I hate the system. The system discriminates against its citizens. Those who diligently learn the system do well, but those who aren’t so good at that are cast out to the cold. There’s only one education that’s considered right, and it is the system’s education. Pushy people control things. And pushy people are not especially good. They aren’t even especially brilliant. For instance, understanding emotions is also an important talent. Imagination matters more than knowledge. But the system doesn’t understand that. A psychologist in school can be tremendously intelligent and very educated but still cannot do anything for anyone. Someone who knows feelings well and cares about people can do more good and can help others. But the system doesn’t think in those ways. It instead wants everyone to know math. Other people seem to only want to accept those who are already like themselves. They underestimate the imagination. But the imagination is equally as important as math. Neanderthal man was strong. He might also have been smart at math. But he died out because he had no imagination. The pushy and the strong oppress everyone else. Educated people stand together and set rules that hinder uneducated but good people from doing what they want. They don’t want uneducated people to be equal but to be slaves. Pushy people get more opportunities than good people. Pushy people get good jobs even though they’re not especially worthy or interesting. They get the job just because they have a particular education.
That’s wrong and unfair. I’m nervous and scared. But I’m not stupid. I went for an intelligence test at Dalbraut. I’m quite intelligent. But imagination was not tested. They don’t know how to do that. Maybe you can’t measure it. Sometimes I imagine so much that I feel bad. I imagine horrible things sometimes. I think so much that I get a headache. There is no one to guide me and teach me. It’s like no one understands me. People think I’m either being funny or awkward.
I could just learn in school. I just think it’s so pointless. Either things are so simple that I cannot be bothered to learn them or so complex that I don’t know how to learn them. I find it wrong that I have to do things I don’t want to do, things that are contrary to my convictions. I don’t do what the system wants. The system doesn’t want me to be the way I am — but somehow different. I don’t want the system to dictate what I want. I feel fine about how things are, but I just want to be left alone by the system and be the way I am. Yet there’s no place for me. I’m imprisoned by rules. I’ll never be a professor of anything. I’ll never get any important work. The teachers have told me so. I’m going to be a trash collector. I know for sure I don’t want to do that. I want to be an actor and act in movies. I want to invent something new and fun. If there was ever a school I could be a part of, it would be an Enjoyment school where the enjoyable parts are the feelings. But no such school exists. The system does not see the purpose of an Enjoyment school. The system finds all enjoyment inferior. And then it creates rules. I cannot go to drama school because I have to have a college degree. I know that’s something I’ll never be able to get. I have to know Danish and mathematics, although I will never use them anywhere. And though I am entertaining and imaginative, it doesn’t matter. Nobody cares about that if I don’t know my multiplication tables. The system believes it important to know your seven times table but not to know how to make jokes. The system’s method is to get rid of people like me. Anything I do will be treated with great caution. I’ve become an outsider. No one is going to take me seriously. My teachers have often told me so. It amounts to an attempt to belittle me and to make things difficult for me. The system wants me to do nothing. If I learned Danish and long division, something inside me would simply die. I’d be letting the system break me down; I’d be giving up. I’d be betraying what I believe in. What I’ll do in future is fail the exam. Later, I’ll fail the standardized tests. Then I won’t be able to go college. I wouldn’t find anything there. I don’t think there’s anything taught there that I’m interested in learning. There’s just the system with its crap and bother. I’m a dunce. All the others get seven-point-something, but I always get three-point-something. In future, I’ll work as a laborer or in a factory.
The anxiety inside me keeps amplifying. I’m afraid of that vision of my future. That’s not the life I want. When I start feeling so bad that I think I’ll explode, I’ll go to the doctor. And then he’ll give me pills so I can relax and sleep. And I’ll eat these pills for years until I fall asleep inside myself and my life becomes miserable. And when I’m getting really tired of all the work and the pills, I’ll have a nervous breakdown. Then I’ll get invited to go to a mental ward and stay there. Where there are people like me. Weird people who feel terrible inside. People who can’t do anything at school, who aren’t absorbed in work, who are nothing but a problem. And somewhere in all this confusion, I might even do something to myself. I would never hurt anyone. But I could very likely begin to use drugs. I could very easily get to know people who use drugs. Maybe some people like me. Maybe it would start when I first got pills from the doctor, and it would follow from that. And then maybe I would start breaking and entering in order to get money. And then I could easily end up in prison at Litla-Hraun. After that, the rules would multiply, and it would get harder and harder and harder to turn back. So I might finally give up, begin to cry in front of people, and ask them to forgive me for the way I am. Perhaps I would become exhausted of myself and ready to change. Perhaps then I’d finally be ready to learn long division and Danish and become like Pills or the politicians on TV. But maybe it would be too late. And perhaps I cannot be changed. And perhaps I’ll meet with an accident. It’s dangerous to be an outsider.
Pippi Longstocking was an anarchist. If everyone thought like Pippi Longstocking, the world would be a much better place than it is today. Anarchist Land does not exist. Maybe it’s a country some place in the future. Perhaps, though, it’s nowhere except deep down inside me.
ON HEAVENLY KINGDOM STREET
Mom wanted me to get confirmed. It wasn’t up for debate. Kids getting confirmed always went on a journey, a school trip to Vatnaskóg with the Christian Studies teacher. Well, the boys went to Vatnaskóg, and the girls went to some girl place. I thought that everything about this trip was really awkward and uncomfortable, and I was apprehensive about it. I took a dim view of it all. During our preparation for Confirmation, I hung out with Eiki the Druggie, who was being confirmed with us even though he was several years older. Eiki was simple and didn’t go to school. I was pretty much alone in the boat on the trip, since Eiki didn’t go. I was a weird problem child, someone you needed to keep an eye on. The plan was to stay in Vatnaskóg for a few days. I took my markers with me so I could write some punk slogans someplace should the opportunity arise. We went by bus. When we arrived in Vatnaskóg we got assigned our rooms, sharing in twos. I had my stuff in a gym bag: some books, a toothbrush, and a change of top.
The first day, we played soccer. I had no interest in soccer; I struggled to run and think at the same time. Every time I tried to kick the ball, I got all twisted up, and so I never scored any goals, of course. Moreover, I was totally unable to understand the rules. Crucially, the soccer game at Vatnaskóg had a rule that if you swore then you were sent from the pitch AND the opponent’s team got a goal. That created a loophole by which I could kill two birds with one stone: I could affect the game and get to take a break on the mountain slope. I said “hell” and “devil” every chance I got.