certain person, whom  I shall call Andrew had his birthday. Great. All sorts of people invited, who isn’t? Me. You know what, I did half your fucking biology experiment, I ran straight to your help when your precious PowerBook had a hardware problem I did everything I knew to get it back. And I get what? You know what, go home and concentrate on something. Oh, sorry, you also have ADD. Go take some meds like the rest of us, those who are actually trying to do something about it. Go formulate opinions, so that you don’t have to reverse them every so often like you quite often do in conversations – you know what – you deserve me not coming.

It just came to a point where my current lack of actual friends will lead to a future deficit of such, which will in turn decline into the depths of desperation and kill me one of these days. Don’t tell me I’m not adjusted to the Danish schedule will you? You’re not making it any better – I know I’ll never fit in anywwhere, you don’t have to remind me. I’m having a hard time as it is. It’s hard, it is.

The only person who did sem to want my company was a friendly hobo, trying to flirt with me, having mistaken me (understandably enough) for a woman.

It starts to rain, I head back home, hoping that maybe the rain at least won’t smear my carefully applied eyeliner – my new fear. In my mom’s stolen jacket, heading to bed after yet another night which I should have spent doing anything but going out. You know what mom, if you ever wonder why I don’t call you after leaving home – just think – remember that time you called me a tranny? YES, THAT’S WHY. How about you try “fag” next time, that might work as well. I should have never come out to you, I should have taken the first man I see, bring him home and have loud sex in my bedroom, yes, shove it in front of you. I should put my eyeliner pencil right in front of your nose. Checked the bottom-left compartment of my closet? Do you think that patterned cloth is just a rag? Why does is reassemble a skirt so much I wonder! Don’t you just love your little illusions, mother!

I quite honestly often wonder what I’ll do without a certain friend, whom I’m hoping will visit me, if he can keep control over his wallet. He’d rather go see that Finn I can imagine, but what he doesn’t know is how I need just what he can offer right now. Please come, I beg you.

I’m very sorry if this is a little too much, but I really want to get it out there. Don’t worry, I’m fine for the most part.

It’s also to do with not being able to sit down still. I should probably be taking ritalin, but apparently it was never prescribed to me for other reasons. Maybe to do with my Tourettes Syndrome, as my mom once said or otherwise. I do certainly believe that it should have been.

My attention span is very short even when it comes tasks I otherwise enjoy doing. Getting myself away from stimulants doesn’t seem to help much as I just get bored and start thinking all sorts of stuff.

It’s horrible. I come up with amazing hypotheses about human nature, the universe, etc. and yet they all boil down to just being plain dangerous. Dangerous thoughts.

When I sit down to write about those things however, I end up, again, losing concentration, disinterested, unmotivated or otherwise just at a general lack of things to say after some point.

Trying to sit down and force myself to write this post is in itself a challenge.

Last night I found myself wandering around town for about two hours. I was trying to make myself walking into gay bars, to no avail. If there’s nobody pushing me, it’s not going to be done, period. Even if I want it, need it, or otherwise – if there’s no person to directly tell me what to do – I just won’t be able to make myself do it.

I guess to some extent it was also for my own sake, going to gay bars (or trying for that matter) but the main idea was to try to complete my social anthropology paper, which requires me to do fieldwork.

Maybe it was a poor choice of subject, but I couldn’t think of anything else. I ended up choosing something which:

• I know I should have done
• Which I don’t do on a regular basis

or otherwise

• which I’ve never done
• and which I wish to do

The problem is, I walk up there, and the moment I see the door, I do a 180 and retrace my steps.

That’s when it occurred to me, that I really have a serious problem. An emotional block. A fear of crowded places. Something about them, and I wish I knew what it is, makes me feel subconsciously incompatible and neglected, and in turn I will resort to confining myself somewhere away from “real live people.”

I had a vague notion that I can’t walk into those places on my own and therefor tried to ask a friend for help. She accepted, and so we were supposed to meet with two others at Nørreport station, 20:00. Terribly early, even for me. But then again, they just wanted to check the place out. As long as I walk through the door, fine by me. I can make a few notes, write some paragraph and come up with something to fit the data like a good Pith-Helmet wearing anthropologist.

I practically ran to Nørreport, and surprisingly enough, arrived on time.

Funny thing is, the moment the little yellow LEDs around the door opening button, I received a message saying: “I’ll be late.”

Be late, I don’t mind.

Another person came at that point. He was actually on time. He told me, in these very words, “when [she] says she’ll be there at 8, she means she’ll be out of the house at 8.” And there’s your problem. While I’m rushing to get my things together, make sure I catch the bus on time and so on, she simply did not care.

That was not the time to get angry, not yet. The rest came, 20 minutes late, and we started walking towards “Dunkel.” On our way there, we saw Jailhouse and Masken. Unfortunately, Dunkel was closed.

Now, instead of being – excuse me for using this word in the same sentence with those irresponsible children – practical; they went back to Nørreport station to see “the others.” The others were of course more irresponsible teenagers with alcohol problems.

I couldn’t stand it any longer, and at Gammel Torv I simply made the decision to just go on my own and try to do some fieldwork somewhere.

And that’s how I ended up on the streets for two hours.

I eventually gave up and decided to just start walking aimlessly, ending up on Kultorvet, as that friend who originally wanted me to go out finally managed to get in contact with me. I took the plunge and laid the cards on the table – which I don’t do very often. I said that I have a problem, that if I don’t get pushed to do things I just won’t do them, and that I need help. Quite literally, I asked for help. To be perfectly honest, it doesn’t happen very often that I actually ask for help and not imply it or otherwise.

“Just come to the Austrian Bar.” She explained me how to get there, and I went.

Of course, they won’t let me get in, having only my diplomat ID and not much besides. Not much I was willing to show at any rate. I tried calling her, to no avail. 15 minutes later, she walks out voluntarily without me being reaching her phone (not because I wasn’t trying).

The next 30 minutes we spent switching between arbitrary modes, goals and targets:

• “Where’s Person X?”
• “Where should we go?” (my opinion was of course not taken into account)
• My pleas to have someone push me around
• Dealing with the bouncer over at Retro

The resolution about where to go after long sessions of argument was of course: No resolution.

This whole absolute failure in management, organization and fucking common sense made me think. I would have been doing just that had it not been for the fact that I now knew how to organize myself. I could no longer fit in the group because I simply could not stand the lack of authority and structure as well as the general mood of indecision.

I don’t actually belong with them, I figured. Will I ever go out again? I might as well, but probably not with these guys, and most certainly not with a group of more than 3 people including myself.

It’s not that much fun unless you drink. Problem is, I can drink at home and get 3 times more work done than by hanging out with these guys. I genuinely hate society.

Ridiculous how I managed to write this thing. Problem is I’m supposed to do about five other things at the moment.

I really like to have control over who I’m actually around. There are certain people I dislike, and simply don’t want around me. This definition somehow comes to include pretty much all of the people I know with the exception of suppose 3-5 people.

I need a holiday, I need the company of certain people (one in particular), I need to get away from those I don’t like.

I know I can’t lock myself up in some wrench down in Jylland with all the people I want to be around, and that’s exactly what bothers me. When it so happens that I ask for help, nothing happens. It’s all the same whether or not I take part in it. I’m not committing suicide just yet, I still have a book to write, whenever I get down to doing it, and there’s maybe one person out there whom I promised I won’t do just that, and I, unlike some people, do keep promises.

Sure, my phone doesn’t get that many incoming calls. My parents every now and then, and my brother called me once last week. Besides that it only receives the occasional drunk call from some person or another.

This time I got a call from one of those people with more luck than brains asking me wether I could afford to give her 200 Kroner (~ US$36). I didn’t exactly refuse, but just told her I don’t think I have that amount in cash, and therefor I can’t give her that much.

A few minutes after hanging up I began to get increasingly worried. Maybe she wasn’t just drunk out of her mind (she sure didn’t sound sober). I decided to call back and see what’s it all about. It was about pills, “morning after pills.” I decided to offer to pay for the pills, but by that time she’d already decided to go visit one of her friends.

Reportedly, he was absolutely terrible.

Next August I’ll remind her to go get tested for AIDS, as it takes about 3 months for it to become detectable. It’s a shame, if she does get it, I won’t even be able to attend her funeral, as I’m leaving in just a little more than a year, and if she doesn’t get it – well, no lesson learned, right?

Actually, would be much better if she has to go through an abortion, and as both her parents are religious, I’d absolutely love to see that. It might sound a little crude, but to be honest, it’s probably best for her.

Moral: If you do choose to be a slut, don’t be a retard. (And if possible, do it in style.)

Organization is not a learned “skill.” It’s not a “skill” to begin with. It’s about spending time dealing with bureaucracy and the paper-hell in advance. In my experience, it saves practically no time whatsoever.

Unfortunately, I seem to have this self destructive tendency to work great under pressure. If Dushkin works great under pressure, Dushkin will try to push self to edge, Dushkin will create stress for Dushkin to finish work. In other words, I procrastinate on purpose.

“Know thyself” my ass. It’s obviously self-destructive, and mazochistic. One of my incompatible wishes somewhere down in my id, to only work under pressure.

Organization detached me from the rest of the world. You start reading self improvement books, working on things in pieces, and the next thing you know, there’s a distance between you and the rest of the world and you just can’t do anything about it. A thin membrane will seperate you from your peers, parents, “community” and friends. “Sorry, can’t talk now, I’m busy.”

By decompressing your work, you leave yourself practically no time to do other things which are, probably, more important. When you do have the time, you will realize that your “friends” have already gotten into the habbit of not inviting you to social gatherings (of whatever nature.)

Reversing the situation is theoretically impossible. For instance, my birthday “party.” I invited various people, out of which two people came, and one uninvited guest, another one arrived an hour and a half late and insisted on leavingbecome midnight for a total of about 1 hour of actually doing anything. The other three decided it’ll be a great idea to go smoke pot, although I made it very clear that I have no interest in it. The whole thing ended at around 11:40 pm.

I timed it, phoned all the parties that needed to be phoned, passed emails around, begged, and wrote everything down. When it came to the practical stage, nothing went as planned.

It crossed a certain line when I began planning social interaction and trying to make sense of my world using the calendar. After two very long phone calls with BlueCoffee, I finally began to snap out of this organization-overdrive.

There is, I would say, no correlation between organization and saving time. Some of us just work slower, some are less able to isolate themselves from their environment.

It basically became very clear to me what I really wanted to do with myself and how to stop this organization madness. Unfortunately, without it, my grades are starting to slip. I might be a “better person”. I do find myself facing my incompatible wishes and slowly my super-ego dissolving and making less descisions. The former view, which accepted self-help books, now rejects standards, ideas, laws and roles and substitutes it with something else.

At the same time, I can’t convince myself of all sorts of things. The result of less self discipline. I also find it much harder to read, listen to records all the way through and stick to a single task.

My advice, don’t “get organized”! Your superiors are going to go nuts, but at least you don’t sell yourself to the whole bureaucracy.

Actually, I’m quite sick of organization. All I really want is just to run around aimlessly in grassy meadows and not think about anything. Society is all about normalization. Not very pleasant.

Early in the morning, during a class with marginal importance, my phone rings. Or actually, vibrates. Message. “The police is taking over the house.” – “Your house?” – “No. Ungdomshuset.”

Didn’t sound like much, obviously. I’m used to that person, whom I shall refer to as Violet. I’m used to Violet doing weird things, potentially risking her life, and yet cringe to the sight of gore in action movies. She’s quite a feminist though, and as a matter of principle likes to cross the line of gender differentiation on a regular basis, thus committing violent and potentially destructive acts could also stem from that; as well as genuine political interest.

At around 7 o’clock, I look at my phone. New mesage, “the police just threw tear gas.” If I wasn’t worried just yet, the time pretty much came at that point. I replied, and waited patiently.

In the meantime, I became restless and worried. At some point I considered paying a visit to Nørrebro, but quickly dropped the idea. It’s not a matter of life and death, my preserce wouldn’t change much, I don’t want to impose my own ideas on anyone – it’s better to stay at home.

The caffeine buzz sure didn’t help me calm down. I waited and waited. After sniffing around, I tried to calm myself down by trying to figure out whether there had been any casualties. So far so good, nothing. Though reportedly, people were injured – no good.

Eventually, I sent her a message, to which she replied within a few minutes. Everything was fine. Got chased around by the police, sprayed with tear gas, etc. Wouldn’t it be better to just quietly disperse? Maybe if things got that bad, perhaps violent conflict wasn’t the answer?

Violent conflict is rarely the answer. Which is what the layman simply does not understand, or does not internalize maybe.

I hope they’re all having fun down there at least, because otherwise it’s mostly futile.

I was however displeased with people wrongly labelling the riots as “anarchists.” Opposing the shut down of a community lot has got nothing to do with not wanting a governing force. If anything, it’s probably the other way aronud. It made no sense to shut the place down, especially with so much resistance. At the same time, I don’t believe violence is justified. Et cetera.

Well, I’ll get busy shooting random civilians and spraying them with tear gas, potentially arresting them.

The first time it happens with someone I give them a little tap on the shoulder. They might say hi and stop continue to ignore me. The second time I’ll try to make my presence known indirectly. Afterwards, I’m just going to ignore them until (and if?) they talk to me first.

So that’s what happened today, only that this time must have been the seventh time or so, which is very frustrating. Would it be anti-social to start ignoring people just because they like ignore me? On the contrary, it’s the right thing to do. Here’s why.

By ignoring me, and I think I’m pretty hard to miss, they’re just telling me, that I’m not worth the effort involved in saying “hi.” Do I get offended by it? Hell yes.

I think that just ruined the rest of my week. Fortunately it’s Thursday, so it’s not that much of a problem.

Hopefully that person, whose name I will not mention, will read this post and in the future at least try to say hi.