Cut in two.

When I walk in the biggest city I have ever lived in on a sunny day. On old streets with tiny shops selling odd and strange things. I walk past people sitting down laughing over a beer. The took their chair with them outside on the street drinking their coffee. I want to open a shop too, and sell my stuff. Live there and be a part of the old city, be a part of them and know them. Say hello, and know that whenever during the day or night, I will never be alone. Not really. Be a part of it.

When I sit in the house on the island. Where I can be a carpenter, staple wood against the wall. Make something if them. Plant my herbs till my fingernails hurt, and pick up the mail by the distant neighbor and say a quiet hello. Trek in the mountains and sail on the sea. Eat fish I my self cached.

In between these worlds is where I live.

They say choices is our worlds worst trouble. We should be happy, it could be so much worse of a trouble. But we can not handle it better just because it is nonessential problem. I believe them, it is our worst trouble. We are a generation very aware about what could be. And very aware that what could be, might be better.

It is hard to find rest.

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All these lovely photos!

 

I must admit, I have many very nice photos on my drive. Most of them from this winter. While it is a lot of fun, what to do with all these photos? No one but me will see them on my drive! Finally FINALLY I red about stock. Not like stock market, but stock photos. I know there is a lot of discussions about this phenomena, specially from professional photographers. But I figured, I am not professional (that would be an insult to the real professional), and now that I tried to have my photos up for sale on one of these sites, really. The photos there are not the greatest I have seen. They might be technically good, but they are not fantastic, perfect or art. THAT should be sold for the money they deserve. Most of the photos I see there are fine. Absolutely fine. Some of us might actually earn some money too. But most of us is just happy to share and have fun I think.

And it is all good! I have a lot of hobbies, this is one. I use photography and painting like therapy mostly, I do not need to be the best. And some of my photos have four likes already!

In the end, maybe I will sell a couple of them too!

Not being the best, and still be enough.

https://www.mostphotos.com/anneliandreart

8 mars: jobb.

Så. Jag skriver detta för att 8 mars. Låt oss prata om att söka jobb.

Min realitet är att jag har bott i ett år i en ny stad. Här har jag sökt jobb i städbranschen, kundtjänst och annan upprepande uppgift som brevbärare och industri.

Nu har jag sökt jobb i 14 månader, och är mer arbetslös än någon gång.

Det är lätt för mig med min bakgrund att tänka att det är mitt fel. Jag har inte ringt runt och tjatat. Jag har inte personligt gått fram och frågat om jobb. Jag har inte använt spetsiga armbågar, för jag äger inte sådana.

Men det är också lätt att tänka att det inte är mitt fel. Jag har inget kontaktnät här, eller släkt. Jag känner inte till stadens identitet. Göteborg har arbetaridentiteten. Här har jag ingen aning.

Jag har nu haft tre jobb i städbranschen. Ett 3 veckor långt vikariat. Det var helt okay, hade det inte varit för att av fem olika platser så klagade EN på mig. Eller jag fick ett papper där det med stora bokstäver stod hur jag borde städa. Utan underskrift. Utan att förklara precis VAD jag gjorde fel. Så vad ska jag ändra, och vem ska jag fråga? Vilket resulterade i ett nytt klagomål. Jag skulle kunna skriva långt och länge om dålig status, misstänksamhet och inget lunch- och omklädningsrum städare ofta har. Men jag ska göra det kort: kön.

Senare fick jag vikariat som städare i ett annat företag. Jag fick 50% jobb. Det vill säga 9500 kr i månads lön innan skatt. Jag skulle kunna skriva långt och länge om det också. Men kort: kön.

Under hela året har jag varit on and off extraanställd i åter ett företag som städar. Denna gången städade jag tåg. Lönen var betydligt bättre och arbetet lättare. Jag kan skriva lång och länge om det, men kort är tåg en traditionell manlig arbetsplats så: kön.

Jag har suttit nervös och spänd många gånger på intervjuer. Pratat med många intervjuare för många olika jobb. En genomgående tendens genom mina 14 månader att bli hårt dömd inför sketna extrajobb som inte kräver någon erfarenhet och utbildning. Feministteoretiker säger att kvinnor blir anställda på kompetens, medan män blir anställd på potential. Kvinnor måste redan kunna, medan män kan lära sig. Jag lyssnar på mina kompisar som är killar, hur de bara varit på ett intervju i hela sitt liv där de till hälften ljög på sig kunskap eller att arbetsförmedlingen ringde upp dem för att erbjuda jobb. Jag har inte mindre utbildning och erfarenhet än dem. Snarare tvärt om. Själv har jag börjat fundera på hur någon alls lyckas få jobb.

Jag har sökt 45 jobb på 14 månader.

En man hade inte behövt göra det.

Jag är arkeolog, sotare och smed. Så det är inte utbildning som är problemet. Det är vad som är mellan mina ben. Så nu ger jag upp. Fäller jag in alla mina vingar och slutar kämpa. Jag ändrar mig efter patriarkatet. Av ekonomiska skäl. Jag utbildar mig till ett mycket viktigt yrke som inte får statusen den förtjänar, som alla kvinnliga yrken; lärare. Sen får jag jobb. Kanske.

Out of work

There is a certain charm about all these students bicycling in the snow. Outside the library the bikes was parked in 1 meter of snow! And why do they bother? It is very much heavier than walking or the bus!

But then I  think of the obvious ‘fuck you world!!’ that comes with it. To just hop on your bike and leave for school, just because you can, or just because you always do. The snow be damned! Like every morning there is a little bit a struggle in a way that we can handle. Studying involves a lot of sitting on your arse anyway, so what’s a little bit of snow?

I have been out of work for a while. First I tried to sleep as much as possible, the days where so long. Then I started working out. In the end I got depressed and sad, and played silly games on my phone all the time. The feeling of being utterly alone and meaningless is crushing to me. Routines is very important in this situation. When you work, free time is relaxing and fun! If you have a job to go to later. You might think that you can just relax when you don’t have a job too, but it’s really the other way around. Your head is constantly fighting heavy emotions, and on top of it you do not have any money. At all. Not even for food. This life is a real pain. Nothing in our world full of safety and luxury comes up to it. I am lucky. I do not starve. I have people that loves me and helps me. And I have a job now. I am lucky. Very lucky. I got help with the money. I learned how to deal with the emotions.

It’s human to always try to find ways not have a hard time, not to struggle. Watch good movies instead of bad. Eat good food instead of bad. Take a hot shower instead of cold. That’s because life is full of shit anyways. Until the day comes when nothing happens. Workless, meaningless, worthless. Lonely. Being out of a job means a lot of time to do what you want! But what you wanted stops shining, even the bad things stops. Life is flat. So I had to find ways to make bumps. Like biking in the deep snow. That’s hard. That’s tiresome. That kind of shit makes you angry! But it’s nice when it’s over. Then I could be happy. If only just for a while.

 

The naked man in the picture

It wasn’t anything criminal, don’t worry. It was a picture a friend of mine showed me from his youth. The picture was taken just after he and a friend had been running in the snow naked. They where very happy smiling and covering their most intimate parts with their hands. It looked very cold.

My friend was only eight years younger. Not that much. But I could still see that he was young. Above all, he was thinner. Like a stick actually. And I said; SO SMALL!

And that’s it really. That is my story.

BUT it turns out, the feeling was a little awkward. Only a little, I did not really care. Until I came home, I had some time to think. At home I asked what felt out of sorts? I got the answer; he was thinking that I commented on his private parts.

I did not even see his private parts. They where behind his hands!! HOW could I comment on that??

This part about the human race. I do not understand. We seem to think ourselves past every obvious fact because it feels right. 1: I did obviously not see private parts in that picture. 2: The guy was thinner. So what am I commenting on? Guys? Really? That he was young. Of course. Nothing else was smaller in that picture compared to today.

I do not say that we should feel less. Or that we feel wrong. But it is still important to know the difference between fact and feeling. And YES facts takes some work. Feeling do not take that much work. It is just to open your mouth and tell everyone what you feel. But what if that affects people? Very much? That is a question every grown up needs to think about before opening your mouth according to me. That awkward feeling came from my friend that was so focused on his nakedness, that he heard what he did not want to hear.

People, we need to start thinking deep. Not only what ME, I feel at the moment. What will the consequences be? Will someone get hurt? Will the country and the world benefit from this from ten years on in the future? What am I really telling people with this?

People, you are smarter than this! Let me be clear. I come from a war family. My own grandpa fought 1940. We do not wish to see that again.  I will give an arm and a leg for that not to happen again.

With love from Scandinavia.

Only one left! Luffarsloyd: Pendant with a seahorse.

Have I told you I’m a blacksmith? I’m a blacksmith. This weekend I got inspired. By a guy showing me luffarsloyd. In Sweden it was illegal not to have a job 150 years ago, you could go to jail for being poor. But poor people still existed, so they found a way. They knocked on doors to ask for food and somewhere to sleep, and as pay they made luffarslöjd (“hobos craft” in Swedish) of simply wire. Wire has the trait of being light weight, they could carry it around without much distress. They often carried two sorts, one thicker for structure and one thinner for the in between. Unbelievable what they could do. This was 150 years ago, but the tradition making luffarsloyd still lives. And I got terribly inspired. Today mostly plates and bowls are made of luffarsloyd. Sometimes hangers and stands. But I saw this tradition with blacksmith eyes, and made this:

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(If you wonder about what luffarsloyd looks like, this is a blog with some nice examples: Metallbinderiet.)

I think this it the biggest jewelry I ever made. Apart form my blacksmith exam, but that is an other story. It’s 14 cm long. So. Much. Fun. I am a blacksmith with a businesses, and this one is actually also up for sale on etsy.com: only-one-left-luffarsloyd-pendant.

It can be hard to part with my loved ones, but even if I really like it…it’s not my style. I tend to be angry at it for being in my way. This pendant must go to someone that is staying still at least once in a while. I do not.

 

Work I love to do

A day with iron, and a day with wood. I can not begin to describe how tired I am today.

I am making a cabinet. I forged the hinges yesterday; it was the worst weather to drive in, all the water was frozen INSIDE the workshop and long hours. Today it was time to put everything together and finish the cabinet. I did not of course. Everything takes much more time, especially when I make everything my self. The question is, WHY do I do this…?

Well, the fun of making things out of nothing. Because the pieces of wood and iron I started with can not be used for anything. Their worth is their possibilities. And not just new material, I even made four hinges and tree handles out of car sheet, and the wood from a shelf. This kind of craft is the only thing that can make me work for hours, and even forget to eat…

I have been a bit angry at myself lately because I do not drive to the forge that often as I want. I sat down in my sofa and looked around a bit sad and realized something. My home has forged iron in every direction! The coffee table I was sitting at has legs of iron, legs I made. I the kitchen I found knifes I made, and in the bathroom I found forged hangers.

I guess I do not need to forge all the time. It all round me. And the knowledge of how do not disappear.