Oh look, there’s a name for this oddity I have.

In all kinds of books throughout the years I’ve read of people picturing things in their mind. I’ve never really been able to do that. I can know exactly what something looks like, and I can see the “idea” of it, but not actually picture the thing itself. Now I have a word for it: aphantasia.

Like counting sheep. If I ever tried to do it, it would require intense concentration and definitely would not help me go to sleep! I can build up a broad picture of a landscape with sheep in it, in a sort of impressionist style, but not treat them as individual sheep, see them up close or make them move.

With landscapes I can at least get some kind of vague picture. It’s especially impossible with people and faces. It can actually be easier for me to picture a photo of a person than the person him- or herself, probably because I have a dash of prosopagnosia or face blindness. I have a hard time recognizing people whom I sort of know but not very well. Like Ingrid’s classmates’ parents, or even some of our neighbours whom I don’t see so often. Hopeless! It’s OK if I see them at school or in our neighbourhood, but whenever I run into them in an unrelated setting – on the train, dressed for work – it can easily happen that I know that I know them, but I don’t have a clue who they actually are.

Or celebrities! I hear people say, “I saw so-and-so in the restaurant today”. And they recognize movie stars whom they have seen in other movies. To me this is a near impossible feat. I could only recognize someone if I’ve seen the face literally hundreds of times, ideally over many years. So I am pretty sure that I would recognize the king of Sweden, or Tom Cruise. But no current Swedish government minister for example.

I had a haircut on Monday. Really short. I like the feeling of short hair, with no hair touching my neck or ears, especially in summer.

My mother doesn’t approve. She hasn’t seen this haircut yet but I already know what she will say, or at least think, because I’ve heard it before. “Why do you cut it so short? You look like a boy. I don’t like it.” She also cannot fathom my choice to not try and push my almost non-existent boobs into a more feminine shape.

My goodness how liberating it was to stop wearing a bra! And to think that I longed for one when I was a teenager and all the other girls had them and not me, because my body was a bit late to puberty.

With age (if one can talk of “age” at my age… I’m not exactly a wise old woman) I am gradually acquiring a wonderful disregard for other people’s opinions about things that do not concern them.

Today I wanted to explore these expectations of appropriate feminine appearance. I wanted to take a self-portrait that would make me look as unfeminine as possible.

What makes a woman look feminine? Softness and curves. Posing tips for portraits of women boil down to bending everything that can be bent, tilting everything that can be tilted, and shooting nothing straight on. The corollary is that for a masculine look, you accentuate the angles and the squareness.

Women are posed to look slimmer. Men are posed to look strong and confident.

Women tilt their head forward and are photographed from above, men are more likely to be posed leaning back and photographed from below.

I cheated and borrowed Eric’s cap for some of these. The baggy t-shirt is all my own though.

Self-portrait with silly boy

Having dinner.

To be honest, this is not a self-portrait. Ingrid took it.

It’s April, spring is here, and for the next two months or so, every day will be more beautiful than the one before. More green, more flowers, more life. I am in love with spring.

I don’t exactly get depressed during winter but my mood and energy levels are so much lower than during the rest of the year, especially during the gray, wet months. When spring comes I am bouncing, full of vim and vigour, my reservoirs overflowing. I feel renewed.

Another trip to Malmö to spend a day in our Malmö office. Another too-early morning, another day of mostly waiting to be transported. A day of sitting in a narrow space, a space that is not mine. A day of following someone else’s schedule.

A day that was long and tiring but felt half-wasted.

So tiring that I went to bed at the same time as Ingrid, about two hours before my normal bedtime.

I didn’t post one during the month, because I didn’t get a good one, and was holding out for something better. But something is better than nothing. Here I am, sitting on the bathroom floor, toothbrush in hand, ready to brush Adrian’s teeth.

Back to “am and am not”. I’ve already mentioned patience/impatience. Another trait that I keep struggling with (even more than with impatience) is rebellion.

Social rules and conventions. I dislike them. And yet I question myself whenever I deviate from them. (And that makes me dislike the conventions even more, because if they didn’t exist, if everybody wasn’t so same, then I wouldn’t have to think about this.)

When I follow conventions, do I do so because I think they make sense, or because I simply feel that I should?

When I break them, do I do so just because I can, or out of habit, or because it has become “my thing”, or because I really think my way is better?

Perhaps it starts out as one and then becomes the other?

I want to be neither a mindless follower nor a childish rebel. And I especially don’t want to do things a certain way only because I always have done it like that. I want to do what I do for a good reason.

When I buy a dress for Adrian, I ask myself: am I encouraging him to wear a dress because I want to be the kind of mother who lets her son wear dresses, or am I simply letting him make his own choices?

When I buy organic food even though it’s twice the price, when I refuse to wear blue jeans, when I am the only one under 50 to buy a dumbphone: am I being a hipster, or doing it for real?

I went to an antiques fair today, to see if we could find an armchair there. Didn’t find any.

On the other hand, I found a sewing fair in the next hall, chock full of beautiful, colourful, soft things. Incredibly inspiring!

With all kinds of fairs and conferences (whether they are about sewing, gardening or software development) I find that even though I don’t normally come home with a lot of goods or new knowledge or immediate projects, I do come home with a lot of inspiration and new energy. I feel so full of crafty enthusiasm! I will knit and crochet and embroider!