The Pulse

Once, someone I would come to care a great deal about asked me if I understood Japanese music. I don't remember what I replied. Maybe it's not all that important.

I just spent a significant amount of time cleaning out my closet. This is one of the most exciting things to happen to me recently. Never mind the returning to Sweden, the thesis-writing, and the at times quite disgusting kitchen in the dorm I shall inhabit for another month or so, before I finally (or should that be hopefully?) graduate university. No, it's the closet, it's definitely the closet.

See, it was kinda full. So going through it in all its massiveness, I realised something. Being a self-proclaimed "Jeans-kille" (feel free to make up a meaning if you don't understand the Swedish bit), you can probably tell a lot about me over the past four years or so by the jeans lying in at the very bottom of the pile. Feelings of "wow, I can still get them on!" soon morphed into "wow, I actually wore those!? Regularly? Not to mention willingly?" But yeah, it was a fun five minutes.

Other things that have happened since coming back here include seing a shopping cart turned upside down, and put on the green, uhm garbage-disposal-pipe-thing outside my current domicile. Felt very artisitc.


Also, I was asked to take my clothes off. By a doctor, quite obviously. You see, and this is where the real point of this entry starts to become clear, I got a job. At IKEA. In Japan. Five years, starting in February next year. It's a pretty long time for someone who gets bored if there's 30 seconds of commercials on TV, but there you have it. I shall live there, I shall work there. I shall hopefully even enjoy it there, if I'm lucky. According to the old Swedish saying, "He who lives, shall see".

Anyway, that doctor. He was a pretty funny guy. In order to get the contract sent to me, the last stage is a medical examination. And a dental one, don't get me started. I'm working for a company selling furniture, not going to space here, people. But yeah. So I went and had all types of examinations known to man. I not only found out that I'd grown some .5cm at the tender age of 25, making me a hair over 6'3" (See what I did there, mixing the metric with the not-so-metric? Sit back and watch the universe explode, that's all I have to say), I also had my heart-rate checked. In various places. Such as the tops of both my feet. That was the first time that pretty experienced doctor had been asked to do that, and he did it laughing all the way at the anality (yup, that too is a word) of the form I'd been asked to get filled in.

...

I should really be doing something furthering my goals of graduating and job-starting instead of writing more stuff here right now. So yeah, I'll go and have a shower.