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They say you were something in those formative years

We all know there’s a very big tendency to post a lot of quotes in social media. Some good, some bad, me, I tend to skim through them and maybe keep some from some really awesome people, you know, like Mother Theresa, Gandhi, NOT Voltaire :P, the occasional John Lennon, Freddie Mercury and Beyoncé (sue me…). But most of the time I’m not the quote girl. I did do a dissertation paper which got some excellent grades in The Study of Religous Sciences, where I quoted Master Oogway from Kung Fu Panda, there’s your take on how deep my quote tendencies go. My special aversion goes to the “Ignore your past” quotes.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, living with complete nostalgia is bad. “Oh, my golden days”… I mean… COME ON, you don’t get to say that under the tender age of 80 if you don’t enjoy not living. And holding on to your beefs and obsessing five plus years later does you more harm than good. Gonna give you a quote here, sorry, but it’s true: “Holding on to grudges/anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die”// Buddha. Seems ok for me though, I like Buddha, decent chap. And obsessing about a lost love some three plus years later “We’re meant to be, I don’t care that she/he has a steady family life with another person now”, well, I think it might just be stifling you and preventing you from finding another love or lovely thing, like music, to focus on (I’m not gonna say everyone needs the standard love relationship, it’s archaeic).

But the occasional dig through your past can be fun, thoughtworthy. You can compare your present day to your past and see how far along you’ve come, be reminded of awesome things you’ve forgotten and maybe even realize you’ve always had a strong identity, something we all need to be reminded of at times.

Midsummer weekend was family weekend, and let me tell you, my family has done a number on my old childhood room. Granted, it hasn’t been mine for twelve plus years, but it used to be a decent guest room for me to come and sleep in during my visits. Then, somewhere along the way, it became the dumpster for “things we don’t need but can’t get rid of”. I haven’t said much, as I said, haven’t felt like my room for a long time, but this particular weekend I stumbled, I stepped in dirt, I awoke weird insects and I woke up with an oily layer on my skin, in spite of sleeping with the window open. Yuck! “Enough is enough! I’m gonna frickin’ clean!”

Now, don’t judge the group too hard, recycling centrals aren’t easy to get to and they have no car living in the Gothenburg area (you don’t need one in tha biggy city, folks). So I have a upper hand in cleaning it out and being able to get rid of the junk with a decently big car (being one of them country folks). So I just started rummaging. And the things I found… oh…

My old CD:s. The old chair I used to sit in, next to my record player, writing my songs at the tender age of 14. The occasional cool records that just slipped in there, even as a teen, the Beatles, the McCartney solo records, the ABBA, The Tori Amos, The Simon and Garfunkle, Hole’s celebrity skin. The charity albums (always wanted to help I think) Remembering TLC:s old awesomeness, still applicable. The godawful metal albums I’d listen to dying my hair black and the black black and more black clothes and posters. The wall I used to put my keyboard against and just compose, compose, compose. An old Madonna poster, all greasy and old from the adhesive, with hair styling tips. Yes. Even the Backstreet Boys, Cleopatra, Spice Girls, B*witched (that’s how they’d spell it). My goodness. My fist crystal ball (yep, I used to do some fortune telling). The levi jeans shorts so tiny in the waist I’d use them as beer can coolers today.

And the crop tops. Dear lawd, the crop tops! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not ashamed of my tummy. It’s in better shape now than some of my teenage years, and worse than some of the others, obviously, but it’s so not my style anymore. Least of all because they tend to not cover my boobs if I so much as lift my arms at present day. I know “from-below” cleavage was trendy for a while, but I’ve never been a fan 😉

And the 10-öre (currency) long gone. My hands were so tiny last time I used it that I remember it as much bigger.

It all just makes me go “wow” and remember I have some history, some things to remember that I’ve forgotten. Some things to forget that I shouldn’t remember. It’s an inspiring journey for sure, I’m sure a song or two will come out of it.

What I mean is, say you’d play some old Tori Amos today. “In my platforms I hit the floor”. So 98, I think she’d written “High heels” instead of platforms today, but that’s the exciting bit. Or the fact that old fashioned Greg “burns his CD:s” means something totally different than throwing them on a bonfire today. With technology striding forward so swiftly,  I think there is some value in studying what we used to do, it’s pretty incredible. How annoying of an intro to a song would the old “connecting to the internet and shutting off your phones” signal be? 😉

As a good contrast, I watched the first hour of “The zero theorem” with wifey yesterday, and I was like “Is it just me, or are they all partying with their I-pads instead of eachother?” On another note; I’ve noticed Terry Gilliam almost always puts little people/people with dwarfism in his films, cudos for representing!

Anyway, the room looks better, I’ve convinced the family to put their junk in a pile for me to pick up instead, and I won’t be oily next time I have a sleep-over. At least ONE reward for digging into my past, for sure! 😉
  I love my crop top. I really do.
The old 10-öring 🙂


About lillabohmen

Swedish lovechild of Kate Bush, Tori Amos and PJ Harvey. 2 albums and 2 EP:s, all available at Spotify, Itunes, and physically. A blog about music, being a female musician in a male dominated business and the occasional feminist/veggie rant. Check out my homepage: for news, bits and bobs and bio, and buy-o of my music. Never lose that creative spark!

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