The time for gratuitous purchasing of pointless pieces, time for exhibitions of consumerist mentality on a par with ungovernable frenzy. Regardless of the fact that these annual proceedings of a rather ridiculous nature are key to the structure of our society, I keep cogitating on how far this particular mentality is to be carried into other aspects of our lives. The concept of regarding virtually everything and anyone as objects that have the ability to complete our existence makes me green around the gills.
I've listened to countless people listing objectives they want to achieve in their lives. Certain items that they imagine will turn their futile little lives into something the neighbours will envy. A flourishing career, an apartment (owned, of course, not rented), the fastest car on the block, a perfect husband that never forgets their birthday or anniversary, and a litter of beautiful, talented and successful children. All annexes to make them feel more significant.
There is something that rings false in that list. Considering someone, an actual person, a simple extension of your ideal self cannot be anything but horribly wrong. Against a moral imperative not to exploit another human being to achieve something for yourself. Listing attributes of the perfect potential husband is in no way dissimilar to knowing exactly what colour car you see yourself buying and driving around town in. "I think I'd look fabulous next to a tall, dark and slightly muscular man with a good sense of humour." You meet a person, not a boyfriend. You can't dream about having a boyfriend, because you've never met them; if you do, they will never be anything but an accessory to you.
The things you think of eating your Christmas morning porridge.
är det enkelt
hur den kommer
sen känner man smällen
man har sett
man har gett
dom mig nu
jag anade aldrig
är samma sak.