Hardest outfit to find ever?

Dressing up for fancy dress parties is always awkward. You never look cool, definitely not sexy. Just weird. Nobody can tell who is being who. You just drink more to ease the embarrassment over that you aimed to look like a Sexy Panda but instead look Abused By Your Spouse In A White Bikini (I actually saw this last Halloween). So people get really drunk and mistakingly think they are having fun because they are dressed up (while it is actually just the 4 more glasses of Chardonnay talking), and the cycle repeat itself. I cant wait till I am 40 and do not get invited to fancy dress parties anymore. Because I am sure that is a safe age right?

So tonight I'm going. My German friend is hosting one, and he is going away for a while so I guess he can do whatever he wants to do with his goodbye party. Naturally however, the theme is Dictators. Following this, I have come to the following conclusions: 1. There really are no female dictators. Yay for us! 2. The most famous dictators came from cold countries or at least favored/favors dressing in big jackets (Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini, Kim-Jong il etc). Me being female and DC being about 100 degrees hot magically transforms these two conclusions into tangible problems in the dressing-up part of tonight. I have yet to figure out how I can out of this mess without missing the party.

On Paris..

I'm 22 now, the -00 is, like, my generation. My decade. So I guess its my fault as much as everyone else's, I just dont want Paris Hilton to be the defining personality of my generation. Next to Diana, Michael Jackson, and the Beatles or what? Because she's big and I am talking big, not just like the Oasis, who were gooood, but big as in small-children-in-South-East-Asia-know-their-name BIG. I guess the Larry King million dollar interview and the fact that everyone (including me, my uncle, the tramp outside my apartment and my boss) still talks about her has sealed the deal. So in the future, when you are watching those nostalgia programs on TV about the -00 she is going to be on there. And someone (under the age of 12) is going to ask: Who is that mummy? And everyone in the room will look a bit embarrassingly at each other with that sense of Who Is Going To Explain It This Time.

My Blog has an Identity Crisis...

So somewhere in between finishing my exams, dancing in LA, walking in San Fransisco, sailing on Shelter Island and showing my mum DC I forgot to write in this blog. Well, it wasn't so much that I forgot but more so that the blog just got a sudden identity crisis. For a while I wanted to scrap writing all together and just post music. The blog wanted to be a music blog. But then I like writing so that wasn't a good idea. Its just a question of what kind of writing I should do. I estimate the blog's readers in the following categories, in order of reader frequency: 1. Random people from the DC vicinity I don't know. 3. Random people from rest of the world I don't know. 2. People from DC that I do know. 3. Folks from Europe that I do know. 4. My parents and assorted family members. 5. Boys I like/ex-boyfriends.
This collection creates all sorts of problems where following clashes occur: I Cant just write about my obsession with the new Brasserie Beck on 10th and K because some people would be rather bored (its so good though! Have the rabbit and a Saison-Dupond beer). I Could write about last Friday in the Saloun in Georgetown but then all future family dinners would be awkward. I Couldn't use the blog as my personal Craig's List missed connection site towards category 1 (for that one guy on the Orange Line Metro last week who got off at the Smithsonian) because that would not be good for category 5. Or 4 for that matter. (Ooops, maybe I just did).
So all that leaves me with something else. A Blog identity Crisis. But at least now I wrote something, maybe that is my start on the poor blog's recovery!

Scandinavians in DC

DC has a lot of Swedes. I live only 5 minutes away from our beautiful embassy. Quite possible the most beautiful embassy in DC, right? Yeah anyway. There is a lot of Swedes around, I met one in my class, Anders. He is a good friend now, we sometimes play Kubb on GW University Yard. Kubb is this really fun game which consists of lots of pieces of wood and you try and knock the other team's pieces of wood before they knock down yours. Its not like you are just chucking them around though, it is an orderly fashion, it is Swedish after all. The only thing that is weird playing it in DC is that you dont have a beer in your hand. In Sweden you always have a beer in your hand when you play Kubb. But you cant drink in public in this country, not even at a picknick, so no beer. Weird. But I also sometimes see Swedish people on the street, mainly in Georgetown. Like when I saw this girl, she was stunning - and on her phone - and when I walked passed I heard her speak Swedish. I should have known. Or this other time when I was outside another Georgetown establishment and these two guys was standing behind my girl friends and me in the que (line, whatever) and they started talking about us (my accent is more British than it is Swedish so they didnt know, although I am tall and blond which I guess could have been a clue), they were saying stuff like oh, that one is cute, she probably has a boyfriend, wonder what it takes for her to cheat on him etc etc. Nothing sexist but they were still quite embarrassed when I turned around and told them that girls like this usually prefer if a guy talks to them face to face, rather than about them behind their back. Anyway, my point is this, Swedes are everywhere, everyone has met a Swede, knows one, been drinking with one. What is missing in DC though is some Norwegians. Today was/is Norwegian National Day and I tried to find some fun Norwegian stuff to do in the city but it seems like DC is missing a lot of Norwegians. Shame because 17th of May is this crazy celebrations where everyone takes to the streets and sing, dance, walk and be Norwegian! Its v cool. Someone once described it as a mix between the Rio Carnival and a Wiemar Republic military march. I know DC, you are really missing out.


Oslo's main street on 17th of May 2007.

Finding my inner-self..

I have finals this week, and I am the worlds worst (and when I say worst I really mean it, its not like those words people use to really make a point, I mean worst as in I have never ever heard or met anyone else WORSE) time manager in history of the earth (and by history of the earth I mean since dinosaurs were living her and not the kind of earth that people think was created by God a couple of years ago). I have for about three months bopping around, doing my little things, living in little Stine world (and by that I mean getting drunk, playing soccer, going to the zoo, drinking coffee and lying in grassy places..this bracket thing is getting rather annoying, right?) without even considering opening a book until two nights ago, following that I have written over 50 pages of essays and final projects and well, stuff. I have borderline cried a couple of times, lost my soul, been so tense in my muscles my jaw is no longer functioning as it should, drank an unhealthy amount of crap ice coffee and seriously considered trying to score some Advil (or what ever that drug is called for kids with ADD is called but college kids take because they are stupid). But then, woho then, I listen to this relaxation/mediation tape my mum got me for Christmas that has a women talking really sleepy over the sounds of waves telling me to go to my inner place in nature where I will wait and then meet my inner self (this is my intuition by the way), then I sat down with said inner self and presented a problem to it, then we solved it and fused together as one and I was told I was being filled with love and wake up. So. I feel better now. Just 5 more pages to write today, and exam tomorrow afternoon. But I'll be fine, Im filled with inner love for myself, thank god. I recommend it deeply.

More Shameless Family-Promotion (also Flängan)

Ok, so it was only a few posts ago that I introduced my cousin Rutte and his brilliantly working mind, but I now checked his flickr page randomly again because I am bored in the library reading about Turkish/EU identity and I came across even more brilliantness. Plus it is really cool because these photos comes from where we spent every single summer together growing up (and still do but more sporadically). Its an awesome place just a couple of hours north of Stockholm. It it my grandmother (on my mother's side) and her sisters that all grew up there, then the next generation moved into the houses and build new ones (they are our parents) and then they had kids (us - there are about 10 of us or something like that) and then we all spent our summers up there being really Swedish and running around a lot even though we all live in different places normally. One family even lives on Shelter Island here in the States. The place in Sweden is called Flängan - which doesnt really mean anything, although Flänga kind of is a verb that means to run around, back and forwards, casually (hm. something like that - I dictionaried it and I got the answer Flänga: #(no translation given)# - it is a very difficult Swedish word to translate but it is very representative of what we usually do in Flängan). When we grow up (the 10 of us or whatever) we are going to move in to the houses in the summer and play around like we did when we were small. We played a lot of football and ate loads of community meals where everyone of our parents brought something each. It is very idyllic. No concrete roads - and a little lake that we swim in, loads of woods and green grass fields for the football (these pictures are from winter so they are slightly gloomy - but that is the great thing about it - in the winter Flängan turns into this little, dark, gloomy, warm, moist, snowy thing - almost unrecognizable to what it is in the summer - contrast is good)


Rutte's mum, with milk and some flowers - she is the most stylish woman I have ever met.



God intended us to have sex. Stop preaching abstinence.




This is actually, no joke, our toilet. Its a little bit chilly in the winter - but thats what we swedes are built for. Similarities to Stalin's Soviet is completely accidental.

Mission Accomplished, half-way anyways.

So I came to DC in August last year to go to class at the George Washington University and yesterday I had my last class so yay! - mission accomplished. Its a cliché but it went so bloody quickly. Of course there are a small mountain of stuff left to do, I have yet to see the White House (just driven by really really quickly), and, and lots of other touristy stuff. But I have been pretty good on doing other DC stuff - mainly getting drunk some of the finest (and some of the more questionable) establishment of this city - Madam's Organ, The Brickskeller, The Guards, Lucky Bar, Garrett's, the Saloun, 9:30 club - you know, all that stuff that matters. I also have actually managed to fulfill two lifelong (I say life long I mean post age 11) aspirations of my own - become a published journalist (Ok, its for the University news paper but still) and get a proper job (I know, I was a weird 11-year-old). It is actually much easier than it seems. Especially when you can write your columns about the finest (and some of the more questionable) establishments of this city and what to do in them. Then its just kind of fun. And the job thing has also worked out well - Ive been hired for the summer, which means I can stay in my beloved city (if the Visa Gods extend my J-1 visa thingy and my JS-21 or what-ever-the-hell-they-are-called-to-let-a decent-hard-working-Swedish-immigrant-stay-in-this-country-for-a-little-while). Summer here is going to be awesome (American word I am now started to overuse), I am very excited about it - not sure how to handle the heat but at least my building have a pool. Nice. Ok, at this point I now feel this post is just kind of rambling on about nothing and that is because I have a very important and big paper to write and it is therefore more fun to ramble. But enough and peace out. And all that jazz - I just wanted to share the mission accomplished bit because those words are always fun to use in a DC setting, right mr P? (but I think he was somewhere else when he said it....Oh right, paper...)

Swedes and the Weather

I have this theory about Swedes and the weather. Basically it boils down to that our emotional well-being is the most interconnected with the weather in the world. Why? Because when you get on average 4 hours of sunlight a day (up north as little as 20min) for 5 months and the ground is frozen over a meter below the surface and you manage to not kill yourself (we have a high suicide rate) then you are going to be pretty happy when the sun comes out. I, for example, am not just dependent but addicted to good weather - it is essential to a good day. To compare it to a DC resident - he or she might be happy to see a beautiful day like today, however, it doesn't guarantee the success of the next 24 hours. Me? I am like Teflon right now, any problem just glides right off.

America is Advertising Deluxe.

I was never really involved in that green-parka-wearing-Naomi Klein-Nike-bashing-stone-throwing-anti-globalization/commercialism movement in the late 1990s. I mean I read No Logo, and I agreed that brands and advertising is taking up too much public space, I just wasn't that into throwing stones. Living in the US now hasn't made me want to pick up a brick and throw it through a McDonald's window either but it has certainly tested my tolerance levels on advertising. In risk of sounding like the European communist most American's think I am; But wow, America has taken the idea of commercializing life to a whole new level. I was watching the Final Four in the NCAA (that is the semi-finals in the national college basketball tournament for those Europeans not familiar with the concept) on Saturday and maybe I was in super-communist-mood but everything seemed to be about some kind of product. The commentators kept on saying this thank you speech to Goodyear for providing the air pictures every time they came back from advertising break. And some award was handed out, and it wasn't named after like a great person who had done something great - it was named the Chrysler award and they guy who got it just kept on thanking Chrysler. I live with the ad breaks every 5 minutes (the most annoying ones being that between the last scene of a show and the end credits) and the complete commercialization of being ill (the funniest thing is when they list all the deadly side effects of an erectile dysfunction pill after the cheery man on the screen has said it saved his life - side effects include death, nausea, memory loss, and lifelong erection) but it is really weird when the boundary between what is advertising and what is not is so blurred. In Sweden, by law, we have a little jingle that say *ads* so you know. What happens when the news gets sponsored? How do you know the information is right? Anyways. Rubbish, its 1st of April and we are meant to be funny and I am just being Reclaim-the-street-communist.

My Cousin the photographer.

My cousin Rutte lives in France. He likes to take pictures. He is a very cool guy. We like him a lot. Here is a sample from his flickr page. I just get a really good feeling from them. Don't you?

Becoming American?

So I decided to do something with all my free time. And what is not better then to get a job? Exactly! So now I am working, hence the very light blogging recently. I also think that my light blogging lately is a sign of me becoming American. How so? Well, the origins of this blog was to write about America and DC - and what I thought about it, like, from an outsiders point of view. Because I was an outsider. I came here pretty anti, pretty sceptical. Everything was so big, the cars, the food portions the Coke bottles. I freaked when all Americans kept on asking me how I was, randomly in 7/11 - I wanted them to mind their own business, like we do in Europe. I Needed them to stop asking me if I needed direction when I stopped to ponder something on the street. But I have been here almost seven months now and I now use words like awesome, hook up, senator, spring break, Meet the Press, bud light and when in hell is the Attorney-General going to get fired - on a daily basis. I now answer my friend in the 7/11 on New Hampshire Ave. with a smiley "I am great thanks, How are you today? Busy yeah? Lovely weather isnt it?" I have been known to help strangers on street corners with a map in their hand. My Starbucks order takes more than 20 seconds to pronounce. I have even drank beer out of a red and white plastic cup. So maybe your work is done here - I am American - in soul if not by passport. Oh my am my European friends going to kill me for this post. I consider myself erased from their phonebooks already.

Student Time Management

Are you a normal person? You know, like, you have a job and stuff. If so, I have a really serious question for you; How come your hours are longer than mine? Because for me, going to the grocery store is a good half-day's worth of work. If I, in the same day, go to the gym than I'm practically done for the day. All of the sudden its like 6pm and all I have accomplished is buying avocados and milk and listen through the washingtonpost.com podcast whilst running on a treadmill.
How do you manage a 9 to 5 (most likely longer) job, whilst all so fitting in ANYTHING else? Why does my day go quicker? Its so unfair. Maximum I can do is four things a day, and if I push it I can fit in a Hoegaarden at the local at the end.
Ok so I don't get up at 7am, but I am usually up at least at 9.30 (- and quite frequently, like today, I study in the library till 10pm, which makes it a good ten and a half hour day) but I still manage not to accomplish much in this time.

Like today, 4 things accomplished:
1. Gym. (9.30 till like 12) - Time spent: updating newest podcasts to ipod, walk all the way over there, work out for an hour, walk all the way back, shower.

2. Cook lunch. (12-2pm) - Time spent: trying to cook new pasta-salad w chicken, Dijon mustard and honey -recipe I got from Jude, Eat food whilst watching CNN.

3. Coffee with Zach (3-5pm)- Time Spent: Walking all the way over there, order long order at Starbucks (tall-double-skimmed-latte - takes them 3 minutes to understand my British accent), drink coffee on a wooden bench whilst talking about life's issues of love and undiscovered Norwegian girl-pop.

5. Revise. (5-10pm) Time Spent: 50% Reading about the ambiguity of The Vesting Clause of Articles I and II of the American Constitution vis-a-vis the changing powers of the President, 20% Reading about high-quality advertising campaigns from across the globe, 20% Reading about celebrities fashion faux-pas, 10% Plain complaining.

Thats it. Took me a whole day, shocking right?

Whilst you probably went to the gym, worked a full day, went shopping, read all todays news papers, booked some holiday flights, spend quality time with your friends/family/children/grandmother, AND went to dance class.

I blame the student bubble. You know, when you're at college and you all you do is college stuff, and all the people you meet gets up at 12, and, like, you get surprised when you see a kid because you realize you haven't seen one in 3 weeks. The bubble where a library becomes a social scene and 25% of the people you meet on the street are still wearing their pajamas. The bubble where the weekend starts on Wednesday night and ends on Monday. Ah, I love it.

Ive reinvented the term 'lazy Sunday' today. Georgetown beat the energy out of me last night as we were falling in and out of its bar with more joy than we do studying. But I guess that is student life for everyone. Typing this message is so difficult I probably have to go to sleep right afterwards. When I tried to make penne with Swedish meatballs (what my family always had on Mondays when I was growing up.. Just with Ketchup and Parmesan..its great for hangovers too+it reminds me of home) i was so backwards that I had to use three pots because I managed to mess up boiling water.
Ultimate laziness pleasure is to watch the Oscars. the dresses, the film, Ellen. Im finding it slightly surreal to see a vice-president win. But I guess it is just another step of how the American presidency has become Entertainer-in-Chief as well as Commander-In-Cheif with the line between politics and entertainment blurs. Ok enough political analysis for one day.

My First Job Interview Ever

Will I become an intern for a undisclosed Big Broadcasting News Corportation?
Little brat you might think, who has never had a job interview before. She is 22 for god sake. It is, however, not my first job. But stirring Dirty Martinis in a dimly lit bar in Hoxton, East London, didn't really require an interview, as such. More like I rocked up and my boss asked; "Can you look cool?" - "Yes" I replied confidently and boom, I was a bartender.
There were other jobs too, but this really isn't about my current Curriculum Vitae but about tomorrow. I have been dying to do an internship in DC because I need more of a challenge than balancing two beers up the stairs in Madams Organ on a Saturday night (even though it is quite tricky. But practice has made perfection).
So I applied for some internship. Mainly in media since this is the new thing that I have suddenly realized I want to do (besides making world peace, but I thought media could be a great place to start hahahahahaha).
I am really nervous though, I have no idea what he/she is going to ask! Or how I should dress (Im thinking strict white shirt under grayish pencil skirt, black light tights and black patent-leather shoes... But typing that out just now made me think more Maggie Gyllenhall in the Secretary than young professional, damn you Maggie!)
So basically the news are that I am really really nervous about my interview tomorrow, plus I have to write my opinion piece for the Hatchet, plus to buy this outfit (which isnt allowed to be kinky), plus then go to Chinatown to eat tapas and drink red wine and then go bowling and drink beer.
God, I do really live a tough life..Be thinking of me at two pm! (oh, just realized you will now know I have an interview and ask me how it went, if I suck everyone will know...oh, well.)

Blogging?

I wasn't a good blogger last week. I had a realization how incredibly self centered it is to write a blog about myself. Yes, it took me seven months to realize that. All I have been doing here is writing about me. Me, me and me. Don't get me wrong there is no way Im stopping writing about me, who doesn't love thinking/writing/obsessing about them selfs. But I guess I just got chocked by the late realization of my own egoism. But then again for those who know me/has met me at least once know that I have never pretended to be modest. That is for the unsuccessful. Plus, really this blog was initially meant for Swedish/Norwegian/British people who wanted to see how I was doing without them, funny how it turns out that they consist of 10 percent of all the readers. I either have bad friends or the random people for the north east corner of the States find me intriguing. Either way.

But I guess writing a blog about yourself is the new black. I mean everyone is doing it (if your not your a sucker stuck in 1997, get with the program). Small kids, teenagers, old people, dogs, lawyers.

I wish my mum would have a blog. That would be funny. She phoned me the other day heart broken asking if I had started taking drugs and do porn. She had read all the spam comments and she was getting really worried. Bless her.

UPDATE (12.31 pm, 2/16); As I was on my own blog again I realized that in tune with this post and my own self-loving there is no more than circa 7 pictures of myself here dotted all over the place. Really. Should I be worried? Is it time to speak to someone?
UPDATE (12.38 pm, 2/16); Or am I just like 99 percent of every other blogger that thinks people are interested in whether I prefer peas to carrots? And maybe people really want to know, before someone blows up the world. Peas. Ok, enough, back to writing book report.

Valentine Schmalentine.

Went out for dinner yesterday and the outrageously overpriced risotto was almost worth it because of humor of the whole thing. Ok, well I didn't pay for the risotto so I guess it was definitely worth it. Women and men were sitting along one wall stacked up around the little tiny square table. Women towards the wall the men facing them (first I thought this was odd that all of them had chosen to sit the same, but then I figured it was because the men let the women walk in front of them, aa detective Stine).
Everyone looked uncomfortable. It was a bit like that saying with a big pink elephant in the room. Everyone knew that no one really wanted to be there but no one can admit to it. I guess what it really is, is a romantic arms race! You cant stay home because everyone else goes out, but you go out and everyone hopes that someone in the restaurant is going to be brave enough to stand up on the their little white table-cloth covered table and say; Lets all go home, this is ridiculous, we don't have to do this, if we all go home together no one is going to feel bad about not paying 20 more dollars than normal for creamed rice on this stupid holiday! And then everyone can write a treaty where we promise not to go out for dinner, or buy flowers or chocolate or teddy bears or anything on the 14th of February and then we would all be better people for it!

Scientifically proven connection between Hair and imagination?

Deadline tonight at nine, I cut my hair off on Saturday and I have no idea what to write about, is there a mystical connection? Did my imagination actually sit in the end of my blond hairs? Well, clearly not as I am imaginative enough to come up with such junk that I have writers block because I cut my hair three days ago.
Im sitting in Gelman library (GWU library for outsiders) and Im incredibly bored. A guy in tracksuit bottoms is aslseep next to me whilst snoring quietly, some girls in spandex black tights, Ugg boots and furry jackets are chatting away about what happened at Platinum last weekend and someone else is photocopying frantically in the corner. Maybe its the setting that needs to change?
I started to take all these Journalism classes because when I got here I figured; I wanna write, thats my call! (last summer the call was International affairs, the summer before I believe it was voluntary work in China). And I figured I have a lot to say, people always say I talk a lot so how hard can it be? Well, its hard. Its hard trying to write something creative, funny, touching, moving or gripping like four times a week. Maybe I should write about not finding anything to write. I mean that is the gist of this post, and well done to you if you have made it all the way down to here! As a surprise you then get to see the new hair;

It is so cold outside today that when I walked to the Metro to pick up my ibook (who is finally feeling better) the wind made me cry and my tears froze on my cheeks. That is cold, even for a Swede.

Mall of Death

Pentagon City is the labyrinth of death. In this mall (Shopping Centre for you Europeans) life is slowly and painfully sucked out of you by the lifeless atmosphere, the fake palm trees and the extremely slow Starbucks staff. I happened to know this because I spent 5 hours dying today, and 4 hours on Friday waiting for the Apple store to cure my ill ibook. Both days I arrived with joy in my steps just to leave with a paler face and slowly dragging feet. For those of you who have never been to Pentagon City it is a collection of stores inside a gigantic brown building only a few metro stops away from my home in Foggy Bottom. There is a food court that serves MacDonald’s, sushi, and Thai food from suspicious little stalls located along one wall. You eat on hard, green metal chairs on big long tables that are very reminiscent of a school canteen. And not in a good way. It has like five floors and everything is painted in a cold, white colour that kind of steals the colour from your face, like it needs it really bad. So you become whitewashed. No one really seems to be enjoying themselves walking around, no happy Sunday shoppers just angry people trying to get up the slow moving escalators. Pentagon City has this affect on people. You become angry for no apparent reason. The Apple store is a bit of a refuge, the white colour in there is warmer. But still. Still you just want to get on that blue metro line, bury yourself in the Washington Post and ride that train until you're in the District again. Far away from that hollow place that manages to make shopping a pain, mesh your brain and eat your will to ever be nice to someone again. Phew Im glad I made it out.

Blog for Choice Day!

Why I am Pro-Choice:
Hi, good day everyone. Today is a little bit special. Today is the 34th anniversary of Roe v Wade, the landmark Supreme Court decision, which firmly established the US constitutional right to abortion. Today is therefore Blog for Choice day; and today everyone is therefore encouraged to blog about why they are pro choice.
Here is my reason:
I could write this post about how it is time to start treating women as adults who can make their own decisions. How it is time to trust women that they know what is best for their own health and their futures.
I could write about how I am sick of the belittling of women in the anti-choice campaigns, like our views don’t matter, like if we got left with a choice of terminating an abortion we would instantly make the wrong one and regret it.
I could write about how I found it weird that last time I saw an anti-choice demonstration they showed factually incorrect images of foetuses and the crowd consisted of only men.
I could write about how abortion is very rarely a solution a women chooses to use as contraception. How we rather take a pill and/or use a condom to protect ourselves, and how abortion is a lifesaving last option, not something we do out of laziness or because we love it so much. Abortion is a hard choice. But believe it or not, women can make hard choices too, and abortion should be a choice no less.
I could write about the overwhelming evidence of the increase in illegal abortions and their disastrous consequences. I could point out that 80,000 women die each year because of them. Or that the number of abortions does not decrease because you ban them. Or that 288,700 women were hospitalized in Brazil last year following illegal abortions.
I could write about any of those things because they are so important.
But you should know about them already; you should be convinced by them already; you should have heard them before and told other people about them.
I want to blog for choice because I have a slightly different viewpoint than many of those reading this. I come from a country (Sweden) where there no longer is an abortion debate. Where we have realized many of these things; taken them into account; looked at our own values and morals, and our healthcare ideas; and we have come to the democratic conclusion that banning abortion is not right. It is not only unhealthy, deadly, immoral, old-fashioned, and repressive, it is also a breach of a fundamental human right. The right to decide over your own body, should we start restricting the handicapped to have sex? If you restrict one reproductive right then others will follow.
But neither of this is really the point. The point is that the Swedish way works; we have less abortions and less illegal abortions, but more compulsory sex education, an open and honest discussion about sex, and an outlook of sex as health and good. You have to believe Women, and young women are independent and intelligent enough to make informed decision, the school provides, by law, help with these decisions.
This goes for all of Western Europe. For example, in the Netherlands, where teenage sexual activity is about the same as in the U.S., pregnancy rates are only one-ninth those of the United States. Education, education, education, and a little bit of honesty. Banning abortion is not a solution, it breaks my heart to see that people still fighting for it. Few of them has the experience I have been lucky to grow up in, few of them have lived in the most obvious example how reproductive rights are healthy, and must remain a fundamental human right.
For my favourite feminist blogger Jill's, excellent "Why I am Pro-Choice" blog post check here! (Creds to her for the figures in this post).